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As he hadn’t asked a direct question, she remained silent. He was right; it was a game she was playing but, unbeknownst to him, a risky one.
“I find that hard to believe. How could I see you, play with you and not have you?” He paused then asked, “Are you married?”
He was now in perilous waters. Thankfully, before she could reply, he followed up his question with another she could safely answer. “Do you belong to anyone?”
He thought she was someone’s mistress? Of course he would, given where she was.
“No.”
His eyes, now so dark as to be almost black, locked on hers, and she was unable to look away as he said, “You know that you do now, don’t you?”
Oh my. Warmth invaded her body, and the sparks centered themselves between her legs. Once again she fanned herself, though this time flirtation was not her intent. She needed to cool down lest she faint.
Her lips parted, but she couldn’t speak. Desperately wishing it was true, she could only nod.
She barely heard the announcement that supper was being served.
Hades, his voice husky, asked, “Would you care for refreshment?”
Still speechless, she nodded again.
Once again he took her arm, but this time he led her down a corridor. Unlocking a door, he turned and invited her into what she realized was an empty sitting room dimly lit by a few beeswax candles and a fire flickering in the fireplace, the light reflected in the glossy pale green marble surround.
On a small table next to an elegant Grecian couch, she could see a platter of delicacies, two wineglasses, and a bucket holding champagne. It was a scene set for seduction.
The glass wall behind which her anxiety cowered lowered slightly, allowing a flutter of nervousness to escape.
She thought about not going through with this. But he was the one. Her only. And this was her last chance.
Taking a deep breath and hiding her trembling hands in the folds of her gown, Ria stepped over the threshold.
2
Little Bridgeton, December 1813
Mrs. Honoria Ruby St. James watched from the morning room window of St. James Manor as three gentlemen strode toward the front door. A strong wind whistled around the corner of the house and tugged at their black greatcoats, pulling them back from their shoulders and spreading them wide like wings so they resembled large black birds.
Vultures.
Ria let the heavy blue brocade curtain fall back into place and turned from the window. Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath. This was her last obstacle. She just had to get through this, and then they would be safe.
The gentleman watching her from the chair drawn up near the blue and white marble fireplace gave a nod of approval. “That’s my girl, Ria. Don’t let them get to you. Especially my nephew.”
At his words, a faint smile fleetingly crossed her face. “I won’t. Thanks to you, at least we have warning of why they are here.” With a questioning look, she added, “You never explained how you knew what Geoffrey was trying to do.”
“I’ve kept an eye on him. I knew he expected to inherit the St. James estate—his mother told him often enough how rich he was going to be. So I’ve regularly visited Old Farm, hoping to learn something useful.”
Ria frowned. “I didn’t realize you could go there.”
Monty stood up as he answered her. “I don’t spend all my time here, you know. I used to
spend a lot of time there in my younger days. My brother and I were very close, so it was like my second home.” With a wry grin he added, “You could say I haunted the place.”
Before she could find out more, the morning room door opened. Her butler’s normally serene countenance had a decidedly stony look to it.
“Mr. Geoffrey Danielson has arrived, madam, and wishes to see you. I’ve shown him into the drawing room.”
She could have sworn Flowerday’s upper lip curled as he said Geoffrey’s name.
