Page 78 of A Story of Love

A slow, evil grin spread over Gregg’s face, and he rubbed his hands together. “Indeed, I am, sir. You leave it to me to come up with a nasty little financial snare for Moreland. I anticipate having a great deal of entertainment at his lordship’s expense.”

Chapter 19

Lori paused her frantic pacing and glanced down at the scrapes and bruises on her knuckles, frowning at her own stupidity.

She should have stopped abusing the door far sooner than she had—especially as she suspected that Lord Severn wasn’t even out there to hear her pounding and shouting—but it had been the principle of the thing. Now she had swollen knuckles for her stubbornness.

The sound of a key turning in the door lock made her turn.

“Hello, Miss Fontenot,” Gregg said, grinning from the doorway.

“Where is Severn?”

“He’s not here. I’m to take care of you until his return.”

“And when is that, pray?”

Gregg shrugged. “He doesn’t answer to me.” His smile broadened. “Or to you.” He stepped back and gestured to the doorway. “Come with me.”

Lori frowned. “Where are we going?”

“To your new quarters.”

She considered arguing, just for the sake of it, but then decided she’d rather be anywhere else than in his lordship’s private chambers.

Gregg walked slightly behind her and directed her through a series of turns and through several doors before they stopped in front of a black door strapped with wide iron bands and studded with big nail heads, like something you’ve find in a medieval prison.

Gregg inserted a large skeleton key into the lock. “This suite is called the Queen’s Chambers.” He turned the handle, flung open the door, and gestured for her to enter.

“Why is it called—” Lori broke off when she’d taken five steps into the room. “My God!” She stared in fascinated horror at the walls, which were festooned with manacles, whips, crops, and other less immediately identifiable paraphernalia. In the center of the room stood the most massive four poster bed she’d ever seen. It was black wood with black leather bedding, and there were chains and iron rings set into the frame.

Lori spun toward Gregg. “You can’t mean to leave me in here!”

“Aye, this is your new home until his lordship says otherwise.”

Lori wrenched her gaze off one especially wicked looking whip and opened her mouth.

“I’ll answer no questions about Lord Severn, so don’t even ask.” His normally amused expression had fled, replaced by a stare that was as cold and hard as a gaol cell.

She swallowed down her flood of questions, instead saying, “Somebody needs to send word to my housemate, Lady—”

“Sedgewick,” he interrupted, an odd light glinting in his dark brown eyes. “And don’t you worry your head about that, Miss Fontenot. It has already been taken care of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never you mind.” He turned and went to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere else.”

“When will his lordship return?”

“When he gets here.”

“Wait!”

He turned. “Yes?”