The Rake's Inherited Courtesan. Ann Lethbridge
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bowed. ‘I suggest you go to bed. We will discuss what is to be done in the morning, when your nerves are less overset.’
She almost laughed in his face. Monsieur Jean must have lost his mind putting her in the hands of this dutiful and stuffy Evernden nephew.
‘Nerves, Mr Evernden, are for pampered darlings with fathers and husbands to protect them while they lie about on chaises with vinaigrettes and hartshorn complaining of headaches. I don’t have the luxury of nerves.’ She headed for the door. ‘We will certainly discuss this further en route to catch the mail in the morning.’
She turned in the doorway. ‘We will need to be up at five. I hope that is not too early for you?’
His open mouth gave her satisfaction enough as she swept out of the room and up the stairs.
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