Page 37 of Seducing the Knave

“Goodbye, Max Owen.”

Instead of responding, he slipped his hand into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a small card. “Take this,” he said, leaning forward to offer it to her. “If ye need me, go to that address and show this at the door.”

Her stomach fluttered, but she forced herself to shake her head. “I won’t need you.”

“Then ye can throw the card into the gutter once I’m away. Just take the bloody thing,” he insisted in a quiet yet commanding tone.

She made sure not to touch his fingers as she took the card and slipped it into her pocket.

“This too,” he added as her pilfered dinner knife suddenly appeared in his hand. “Even if ye don’t need me, ye might need this.”

Feeling oddly unbalanced, she took the knife and slid it into her pocket as well.

Before she felt compelled to say anything else, she turned her back to him and strode purposefully to the door, doing her best to display a confidence she didn’t completely feel.

Then she squared her shoulders and knocked on the door. It was opened almost immediately by a stern, iron-haired butler who did a quick glancing assessment of her person before lifting his chin to intone rather harshly. “Can I help you?”

Refusing to feel insulted by his obvious disdain, she lowered her hood to flash a bit of her own elegant derision. “Please inform Lady Gilchrist that Lady Elvina Fowler, daughter to the late and honorable Marquess and Marchioness of Ilsworth, is here to see her.”

The butler sniffed and stepped aside, saying, “This way, my lady.”

Elle hesitated. He behaved as though he’d been expecting her, which would have been impossible.

Trepidation gripped her tightly as the butler started across the hall toward a pair of open double doors. She tried to shake it off as paranoia but couldn’t stop herself from glancing back toward the street only to see that the Wright carriage—and Max—was already gone.

She was on her own.

At the threshold of what appeared to be a formal parlor, the butler paused to announce her. Holding her head high despite her bedraggled appearance and an intense uncertainty she really didn’t want to be feeling in that moment, Elle entered the room.

Lord and Lady Gilchrist were seated beside each other on an elegant sofa. A small, fluffy dog was napping between them. Though she hadn’t seen her mother’s dearest friend in several years, Elle easily recognized the lady’s elegant profile.

Her profile.

Why wasn’t the lady turning to look at her?

Elle slid a quick glance to Lord Gilchrist, a man she’d met only once before, to find him glowering rather fiercely. As soon as her eyes met his, he dramatically averted his gaze in a cut direct.

That was when she realized there was someone else present in the room. A frisson of alarm shot through her and she came to a stop only a few steps past the threshold.

Standing before the fireplace, wearing an expression of wary concern, was Jasper.

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