Page 31 of West End Earl
Typical Cal. Generous to the point of excess, providing a soft place to land after a day of emotional turns and surprises. Standing in this lush chamber, with its carved wood mantel and grand bed piled with luxurious linens, it hit her that for the moment at least, she was safe.
Her knees went soft until a chair caught her. Wrapping her arms around the pillow and hugging it to her chest tighter, Phee leaned her head back.
It hadn’t been the worst day of her life. But the bar for that was rather high.
Phee swallowed around a hiccuping sob and squeezed her eyes closed. God, she’d been so close to her goal, and now this. Starting over from scratch again. Goodbyes. Death threats.
Rubbing a fist over her eyes, she scrubbed away tears. There would be time to cry later. After Cal returned from yet another night of socializing with all the other glittering, pretty people. After she left him behind. And she’d certainly cry once she’d climbed aboard the mail coach and “Adam” disappeared from London.
What she’d give to find out how large the insurance policy was. How much was she worth to Milton? Before today, she’d have used the pennies allotted for her allowance as a metric. Clearly, she was worth more dead than alive.
A tear escaped, so she wicked her cheek dry on the shoulder of her coat.
Later. There would be time to cry later.
Chapter Ten
Mr. Hardwick is upstairs, milord. We showed him to his room.” The butler took their outerwear, then paused while Emma kissed Cal’s cheek and climbed the stairs to her room. “Lord Eastly stopped by as well, and per your orders I turned him away. Again.” With a low voice, Higgins said, “I believe something might have happened with young Mr. Hardwick. He carried a pillow. Most odd.”
“Thank you, Higgins.” Cal handed his hat and gloves to the butler and ran a hand through his hair. When he snagged on the ribbon holding his queue, he slipped it free and tucked it in his pocket while he climbed the stairs two at a time.
A knock on the door at the end of the hall went unanswered. He glanced at his pocket watch and grimaced. It was late—or terribly early, depending on one’s perspective. But Higgins suspected something might be wrong, and Cal trusted Higgins’s read on most situations. Ophelia hadn’t listened to his protests when she left for Shoreditch earlier. He’d insisted she stay here for her safety, but she’d refused. Obstinate woman.
He stood there for a moment, considering the options. It was late and she might be asleep already. Lord knew he was tired after a long day. Between the interview with Nelson, fencing with Ophelia while pretending they hadn’t flirted in the hack, and their conversation about her uncle, it had been rather anticlimactic to return to work.
But that was the reality of his life, and it was far from the glamorous, laughing facade he put on for society. No matter what else was falling apart around him, there were still books to balance, columns of numbers to provide some level of certainty. There was comfort in the black-and-white finality of sums.
Taking Emma out tonight had been nerve-racking, watching for clues to her behavior he’d missed before. Some hint at the secrets she kept. When Roxbury hadn’t shown up to the event, she’d pouted but eventually enjoyed herself.
In short, he was exhausted. But Higgins thought Ophelia needed help, and for once she’d come to him.
With his brain whipping through a list of worst-case scenarios, he opened the door. All was dark within, the fireplace down to glowing embers, but the bed didn’t have the expected lump of a sleeping body under the blankets. When he lit a lamp, he spotted Ophelia in the overstuffed armchair, cuddling a pillow to her chest like a child with a favorite toy.
The light didn’t disturb her sleep, so he perched on the bench at the foot of the bed and took a moment to gather his thoughts.
Today he’d crossed that invisible line from admiring to admitting it aloud. Flirting, even. Not that she’d really acknowledged it before leaving the carriage. And once inside the house, she’d pretended that taut moment in the hack when they’d openly stared at one another hadn’t happened.
She slept with full lips slightly parted, but her hands clutched at the pillow with white knuckles. Even at rest, she wasn’t relaxed, and it killed him.
With her head turned to the side, the firelight illuminated the pink shell of her ear and the delicate blue veins of her eyelids. This woman with her secrets deserved the chance to truly rest, and he hated to wake her.
But tangled in the protective feelings were less altruistic desires.
If he could, he’d trace the regal angles of her face with his lips. He wanted to discover her confidences one by one as she offered them up like sweet treats. He’d indulge in her if she allowed it.
During their match this afternoon, she’d removed her coat and bent over to place it in the corner, and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue. She had a perfectly heart-shaped arse, and the fact that he’d never noticed before made him wonder about his eyesight. That gentle flare at the hip made his fingers itch to explore and see what other curves she hid.
There had been something in her gaze this morning—yesterday now, given the hour. Something that woke his desire after a long, cold hibernation. The tension in that hack hinted that perhaps she wasn’t someone who preferred female partners. Or not exclusively, at any rate.
Of course, he could be wrong about all of this. Maybe she didn’t want to change their relationship. Or maybe she didn’t know how to cross that bridge from friendship to more. And given her masquerade and her uncle, maybe now simply wasn’t the time.
Not knowing what his next move should be was new territory, and frankly, nothing about this was fun. In the face of attraction, he usually only needed to say yes or no, then set the parameters of the relationship—and there were always limits. With a father who couldn’t keep track of his numerous by-blows as an example, Cal was extremely picky about his lovers. During those encounters he’d focused on the numerous ways to please a partner without risking a child.
In the quiet of this room, every one of those ways crossed his mind. This attraction was blasted uncomfortable. As if a floodgate had opened now that he’d seen his friend in a different light, he couldn’t close his mind to all the things about her that he’d missed before now. And damned if he didn’t want to just stand there mooning over her like a lovesick suitor.
She must have licked her lips as she dreamed, or fallen asleep right before he got home, because her plump bottom lip shone wet and enticing.
Yet something had happened to bring her here tonight. There was likely a price on her head, and here he was wondering if she’d let him kiss her. Climbing to his feet, he crossed to the chair.
