Jacquie ’Alessandro - Confessions at Midnight

After savoring the feel of her in his arms for several turns, he couldn't stop himself from speaking the simple truth. "I've thought of nothing else except you all day."

One elegant brow arched upward and a whiff of amusement entered her eyes. "That is obvious, given your attentiveness this evening."

Hmmm. Did she sound… irritated? Satisfaction filled him at the possibility. "You've had my full attention all evening, I assure you." At her look of disbelief, he spread his fingers wider against her back and pulled her several inches closer. Then in a voice only she could hear, he said, "You require proof? Very well. Since your arrival you've eaten four canapes and sipped three glasses of punch. You've chatted with eleven women, including your sister, Lady Emily, Lady Julianne, and five gentlemen, including your brother-in-law and Mr. Jennsen-twice. You've smiled twenty-seven times, frowned eight, laughed fifteen, sneezed once, and haven't danced until now."

Her eyes widened. "You made that up."

"I did not. But I forgot one thing. You are unequivocally the most beautiful woman in the room."

A blush stained her cheeks, and it was all he could do not to lean down and touch his lips to the beguiling color. "For the sake of politeness," he continued, "I danced with my hostess and my hostess's daughter, yet even then you occupied my thoughts. I've been looking forward to this moment, to holding you in my arms, ever since I arrived."

He watched her, wondering if he'd gone too far, if his blatant honesty would frighten her off. He hoped not, because he couldn't seem to stop himself. Couldn't bring himself to prevaricate with her.

Finally she cleared her throat. "Actually, I'm glad for this opportunity to speak with you, my lord."

"Daniel… my extremely lovely, very dear, greatly talented, highly amusing, and extraordinarily intelligent Lady Wingate." His gaze dipped to her mouth. "Who possesses the most kissable lips I've ever seen."

Her blush deepened and she glanced around, as if to make certain no one had heard his quiet comment. "That is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Your very kissable lips? Excellent, as it is a subject I'm anxious to explore further."

She shook her head. "That is not what I meant." She appeared to draw a bracing breath. "I've considered your… offer."

"That we become lovers?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I must decline."

He studied her closely. There was determination in her eyes, but something else. Something that looked like regret. Tension radiated off her, making it clear she expected an argument from him. And God knows he wanted to give her one. Actually what he wanted to do was drag her off to some dark, private quiet corner and kiss her, touch her, until she changed her mind.

But neither arguing nor dragging was in his best interests. No, best to allow her to win this battle. Let her think she was in control. Because he had every intention of winning the war. And making her lose control. In his arms. And in his bed.

Therefore, like every general who'd just lost a battle, he regrouped and prepared to outflank.

He nodded. "Very well. I understand."

Her nonplussed reaction indicated she had anticipated an argument. Keeping his expression carefully blank, he added, "Although you've no desire for us to become lovers, I hope we can continue to be what we've been all along-friends."

"I… well, yes. I suppose-"

"Excellent. I bid you a good evening." He offered her a formal bow, then walked away, absorbing her stare, which he felt boring into his back. And forced himself not to turn around.

When Daniel arrived home, rather than finding his household dark and asleep, lights blazed in several windows and he was greeted at the door by Samuel.

"Ye'll never guess wot, milord," the footman said before Daniel had even removed his hat.

Uh-oh. The fact that whatever animal Samuel had rescued this time merited him waiting up to tell him about it didn't bode well.

"I can't imagine," Daniel murmured, bracing himself. "What have you brought home this time?"

Samuel swallowed audibly. "It's a… girl."

"A girl… what? A girl squirrel? A girl rabbit?" Good God, he hoped not another girl rabbit. The last one Samuel brought home had promptly given birth to even more rabbits-all of which now resided in the country at Meadow Hill. No doubt the property was overrun with multiple generations of the furry, cotton-tailed creatures.

Samuel shook his head. "No, milord. Just a… girl." He cleared his throat. "Of the female person variety."

Daniel stared at his footman, whose cheeks bore twins flags of scarlet. Before he could speak, Samuel said in a rush, "Found 'er huddled in an alley, milord. Cryin' she were. Thought at first I were goin' to hurt her." Samuel's eyes flashed. "She'd already been hurt."

