Stephanie Laurens - A Gentleman's Honor

He’d kept his voice low; she did the same. “Does that mean you’ll be leaving London?”

The prospect filled her with a curious disquiet. An odd, novel, uncomfortable feeling; she’d never relied on others before—she’d always been self-sufficient. Yet the thought of coping with the unfolding events stemming from Ruskin’s death by herself…

His arm around her tightened, drawing her attention and her gaze back to him.

“No—my contacts are primarily along the southeastern coast, from Southampton to Ramsgate, all within half a day from town. I can cover them in single-day journeys. Aside from all else, I need to be here to assess what the others discover, Jack Hendon from Lloyd’s and the shipping lines, and Gervase Tregarth in Devon.”

She nodded, aware of relief, but they were now too close, her bodice brushing his coat, her silk-sheathed thighs shushing against his…yet with the press of other couples about them, it was unlikely any would notice. And to the ton, she was still a widow after all.

Tony hesitated, debating, then murmured, “Incidentally, I’ve arranged for some men to keep a watch on your house. They’ll be in the street—you won’t know they’re there, but… just in case you have need, there’ll always be someone watching your front door.”

She stared up at him; he could see her thoughts whirling behind the green-gold of her eyes. First Maggs, now…“Why?”

He had his argument ready. “First the rumor, then the Watch. I want to make sure whoever A. C. is, he gets no chance to do anything more to implicate you. Or your family.”

He felt confident those last words would see her accept his arrangements without further question.

She frowned at him, but proved him right. “If you really think there’s a need…”

Whether there was or not, he would feel much happier knowing that when he journeyed out of the capital, more of his trusted minions had her and her brood under their eye. The three men he’d set to keep a constant watch on the Waverton Street house were one hundred percent reliable; nothing suspicious would escape them.

The music slowed, then ended; they whirled to a halt. Reluctantly releasing her, he tucked her hand in his arm and turned her away from Adriana’s court. “I’ll go down to Southampton tomorrow.”

Looking at him, she nodded, then cast a glance back up the room. “We should—”

“Behave as if we’re lovers.”

Her gaze snapped back to his face. “What?”

He resisted the urge to narrow his eyes at her; he opened them wide instead. “No one will find anything odd in that—it’s what they’re expecting.” Given he’d laid the appropriate groundwork over the past several weeks.

She frowned. “Yes, but—” Again she glanced back toward Adriana.

“Stop worrying about Adriana. Geoffrey’s beside her, and even if he’s distracted, there’s always Sir Freddie.” He paused. “Has he made an offer yet?”

“Sir Freddie? No, thank heavens.” She turned and settled to stroll by his side.

“Why so relieved? I thought you wanted Adriana to be able to choose among many?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I did. But as you very well know, she’s already made her choice, so Sir Freddie making an offer will simply be an unnecessary complication.”

He grinned, making a mental note to prod Geoffrey when next he had a chance. “Actually, I’m surprised you haven’t been inundated with offers.”

“I daresay I would have been if Adriana hadn’t hinted many of them away.” She shot him a severe glance.

“Strange to tell, she seems to feel that avoiding trying Geoffrey’s temper unnecessarily is a sound idea.”

He looked down at her—and hoped she read the message in his eyes; he concurred with her sister’s judgment and sincerely hoped she herself would exercise similar restraint.

The way she looked away, the hoity angle to which she elevated her nose, suggested she understood him well enough. Hiding an inward grimace at his own susceptibility, he steered her to where his godmother waited, surrounded by a number of her extremely interested friends.

Despite their interest and that shown by any number of the ton’s matrons in the relationship between them, the rest of the evening passed well enough. Through a combination of exemplary scouting and good management, he kept Alicia to himself throughout, avoiding the other gentlemen who, prowling through the crowd and attracted by the faintly exotic, definitely sensual picture she presented in her deep purple gown—something he fully intended to enjoy removing later—continually hove on her horizon.

They indulged in another waltz, after which she insisted on returning to check on Adriana and her court. Instead of permitting her to hang back as she usually did, he led her to join the circle of gentlemen and two other enterprising young ladies gathered about Adriana.

Alicia shot him a suspicious glance, which he met with a bland, wholly deceptive smile, but she consented to do as he wished. Thus protected from further incursions— the gentlemen who looked her way were not the sort to dance attendance among the younger crew—they saw out the end of the evening.

As soon as guests started to leave, Alicia turned to him; he got the impression she was tired, then recalled…hiding a smug smile, he gathered Adriana and Geoffrey; together with Sir Freddie, they joined the exodus. In the foyer downstairs, they parted. Sir Freddie bowed easily over Adriana’s hand, bowed courteously to Alicia, nodded to Tony, and lastly Geoffrey, then left. Geoffrey scowled after him, then turned to farewell Adriana and Alicia.

Tony exchanged a nod and a glance. Geoffrey returned both, an acknowledgment that Tony would see both ladies safe home.

When he accompanied them to their carriage, Alicia shot him a wary frown. He ignored it, handed first Adriana, then her up, and followed.

Adriana accepted his presence without the slightest question. Alicia glanced at him, then gave her attention to the facades they rolled past. He leaned back, content to feel her soft warmth beside him, perfectly aware of what was going through her mind.

When the carriage rocked to a halt in Waverton Street, he stepped down, and handed both sisters down. He shut the carriage door; the carriage lurched, then rumbled off. He turned to find Alicia standing on the pavement, eyeing him uncertainly. Suppressing a smile, he took her arm and guided her up the steps. Adriana had already knocked; Maggs opened the door, and she swept in. He steered Alicia in her wake.

“Good night.” Adriana headed for the stairs with barely a backward glance.

Maggs shot the bolts on the front door, then bowed to them both and took himself off.

Alicia watched him go and wished she knew what would happen next. She shouldn’t encourage any illicit interlude; she steeled herself to bid Tony good night. Determinedly ignoring the twitching of her senses, the skittering anticipation afflicting her nerves, she tensed to swing about—

His long fingers slid around her wrist. “Come into the drawing room.”

She turned, tried to read his face, but he was already moving, drawing her with him. He opened the door; leaving it ajar, he led her into the dimness beyond the shaft of light shed by the candle left burning in the hall.

Halting, he faced her, smoothly drew her into his arms—and kissed her.

Stormed her senses.

She was kissing him back, fully participating in an increasingly heated exchange before she caught her mental breath. Even when she did, it was impossible to draw back, to pull away from the engagement and the spiraling escalation of hunger and need it fueled.

Whose hunger, whose need, she couldn’t have said; they were both greedy, ravenous, both wanting.