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He leaned back against the cool stone and blew out a breath. Had it really come to this? Hiding in his own house?
A little squeak made him jump away from the wall. He turned and eyed the source of the sound.
Chastity pressed a hand to her chest. “You startled me. I did not hear you come in.”
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Hiding. I am friends with Lady Jameson and her daughters. I feared she would recognize me. What about you?”
“Hiding too,” he admitted.
“Lord Kendall is scared of a few sweet debutantes?”
“Not scared,” he grumbled. “I simply have no desire to deal with them.”
She pushed away from the wall and took a few moments to study him. He felt rather like an alien specimen, mounted and ready to be observed and noted in great detail. Chastity Whitaker did not seem to do things by half measures, including sending a cursory glance over one’s appearance. She forever left him feeling conscious of every part of himself.
“You are curious, my lord. A grown man incapable of dealing with a few women.”
“There looked to be about a hundred on my doorstep this afternoon.”
Even in the darkness of the tunnel, he saw her fix him with a raised brow.
“There was enough, anyway,” he mumbled.
“Now, why would you wish to avoid pretty women, my lord?”
“No reason other than I value my time too much.”
She shook her head. “There is more to it than that, I am certain of it. And you shall tell me why eventually.”
He didn’t need daylight to tell him her expression had grown smug. No one knew his secrets with the exception of Lane and the Harpers and that was not going to change. So why did a small part of him almost believe her? And what on earth had happened to this woman to make her so blasted confident of herself?
Oh yes and why did he rather like that confidence? He leaned against the cool, damp stone and tilted his head back. What a mess his simple life had become.
