A Regency Courtesan's Pride: More Than a Mistress / The Rake's Inherited Courtesan. Ann Lethbridge
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won’t get any more information than I did. The man swore he didn’t know and looked me straight in the eye. I believed him.’
She pressed her lips together as if to stop herself from saying more. He didn’t like that. He preferred her open and honest.
His stomach fell away. He couldn’t seem to reconcile the woman he thought she was with the person who had emerged in that meeting. She hadn’t been the slightest bit open and honest with him. She’d hidden her noble connections, when most people would have trotted them out to impress. How could he not suspect her motives? And of all people, her uncle had to be Chepstow. The duke’s friend. And the father of Charlie’s intended betrothed. What a mess.
‘I don’t think there is any more to be done,’ she said. ‘Mr Broadoaks will see there is no more trouble and you can be on your way to Durn in the morning.’
‘Eager to be rid of me.’
‘As eager as you are to be gone.’
He damned well ought to be eager. ‘There is the little problem of our publically announced engagement.’
Her mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. ‘We agreed. You will cry off as soon as we sorted this out.’
‘And what will your relatives have to say about that?’
‘They have nothing to say. I am not answerable to them.’
But he was answerable to his father. And he’d gambled Robert’s future on a roll in the hay—something Robert would no doubt find humorous and ironic, if he were here to enjoy the joke. It wasn’t the slightest bit funny. ‘If your family learn of this we will be in the soup.’ Especially since he’d proposed to the wrong cousin.
‘I can stand the heat.’
Damn her, now she made him sound like a coward. He cursed under his breath. ‘I wish you’d told me you were related to an earl. I was blind-sided by Broadoaks back there. And we still don’t know who is responsible for the attacks on your person. Until we do, our betrothal must stand.’ And the longer it stood, the harder it would be to keep it a secret. As she must have known.
She flashed him a glance of dislike. ‘The mill owners have agreed to support the house so there is no reason to continue the pretence. No reason for you to stay.’
He could think of another reason. Not that it was very noble minded. He widened his legs, touching her thighs with his, a simple shift of position that could be interpreted as innocent. ‘Perhaps I can convince you otherwise later this evening?’
A low blow. But anger still rode him hard.
She edged away from him, but the narrowness of the seat kept her pinned against his side. ‘You, sir, are a blackguard and a scoundrel.’
‘So it seems.’ They passed beneath the old medieval gate and beyond the cobbled streets of the town. It was colder out here on the moors, the wind fresher. It would have been kinder to bring the closed carriage. And more fun.
The thought of being closed up in such a confined space made his blood run cold. He reached down and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. ‘Warm enough?’
‘Perfectly,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Thank you.’
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