Page 19 of The Confessions of a Lady
It is impossible to refute a woman’s eyebrow.
Liam ground his teeth together, whispering a harsh curse. ‘You aren’t going to let me do this alone, are you?’
‘Decidedly not.’
‘You are an incredibly difficult woman, Philippa.’
Her smile was brilliant. ‘The best women are. I knew you’d come around, Liam.’
If Queen Victoria ever decided to vacate the throne, Philippa would make an excellent successor. His begrudging admirationof the duchess didn’t make his situation any better. Liam hoped he could accomplish this task alone, but since when had his hopes ever come to fruition?
Since never.
Yes. Well. Exactly.
Still, he was loathe to give up control of this mission so easily. ‘The Queen may think I need help, but I’ve already taken steps to infiltrate the Devil’s Sons without any assistance from meddling duchesses,’ Liam hedged. He hadn’t taken the steps exactly, but he had them laid out in his mind.
‘Really? What steps have you taken, Liam? I’m dying to know.’ Her eyes widened in a parody of breathless anticipation.
Of course she would call his bluff.
Philippa tapped her jewel-encrusted fan against the arm of her chair again as she waited for his reply. She really was a striking woman, yet she inspired no burning need in his belly.
Not like Miss Smith.
Wonderful.
Instead of focusing on my argument, I’m thinking about my maid. Perhaps Philippa is right. I do need help.
Not that he would ever admit that to Philippa. Liam crossed his leg over his knee, flicking an imaginary piece of lint from his breeches. ‘It’s a simple four-step plan.’
‘With men, it’s always simple.’
Liam allowed the anger to course through his blood, harnessing it, channelling it from molten heat into cold determination. Let Philippa spike his rage; he would re-form the emotion into a blade and use it against her. ‘And with women, it’s always complicated.’
Tipping her head back, Philippa chuckled. A dark, melodious sound that Liam guessed only a few people had ever heard. ‘You have me there. We are complex creatures, Liam.’
Before she could enquire further about his plan, there was a knock on the door.
Miss Smith.
A rumbling growl wanted to emanate from his chest. He crushed the impulse just as the damnable woman entered, pushing a tea trolley laden with delicacies. He could control his base lust, but he couldn’t stop the groan from his stomach.
Philippa’s arch glare left no doubt as to her opinion of his decorum.
This is my house. If my stomach wants to make noise in my own God-damned sitting room, then so be it.
And why was he silently justifying himself to himself?
I’m going mad.
It would explain much.
‘Penny, what excellent timing. You’ve saved Lord Renquist from having to admit his shortcomings before he’s had a fortifying cup of tea.’
‘Coffee,’ Liam growled, irritated beyond measure that the duchess felt free to use Miss Smith’s first name. A pleasure he ruthlessly denied himself.
‘Savage,’ Philippa muttered.
