The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(14)

Botheration. Had Daltry come and gone already? Should she wait here or go look for him…

“Beg pardon, but you wouldn’t happen to be Miss Kent?”

She looked at the guard in surprise. “I am indeed.”

“You’re expected, miss.” He untied the rope, granting her access. “In the rotunda at the back.”

“Thank you.” Flashing the man a relieved smile, she made her way in.

She’d never been inside the conservatory while it was empty, and, as she hurried through the long hall, she felt as if she were inside an enchanted garden. The greenhouse walls were composed of glass panes held together by a delicate grid of ironwork. Flowering vines climbed toward the vaulted ceiling, and a stone fountain gurgled merrily as she passed.

Here, she would have the privacy she needed to negotiate the future with Daltry, and things were working out even better than she planned… so why was she feeling uneasy? Why did she have a sudden impulse to turn around and run?

This is what you want. Don’t lose your starch now.

She reached the end of the corridor, which opened into a rotunda shrouded with greenery. Citrus and gardenia perfumed the humid air, and she followed the maze-like path created by the tall potted plants toward the hidden heart of the room. At her arrival, she stopped short: an all-too-familiar tall, broad-shouldered figure was standing next to a basin filled with darting fish.

“Dash it all,” she blurted. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same thing, Miss Kent,” the stranger replied.

But he wasn’t a stranger, was he? she fumed. This man was the same bounder who’d ruined her plans the last time! To her further annoyance, he looked even more attractive unmasked and in the daylight. Beneath the brim of his elegant hat, his hair gleamed like polished bronze.

His features were the sort that ought to be immortalized in marble: straight, strong, classically male. She saw that he was a tad older than she’d first assumed—in his mid-thirties, most likely. The fine lines around his eyes and mouth saved him from bland perfection and enhanced his aura of sensual experience.

And his eyes… the light revealed that they were a rich brown. Dark as chocolate and disturbingly knowing. As he bowed, she noted that his tailoring was undoubtedly superb, the azure double-breasted tailcoat, tan waistcoat, and buff trousers showcasing his long, sinewy form. His tall black boots, banded by brown leather at the top, hugged his muscular calves.

Stop gawking and gather your wits, you ninny.

She drew her shoulders up and skewered him with a glare. “What business is it of yours?”

“You made me a promise, and you didn’t keep it,” he said mildly.

“I made you no promise! You assumed that you could order me about,” she snapped. “Now kindly make yourself scarce as I am expecting someone—”

“Daltry’s not coming.”

“How would you know?” She blinked. “What do you mean he’s not coming?”

“He’s having some problems with his carriage, I’m afraid.”

Suspicions collided like carts on Covent Garden market day, words scattering from her.

“Did you sabotage Daltry’s vehicle? That guard back there,” she cried in outrage, “he’s not even an employee of the Pantheon, is he? You set this all up!”

The stranger regarded her. “The man is a guard, actually. I bribed him.”

“Of all the nerve.” She marched up to him, jabbed a gloved finger at his chest. “For the last time: who in blazes are you, and why do you insist on ruining my future?”

“I told you: I’m a friend. My sole purpose is to protect you.” His dark gaze was steady, mesmerizing in its intensity. “Daltry will cause you pain, my dear.”

“He is an earl, possessed of one of the oldest titles in the peerage,” she said acidly. “I’ll take the torture, thank you very much.”

“He has three by-blows. By three different mistresses. None of whom—mother or child—he treats with any degree of responsibility.”

The revelations were made more shocking by the emotionless tone in which they’d been uttered. Ruthlessly, Rosie pushed them aside to deal with later.

“It’s easy to talk about a man’s sins when he’s not present,” she scoffed.

“If you don’t believe me, ask your mama. Or your father. He’s an investigator, isn’t he? I’m sure he can have the information verified.”

“I’m not going to discuss Daltry’s by-blows—alleged by-blows, I mean—with my parents!”

“Don’t you think they’d want to know the character of their potential son-in-law?”

The last thing Rosie wanted was to place Daltry beneath the parental magnifying glass. Mama already thought he was a roué. Papa always agreed with Mama.

Switching tactics, she said, “If you’re a friend, why won’t you reveal your identity?”

Shadows ghosted through his eyes. “Because you shouldn’t know a man like me.” His jaw tightened. “And you wouldn’t have to, if you would only behave.”

Behave? Her head jerked at the insult. “I am not a witless child, sir, to be ordered about!”

“To the contrary, discipline is what you need. You’ve been given too much latitude, which has resulted in you running about pell-mell, courting disaster at every turn,” he said grimly. “A young lady’s reputation is her most precious and irreplaceable commodity, Miss Kent, and you are dangerously close to losing yours.”