by Cheryl Holt
“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered.
“For what?” he asked. “Nice petticoat, by the way. I don’t like the corset though. It’s too plain. I like a lot of lace.”
“Ah!” she shrieked.
She’d forgotten that she’d taken off her dress, and she whipped away and grabbed her robe from the hook on the wall. Frantically, she stuffed her arms in the sleeves and cinched the belt very tight. It wasn’t much protection from his prurient gaze, but it was all she had.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I thought we should talk.”
“Talk!” She pointed to the door. “I’m busy, and you need to leave. My engagement is about to be announced.”
“So I heard.”
“In fifteen minutes! I have to get downstairs immediately, and I’m not about to finish changing while you’re watching me.”
“It’s funny about that engagement,” he mused, and he resembled a hawk circling its prey.
Instinctively, she stepped back. “What about it?”
“When I bumped into you the other night, I could have sworn you told me you were already engaged.”
“Well, I was just a few days early. We’re about to make it official.”
“Who’s the lucky fellow?” Mr. Grey asked. “Is it that rude oaf you introduced to me? Or is it someone else? Have you a line of swains waiting to claim you?”
“Don’t be absurd. It’s Bernard—the man you met.”
“He seems quite a bit older than you.”
“He is—not that it’s any of your business.”
“I’ve seen him out on the town the past week. He has a lot of young, male friends. Have you noticed?”
Obviously, he was trying to impart an important detail, but she was too distracted to deduce what it was. And she didn’t care what he thought of Bernard. Mr. Grey’s opinion would never matter to her on any topic.
“Bernard has friends because he’s friendly,” she seethed, “which is more than I can say for some of the men with whom I’ve recently been acquainted.”
He grinned. “You mean me.”
“Yes, I mean you, and I don’t have time to fuss with you.”
“Isn’t this how you landed yourself into that predicament with Lord Trent?”
“Yes, and it’s not happening again. Go away!”
He didn’t budge, but simply remained leaned on the doorframe.
“Susan!” she called. She halted, listening, but received no reply.
“Your cousin left. She’s not about to ride to your rescue.”
“I don’t need a rescue. I need you to leave.
She went over and pushed him, anxious to force him away so she could shut the door. Yet he was solid as a block of marble, and the instant her palms touched his chest, she realized her mistake in being too near.
Sparks sizzled so hotly she was surprised the room didn’t ignite. She stumbled away, disconcerted by her reaction. She wanted to fall into his arms, wanted to beg him to save her from Bernard, but she’d put her future in his hands once before, and he’d tossed it in her face.
“She visited me the other day,” he said.
“Who?”
“Your cousin. She came to my hotel.”
“Why would she? She knows how much I hate you.”
He raised an intriguing brow. “You—hate me? It’s not the story she told.”
“Isn’t it? She must have been lying.”
“In fact, she had numerous comments I found quite interesting. Would you like to hear what some of them were?”
“No. You have to leave, Mr. Grey! If I don’t get downstairs, my father will kill me.”
“Yes, Mrs. Pinkerton advised me that he’s very cruel.”
“I guess he can be a bit…stern.”
“Stern? Really? She thought—if you refused to wed your precious Bernard—he might lock you in an asylum for being a lunatic.”
“He didn’t threaten that exactly, and Bernard is not my precious anything.”
“Then why are you marrying him?”
“Why would you suppose, Mr. Grey? My father arranged it.”
“And you’re an obedient daughter?”
“A very obedient daughter.” She could have added that she had no other option, but she wasn’t about to start sharing her woes with him. He could choke on a crow.
“What must I do to convince you to depart?’ she asked.
“You can’t convince me, because I’m not ready to go.”
“Clearly, there’s an issue bothering you. Will you please tell me what it is?”
“I might tell you, but I’m trying to decide if I’d be wasting my breath.”
“Wasting your breath? By what? By talking to me? Oh, you are a pest, and you’re about to wreck my life.”
“Are you sure it’s a life you want?”
“Am I sure?” She threw up her hands. “You are deranged.”
She spun away from him, showing him her back. He was right behind her, his torrid gaze cutting into her like shards of glass, but she ignored him. She had to, had to, had to get downstairs!
She loosened the belt on her robe and slithered out of it so she was wearing only her corset and petticoat once again. As she reached for the pink dress, he said, “I told you I can’t abide you in pink.”
“I most humbly apologize then, Mr. Grey, but it’s not up to you.”
He grabbed for it too, and they engaged in a brief tug of war. To her horrified dismay, with a hard yank, he ripped it in half.
“Now look what you’ve done! I’m not rich. I don’t have piles of money to buy new clothes.”
“Won’t your husband—your dear Bernard—buy them for you?”
The query stopped her in her tracks. Could Bernard purchase necessities? She possessed so little valid information about him. He was always fashionably attired and always had pocket money, and he was related to Mrs. Mountbank. He must have significant funds.
Her disquiet must have been visible in her expression, because he scoffed with disgust.
“You don’t know your fiancé’s fiscal condition.”
“Of course I know it,” she blustered.
“Your father previously forced you into one untenable betrothal. Why are you so eager to jump into another?”
