All About Seduction(38)

“No. I just reread the beginning. I thought I might have slept through parts.” The words came out faint and mewling, as lies were wont to do. Would that he could read as much or as easily as she could.

She found the page where she’d left off and began reading.

“I’ve never needed sanctuary before now,” he interrupted.

She closed the book over her index finger and took her time in looking at him. “You need not worry. I will see to it care is taken of you.”

Didn’t she understand? A charity case was no better than being a beggar, perhaps worse. He had no way to repay her for her generosity in bringing him into her house and having her servants wait on him. Just as becoming an invalid made him less than a man, depending on her kindness would make him lower than a worm. “I’d rather work,” he muttered.

Her eyes flicked and she seemed to be considering his words.

He was better off being terrified of starvation or humbling himself. Charity robbed a man of self-respect and ambition. He had seen it too many times in the faces of the denizens of the workhouses. No, he wanted to make his own way in the world. If he accepted her charity, it would in the end emasculate him.

“When you are a little better we’ll see what we can do about getting you back to work. But truly you are not well enough now.” She put her hand over his. His heart thumped erratically.

He had to admit she was right, but he didn’t know if she was patronizing him or not. He nodded.

Her soft smile stole his breath.

She read a few pages and then took a sip of the drink. He caught the whiff of alcohol. Glancing toward the clock, she grimaced.

The hands were spinning far too quickly for his liking, for hers too, if her anxious glances at the clock each time she turned a page were any indication.

She paused and took a heartier gulp from her glass and then a second. She scrunched her nose and shuddered, revealing her lack of familiarity with imbibing.

Why was she drinking? She hadn’t the night before. Given the maids’ conversation earlier, he was afraid he knew the answer. Broadhurst didn’t want him here, and she had probably had to promise him reward. By God, if she needed strong spirits to face the rest of the night, he couldn’t fail. His leg had to heal. And if he didn’t get the job in London, he could try to set up his own business.

Jack sat up all the way. “Should you be drinking so much?”

For a second she looked vulnerable, before her features composed in a haughty mask.

“It is not as if I’ll be able to catch you if you fall.”

“I shan’t fall,” she said tightly.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. She scooted back as if afraid he might touch her. And he wanted nothing more.

“You will if you keep tippling like that. What is it? Whiskey?”

She thrust the glass out between them. He wasn’t sure if she was using it to ward him off or offering it to him. He took the glass and raised it to his lips, watching her over the rim. The burn of the liquid ran down his throat. He blew out to counteract the heat. Definitely undiluted whiskey. A smoother, smokier blend than he ever tasted before, but he’d thought ladies abhorred strong spirits.

Her lips parted and her eyes darkened.

“Potent stuff.” He wanted to turn the glass so her mouth would touch where his had been when she drank again. “If you are not used to it, you will make yourself ill, not to mention drunk.”

“I only want to relax a little.”

He should keep the glass away from her reach. Not that he could prevent her from tossing back the rest. “Do you not feel it?”

She shook her head and reached for the glass.

He pulled it back. “I’d rather go home now, if what you have to do for me to stay requires liquid fortification.”

“Your staying costs me nothing.”

“Are you very certain? Mr. Broadhurst doesn’t want me here.” He took another drink. Mixing liquor and the laudanum was a bad idea, but he was afraid she’d drink the entire amount if he handed it back to her. The glass was as large as any used for serving ale, but even with her regular sips, she hadn’t downed a fourth of its contents yet. His fingers worked on the glass, twisting it.

She blinked slowly and her lips parted as she watched him drink. Then she suddenly seemed to snap to attention.

“Sir, if you please, I should like my drink back.” Her voice dripped with icy formality. But he’d seen the cracks in the armor of her aristocratic pride.