Page 79 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
She represented the temptation that had sent Adam into sinning. She made Wakefield forget himself, something he’d never done and vowed he never would do again.
What the hell are you doing?“Admiring her,” he muttered. “No one’s ordered you about in your goddamn life.”
And now he was sitting here panting after her because she was throwing directives at him in his household, bought and paid for by himself. He was disgruntled and infuriated, but neither was he an ogre.
“Burgess!”
The young butler stepped from the shadows.
“Where the hell are the lady’s offices?” And what did it say about his temporary houseguest that she should have happened to conduct such a thorough search of the household?
“It is located in the east hall, my lord, just past the portrait room and gold parlor.”
Wakefield belatedly realized his mistake.
The servant hurried to clarify actual directions for Wakefield to follow, and so, moments later, he found himself making his way to the very rooms he’d been ordered to by Miss Cressida Smith.
The lady of the house’s office turned out to be the morning room. It was a well-appointed space, replete with a rose-inlaid secretaire and delicate brass detailing. In addition to the glass door bookcase secretary and Canterbury rack, the office sported French-inspired bergère upholstered chairs paired to match the yellow upholstered window seat.
Wakefield now knew every last detail from the reflective girandoles positioned throughout the office to the hand-embroidered fire screen. Such an intimate understanding of the room came with all the time Wakefield spent waiting for Cressida to arrive.
Arms clasped behind his back, Wakefield paced the chinoiserie-patterned Axminster rug.
It’d been a long night, and it was becoming longer with each minute, but he was determined he’d have answers.
A muscle moved along his jaw.
After her night gallivanting about, the lady had even more to answer for.
Chapter 19
Seated at the gold vanity, Cressida stared at her reflection. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe he was so distracted by his fury in finding her gone that he would fail to note the light bruise on her cheek. In the light of a new day, it would be terribly worse, but it was faint for now.
Something told her Benedict wasn’t the manner of man who missed any details, and just as she’d learned this evening, he was also a man who didn’t trust easily. He’d had her followed.
Granted, she couldn’t blame him, but it still hurt. He’d been livid when he’d arrived. Angry gentlemen, angry men, were something she was all too familiar with. The grand and greatest difference between him and the others, however, was that every other man in her life who’d been so outraged was quick to strike or grab or hit her, but Benedict hadn’t.
He’d quietly conducted a silent search of her household, saying nothing but clearly looking for the one whom she’d come to meet. He’d been as meticulous in his search as she’d been in her attempt to find Trudy earlier. The whole while he hadn’t said a word; he’d just seethed with fury and then quietly and gently ushered her out.
Cressida stared blankly at her visage. It struck her as strange. In previous meetings, she’d attended of the Mismatch Society, there’d been a time when all the ladies shared amongst one another the traits that attracted them to gentlemen. Many favored rogues with big personalities and charming smiles. They’d all appreciated a gentleman with clever wit and intelligence. Some wished for a gentleman who was skilled in the arts and possessed a love of the theater. Aside from intelligence, Cressida hadn’t had a wish for any of those other things her friends had.
For Cressida, she herself possessed a desire for a man who was calm and measured and who didn’t fly off the handle. With a mercurial brother, Cressida craved the calm, and her very soul craved that which was constant. Even if he’d wanted to strike her, Wakefield wouldn’t. Not with as honorable as he’d proven to be; even his handling of the fact that she’d been a virgin was testament to that. Cressida leaned in closer to check her cheek.
Given the nature of this room and who was supposed to possess it, there had to be something in here. Tugging out the center drawer, she searched the vanity and discovered a soft powder in a crystal jar with a silver lid.
Cressida hurriedly applied the powder over her bruised cheek, wincing as she did.
“Miss?”
Gasping, she spun.
The young maid, Nancy, whom she’d met earlier, stared at her with some concern. Fearing at how much the young woman had seen, she hurriedly put the powder away and stood.
“Yes, Nancy.”
“His lordship wanted me to see if you were on your way. He’s waiting in the morning room.”
She favored her with a wry smile.