“It’s not as if I have a dozen alternatives, Mr. Grey,” she blurted out. “I’m twenty-three, and I’m a ruined spinster. My father has wed again, and there is no place for me in his home. He’s helping me to move on, which is for the best.”
“Marrying Bernard is for the best?”
“Absolutely.”
He chuckled. “There’s just one problem with that.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Who cares if you believe me or not? Your opinion is so far down on the list of topics I worry about that I can’t even see it.”
“Let’s get back to your cousin and her visit to my hotel.”
“Let’s not and say we did,” she snidely retorted.
“She insists you were heartbroken when you left Cairo.”
“I might have been,” she fumed, “but I recovered quickly enough.”
“It’s not what Mrs. Pinkerton tells me.”
“My cousin has a penchant for melodrama.”
“Melodrama, is it?”
“Yes.”
“So…you weren’t pining away for me?”
“No.”
“You weren’t certain I’d return to Cairo, find you gone, and follow you to England.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Next time she talked to Susan, she would wring her cousin’s neck.
“You didn’t look over your shoulder constantly to see if I might be standing there?”
“No.”
With each question, he took a step toward her, and she took one back. But the room was very small, and she banged into the wall.
“Stay right where you are, you bounder.”
; “I don’t think so.”
He leaned in so the front of his body was pressed to hers all the way down.
“Mrs. Pinkerton also told me”—his delicious blue eyes searched hers—“that you suspected your Aunt Edna tricked me into parting with you.”
“I might have thought that,” she responded.
“Well, guess what?”
“What?”
“That last morning, she came to Valois’s villa, and she informed me that you couldn’t wed me because you were already engaged.”
She blanched with astonishment. “To whom?”
“Your father’s elderly neighbor—who doted on you. She said he was rich and settled and would be kind to you.”
Theo was appalled. “Edna said that?”
“Yes, and she was adamant that your father would never allow you to marry me, that if you remained in Cairo, he’d cut all ties and you’d end up hating me because of it.”
“I could never have hated you,” she mumbled. “Not then anyway.”
“I didn’t have anything to offer you. Not even a bed to sleep in, and I left because I hoped I was giving you a better life.”
“It’s why you left? So I’d head home and wed my father’s elderly neighbor?”
“Yes, and I snuck in here tonight so I could tell you to your face.”
“Oh, you idiot! I didn’t care that you had no bed for me to sleep in. I would have camped in a ditch if only I could have been by your side.”
“What about now?” he asked. “Would you sleep in a ditch with me now?”
“Sorry, but I wouldn’t share you with Mrs. Valda.”
“Mrs. Valda has sailed for Paris. She’s not coming back.”
“Bully for her. I’m positive she’s one in a long line of females you’ve seduced over the years.”
“Yes, that’s me, a veritable Romeo.”
“I’m curious. How many tourist girls such as myself have you ruined? Edna knew of four of them. How many will you confess to?”
He frowned ferociously. “Edna claimed I preyed on girls in Cairo?”
“Yes, and that was why you trifled with me. It was all a game to you, and I was just another notch on your belt.”
Suddenly, he was very, very angry, and he crushed her to the wall so tightly she could barely breathe. “You listen to me, Theodosia Postlewaite, and you listen good! I have never seduced a girl in Egypt or anywhere else. I had an affair with Mrs. Valda, and I freely admit to it. But she’s an adult and a trollop, and I felt no need to behave any better with her, but that’s it. Your Aunt Edna is a bald-faced liar.”
“Oh.”
They stared at each other, and it gradually dawned on them that Edna had manipulated them in numerous ways.
“Why didn’t you come after me?” she asked. “When you returned to Cairo and I wasn’t there, why didn’t you come?”
“I told you, you little fool. I thought I was sending you home to wed the man your father selected.”
“And I thought you were glad I left.”
“I was never glad, Theo. Not for a second.”
“Where does that leave us?” she inquired. “You’ve confided Edna’s perfidy. Is your conscience clear? I’ve heard the whole story, and I understand precisely what transpired.”
“You don’t understand anything,” he grumbled.
He slid an arm around her waist and lifted her off the floor. Then he was kissing her and kissing her. For a brief instant, she tried to squirm away, but she quickly realized she didn’t want to escape. She wanted him to kiss her and never, ever stop.
He deepened the kiss, his hands in her hair, his tongue in her mouth. Her combs went flying, her chignon crumbling, her blond locks falling to her bottom.
“Why are you really here, Soloman?” she asked as she yanked away.
“Don’t you know?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You have to be the stupidest woman alive.”
He released her, and her feet landed on the floor with a hard thud. They were glaring, wary of what seemed to be occurring.
“I love you,” he absurdly declared.
“You do not.”
“I do! And don’t you dare say you don’t believe me.”
He was hovered over her, shaking a finger in her face. He loved her? Could it be true?
Once in her life, it had been the exact sentiment she’d been desperate to hear, but since then she’d learned some painful lessons, the most important one being that she was incredibly gullible. His comment had her soaring with elation. Was she still that naïve?
“You love me?” she scoffed.
