Page 78 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
Did she truly believe he didn’t intend to ask any questions, or was she hoping they’d just never address the fact of where he’d found her? He allowed her that hopeful perception or belief or whatever the hell it was only as long as when they got out of the carriage and she made to hurry down before him.
“Cressida,” he said, catching her lightly by the hand without a word and staying her before she could run off once more and this time get herself hurt in the process.
Wakefield got down first and then reached inside, catching Cressida by her trim waist. He lifted her down.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Ah, so she did speak, but then the fiery tigress who’d gone to battle with him when Rothesby had been there in his office this morning proved that she was no meek, mealy-mouthed miss.
Like lightning were about to strike at her heels, Cressida scampered off, dashing up the steps as if she intended to outrun him into his own townhouse.
She remained hidden within the folds of her cloak and that lent a ridiculous furtiveness to her movements that could never be clandestine with his eyes right on her as they entered. With his larger footsteps, he entered close behind. His butler was there to greet the both of them and a footman came forward to collect the lady’s cloak.
“Miss.” The butler greeted Cressida almost sheepishly, as if he felt in some way guilty for having let her slip off. Or maybe it was that he felt guilty for giving information about her having sneaked off. Cressida murmured a greeting but refused to immediately hand over her cloak.
“Going somewhere?” Wakefield drawled.
Cressida jerked like she’d been struck. With her shoulders proudly erect, she undid the fastening of her cloak and shrugged out of it.
She gave it off to the waiting butler. Then, without a backward glance or single word spoken, she headed up the stairs.
Wakefield didn’t know whether to laugh, gnash his teeth, or praise the chit for her tenacity.
“Oh, Miss Smith,” he called dryly when the lady had gotten halfway up the marble steps.
Still, she didn’t look back, just waited patiently for him.
“I could be wrong,” he called up. “But I do believe we have some things to discuss.”
“If we could do so tomorrow, Benedict. I’m feeling tired.”
Wakefield rested his hand on the knobbed railing. “I fear you’ve misunderstood mine as a question. It wasn’t. Cressida, my office. Take several moments to refresh yourself, and then meet me in my office.”
Wakefield started in that direction. His butler, Burgess, appeared grateful for the reprieve from whatever tension hung in the air that he couldn’t identify.
“My office.”
His ears had tricked him. He furrowed his brow. It sounded a good deal like she’d given him directives to…heroffice?
Wakefield whipped back. “I beg your pardon.”
The audacious chit had already made it five additional steps. For the first time since he’d discovered her, she faced him at least partially.
“Having had the opportunity to explore my temporary home, Benedict, I learned the mistress of the house also has an office, which, for all intents and purposes, is what I am. And for the time being, I’ll see you inmyoffice.”
Then like the queen she was, the lady lifted her chin and continued on.
Flummoxed, Wakefield stared after her.
My God, the minx was audacious, infuriating, vexatious, and, and… He exhaled a deep breath. “Utterly spellbinding,” he whispered.
This side of her beckoned him, enflamed him.
Odd that he should have hungered for her so desperately as to abandon all his morals and risked his good name, and now he found himself just as hungry for her.
Even more so, seeing this spirited, proud, courageous side transfixed. He stared at her the entire rest of the way as she made her march away. Then, when she was out of sight, he released a long, slow exhale.
My God, she was a siren. A siren.Bloody hell, man. Get ahold of yourself. What was he thinking? He stood here panting and lusting after her like a schoolboy. Her. This woman who was riddled in mysteries and cloaked in secrets and had gone running out to meet someone else.
