Page 62 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
“Yes?” Wakefield said this time, meaning it and wanting it.
“Do what you do best and be the gentleman you actually are.” Rothesby clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Explain to the young lady that you are concerned about her and her possible circumstances, and if your fear comes to fruition, you were the one who got her that way.”
“…If there’s a child, there’s also the matter of determining if the babe is…”
His shoulders slumped.
God, what a bloody bastard he’d been to lob those marks against her character. Wakefield should be castrated.
Humbled, he managed a nod so the other man knew he’d heard him.
“One more thing, Wakefield,” the duke said quietly. “Don’t keep her under lock and key like she’s a prisoner. Treat her as a woman who may very well be carrying your babe and trust her enough to live her life. And, if she ends up coming back to you and telling you she’s with child, accept what she says, and don’t make her feel unworthy.”
“I…” Wakefield grimaced. “I needed to hear this.”
Rothesby snorted. “Bloody right you did.”
Feeling remarkably…better from all that, Wakefield bowed his head. “That was quite the set-down. Thank you for that.”
Rothesby’s carefree grin was back in place. “Glad to help.”
Rap-Rap-Rap.
Both men started. Rothesby shot him a questioning look.
Wakefield shook his head in return. He wasn’t expecting anyone. At least not anyone other than…
Stetson spoke loudly, clearly meaning for his employer to hear. “His Lordship said he’s not accepting visitors, miss.”
Next came Cressida’s answering—and very arch—reply. “That’s convenient, as I’m not a visitor. I actually happen to be a prisoner. So, if you would, step out of my way.”
Wakefield felt all the blood leave his face. “Christ,” he hissed.
She was here! Desperate to get Rothesby out before Cressida accidentally made herself discovered, he looked to the other man for a solution.
Alas, the duke wore an equally panicked expression and searched about the way a child did for a space to hide in hide-and-seek. The gentleman briefly considered the window.
Wakefield gave the floor-to-ceiling panes an even longer look.
The door panel exploded open, and Cressida stormed inside.
“My lord, I will not be made a prisoner by any…” Cressida’s cheeks drained of color. Her startled gaze flew from Wakefield to Rothesby and then back again to Wakefield.
Wakefield caught the shock of recognition in the peer’s gaze and knew the instant Rothesby identified Cressida by her tawny, brown-gold curls, now drawn back into an elegant chignon.
Wakefield gritted his teeth.
Satan’s Army. This day cannot possibly get any worse.
Chapter 13
Bloody hell. Things had just gone from bad to worse.Cressida stood dumbfounded, speechless, motionless once more as her ruin became greater—a feat she believed impossible.
And yet here it was. Now she’d been discovered alone in the Earl of Wakefield’s home by none other than the notorious Duke of Rothesby. The gentleman possessed a shrewd gaze and by the way he looked at Cressida, he quite correctly deduced Wakefield had been the one to outbid him at The Devil’s Den.
Her heart hammered.
Oh, God, they’d been discussing her!
