Page 56 of Tender Blackguard

Turner continued forward in an easy stride. “I was. Years ago.”

He said nothing more as he calmly accepted his coat and hat from the footman, but his casual admittance had done nothing to warm to the chill in Warfield’s gaze as he faced Turner.

“I expect we’ll be in touch soon.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Turner replied as he gave a nod then walked through the front door.

Lark did not wait around to see if the marquess wished to question her further, but the chill in his manner followed her as she slipped from the hall to walk swiftly toward her personal rooms.

Unfortunately, she didn’t move quite fast enough.

“Mrs. Evans.”

The marquess spoke softly but his tone allowed no room for her to ignore him.

She paused in the narrow hallway and turned back to face him. Keeping her expression flat and her voice unconcerned, though she was anything but, she replied simply, “Yes, my lord.”

He continued forward. His tall, broad frame nearly filled the corridor as he came to a stop in front of her. “Do you have a few moments? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. Privately.”

A thrill of anticipation passed through her at the dark nuance that flowed through the last word and the fact that he glanced past her shoulder to her closed bedroom door as he said it.

She wished she didn’t immediately recall the feel of his arms around her, his hands on her body, his mouth, his lips—oh, God—his tongue! But she did. In a feverish rush. All at once. And desire made her feel instantly weak and wanting.

With a superhuman will, she forced the feeling away.

Surely, he didn’t intend to continue what he’d put such a definite stop to the night before.

And surely, she didn’t want him to.

But she did. Very much so. Unfortunately, she doubted that was his intention when his expression held such focused intensity.

“Of course,” she muttered as she turned to open her door and led the way inside.

The click of the door closing again sent another thrill up her spine, but she ignored it just as she ignored the fact that her bed was only a few long strides away as she took a seat in one of the armchairs.

When the marquess took the other chair, she told herself this was no different than the conversations she’d had with Gideon in this same spot.

An utter lie, of course.

Keeping her spine straight and her hands linked in her lap, she looked to the marquess with a silent, expectant gaze.

It took a moment before he spoke. Long enough for her to feel his focus sliding gently over her face, pausing for a tingling, heart-stopping breath on her mouth before meeting her gaze.

“Tell me about Turner.”

It definitely wasn’t a request, but there was no hint of threat or animosity in his voice.

Lark allowed a slight furrow to her brow as she looked at him questioningly. “I don’t know what I can tell you, my lord. I haven’t been acquainted with him for many years.”

“Then tell me what you did know of him.”

She could tell he was intent upon her answer and would not accept avoidance. But she wasn’t about to betray an old friendship without knowing the reason for it.

“Why?”

Her question caused a scowl to mar his dark brow. It was clear he didn’t want to explain himself, but Lark lifted a brow, making it equally clear she wouldn’t be forthcoming without good cause.

“I’ve recently decided to work with him to resolve...the matter you and I discussed last night. I want to ensure I haven’t made a mistake.”

---