Daniel's jaw clenched. "How badly?"

"Got two blackened eyes, some cuts, and lots o' bruises. She managed to get away before the bastard who grabbed her hurt her worse." His lips pressed into a tight line then his voice dropped to a whisper. "But she'd been hurt before, milord. I… could tell."

A knot twisted in Daniel's stomach. Yes, Samuel would unfortunately be able to tell. "Where is she? Does she require a doctor?"

"Curled up on the sofa in the drawing room. Probably someone should look at 'er cuts, but when I mentioned a doctor she got upset and refused. 'Tis clear she don't want a man touchin' her, milord, and I can't blame her none fer that. Took some convincin' to get her to leave that alley with me. But with Cook and Mary already gone home to their families for the night, ain't nobody here but men."

Daniel nodded slowly. "Do you know her name?"

"Katie Marshall, milord."

"And how old is Miss Marshall?"

"Nineteen." Samuel's gaze rested steadily on his. "She's a decent girl, milord. Fell on hard times a few months back when the family she worked for let 'er go. Been tryin' to find work ever since. She'd heard about a family needin' a maid and were on her way to the house when the bastard got hold of her. Stole what little money she had and tried to take more than that." Samuel's eyes flashed. "Fought 'im, she did, and got away."

"Good for her," Daniel said quietly. "I think it best we get someone-a woman-here as soon as possible. Lady Wingate's town house is closest. Go there and ask for her maid to come. After you bring her here, you can go for Cook and Mary. And Samuel?"

"Yes, milord?"

"As luck would have it, I'm certain I'm in need of another maid."

Instead of flashing his normal quick grin, Samuel nodded solemnly. "Thank ye, milord. 'Tis the best of men ye are."

As always, Samuel's gratitude and high opinion humbled him. He wasn't the best of men-he knew that all too well. But maybe, just maybe, with Samuel's help, he was making up for a bit of his past failures.

Weary and unsettled after the party, Carolyn was relieved to arrive home. After handing her cashmere shawl to Nelson and bidding the butler good-night, she turned toward the stairway, determined to go to bed and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Alone.

Yes, she was alone.

She frowned. Not alone. Just… without him. She had years' worth of memories to keep her company. Not to mention her sister and her friends. Of course she wasn't alone.

Still, the persistent, nagging question floating through the back of her mind plagued her. Had she done the right thing in refusing Lord Surbrooke's offer?

Yes, her common sense insisted.

No, her heart argued.

She was halfway up the stairs when the bell that indicated the front gate had been opened rang. Seconds later the brass door knocker sounded. Surprised, she turned around and looked at an equally surprised Nelson, who stood in the foyer still holding her wrap.

"Who on earth would be calling at such an hour?" Carolyn asked, unable to keep the concern from her voice. Obviously something was wrong-people didn't knock on one's door at one a.m. because all was well.

Before opening the door, Nelson looked out one of the slender windows flanking the oak door. "'Tis Samuel, Lord Surbrooke's footman," he reported.

Carolyn gripped the banister, her entire body tensing with dread. Dear God, had something happened to Lord Surbrooke? "Let him in," she said, forcing the words around the lump of fear lodged in her throat as she moved in jerky motions down the stairs.

Nelson admitted a tall, out of breath, handsome young man who was clearly relieved to see her. He burst into a rapid staccato speech about finding an injured young woman, bringing her home, and her refusal to see a doctor.

"'Tis a woman she needs, milady, if you understand my meanin'. His lordship sent me to fetch yer maid, to see if she could help."

"Of course," Carolyn said, her relief that it wasn't Lord Surbrooke who was injured colliding with her sympathy for the young woman. She turned to Nelson. "Awaken Gertrude. As soon as she's dressed, escort her to Lord Surbrooke's town house. I'll go with Samuel now."

To Carolyn's amazement, Lord Surbrooke opened the door to his town house himself. His normally perfect appearance was more than a bit disarranged. His hair was rumpled, as if he'd plunged his fingers through the dark brown strands. He'd removed his jacket and cravat and rolled back his shirtsleeves, to reveal muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. She'd never seen him so… undone. The effect was dazzling and momentarily robbed her of her wits.