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“Stop joking, Alexandra.”
“Who is joking?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, “that your father struck you.”
So much for keeping her little secret. She was probably an open book. She’d gotten used to the beatings long ago, and now, over two years had passed without any. It had been a wonderful respite. Never again would a man strike her. She’d kill anyone who tried. She’d kill anyone who touched her mother or sister as well. The situation had been rougher on both of them, especially Mama. She’d tried to hide it, but Ally always knew. Sophie, who was two years older, took the brunt of the earl’s anger that wasn’t heaped on their mother until Alexandra put a stop to it. Larger and less fearful, Alexandra began provoking her father on purpose so he steered away from Sophie. Timid, shy little Sophie, who was still sweet and good despite the experience. Not Ally. She’d toughened up. To hell with love. She was marrying Mr. Landon. He was nice enough. He wouldn’t beat her, and if he ever tried… Well, he would wish he hadn’t.
She had no desire to relive any of her experiences with her father. But dratted Evan couldn’t let it go. “Wh
y do you care?” she asked.
“Because I care about you. You’re mine to protect now—”
“Hold on one minute!” Her ire rose. “I’m no one’s to protect, least of all yours. I can take care of myself.”
“You can, can you? What if I’d allowed you to travel to London alone? Where would you be now?”
“I would have taken the rail, like I’d planned.”
“And you’d have been derailed in this storm. You’d most likely be severely injured or worse, dead, right now.”
Ally bit her lip. He was no doubt right. It irked her, but she needed him. And she was glad he was here. “I guess it’s my turn.”
“All right. What is your question?”
“Have you ever been to a brothel?”
Evan stood. “Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m not answering that. Men and women of our station don’t discuss such things.”
“Bloody hell, we’re dressed in bed linens, Evan. Why stand on ceremony now?”
“I’m not answering.” He fidgeted with his toga.
“No, no!” Ally looked away. She wanted to see it, but the thought scared her senseless. Evan was so handsome, and so well put together… “I’ll ask another question.”
“Fine.” He sat, his lips curving into a saucy grin. “Ask your question.”
“Just so you know, I’ve inferred by your reluctance to answer my previous question that the correct response is affirmative.”
He said nothing, but his nostrils flared. Just a touch, but she noticed. And then the perfect question came to her, darted into her mind as if someone had flipped a switch. She’d take care of that saucy grin with seven little harmless words.
* * *
“Did you see my breasts this morning?”
“I beg your pardon, my lady?”
Sophie looked up from her novel. “Yes, Graves?” she said to the Brighton butler.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but a wire just came in from the caretaker at the London townhome. Lord Evan and Lady Alexandra did not arrive yesterday as planned.”
Sophie frowned, worry chewing at her gut. “What could have happened?”
“They were waylaid by the storm, no doubt. They most likely stopped at an inn for the night.”
