Tempt Me at Twilight (The Hathaways #3)(67)

“I am very sorry to ask you to ignore your obligations to my husband but . . . I would prefer you didn’t let him know where I’ve gone until morning. I will be perfectly safe in my brother’s company. He is going to convey me to my family in Hampshire.”

“I understand. Of course I will help you.” Valentine paused, appearing to choose his words carefully. “I hope you will be returning soon.”

“So do I.”

“Mrs. Rutledge . . .” he started, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I shouldn’t overstep my bounds. But I feel it necessary to say—” He hesitated.

“Go on,” Poppy said gently.

“I’ve worked for Mr. Rutledge for more than five years. I daresay I know him as well as anyone. He’s a complicated man . . . too smart for his own good, and he doesn’t have much in the way of scruples, and he forces everyone around him to live by his terms. But he has changed many lives for the better. Including mine. And I believe there’s good in him, if one looks deep enough.”

“I think so, too,” Poppy said. “But that’s not enough to found a marriage on.”

“You mean something to him,” Valentine insisted. “He’s formed an attachment to you, and I’ve never seen that before. Which is why I don’t think anyone in the world can manage him except for you.”

“Even if that’s true,” Poppy managed to say, “I don’t know if I want to manage him.”

“Ma’am . . .” Valentine said feelingly, “Someone has to.”

Amusement broke through Poppy’s distress, and she ducked her head to hide a smile. “I’ll consider it,” she said. “But at the moment I need some time away. What do they call it in the rope ring . . . ?”

“A breather,” he said, bending to pick up her valise.

“Yes, a breather. Will you help me, Mr. Valentine?”

“Of course.” Valentine bid her to wait but a few minutes, and went to summon the carriage. Comprehending the need for discretion, he had the vehicle brought to the back of the hotel, where Poppy could depart unobserved.

She felt a pang of regret, leaving the Rutledge and its employees. In no time at all it had become home . . . but things could not stay the way they were. Something would have to yield. And that something—or someone, rather—was Harry Rutledge.

Valentine returned to escort her to the back entrance. Opening an umbrella to shelter her from the rain, Valentine guided her outside to the waiting vehicle.

Poppy climbed onto the block step that had been placed beside the carriage, and turned to face the valet. With the added height of the step, they stood nearly eye to eye. Raindrops glittered in the light from the hotel as they fell in jewel-like strands from the points of the umbrella.

“Mr. Valentine . . .”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You do think he’ll follow me, don’t you?”

“Only to the ends of the earth,” he said gravely.

That drew a smile from her, and she turned to climb into the carriage.

Chapter Nineteen

It had taken Mrs. Meredith Clifton three months of dedicated pursuit before she had finally seduced Leo, Lord Ramsay. Or more accurately, was about to seduce him. As the young and nubile wife of a distinguished British naval officer, she was frequently left to her own devices while her husband was off at sea. Meredith had bedded every man in London worth bedding—excluding the handful of tiresomely faithful married ones, of course—but then she had heard about Ramsay, a man reputedly as sexually audacious as herself.

Leo was a man of tantalizing contradictions. He was a handsome man, dark haired and blue eyed, with a clean and wholesome appeal . . . and yet he was rumored to be capable of shocking debauchery. He was cruel but gentle, callous but perceptive, selfish but charming. And from what she had heard, he was a vastly accomplished lover.

Now, in Leo’s bedroom, Meredith stood quietly while he undressed her. He took his time about unfastening the row of buttons at her back. Sidling back, she let the backs of her fingers brush his trousers. The feel of him caused her to purr.

She heard Leo laugh, and he pushed her exploring hand away. “Patience, Meredith.”

“You can’t know how much I’ve anticipated this night.”

“That’s a shame. I’m terrible in bed.” Gently he spread her dress open.

She shivered as she felt the exploratory stroke of his fingertips on her upper back. “You’re teasing, my lord.”

“You’ll find out soon, won’t you?” He brushed aside the wisps of hair at her nape and kissed her there, letting his tongue brush her skin.

That light, erotic touch caused Meredith to gasp. “Are you ever serious about anything?” she managed to ask.

“No. I’ve found that life is far kinder to shallow people.” Turning her, Leo drew her up against his tall, well-muscled frame.

And in one long, slow blaze of a kiss, Meredith realized that she had finally met a predator more seductive, less inhibited, than anyone she had ever met. His sensual power was no less potent for being completely devoid of emotion or tenderness. This was pure, unashamed physicality.

Consumed in the kiss, Meredith gave an agitated little cry when he stopped.

“The door,” Leo said.

Another tentative knock.