All About Seduction(75)

Broadhurst wanted Caroline to have sex with the men staying in the house.





Chapter 15



Caroline couldn’t believe Jack had followed her up from the ground floor. If he interfered, he would ruin everything. At least she was able to shoo him off before he climbed the next flight of stairs to the bedrooms. If Mr. Broadhurst threw Jack out of the house, she wouldn’t be able to have him get her with child. Of course the point was probably moot, unless she happened on a gentleman who slept like the dead and didn’t wake when she entered his room. She could go in without knocking and hope for the best.

Her heart threatening to pound out of her chest, she walked by another door. Mr. Broadhurst’s eyes were burning holes in her back. His rage was a tangible thing that weighted the air. Nothing could have induced her to go back to him. But ahead was the horrible choice of one of the gentlemen.

Dear God, don’t let one of them rise to use the water closet. Her thoughts refused to hold together as she worked to remember the room assignments. If she could barely remember, would Mr. Broadhurst have any inkling? There was Ivero’s room on the left and Langley’s on the right. She jerked to a halt.

Lord Langley had gone home. His room was vacant. Without another thought she burst into it, whirled around while closing the door. She turned the key. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might be audible to anyone near.

She stumbled through the pitch-black room, stubbing her toe on a chair. Biting back her yelp, she formulated a plan. Langley’s room connected to a dressing room, which lead out to the servant stairs. If she brought Jack from the first floor to the room . . .

At best it was a half-baked plan, but she didn’t dare leave him to be caught by her husband. Only she could barely see. She headed for the empty hearth and scrabbled around on the mantel shelf until she found matches. She lit one and found a stubby night-light. She managed to touch the match to the wick just before the match singed her fingers.

Holding the candle aloft, the light only emphasized how very near to naked she was. Crossing the room, she grabbed the counterpane and wrapped the yards of material around her and over one shoulder like a Roman toga, leaving one arm free. At least if the night porter or one of the gentlemen stumbled on her, she could maintain some dignity. Biting her lip so hard she tasted the coppery flavor of blood, she slipped into the dressing room. Her feet protested as she left the carpet for the frigid bare wood.

Resisting the urge to walk only on the less sensitive sides of her feet, she scurried through the darkness to stairs. Nearly putting out the flame in her haste, she raced down the steps. She set the candle on a riser before opening the door to the first floor. She couldn’t risk the candlelight being visible to Mr. Broadhurst.

Her heart thundering in the chest, she stepped out into the hallway.

Jack stood at the top of the main flight of stairs leading down to the ground floor.

“Jack,” she whispered.

He swiveled so fast she feared he would overset himself. He drew his gaze over her as she walked toward him, the counterpane dragging behind her. His forehead crinkled and a half smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

“What—”

She pushed her icy finger against her lips and shook her head.

He tilted, looking up the stairs.

Damn, she did not need Mr. Broadhurst seeing him.

She caught his arm to pull him toward the servant stairs. His heat radiating through the nightshirt scorched her, but then her hands were cold. Running around nearly naked in cool late October was hardly conducive for a successful measure of skin temperature, but she hoped he wasn’t developing a fever now.

He grunted softly as he planted his crutch to keep from being pulled off balance.

Realizing she couldn’t tug him around, she winced.

He tilted his head down and slowly swiveled toward the open doorway. As soon as she had him in the steep narrow stairwell, she inched the door shut until it latched with a click that sounded like a gunshot. The steps went down to the kitchen, or she could take him back upstairs.

Looking down, Jack sagged against his crutches, breathing heavily. He was far from well and fit.

What if Mr. Broadhurst had followed her down the hall and listened at the door? He would expect to hear—Oh Lord—he would expect to hear the sounds of her with a man, and if he didn’t . . .

She said sotto voce, “I need your help.”

Jack turned and tilted his head, his expression shifting to wide-eyed speculation. “In what way?”