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Highborn ladies had family fortresses built around them to keep the riffraff away—even ladies as unconventional as Beatrice.
The best thing he could do for Beatrice, and for his parents, was to leave. He’d pack his things and sleep on Griff’s boat tonight.
His mother arrived in London tomorrow to meet with her sister and to see Ford off.
He had a path to follow.
At the moment that path led to a bottle of whisky and a night in the cramped quarters of a ship.
Ford was missing. Beatrice couldn’t find him anywhere.
She’d noticed that he hadn’t even looked at any other women tonight. He’d been focused on her. Attuned to the true meaning of her costume.
He’d been there in her moment of need. A larger-than-life avenger.
Dangerously threatening one moment and tenderly teasing the next.
When she was in his arms, it was a safe place. Not because he would defend her physically, though that had been thrilling, but because he knew her. He knew the young girl who’d written that journal entry and then torn it out, hidden it away in a book, in the same way that she’d buried her emotions.
She’d fought against her attraction to him from the moment she’d seen him outside her library window. She’d resisted the temptation to care about him, but it was impossible to resist any longer.
She had a choice to make: she could be a spinster who’d only experienced life in the pages of books.
Or she could seize this opportunity to live, even if the risks were enormous.
But how did one broach the subject of ravishing?I’d like you to debauch me, please?
Or maybesheshould offer to ravishhim?
There was only one way to find out which method worked the best. Her mother had gone to bed after taking a sleeping powder, and the household was quiet.
It was four o’clock in the morning.
And she had a rogue to ravish.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Ford.” Beatrice knocked on the windowpane. “Ford!”
The window opened. “Beatrice? What on earth...?”
“Let me in, it’s freezing out here.”
He leaned over the windowsill and lifted her by the armpits into the room where a lovely fire was blazing in the grate.
“How did you get up here?”
“There was a ladder against the side of the house.”
“Your hands are like ice.” He rubbed her hands between his. “You could have fallen to your death. Why didn’t you just take the stairs?”
“Now where would the fun be in that?” she asked with a wink. “I wanted to surprise you.”
She unclasped her cloak and it fell to the floor. She moved to the fireplace. She had to say this next part quickly, before she lost her nerve. She didn’t turn around, speaking into the flickering flames. “I’m here for ravishing, Ford. And before you tell me that’s a bad idea, I want to say that I’ve thought it all through very carefully.”
He made not a sound. She’d shocked him into silence.
“I want to be with you tonight, Ford. Tonight and . . . always. You don’t have to say anything, just listen. I know what I’m saying and I know what I’m doing.”
