LITMIR.BIZ

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him farewell. She sighed. He had his purpose, he would not shirk his duty, and she had hers, though what she would do when Sissy married, she couldn’t imagine.

      A footman approached her as she turned to re-enter the house. She didn’t recognise the livery. ‘Do you live here, miss?’

      Lord, did he take her for a servant? She knew her gown was plain, but really. ‘I do,’ she said.

      ‘Got a letter for one of the ladies of the house. Lady Sissy.’ He thrust it in her face and ran off. Affronted, she watched him go.

      She glanced down at the note, turned it over to see from whence it came. It was fastened with a red seal she recognised. Beauworth.

      Her stomach sank. Why was Beauworth writing to Sissy? What mischief was he up to now? I will find the truth without your help. Was he trying to involve Sissy in his quest?

      Feeling guilty, she took the letter and made her way to her chamber. Seated at her dressing table, she turned the paper over and over. It was addressed to Cecilia. She should not open it. But William trusted her to keep Sissy safe. If it was harmless, she would explain her motives. Sissy would be angry, but she would have to understand Eleanor meant it for the best.

      Hand shaking, she cracked the seal. Bold words slashed across the page.

      Meet me tonight after Midnight

      At the corner of the Square. We will finish

      Our wager, on my Honour.

      Do not Fail me.

      B.

      That was all. No words of love, just a command. He must be very sure of himself. A surge of anger made her hot, followed swiftly by a cold feeling around her heart. Did he plan to seduce Sissy into helping him? To ruin her sister for his own selfish purposes?

      She stared at the letter. It was lucky that the footman had handed it to her instead of the butler, or she might never have discovered the plot. A careless mistake for a man like Garrick. She gazed down the street after the footman. A very careless mistake.

      From inside his coach, Garrick watched the cloaked and hooded female figure pick her way along the footpath. The watch called midnight. Right on time. A streetlight on the corner revealed little but her height as she paused to glance around. He didn’t have to see her face to recognise Ellie. He breathed a sigh of relief. After his escapade on the balcony had failed to flush her from cover, this was all he could think of to force her hand.

      Lord knew what he’d have done if Lady Sissy had shown up instead. Given her a lecture and sent her home.

      Still, he’d wondered whether Ellie retained any of the courage he’d loved in her, the reckless wench. A carriage rumbled past, cutting her off from view and he waited with baited breath for her to reappear. He bared his teeth as she stepped into the road.

      Walking right into his trap.

      He flung the carriage door open and leapt down to kiss her hand. Under the hood of her cloak she wore a hat with a veil.

      ‘Chérie,’ he whispered huskily, leaning close to her ear. Vanilla. Memories stirred. Seductive. Full of languor and heated flesh. They always did when he smelled that particular scent. Her small gloved fingers trembled in his hand. Nervous, then, afraid of what he might do when he discovered her ruse. And rightly so. If he was her brother, he’d lock her up. God. He’d love to lock her up in a room with him. But it wouldn’t happen. Not when she learned of his treachery.

      Without a word, she stepped into the carriage, settling into the corner.

      He’d thought of every last detail, planned his strategy to an inch. The only wild card had been her. He leaned inside. ‘I will drive, chérie. It is more discreet that way.’ He didn’t dare give her a chance to demand they turn back. He closed the door and climbed on to the box.

      Startled, Eleanor made a lunge for the door. The carriage lurched into motion. Dash it. Why hadn’t she noticed the lack of a driver? Too terrified by her own bravado to notice anything but his large form waiting in the dark. She hadn’t expected him to leave her in the carriage alone with no chance for conversation.

      She peered out of the window. Where on earth was he going? To his house? No, they had left St James’s and were now heading out of town.

      She stared at the trapdoor above her head. Should she knock to get his attention? Or wait until they arrived at their destination? Where was he taking her? Wherever it was, they’d be alone together. Despite her effort to remain calm, her heart picked up speed.

      What if she was wrong about him? What if he lost the temper he feared? Things could go very ill.

      After what felt like hours, but could not have been more than one, the carriage halted outside a small but elegant house, somewhere near Chelsea, she thought. She shrank into the shadows when he opened the door.

      ‘Where are we?’ She no longer felt quite so brave.

      ‘Still veiled, sweet?’ Garrick held out his hand. ‘How very discreet. A good friend loaned me his love nest for the evening. I promise we shall not be disturbed.’

      The announcement sparked her anger. Eleanor had heard hints of such places from the ladies of her acquaintance. Houses tucked away on the outskirts of town, where married men took their pleasure once they had fulfilled their duty as husbands. To think he would consider bringing her sister to a place like this. If that had been his plan.

      She dredged up the words she’d practised at home, but before she could open her mouth he reached in, grasped her hand and tugged. ‘Don’t be shy, little one.’

      Missing her footing on the step, she tumbled into his arms. Strong arms she remembered so well. His hand encircled her waist and he let her slide down his length before he set her on her feet. She shivered at the hot sensation of remembered bliss. How long since he had held her thus? A lifetime. The yearning she had buried deep returned with sharp vengeance.

      He laughed at her gasp, his white teeth gleaming wickedly in the torchlight over the door. She was barely able to stand on legs as soft as warm butter; her heart beat a wild rhythm. Surely he heard it?

      As if sensing her weakness, he swept her off her feet, picking her up as though she weighed no more than a child. If only he knew how she had longed to feel his arms around her again.

      For one blissful, heavenly moment, she leaned her head against his shoulder, revelling in the oft-thought-of warm strength while he rang the bell. Oh Lord, someone would see them. She struggled and he set her down with a warm chuckle. ‘Patience, woman.’

      The door opened and, holding her elbow fast, he ushered her straight past a footman in dark green livery, into a small salon off the marbled and mirrored entrance hall.

      From beneath her veil, she took stock of her surroundings. The dark green walls absorbed much of the light from the single candelabra. A brown velvet sofa guarded an intricately carved, white marble hearth. Beside it, a small round rosewood table held a bottle of champagne and two glasses. A thick white rug covered the floor in front of the fire. She could imagine him stretched out on that rug, caressing one of his women. Except the face of the wicked woman in her mind was hers. If her heart had raced before, now it galloped. Her skin warmed from head to toe.

      Across the room, a door led to an adjoining chamber.

      He stood behind her, his hands at the hollow of her waist as he nuzzled her nape.

      Delicious shivers raced down her spine. The years rolled away and she ached to lean against him, to let him carry her away into bliss. ‘My lord,’ she said firmly.

      His lips stilled. He drew back.

      She turned and threw back her hood and the veil. ‘You and I need to talk.’

      He smiled. All white teeth and little humour. A wolf inspecting his prey. His gaze travelled from her head to her feet in a slow appraising look that made her feel hot and cold by turn.

      ‘Well,

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