“Yes. I love you, Theodosia. I loved you in Egypt, I loved you every minute after you departed, and I love you now.”
She scowled, then nodded. She might be a trusting idiot, but she didn’t think he was lying. He appeared so sincere, so genuinely honest.
“I might believe you,” she carefully said.
“You might?” he snapped, then he laughed and laughed. “You annoying witch, you used to love me too. You told me all the time. Tell me again.”
“I don’t know if I can, Soloman. Too much has happened, and I don’t know what’s best.”
“I am best, you ridiculous woman. I am all you’ve ever needed.” He clasped her hand and linked their fingers. “Let’s get out of here before your relatives come looking for you.”
“But…but…where would we go?”
“For the moment, we’ll head to my hotel, but tomorrow we’ll jump on a ship bound for Egypt.”
“Together?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not running off with you unless I have a ring on my finger and vows spoken in front of a vicar—with your hand on the Bible. If you promise yourself to me again, and you’re not serious, I want you to be struck by lightning.”
“We’re sailing to Egypt, Theo, first thing in the morning. The captain can marry us once we’re at sea.”
He scooped her into his arms and marched off, apparently having forgotten that she was attired only in her undergarments.
“Soloman, put me down!” As usual, he ignored her. “Soloman, wait! I’m not dressed!”
They crossed the bedchamber and had walked into the sitting room, when the door opened.
“She spilled wine on her gown,” Susan was explaining to someone, “and we raced up here for her to change.”
“The girl is a menace!” Mrs. Mountbank!
“She insisted she’d be right down,” Susan said. “I can’t imagine what’s delaying her.”
“I swear, if she’s not ready,” Mrs. Mountbank replied, “I will have Lord Wood beat her.”
Susan stepped in as Mrs. Mountbank called, “Theo! Where are you! Your father is having a fit!”
Theo couldn’t decide who was more surprised, herself or Mrs. Mountbank. Susan didn’t seem surprised in the least, and if Theo didn’t know better, she’d suppose her cousin had staged the horrid scene. Why would she bring Mrs. Mountbank to find Theo?
“Theodosia!” Mrs. Mountbank shrieked, her jaw dropping in shock. “What are you doing? You are scandalously undressed! And there is a man holding you!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Mountbank,” Theo said, but she wasn’t sorry at all.
“Bernard and your father are downstairs!” Mrs. Mountbank moaned as if she was in pain. “Who is this…this…interloper?”
Soloman was cool as ice on a winter day. “I am the love of her life. Soloman Grey, formerly of Cairo, Egypt, at your service.”
“Soloman Grey!” Mrs. Mountbank screeched. “Oh, oh, this is a disaster. A disaster! Shut the door, Mrs. Pinkerton! Shut the door before anyone sees!”
But it was too late. Susan had been particularly thorough in ruining Theo’s big night. Several guests from the party had followed them. They were in the hall, gaping at Theo and Soloman.
“My apologies, Mrs. Mountbank,” Susan said, “but it appears their indiscretion has been exposed to all.”
Theo blushed a hot s
hade of scarlet. “Soloman,” she hissed, “I have to put on some clothes.”
“There’s no time, Theo. You’re escaping this madhouse. With me.” He nodded to Susan. “Mrs. Pinkerton, would you grab a blanket and cover Theo?”
“I’d be delighted, Mr. Grey.”
Susan hurried over to the sofa to pick up a knitted throw. She draped it over Theo, tucking in the corners so it wouldn’t fall off.
“I can’t go with you in this condition,” Theo complained.
“Be silent, Theo,” Soloman said. “I’m not listening to you.”
He started out, and Mrs. Mountbank leapt in the way as if she could block their departure.
“Unhand her at once, you cretin!” she seethed at Soloman.
Soloman pretended to consider, then he shook his head. “I don’t think I will.”
“You will not leave with her!” Mrs. Mountbank insisted.
“Who will stop me?” Soloman sneered. “Bernard?”
“Yes, Bernard will stop you. And her father! Lord Wood will stop you!”
“Haven’t you heard, ma’am?” Soloman said to her. “Theo doesn’t want them to stop me.”
He stomped out, shouldering Mrs. Mountbank aside. She ran behind them, shouting with offense and demanding he halt. Susan was behind them too, riotously laughing and clapping.
Other guests must have noted the uproar, or perhaps Susan had told more people than Theo had suspected. They were flocking up the stairs, but as they saw Soloman coming toward them, they parted like the Red Sea.
Whispers floated by:
My goodness! Didn’t the same thing happen with Lord Trent?
What a brazen trollop!
Isn’t that Soloman Grey? My Lord, it is! It’s Soloman Grey!
No! Who will she trifle with next? Has she no shame?
Theo buried her face against Soloman’s coat, wishing she could simply become invisible. She should have fought his tight grip, should have refused to accompany him, but she hadn’t, and there was no going back.
She was compromised yet again. On the night of her engagement, no less! Was she cursed?
She thought about Hedley and all the vile months after the debacle. She thought about Soloman and how much she loved him, how much she’d always loved him. She wasn’t cursed. She was very, very lucky.
They reached the foyer, and someone must have alerted her father, because he and Bernard dashed up.
