Page 68 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
When he’d offered her transport to London, his intentions had been pure. But he hadn’t counted on how he’d feel, trapped in this confined space with her. How her alluring scent would perfume the air. How he’d react to having her unchaperoned and close enough to touch. How the twilight intimacy of the carriage would inspire him to picture other, forbidden intimacies.
He wished that she’d stop staring at him. “But this is what I’m thinking about.”
It was what he was thinking about, too. Not to mention, remembering how he’d touched her breasts and stimulated her to a climax. And how she’d stepped into his arms last night, before everything went to hell.
Evesham gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. He went on, determined to prove that she hadn’t made a mistake of epic proportions when she joined him in this carriage. Practical arrangements. Practical arrangements. That’s what he needed to concentrate on. Not how pretty she was, and how her skin felt like silk under his hand.
“If you agree, I thought I might take you to my old tutor and his wife.” His voice scraped out over his tight throat. “They live in Bloomsbury, so you’re unlikely to meet anyone from the beau monde. It’s not an opulent house, but it’s comfortable, and you’ll like Mr. Trinder and his family.”
She frowned. “But what will they think when you turn up with an unaccompanied woman? Won’t they fear that you’re parking an inconvenient mistress with them?”
At least she’d stopped talking about kisses. Thank the Lord. “They’re broad-minded people. And frankly, Juliet, you’re the most unlikely trollop in the history of the world. One glimpse of you in that dashed nun’s rig, and they’ll know that you’re a lady of the most virtuous type.”
She glanced down at the ensemble covering her from chin to booted feet. “It’s the height of fashion.”
“It’s gray and it’s frumpy, and my grandmother could have worn it.” If only the dreary rag quelled his interest in what lay beneath it.
“I wanted something warm and hard-wearing. I’m sorry it doesn’t fit your tastes in traveling companions.”
She sounded miffed. Excellent. If she was annoyed with him, it would distract her from reminiscing about what they’d done in her bedroom.
“I’m just saying that you don’t look like a scarlet woman. The Trinders are sensible folk. They’ll understand you’re not a doxy, the minute they set eyes on you. Anyway, they know that I’d never do that to them. If I ask for their help, they’ll give it. No questions asked.”
She continued to observe him with a steady gaze that he really shouldn’t find arousing. “You’re fond of them.”
“I am.”
“Then thank you, that sounds like a solution. I didn’t want to have to find a room in a hotel. It seems ridiculous that at twenty-six and financially solvent, I can’t just march up to London and arrange a roof over my head. But that’s the contradictory world we live in.”
He managed a smile, although he understood her frustration. Juliet was a million times more capable and responsible than he was. Yet as a man, he enjoyed a freedom of movement denied to the female half of the population. “If you’ll permit me, I’ll get my man of business to look into finding you a more permanent home. Unless you have someone who takes care of your business affairs already?”
“Papa’s solicitor has always been in charge of my inheritance.”
“We need to separate you from him as soon as possible, then. There’s a conflict of interest. I’ll introduce you to my chap, and he’ll handle everything. If there’s any problem laying your hands on your funds, I’ll cover your expenses in the meantime.”
When she talked about kisses, she’d turned soft and melting. Now the onslaught of pragmatic information left her looking bewildered. “You’re…you’re very thorough. Thank you.”
Evesham tilted an eyebrow in her direction. “You aren’t going to kick up a fuss about accepting my help?”
This time, she offered him a real smile, if a little ragged around the edges. Given the way her life as she knew it had disintegrated within the last twenty-four hours, that was understandable. He was pleased to see her looking less desolate with every second.
“I’m truly grateful. As long as you allow me to pay you back every penny, once I gain access to my inheritance.”
Repayment was an argument for another day. As far as he was concerned, she was welcome to everything he had. And not just because he was to blame for her current predicament.
Him, and a certain William Shakespeare. How could he – anyone – resist taking her into his arms after that balcony scene? Every word that they’d spoken had been incitement to a kiss.
“I’ll see my solicitor keeps records.”
She accepted that at face value, thank heaven. He didn’t want to fight about money. He didn’t want to fight at all.
“Thank you.”
By now, rain pounded on the roof. Mulray, his coachman, would be cursing him. To keep the conversation away from dangerous areas, Evesham reverted to a good old British staple. The weather. “We’ll be very late into London with this downpour.”
“Perhaps we should stop at an inn on the way and wait for it to clear.”
Although he was sure that the remark held no salacious intent, his asinine heart started leaping about like an overexcited hare. He said a silent prayer for restraint. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
