Page 5 of To Pleasure a Prince
“Yes, milord,” came the butler’s meek reply.
Regina scowled. So Lord Draker refused to let her have her say? Not if she could help it. Spotting the servant stairs down the hall, she started for them.
Cicely grabbed her by the arm. “What are you doing? You can’t just—”
“Stay here and keep the butler occupied.” Regina shook off her cousin’s weak grip. “I mean to speak with Lord Draker one way or the other.”
“But, my dear—”
Regina didn’t stay for further reproaches. If his lordship thought she would drive twenty miles from London only to be put off like some importunate creditor, he was in for a surprise.
Upstairs in the lengthy hall, it took her only minutes to find—after peeking inside the rooms behind every other massive oak door—the one that must lead to his lordship’s study. She hesitated just long enough to examine herself in a nearby mahogany-framed mirror. Cheeks pleasingly flushed from their drive, check. New Bourbon hat firmly in place, check. Matching lilac mantle that gaped open to reveal just a hint of bosom, check. Lord Draker did not stand a chance.
Before she could lose her nerve, she opened the door and swept inside, right into the dragon’s cave. Except that it wasn’t lined with blackened stones smelling of sulfur…but with gilded leather smelling of ink. Books. Thousands of books marched around the walls in varying shades of brown and dark blue, further proclaiming their owner’s education and wealth.
The room was enormous, probably spanning the entire length of the house. How could a person own this many books, let alone read them?
Sweet heaven. She was in deep trouble now. Not only was the viscount probably a clever man, but a clever man with lots of knowledge at his fingertips. She brushed off that unsettling thought. He was a man, after all, and a bookish man at that, with little knowledge of society, current affairs…feminine wiles. Surely her usual charm and a flirtatious smile would suffice.
Ifshe could find the dratted fellow. The library appeared to be empty. She closed the door behind her more loudly than she’d meant to, and a rich baritone voice wafted down to her from the heavens.
“I take it you got rid of Foxmoor’s sister.”
She jerked, then glanced up to see a ledge directly over her head. Moving farther into the room, she turned around and found the Dragon himself. He was up on a little gallery that ran along the near side of the high-ceilinged room and contained even more bookshelves. His impressively broad back was to her as he took down a volume and opened it with almost paternal care.
It was the only careful thing about him. Everything else was haphazard—the raggedly trimmed hair that fell un-fashionably below his collar, the dust-smeared fustian suit, and the scuffed boots.
And he was huge. No wonder everyone believed the rumor that he was actually Prinny’s son. He certainly had Prinny’s height and large frame, but without the corpulence that plagued His Highness.
The shaggy-haired giant returned his book to the shelf, then squatted to remove one lower down, giving her a view of his well-shaped behind and the impressive thigh muscles straining against the fabric of his ill-fitting trousers. Her mouth went dry. Even she could appreciate a fine male figure when she saw one.
“Well?” he asked. “Did Foxmoor’s sister give you any trouble? I hear she’s the troublesome sort.”
The words jerked her back to the matter at hand. “No more troublesome than the average lady put off by a rude gentleman.”
He stiffened, then rose to face her, and she sucked in a breath.
He was nothing like his rumored sire after all. For one thing, he wore an exceedingly unfashionable beard. His Highness would eat nails before he’d grow his whiskers that long. But the prince would certainly not mind having this man’s body. A pugilist’s meaty shoulders and burly chest tapered down to a surprisingly trim waist. Even his calves appeared to be well-turned, though his stockings…
She blinked and looked again. His stockings didn’t match.
“Are you finished yet?” he snapped.
She jumped. “Finished what?”
“Looking me over.”
Drat it, she hadn’t meant to stare. She jerked her gaze up to his bushy beard. “You can’t blame me for being curious. Few people ever get to see Castlemaine, much less its owner.”
“There’s a reason for that.” He turned his back on her to restore his book to the shelf. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“I certainly will not. I wish to talk to you.”
He removed another volume. “Like brother, like sister, I see. Can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Not when the ‘no’ comes without an explanation.”
“I’m busy. That should be explanation enough.”
