Page 43 of Seducing the Knave

It was, but when she caught sight of the huge man filling the doorway, she took a hasty step back. And then, because she noticed the man’s slight wince at her rude reaction, she gave him a warm smile to make up for it.

“Hello, I’d like to see Mr. Owen, please.”

When the man eyed her strangely, she hastily withdrew the card from her pocket, doing her best to ignore the smudge of Jasper’s blood on the corner that had transferred from the knife she still carried. “He gave me this,” she offered stiffly, starting to feel like this had been a bad idea.

Seeing the card, the odd butler’s eyes flickered briefly before he turned to usher her through a narrow foyer into a rather spacious entry hall. The polished wooden floor was covered in a lovely Persian rug in deep tones of red, green, blue, and gold. There were no windows so the space was lit by candle sconces which cast a warm glow upon walls papered in a lovely gray damask. A couple of plush-looking chairs were set against one wall and a table holding an intricately patterned box stood across from them while a gleaming wood staircase rose up between two closed doors at the far end.

Pausing, the butler asked her to wait there before giving a surprisingly proper bow and excusing himself to ascend the staircase—assumedly, to inquire if Max would see her.

The whole interaction was oddly formal and informal at the same time. As was the residence, looking like a nondescript warehouse on the outside while displaying surprising comfort and understated but obvious sophistication inside.

The whole thing felt surreal. As though nothing was as it appeared.

Least of all Max Owen.

At some point, she seemed to have convinced herself that although he’d come from the rough neighborhoods of the East End, he’d somehow found a way to better his circumstances enough to wear fine clothing and earn an association with an earl.

But now she wasn’t so sure. Nothing made sense, and the longer she stood waiting in the entry hall, the more she wondered exactly what she didn’t know about the man into whose hands she was about to place her trust and her life. Again.

Hearing a creak on the stairs, she looked up, half expecting to see Max’s smirking grin. She was both relieved and disappointed to see the butler’s intimidating form instead.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he gave a solemn nod. “This way, please.”

Instead of turning to lead her back up the way he’d come, he crossed the hall toward a shadowed passage. Though she was instantly apprehensive, Elle followed him down a short hall which brought them to another stairway—one that spiraled tightly upward for what felt like at least two stories before opening up to a brief landing and a single door placed within a plain brick wall.

She glanced up at the butler’s wide features with a question in her eyes. Unfortunately, his closed expression only managed to increase her already unbearable tension as he opened the door, then stepped to the side for her to pass through.

Despite a wealth of misgivings, Elle truly had nowhere else to go. So, with a proud, defiant posture and a trembling belly, she stepped across the threshold to enter the devil’s lair.

Chapter Twelve

A moment ago, Elle would have sworn she had no expectations of what she’d find beyond that door. But her astonishment over what she did find suggested she must have had some thoughts on it because she’d certainly not expected this.

The door she’d come through was tucked in beside a large fireplace framed in dark, heavily carved wood which emanated warmth and cast its flickering light out into a huge open room—easily the size of a small ballroom.

The room was so big the firelight didn’t reach the far end, where shadows hovered thick and dark.

---