Page 5 of The Wolf of Mayfair
Now standing in the sinister shadow of this pitiless gentleman, Helia discovered that, for once in her late mother’s life, the countess had been so very wrong.
The gossips had gotten everything written, whispered, or spoken about Lord Wingrave correct.
Desperation, however, left Helia no other option.
Burrowing deeper into her cloak, she drew the garment more tightly closed.
Ah’m no simpering lass, though. Ah’m a stouthearted, proud, hearty Scot.
She’d been raised to believe so and grown into that which her parents insisted she was, and now she dragged forth that mantra as a reminder.
It helped.
Some.
“Come all the way from ... Scotland, I take it, by that ghastly accent,” Lord Wingrave cheerfully remarked, “and you don’t have a word to speak?”
“I’ve learned to speak like an Englishwoman, but when I’m ...” She stumbled.
He arched a cool brow.
“There are times I slip in my speech,” she finished.
She’d not admit to him that nervousness or emotion brought out her Scottish.
“And it is a brogue,” she murmured. A man such as he wouldn’t care about the distinction, and yet as a proud Scot, it felt so very important to educate him on the difference.
The marquess stared at her.
“’Tis just,” she explained, “Scots have a brogue,notan accent, my lord.”
He looked at her with a palpable disdain. “Thank you for thatfascinatinglesson.”
Helia took her cue from his nasty response and met the marquess with silence.
Lord Wingrave folded his arms at his chest and proceeded to walk a predative path around Helia.
She kept her gaze forward and made herself remain motionless.
All the while Wingrave walked around her, he assessed her with that wintry, opaque stare.
Her garments did nothing to mute the marquess’s incisive gaze; it sheared through the fabric of her cloak and riding dress and cut all the way through her.
And here these past weeks, Helia had thought there could be no greater peril than the threat posed by Mr. Damian Draxton, the dastardly cousin who’d inherited after her father’s recent passing.
It hadn’t been enough Helia’s beloved father had died, passing the title of earl on to him. Cousin Damian was determined to wed Helia, bed her, all in the pursuit of her dowry.
That isn’t altogether true,a voice at the back of her mind pointed out.When you fled to London to meet the duchess, you feared Mr. Draxton might be here, too.
But Helia had been so desperate, and so fixed on escaping one threat, she’d not consideredthisdanger until the moment she cameface-to-face with the infamous Lord Wingrave—dark rake, feared by all, and possessed of a reputation as the very worst libertine.
Like a shark who’d got a scent of its prey, he continued his slow circle around her.
Her hands instinctively curled into balls and uncurled.
You will not be here alone with him.
The Duke and Duchess of Talbert resided here. Someday this stark, austere kingdom would belong to the inveterate rake. But for now, the current duke and duchess ruled over this place.
