The Scoundrel in Her Bed (Sins for All Seasons #3)(8)

“Why not come during a normal hour?” she asked.

“Because what I’ve done has to remain a secret. Are they going to let you come with me? I sincerely doubt it, but even if they do, they won’t let you come alone. Chaperones and footmen will be tagging along. If your father catches wind of your horse not being disposed of as he’d paid for, do you think he’ll be happy?”

“No, he’ll be furious. He’ll have your head.”

“Precisely. So it has to be now, in the middle of the night. That’s when secrets are best made and kept.” When there was no one to see.

She hesitated another minute while he stupidly held his breath as though that alone would influence her to make the decision he desired more than anything else. Finally, she gave a quick nod. “Give me a few minutes to ready myself.”

“Be quick. I’ll be waiting in the hallway, but if I hear anyone moving about, I’ll have to make a hasty escape.”

“I’ll hurry.”

Grabbing his lantern, he headed out of the room, closing the door, then leaning against a wall to wait for her. It was madness, total madness, to be so intrigued by her. No good could come of it, and yet he was compelled to see his plans through.



Sophie wasn’t dead. She could hardly believe it, wanted to see for herself. She was probably a fool to trust someone who had broken into her residence, into her bedchamber, but if he were going to take advantage, he could have done it while she’d been asleep. Could have conked her on the head and made off with her. He was tall, broad, and she’d felt the firmness of his muscles when she’d punched him. He’d have no trouble at all hauling her away.

As she changed quickly into a simple frock that didn’t require any assistance from her maid in donning, she felt both a measure of excitement and terror. Never before had she done anything so risky. Not that she hadn’t thought about it, but whenever she’d fantasized about going off with a man alone at night, she’d always pictured herself with Thornley—or at least she’d tried to picture herself with him. In truth, in her dreams the man’s features had never been very clear, but to imagine her escort being anyone other than the man who would wed her filled her with shame. Guilt pricked at her conscience now, because without a chaperone attending her she would be in the company of a man she’d not marry. But with a great deal of effort, she ignored the nagging doubts. It wasn’t as though they were going to get up to no good. He was simply going to prove to her that Sophie was safe.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe his words, but she was in the mood for a lark, a bit of adventure. And she was still rather put out with her father, which made her want to do something rebellious, even if he never found out about it. She could sit at the dining table with a cat-that-lapped-up-all-the-cream smile on her face, knowing she had a delicious secret. She’d never had any secrets.

She was the most boring of all her friends, never gleaning any juicy tidbits of gossip to share. She couldn’t share tonight’s excursion but could wear the very same smile at the balls she’d attend in the future and that would lead people to wonder what sort of mischief she might be up to. It would give her an air of mystique, make her more alluring, perhaps even to the point that Thornley would finally take proper notice of her.

As she opened her door, she realized it didn’t hurt that her escort was a handsome devil. He stood there with his lantern in one hand, his cap in the other. His shirt wasn’t wrinkled like the one he’d worn that afternoon, and she realized now that when he’d been so close to her earlier in her bedchamber, he hadn’t smelled of horses, dirt, and manure. He’d bathed before coming to her, possibly taken a razor to his face. His hair didn’t seem quite as long either. Surely a young man who had gone to such bother didn’t have any nefarious plans in store for her.

He settled his cap into place. “We need to be very quiet,” he whispered.

She nodded her understanding. Then he did a very odd thing indeed. He took her hand, as though by so doing he could transfer his skill at stealth into her. He wore no gloves, but she’d donned black leather ones because a lady did not leave the residence with bare hands exposed. Still, she could feel the warmth from his skin penetrating through the covering to heat hers.

He didn’t make a sound. Although she traversed on the tips of her toes, she wasn’t quite as accomplished as he at sneaking about, which became evident when they hit the marble staircase. Each of her steps sounded like someone hitting a nail into wood.

After half a dozen clicks, he halted and held the lantern toward her. “Hold this.”

She took it, then nearly screeched when he lifted her into his arms. Such strong arms, so powerful. Thornley’s holding of her paled in comparison to being cradled by this strapping young man as he hurried down the stairs. The comparison was unfair to Thorne, who had held her as a gentleman would, with a certain amount of distance because it was the proper way to do it, and in their world doing things properly was of the utmost importance.

Once they’d again reached a carpeted hallway, he lowered her feet to the floor, took the lantern from her, grabbed her hand, and led her in a mad dash to the kitchens.

Before she had time to ponder that no servants were about, he opened a door and escorted her outside. After quietly closing the door, he picked up a satchel and headed toward the path that led to the mews.