How to Woo a Wallflower (Romancing the Rules #3)(83)

“I—” Offense and protest perched on the tip of her tongue, but Grey spoke over her.

“Don’t speak to her, Westby.” He extended his hand as if he expected her to take it. As if he expected her to allow him to make her decisions.

“I will choose when to depart, Mr. Grey.” She’d had enough of high-handed men for one day. Never mind that she shouldn’t have been snooping in the earl’s study in the first place.

“The man is a wretch.” He flicked his gaze toward Westby. “An utter scoundrel. A certifiable scalawag.”

“I”—the aristocrat cleared his throat—“am standing right here.”

“And you cannot deny a single claim.”

The earl frowned but offered no rebuttal. “What’s become of you, man? A few years on the stage, and you lose all sense? If you were anyone else, you’d be clapped in irons for assaulting me.” He rubbed a hand across his jaw where an abrasion bloomed in shades of red and blue. “We were friends once.”

“We were never friends, Westby. You’re an arrogant sod and have no respect for the fairer sex.”

The earl chortled. “Says the man who’s bedded half of London’s fairer sex.”

Sophia thought she spied a patch of pink on the high cut of Mr. Grey’s cheek, but the look he cast her was tinted with more pride than humility. Lifting his hand again, he petitioned her. “Come with me, Sophia. Please.”

“I can’t simply leave.” Sophia owed Westby nothing, but she couldn’t say the same for his sister. “Lady Vivian invited me. What shall I tell her?”

“Nothing,” Grey said quietly. “Returning to the drawing room will raise questions you won’t wish to answer.” He tipped his head toward the earl. “Westby will direct the housekeeper to say you fell ill and called a cab to take you home.”

“Will I?” Westby asked with arch haughtiness.

Mr. Grey cast him a hard stare, and the earl stomped across the rug. With a dramatic sigh, he yanked his study door open. “Anything to get you out of my house, Winship.”

Sophia didn’t take Mr. Grey’s offered hand, but she moved past him toward the door. For however long she remained in London before returning to the countryside, she suspected her days of receiving invitations from the aristocracy had just come to a crashing end.

“This isn’t the time for worrying about etiquette,” Grey said, close behind her, a hand heavy at her lower back as he guided her through the door. Once she was across the threshold, he turned back. “Not a word about Liddy to anyone, Westby. If you hear word of her whereabouts, wire me immediately.”

“You truly have no idea where your sister is?”

Sophia couldn’t detect any concern in the earl’s tone for the sister of a man he claimed had once been a friend.

“No.” Grey’s jaw tensed, his hands tightened to fists against his thighs. “But I will find her.” He spun away from Westby and started past Sophia.

For a moment she thought he’d storm out of Westby House without her. Then she felt his fingers, warm and insistent, tangling with hers as he reached for her. He paused in the hallway, waiting for her to respond.

She felt a tremor across his skin. His hands were shaking.

Sophia clasped her fingers around his and let him lead her quickly toward the front door.

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