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He didn’t wait for a reply. He simply tossed Williams a blunt nod, calling out, “I’ve got what I need for now. I’ll be in touch.” Then, still gripping Lady Noelle’s arm, he gestured for Grace to follow them and headed toward the door.
His carriage was poised outside, and he ushered both women inside. Instructing his driver to return to Waterloo Station, he climbed in to sit across from Lady Noelle.
“Lord Tremlett—” she began.
“Don’t bother refusing the ride,” Ashford interrupted, averting whatever protest she’d been about to make. “I’m putting you on that train.” His mind was racing as he contemplated his options. He would have preferred talking to Lady Noelle alone—and with a sufficient amount of time in which to gently ease the information from her that he needed—but that wasn’t meant to be. Getting rid of Grace would be akin to upending a limestone cliff.
So Ashford settled for the small amount of privacy he could muster. Shifting to the edge of his carriage seat, he angled himself to face Noelle, his back half-turned toward Grace.
“Clearly, you’re distressed,” he announced without prelude. “What did Baricci do?”
An ironic smile touched her lips. “Not what you’re imagining he did.”
Ashford was half-tempted to blurt out that seduction wasn’t the offense he’d been alluding to. But he fought the impulse to do so. After all, if he made that statement, he’d be forced to explain it. “Why did you want to see him?” he asked instead.
“Why is he so afraid of you?” Lady Noelle stunned him by firing back.
Ashford arched a brow. “Is he?”
“I think you know he is.”
“And I think you’re a very clever young woman.”
This time her smile lit up her whole face. “And I think you’re evading my question.” She tossed him a saucy look. “According to my father, no one can best me in a debate. So I suggest you give it up.”
“Very well,” Ashford conceded, a warm chuckle escaping his lips. “I have the distinct feeling your father is right.”
“Then answer my question.”
“I will. If you tell me what’s prompting you to ask it.”
“Fair enough,” Noelle agreed. “Mr. Baricci kept bringing the conversation around to you, trying to pry information out of me. What he was delving for, I haven’t a clue. Nonetheless, he seemed to want it quite badly. He was overly curious—even worried—about how you and I met. Also about why you were accompanying me to his gallery. In short, he was noticeably disturbed by our association.” She tucked a strand of that glorious hair behind her ear. “By the way, he came to the conclusion we were lovers.”
“My lady!” Grace pressed a horrified palm to her mouth.
“Don’t be so priggish, Grace.” Noelle tossed her maid an exasperated look. “That is what the man said. Quite bluntly, in fact.”
; “Did he?” Ashford was biting back laughter. He wasn’t sure what he found more enchanting, Noelle’s sheer audacity or her utter refusal to abandon that trait and bow to propriety.
“Yes. He did.”
“Perhaps he was jealous,” Ashford tried carefully. He watched her face, gauging her reaction to his intentionally faulty assumption.
She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Hardly. As I said, Mr. Baricci wasn’t interested in seducing me.”
“Are you certain? The man has quite a reputation with women.”
Noelle’s sapphire eyes glinted wickedly. “Odd. He said the same thing about you.”
Grace moaned, burying her face in her hands, her bulky weight sinking deeper into the carriage seat.
“Are you a womanizer, my lord?” Noelle inquired, ignoring her maid’s all-too-conspicuous protest. Leaning forward, she propped her chin on her hand and regarded Ashford with a bright, fascinated curiosity that was both childlike and thoroughly female—very adult female. “Are you?”
Ashford felt everything inside him tighten, and he had to fight the insane desire to pull Lady Noelle Bromleigh into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.
“Am I treading on forbidden territory?” she murmured.
