Page 45 of The Virgin and the Viscount

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

“That’s not what I want right now. This was about your pleasure.”

Her eyes searched his face earnestly. “But I want to make you feel good, too.”

He shook his head and turned to face the surf as the waves rolled in and out. She might never love him. Fine. But until their six months was up, her body was his. He wouldn’t let her forget it. He would pleasure her so often and so well, she wouldn’t ever think of another man again.

…

She’d waited several hours before locating Sullivan once they’d returned to the estate. “I have instructed the staff to ready the carriage,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice even and devoid of emotion.

He glanced up from the several ledger books spread across his desk.

She clenched her jaw and took a slow, steady breath. She would not show him any of the hurt and humiliation she felt. Foolishly, she’d trusted him with her body, and that intimacy had given her a false sense of security in the dynamic of their relationship. The truth was, he held all the cards. Thus far, he had made the decisions and the demands.

He’d demanded she refrain from her Ladies of Virtue duties. He had said when and where he would touch her body and when and where she could touch his. Well, no more. She wouldn’t be his little puppet.

“And where shall you be taking this carriage?” he asked.

“I wish to return to London. Posthaste.”

His brows rose and she cursed the fact that he was so bloody handsome. She should have known better. Should have known that Sullivan, like her sister and her mother, couldn’t be trusted. They were too attractive. People who were physically perfect didn’t reside in the same world as she did. They were afforded luxuries pedestrian people such as herself would never receive. They didn’t have to fight for anything, didn’t have to try. They simply were. Beautiful and perfect and the rest of the world fell at their feet.

She released a tight and mirthless laugh.

“Suddenly you are in such a rush to return to London?”

“I am.”

He steepled his fingers under his chin. “What, may I ask, is the hurry?”

Damnation, she hadn’t considered him questioning her. This was what she got for being impulsive. “I’m missing my family, my mother in particular, and should like to return and see her.”

His jaw ticked. She was lying. He knew she was lying, they both did. But she’d be damned if she’d tell him the truth — that she needed space from him. Needed to return to the bustle of London and her friends and her duties. The other day on the pier when they’d seen that young boy stealing, Sullivan had suggested there was likely an adult behind the thief. It had made her see that there must be something similar happening in London and all of those kids she’d seen on Bond Street as of late. She could help them. More than anything though, she needed something to distract her from the feelings she was beginning to have for Sullivan.

“Your mother?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I see.” He closed up the ledgers and stacked them one atop another. Then he stood. “Very well, I shall pack my things and we can be off within the hour.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She’d expected him to fight her. She’d been prepared for an argument. But he’d given her none. He’d taken that lie she’d told him and simply accepted it. He must have nefarious reasons for doing such a thing. Once they were in London, she’d examine that thought.

Chapter Ten

Everything was planned and Sullivan smiled at his reflection as his valet finished tying his cravat. “Thank you,” Sullivan said as the servant nodded and stepped aside. “Will you see to it the family gathers directly into the dining room?”

“Yes sir.” The valet paused. “This came for you.” He held out an envelope, then the man left the room.

Once alone, Sullivan looked down at the envelope. He saw the wax seal on the back emblazoned with the letter X. He slipped his finger under it and popped it open, then unfolded the parchment.

Sullivan Chase, The Honorable Viscount Glenbrook,

I had hopes that after my last correspondence, we would have come to an agreement. Instead, I know your wife, as well as many other members of their foolish little group, is still out there attempting to manhandle petty thieves. I cannot adequately express the danger this puts them in—the women, not the thieves.

I still have the information you seek and am ready to share it with you. In order for that to happen you must help me end the Ladies of Virtue. Then you will be able to have your brother prosecuted for the murderer he is.

Most sincerely,

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