Page 114 of From Rakes to Riches

“Say what?” he asked in an incredulous tone.

“That you shouldn’t keep company with me. That you can’t be seen in public with me.” She straightened her shoulders, preparing herself for his reply.

“Lola, you’re wrong,” he stated plainly. “That’s not what I meant. If Bow Street was doing a better job of finding who attacked Fremont, I wouldn’t be so invested. When I spoke to them this afternoon, they hadn’t any new information. Even after I explained what had happened to you last night?—”

“What?” Her temper flared. “Ididn’t go to Bow Street becauseIdidn’t want them to know. You had no right to tell them. That was my decision and mine alone.” She paced to the other side of the room, frustrated the situation had spun further out of control, but also knowing she was being unreasonable and starting an argument he didn’t deserve. She just couldn’t stop herself. Arguing seemed safer than losing her heart.

“I’ve no right?” He took a moment as if carefully considering what he would say next. When he spoke, his voice possessed a solemnness she’d never heard before. “If you are in danger, Lola, I will not stand aside. Someone, probably the man who murdered my friend, returned to Vauxhall and accosted you. Bow Street had to be notified. But even if you’d dismiss your ownsafety so callously, any evidence that will help the investigation gives me the right to inform them.”

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t tell him why she was reluctant to speak with the Runners. The threat of discovery frightened her more than the threat to her personal safety. “But that still doesn’t mean you’d be comfortable being seen with me. I’m not some sheltered debutante. I know too well how the world works and earls don’t take Vauxhall performers anywhere they can be seen together.”

“This one will,” he said, closing the distance between them for a second time, his voice losing all its previous indignation. “I would be proud to have you on my arm no matter what the occasion, whether it’s the Prince Regent’s annual jubilee or the firework display at Vauxhall. How could you not realize that?”

“My experience taught me a nobleman’s word is not always to be trusted.”

“That is true of all people, not just noblemen, and I’ve only been honest with you,” he answered, a dubious gleam in his eyes.

“I know. I just wouldn’t want to stain your honor,” she insisted, knowing it was her fear of believing him that motivated her argument now. “In your world, reputation is life-blood.”

“I don’t give a damn about anyone’s opinion except the people I care about and I care about you.” He crossed the room and clasped her elbow, turning her gently. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you out for the evening. All you have to do is tell me the date. Does that please you?”

She gave a little nod, not trusting herself to speak. He tipped up her chin. His eyes searched hers and his gaze became heated. Her pulse spiked in response.

She was a fool. Balanced between the past and future, between her choices and freedom, obligation and pleasure.

Pleasure.

She’d already given up so much.

She wanted this one pleasure.

14

Lola went up on her toes and touched her mouth to his. It was the spark that set the inferno ablaze.

She wanted him.

The knowledge burned through him.

He wanted her more.

Grasping her hips, he brought her against his length, her body enfolded to his. She gasped, a soft startled sound, before she offered her tempting lips to be taken. He immediately obliged. Their kiss was deep and consuming. The heat of her body through her gauzy blouse enticed him to hurry though he didn’t want to rush. Everywhere he touched held the promise of pleasure. Her perfectly round breasts, firm bottom, and shapely legs. Her hair, long and silky, as it trailed over the back of his hands. The sensual rub of her tongue seeking his attention in an eager game of chase.

He pulled away, only a fraction, their breathing rough and fast. “You fascinate me, Lola. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.”

“And we have this moment,” she said, silencing him from further confession with an openmouthed kiss.

He stepped back, unsure where he led them but unwilling to break contact. They found their way to the single mattress and toppled down together. She lay beneath him, the bed hardly wide enough to share.

When we make love, it will be in absolute privacy, wrapped in satin and silk, unhurried and magnificent.

They had privacy and little else, though he knew this night would be a night to remember always.

He turned onto his side giving Lola the best of the mattress, her long dark hair strewn across the pillow beneath her head, her eyes closed. She shivered even though the room was warm. He bent and kissed her mouth hungrily, moving to her throat next, feeling the tremor of her gasp against his mouth as he explored the enticing curve of her neck.

Her hip pressed tight against his groin, the flimsy fabric of her skirt barely a barrier to her heat. Her body shifted with impatience and invitation. Need hummed through him. He reached down and smoothed his hand along her leg, tracing the graceful curve of her ankle, firm muscle of her calf, and delicate pulse behind her knee. She shivered as his fingertips lingered at the edge of her skirt.

“Theodore,” she said, half whisper, half sigh. “Make it stop.”

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