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She laughed briefly. “Oh no. I mean in London.”
“You woke me up and risked being seen sneaking into my bedroom to tell me I do not need to be in London?”
“Actually, that was not my first point. But it is one of them. I was told you never spend longer than a few days here. I wanted to assure you I am entirely capable of investigating this on my own and that you may return to your estate whenever you wish.”
“How kind of you.”
“I did not mean it like that,” she snapped.
“Oh no, I knew precisely how you meant it. Lady Chastity wishes me to return home and I must do her bidding.”
She scowled. “It has been a long time since I have been a lady.”
“There is hardly any forgetting it,” he pointed out. “You might look like a servant, but you are a duke’s daughter through and through.”
“I believe I have your staff fooled.” She folded her arms.
“I’m trying not to think how Mrs. Cooke would react if she found out I knew of your deception. She would likely poison my supper.”
“Mrs. Cooke is protective of you.”
“Do you think I need protection?”
“Hardly.” She gestured to him. “Your scowl is enough to drive anyone away.”
He did not even think he was scowling at present. He thought a smile had been flickering upon his lips and he did not like it one jot. There were precisely zero things about this situation that were amusing.
Firstly, she was in his room when she should not be. Secondly, he had the memory of her all warm and lovely in his arms. Thirdly, he was bloody aroused, and it would not take much for her to spot it.
He could not bunch the sheets around him without drawing her attention but if he did not, they would reveal him. If only the evenings were cooler and he’d slept with a thick blanket. But naturally he had not anticipated Mrs. Whitaker invading his privacy.
Nor creating such a reaction. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt such desire eating down into the very core of him.
“The point of this visit, if you please, Mrs. Whitaker? Let me guess, you are leaving.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Please call me Chastity. I loathe Mrs. Whitaker.” She pressed her lips together, as though regretting the confession. “And I am not leaving.”
He kept his expression neutral, but he could not help note the admission. He knew little of her husband, save that he had been incredibly wealthy thanks to some previous generation’s business endeavors. Old enough money for a duke’s daughter to still be interested. But perhaps the money had not been enough.
Not that he cared. He didn’t need to know any of this. He needed her to find out what the servants knew and then be gone. That was it. Ideally, exceedingly soon.
“So apart from telling me I should not be in my own house, what else did you want?”
“Well, I have three suspects for who might have been his lover.” She dropped down on the end of his bed suddenly, dragging the sheets with her. “Oh!” Her gaze landed immediately on his crotch.
“God damn it,” he grumbled and snatched the sheets higher.
Her eyes remained wide. “Perhaps I should...” She leaped from the bed as though he were a snake about to strike and knocked into the washstand, making the bowl rattle and the jug waver for a few seconds, sloshing water over the porcelain.
Then she twisted again and stumbled when her foot caught on the rug underfoot.
“It’s a bit hard...” A hand flew to her mouth. “That is, to explain...right now.” She stilled, folded her arms, and lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “We can talk another time.” She gave a little dip, her gaze now cast down, and Chastity rushed out of his room as though she were a cat with its tail alight.
Valentine groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
He’d always known having her under his roof was a mistake, but this confirmed it more than ever. The sooner he found out what had happened to Julian, the better.
