Page 89 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
A hideous vision crawled through his mind of Cressida on her own. Prey for some scum in the streets, at the mercy of some of the most brutal cutthroats, if Wakefield hadn’t gotten to her in time…
And yet something in the urgency in her expression gave him pause. He looked closer, trying to probe for some indication that she lied, that she did in fact have the name and identity of the one who did this, but that merely proved wishful thinking on his part because he wanted a name. He wanted the fiend.
He wanted vengeance.
“You are not to go out alone ever again, Cressida.” Except, she was destined to leave and soon. What accounted for the queer feeling that settled in his chest?
Wakefield grunted. “At least that is the rule as long as you reside with me,” he amended.
Surprisingly, this time, she didn’t resist. “Very well.”
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders—for but a moment.
“I will bring a servant,” she said.
His jaw worked. “I’m bringing you.”
A frown teased the corners of her lush lips down. “You cannot do that.”
“I can do anything.”
Her previously frowning lips twitched into a mesmerizing smile. “Yes, as a powerful nobleman, we both know that to be true. However, I’m only pointing out, my lord, that us being seen together is a risk for both our reputations.”
She gave him an odd look. One that said,Don’t you recall? And then, he did precisely what he’d said to her. Had it only been just yesterday that he’d threatened to put her under lock and key and spoke of the risk to his reputation and hers were they to be discovered. He still did have that same concern, but something had since shifted in that his worry now stemmed from the ramifications for her.
“Yes, I think we’ve both sorted out by now that I’ve been an unmitigated arse. And that was another circumstance. Although, I won’t ruin your reputation further by squiring you about London theaters and ballets or shopping, but neither will I let you be off alone.” Particularly as she’d already been injured once without him.
Her features went soft.
“I assure you, I’m quite capable of watching after myself. Benedict, you have important business to see too, and certainly squiring me about as I look for an old friend isn’t in your regular business day.”
“I don’t feel obligated to join you. I want to.”
Something shifted between them, something in the moment, or maybe it was something that just changed for him because he did want to join her and it wasn’t just about keeping an eye on her. And, yes, of course he did worry about her, but he was intrigued by her. He enjoyed her conversation. He was mystified by the fact that she spent time in his kitchens, of all places, with the servants and staff.
Cressida gave a shy smile.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I would very much like for you to accompany me.”
He held an arm out, allowing her to proceed him. And as they fell into step alongside one another, Wakefield discovered his questions about Miss Cressida Smith remained but on top of the hundreds he’d had yesterday. He had one thousand and one more today. And not just why she’d been at The Devil’s Den, but instead about the lady herself.
Chapter 21
Cressida would give credit where credit was due. Benedict hadn’t so much as batted an eye when she directed his driver to Red Cross Street. Nor had he batted an eye when they’d reached the Mint Street Workhouse. In the end, it was Borough High Street that had pulled a reaction from Benedict. Marshalsea Prison, to be exact.
With him walking close at her side, she stole yet another peek from the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction. He wore a frown.
She wagered Marshalsea Prison had been something he’d only known of by word, or perhaps he’d read about the men who’d been sent there in his copy ofThe Timeswhile he’d been seated at his respectable, comfortable London townhouse. Cressida, however, had not only crossed beside this notorious establishment nearly every day. She thought about it often too. With Stanley’s spending, she’d been left to wonder at which point a gentleman might actually land himself behind bars in that place. If not Stanley, then who?
“You’ve been here before,” Benedict observed.
“Yes.”
“Because of your friend?” he ventured.
Because of Cressida’s circumstances would be more apt.
“Yes,” she said, equally taciturn. That way he might be discouraged from asking any further questions. She should have known better.
