Page 2 of Obsession: The Unspoken Sin
“The lady doesn’t want to attend another dull, boring Season,” Denbigh cajoled. “You and I can both understand and appreciate that.”And I appreciate not having to fight my feelings for her.
The other man didn’t dispute his words.
“She belongs with her family, Denbigh. You know that.”
He did.
Denbigh, however, proved a selfish, coward, because no good could come from her return.
“Exmoor, you’re the most devoted brother there is, and I don’t say that lightly because I consider myself a fairly good and reliable brother to my younger brothers. But you see her for the holidays.” Denbigh paused and corrected himself. “At least most of them.”
It so happened that whenever he spent holidays with the Masterson family, Alice was—not so inconveniently—absent. He’d alternately longed for her company and been grateful for her absence.
“You see her, Exmoor, about as much as I see my brothers.” One was in university. The other newly out. Both were sowing their oats and experimenting with their late father’s title of rogue—as Denbigh once had.
What his own wild days had cost him…
Exmoor turned and looked squarely at him. His gaze pierced Denbigh’s.
For a moment, Denbigh believed the other man knew he stood here silently ruminating over Alice. After Denbigh’s brief stint as a rake, Exmoor made it all too clear—
“She is in London, Denbigh.”
A wave of relief hit him. Exmoor hadn’t caught on. “All the better. So, see her at your own time. She’ll pay you visits. She just doesn’t want to attend the—”
“She’s residing at the Devil’s Den and working there.”
Denbigh’s entire body jerked. His every muscle tautened and recoiled to the point of pain.“The Devil’s Den?”
Exmoor nodded.
Denbigh hadn’t even realized he’d spoken aloud. Surely, Denbigh heard him wrong. Surely, surely, surely. A thousand differentsurely’s. Forsurely, there was some explanation for why he’d heard what he’d heard because Exmoor simplycouldn’t have stated that as a fact. It had been a jest. Yet the gentleman’s deadly serious features confirmed there was no joke at play.
“Say something, Denbigh.”
Denbigh’s stomach churned until he thought he’d be sick. What the hell did Exmoorwanthim to say? “Working.” His voice emerged, strangled and distant to his own ears. Surely, Alice wasn’t employed at one of the most debauched gaming hells in London. “Working?”
Exmoor, as a protective older brother, would never force her into such a state. No, it didn’t make sense.
“She’s been commissioned to restore artwork at the club and create new pieces,” Exmoor said, his voice deadened. “She’s painting portraits of the Killorans and their family.”
All the air left Denbigh on a swift exhale through his tightly clenched teeth. “My God, man,how could you?”
A flush instantly settled on Exmoor’s cheeks. “This washerchoice.”
“Her choice? Her bloody choice?” Denbigh’s voice climbed. He stopped himself just before calling into question the man’s abilities as a brother. Only loyalty,fraternalloyalty, kept him from finishing his thoughts.
The marquess’s face grew even more strained. “You said yourself that she’s spirited. She is also a grown woman and has made up her mind.” Exmoor sounded tired, so very tired. “I have tried to convince her to return home. I have sent letters, but I cannot enter the club. Not without raising questions about my presence there. I need you to help me.”
Of course, Denbigh would do so. Surely that wasn’t in doubt?
“Nor am I worried about my reputation,” Exmoor continued. “But in my being there, it’d bring society’s attention to the place Alice currently resides and—”
Denbigh brushed that off. “You needn’t explain further.” He knew Exmoor well enough to know he’d not even let that be a consideration.
His mind still couldn’t fathom sweet, innocent Alice, living and working at that debauched club.
The other man misinterpreted the reason for Denbigh’s silence. “I wouldn’t ask unless—”
