Page 21 of Greed: The Savage
Dynevor put another question to her. “You work with nobs here, Snap. Why so successful here and not out there today at Lady Darrow’s?”
Because Lady Darrow had been a vicious viper who, in between trying to rut with Malric, had spent the time looking down her haughty nose at Addien.
There was too much there for even Addien to understand.
“I’m not arrogant, Dynevor,” she said, carefully selecting her words, knowing each one mattered. “As Malric here said”—she flung her head in the silent guard’s direction—“I’m not a lady, but I can learn how to behave with—” She had to swallow to force the rest out. “Nobs.” Addien grimaced. “That is, the nobility,” she finished weakly.
The skeptical stare he passed over Addien didn’t do much for her dwindling prospects here.
Nor did the sigh he let out.
Her insides churned.
Dynevor fetched a cheroot that’d grown too much ash while the earl spoke and tapped the excess onto a silver plate. “Idisagree with Thornwick’s opinion that you can’t learn to be a lady.”
He shouldn’t. Malric was right, she thought wretchedly.
“But I can’t dismiss the complaint that followed you back.” The earl clasped his cheroot tight between his lips and then released it from an impossibly sealed-looking corner. “Lady Darrow’s servant raced here to tell me you made the entire exchange unbearable.”
Addien, a vessel of misery and discomfort, squirmed in her spot.
Her uncompromising employer was far from done.
“She confirmed Malric’s report that youfoughther butler, when he attempted to…” He looked at her strangely. “Take your cloak?”
This was the time in her life when Addien chose the coward’s way—she opted to take her meticulous employer’s question as a rhetorical.
Dynevor went to Malric for his opinion.
Her muscles wound tightly.
This is when he’d cast her to the dogs.
Malric’s next opinion brought Addien’s head flying up. “I’m not suggesting Miss Killoran’s position at the Devil’s Den be terminated.”
Her heart thumped fast.
Had Malric just vouched for Addien?
It was again Addien’s turn for Dynevor.
“I’m going to need an answer about your fight with the servant and your refusal to relinquish your cloak, Snap.”
Hell.
“This is where you say something, Snap,” the earl warned, the edge in his voice indicating he was fast growing impatient.
Addien tried to swallow several times; on the third attempt, her throat recalled the rhythm.
She felt Malric’s gaze pinned upon her but couldn’t bring herself to look in return. The heat of his focus bore through her; it demanded she face him.
The hell she would.
The minute she did, he’d see the plea laid bare in their depths. She’d sooner leave the Devil’s Den of her own free will than look to him—or anyone—for intervention.
“Snap?” Lord Dynevor’s words were wry, but the dagger-like edge of his voice told her to run. She was in danger.
Addien jumped.
