The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(40)

He groaned huskily under his breath. Thinking of her was making him hard as a rock. It was also making him feel guilty. Because that was the other thing that had kept him awake most of the night: guilt. Which was ridiculous. Everything had been fine, wonderful, even, until his mind turned to Mrs. Wren, Anna, again not even a quarter of an hour after he’d left Aphrodite’s Grotto. The feeling the thought of her brought—a kind of melancholy, a sense of wrongness—had stayed with him all the way home. He felt as if he had betrayed her. Never mind that she had no claim on him. That she had never even shown that she reciprocated his longing. The notion that he had been unfaithful was still there, eroding his soul.

The little whore had been shaped like Anna.

Holding her, he imagined a little what it would be like to hold Anna Wren. How it would feel to caress her. And when he’d kissed her throat, he had become instantly aroused. Edward groaned into his hands. This was ridiculous. He must rid himself of these constant thoughts of his little secretary; they were unworthy of an English gentleman. This urge to corrupt an innocent must be overcome, and he would do it through sheer willpower if need be.

He jumped up from his desk, strode over to the bellpull hanging in the corner, and yanked it viciously. Then he began putting away his papers. He took off his reading glasses and stuffed them into a cubbyhole.

Five minutes later, his summons still hadn’t been answered.

Edward exhaled and glared at the door. Another minute ticked by with no sign of a servant. He drummed his fingers on his desk impatiently. Goddamnit, he had a limit.

He marched to the door and bellowed into the hallway, “Davis!”

A shuffling sound, as if from a creature called forth from the stygian depths, came from the corridor. It drew nearer. Very slowly.

“It will be sundown before you get here if you don’t hurry up, Davis!” Edward held his breath, listening.

The shuffling did not quicken.

He exhaled again and leaned on the door frame. “I’m going to dismiss you one of these days. I’m going to replace you with a trained bear. It couldn’t possibly perform any worse than you. Do you hear me, Davis?”

Davis, his valet, materialized around the corner holding a tray with hot water. The tray trembled. The servant slowed his already-snaillike progress even more when he saw the earl.

Edward snorted. “That’s right, don’t exert yourself. I have all the time in the world to stand about the corridor in my nightshirt.”

The other man appeared not to hear. His movements were down to a crawl now. Davis was an aged rascal with sparse hair the color of dirty snow. His back was bent in a habitual stoop. A large mole with sprouting hairs grew by the side of his mouth as if to make up for the lack of hair above the watery gray eyes.

“I know you can hear me,” Edward shouted in his ear as he passed.

The valet started as if just noticing him. “Up early, are we, m’lord? So debauched we couldn’t sleep, eh?”

“My sleep was dreamless.”

“That so?” Davis gave a cackle that would have done credit to a buzzard. “ ’Tisn’t good for a man your age, not sleeping well, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“What are you mumbling about, you senile old coot?”

Davis set the tray down and shot a malicious glance at him. “Drains the manly vigor, it does, if you know what I mean, m’lord.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean, thank God.” He poured the ewer of lukewarm water into a basin on his dresser and began to wet his jaw.

Davis leaned close and said in a hoarse whisper, “Tupping, m’lord.” He winked, a hideous sight.

Edward eyed him irritably as he lathered.

“It’s all fine for a young man,” the valet continued, “but you’re getting up there, m’lord. The elderly need to preserve their strength.”

“You would certainly know.”

Davis scowled and picked up the razor.

Edward immediately snatched it out of his hand. “I’m not such a fool as to allow you near my neck with a sharp blade.” He began scraping the soap under his chin.

“ ’Course, some don’t have to worry about saving their strength,” the valet said. The blade approached the dent in Edward’s chin. “Have a problem with their cock crowing, if you know what I mean.”

Edward yelped as he nicked his chin. “OUT! Get out, you evil old pisspot.”

Davis wheezed as he scurried to the door. Some, hearing the whistling sound, would have worried for the old man’s health, but Edward wasn’t fooled. It wasn’t often his valet triumphed over him this early in the morning.

Davis was laughing.

THE TRYST HADN’T gone exactly as she’d expected, Anna reflected the next morning. They had made love, naturally. And he hadn’t seemed to have recognized her. That was a relief. But really, the more she thought about Lord Swartingham’s lovemaking, the more uneasy she became. He’d been a good lover. A wonderful lover, actually. She had never known such physical pleasure before, so she hadn’t been able to predict that. But the way he hadn’t kissed her on the mouth…

Anna poured herself a cup of tea. Early again to breakfast, she had the room to herself.

He hadn’t let her touch his face at all. It seemed impersonal somehow. Of course that was natural, wasn’t it? He imagined she was a prostitute or a woman of loose morals, for goodness sake. Therefore, he’d treated her like one. Wasn’t that what she had expected?