The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(5)

“Be that as it may, we cannot be alone,” she said pointedly. “I am without a chaperone.”

“That didn’t stop you from arranging a meeting with Daltry, did it?”

Good God, how did he know?

When in doubt, brazen it out, her inner voice whispered.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said in lofty tones.

“And I’m quite certain that you do.” Amusement deepened his voice. “Much as I hate to disappoint you, Miss Kent, the earl is not coming. I intercepted your note, you see.”

Indignation made her forget her feigned innocence. “How dare you interfere with my affairs!”

“I wouldn’t normally, but you left me no choice. It is one thing to flirt with disaster, Miss Kent, and another altogether to jump into bed with it.”

She didn’t know what offended her more: his arrogant meddling or plain-spoken wit. She squared her shoulders and went with the latter. “You oughtn’t to mention a bed in a lady’s presence!”

“Then act like a lady, and I won’t have to.”

In the next instant, he was prowling toward her, and she took an instinctive step back. But he passed her, going instead to the Broadwood. He ran a long finger over the ivory keys; beneath his controlled touch, the keys trembled but didn’t make a sound.

It struck her that he seemed to know a lot about her, but she didn’t know a single thing about him. Which put her at a serious and dangerous disadvantage. If he circulated the fact that she’d set up a rendezvous with Daltry, she’d be utterly ruined. Her reputation was already a house of cards. The slightest waft of scandal and—poof. There would go her future.

Panic squeezed her lungs. She had to gain the upper hand and quickly.

Be pretty and charming and nothing can hurt you.

Summoning a conciliatory smile, she went over to the side of the instrument. “I thank you for your concern, sir,” she said in dulcet tones, “and I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I was, um, taken aback by your presence.”

“Because you were expecting someone else.”

“Because you claim to be a friend and yet I don’t know your identity,” she averred.

“My identity is irrelevant. I am here to talk about you. More precisely, about your behavior.”

An ember of anger smoldering beneath her breastbone, she kept her tone light, even managed a dimple as she inquired, “What about my behavior, sir?”

His gaze met hers, and she had to quell a shiver at the shrewdness glinting in those dark depths. How could she have thought this man indolent in any way? He was a predator lying in wait.

“Let’s start with the fact that you’ve been carrying on like a brazen flirt. Lords Thompson, Halper, Sandon, Millock, Templeby… the list goes on.” His casual enumeration of her sins chipped at her composure and set her teeth on edge. “While I understand that your intention is to marry well,” he went on, “you are not helping your cause by acting like a hussy. In sum, your behavior is not befitting of a lady—or worthy of you, Miss Kent.”

No one had ever spoken to her in this fashion before—at least not to her face. The gall of the bounder! Heat pushed behind her eyes, and she pushed back.

“You have no right to address me in this manner,” she said, her voice quavering.

“Believe me, I take no pleasure in doing so.” His calmness added fuel to her fire. “But I take even less pleasure at the notion of harm befalling you, and it certainly will if you continue down your present path. Men like Daltry will not bring you happiness. You sell yourself too cheaply, Miss Kent, and you and I both know the ton has no desire for cut-rate goods.”

Cut-rate goods. Blood roared in her ears. The ember in her chest became a conflagration, hot shame and fury melting away her composure.

“Better?” she said scathingly. “A man like you, I suppose? A gentleman who intrudes upon a lady without as much as an introduction and commences to lecture her on her behavior?”

For an instant, he regarded her, his expression unfathomable. Then his mouth took on a cynical bent. “I’m no gentleman, Miss Kent, nor do I claim to be one. And that is precisely my point.”

“Other than insulting me, I wasn’t aware you had one!”

“I regret that the truth offends. My point is merely that one ought to understand what one is and act accordingly.” He rounded the corner of the piano, and she refused to back down when he stopped a foot away, towering over her. “I may not be a gentleman, but you are a lady.”

“You don’t know me,” she said in a low voice.

I’m a bastard. At the core, I’m a wicked girl who’ll do whatever it takes to get what she wants…

“I know that you come from a good family. Tell me, do you want to bring shame on their heads—worry to their hearts?”

His words tightened the screws of guilt. She knew that her behavior would disquiet her family, and they’d just gone through an ordeal with Mama’s difficult birth. Fear surged through Rosie: why was it that this man could see through her, into the dark and shameful places that she wanted no one to see?

His brows raised. “Do you really want to act like a spoilt child?”

She reacted; her hand lifted, and she watched with horror as it flew toward his face. He caught it easily and then her other hand, too, when it went to join the other. In the next heartbeat, he had her trapped, his body caging hers against the curve of the piano, her arms immobile at her sides.