A Lover's Kiss

As time had passed, however, she’d become more anxious and impatient to present Sir Douglas with the bills. Although she’d vetoed the most expensive items and tried to spend Sir Douglas’s money wisely, the total still amounted to a huge sum of money—nearly a hundred pounds.

If what she feared was true, Sir Douglas would expect something in return for his generosity, something she was not prepared to give. If that were so, she would have to leave this house and take her chances on her own. It was frightening to think his enemies might still try to harm her, but she would not be any man’s plaything, bought and paid for—not even this one’s. Not even if she couldn’t deny that his kiss had been exciting and not entirely unwelcome.

At last, finally, she heard the bell ring and the familiar deep voice of the barrister talking to the footman. She hurried to the drawing-room door. Having divested himself of his long surtout, Sir Douglas strode across the foyer as if this house were his own. As before, his frock coat was made of fine black wool, the buttons large and plain, his trousers black as well. His shirt and cravat were brightly white, a contrast to the rest of his clothes and his wavy dark hair.

“Cousin!” she called out, causing him to pause and turn toward her. “I must speak with you!”

Raising a brow, he started forward while she backed into the drawing room. “Yes, Juliette? Are those today’s bills?”

“Oui,” she replied. She waited until he was in the room, then closed the door behind him before handing him the bills. “I want to know what you expect from me in return for this generosity.”

The barrister’s eyes narrowed and a hard look came to his angular face as he shoved the bills into his coat without looking at them. “I told you before I don’t expect to be repaid.”

“Not with money, perhaps.”

Sir Douglas’s dark brows lowered as ominously as a line of thunderclouds on the horizon, while the planes of his cheeks seemed to grow sharper as he clasped his hands behind his back.

“It is not my habit, Miss Bergerine,” he said in a voice colder than the north wind, “to purchase the affections of my lovers. Nor am I in the habit of taking poor seamstresses into my bed. This was not an attempt to seduce you, and the only thing I want from you in return for the garments and fripperies purchased today is that you make every effort to maintain this ruse for the sake of Lord Bromwell’s reputation, as well as your own safety.”

“Who do you take to your bed?”

The barrister’s steely gaze grew even more aloof. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

“That man who attacked me thought I was your mistress. If I know about your women, I can refute his misconceptions if he tries to attack me again.”

“Lord Bromwell and I are taking every precaution to ensure you aren’t molested again. And I hardly think such a creature will care if he’s made a mistake, at least if he has you in his power.”

“So I am to be imprisoned here?”

Sir Douglas’s lips jerked up into what might have been a smile, or a sneer. “You have never been in prison, have you, Miss Bergerine? If you had, you would know this is a far cry from those hellholes.”

“Then I am free to go?”

An annoyingly smug expression came to his face. “Absolutely, if you wish.”

No doubt he would like that, for he would then be free of his responsibility. He could claim she had refused his help and therefore he had no more duty toward her.

Perhaps he would even claim that by purchasing those clothes and other things, he had more than sufficiently compensated her, as if any number of gowns or shoes or bonnets could repay her for the terror she’d faced and might face again as long as he had enemies who believed she was his mistress.