Page 18 of Stolen By the Rogue
She checked herself in the mirror. Hair brushed to within an inch of its life. White blouse as bright as the sun. And a burgundy silk skirt with a matching bodice that lifted her breasts perfectly. It was one of the few remaining items of clothing still in her possession from when her mother had gone shopping just before they left Constantinople on their ill-fated journey home.
“They will have to take me as I am,” she said to her reflection.
It was her best gown. The one she wore for meeting important people. For making the very best of impressions. The elegant black embroidery at the top of the bodice was always a conversation starter.
I hope they take me as I am. It would be nice to make some real friends.
She picked up her evening cloak, then headed downstairs to where Lord Harry Steele’s private carriage was waiting out the front of the embassy.
As the coach slowed to a halt at an address in Grosvenor Street a short time later, she reached for the door handle. Her fingers had barely touched it when the door suddenly opened, and George’s smiling face appeared. “I was beginning to worry that you might have changed your mind and not come.”
“No, I was delayed getting something finalized at the embassy,” she replied.
Or, more truthfully, I took forever to get dressed and spent the last hour practicing what I would say to your friends.
Friday being the holy day of the week for the Muslim faith meant the exhibition at the Ottoman embassy was closed, and Jane was afforded a rare day off. With only three days remaining in which, they could catch a glimpse of Baldwin’s crown, the London crowds had been hectic to say the least. The invitation to dine with Lord and Lady Steele this evening had been a delightful and welcome surprise.
George helped her down from the carriage, after which Jane nervously inspected her clothes once more.
He leaned in and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “You look wonderful. And don’t be shy around my friends; they are really looking forward to spending an evening with you.”
Their gazes met, and a now familiar heat coursed through Jane’s body. After that kiss at the riverbank, George had wasted no time in stealing as many of them as he could. His attentions were wonderful. She felt more alive than she had done since leaving Malta.
He also came to the embassy every evening, waiting until all the other visitors had left before spending time with her. She couldn’t have a gentleman caller in her room, so they usually took the short walk down to the river where they indulged in long, luxurious embraces before he escorted her back to the main display room and then took his leave.
Each evening, she found herself searching the milling crowd for George’s familiar, handsome face, her heart giving a little skip when she caught sight of him.
There was no doubt in her mind. She was surely falling in love with him—and it worried her.
If it had been another man, the prospect of a new romance would have filled her with joy, but with George, Jane still found herself holding back a little.
Matters between them were moving quickly, leading her at times to ponder the question as to why. There was something about the irresistible rogue that still had her unsure as to his motives. The peculiar look that appeared on his face whenever George gazed at Baldwin’s crown set her nerves on edge.
“George why am I here tonight?” she asked.
He gifted her with one of his easy smiles. “Because I want you to get to know my friends. And if I am honest, they want to hear more about your life in the Ottoman Empire. Oh, and, of course, more about Baldwin’s crown.”
You said you would trust him.
But that was easier said than done.
* * *
The evening’s social event had not been in George’s plans. But once Alice discovered that he had been spending time with Jane Scott, she had insisted on issuing an invitation for Jane to dine with them at the mansion in Grosvenor Street. Harry had also extended the invite to the rest of the rogues of the road. By the time George had heard about the dinner party, it was all too late to do anything about it.
Fortunately, lady’s man Augustus Jones was somewhere off the coast of France onboard his yachtThe Night Windand therefore unable to attend.And as for Sir Stephen Moore—his movements of late had been at the very least, suspect. Apart from when he was at the coaching company offices with Toby, who was currently asleep upstairs, he was rarely to be seen. Much as he would love to know what was going on with Stephen, George knew better than to go poking into the private affairs of one of his fellow rogues.
So that left George, Harry, Alice, Jane, Monsale, and Harry’s sister, Lady Naomi Steele, on the dinner party guest list.
George led Jane into the elegant cream-painted mansion, and after helping her out of her cloak, handed it to a nearby footman.
His gaze ran appreciatively over the fitted burgundy bodice of Jane’s gown. Unlike the other dull, grey creations she normally wore, this one favored her generous breasts, displaying them to their best advantage.
I would love to get my hands on those. Naked and ready for my lips.
He gritted his teeth, angry with himself.
No. You can’t be thinking like that when it comes to her. This having-an-emotional-attachment-to-Jane nonsense must stop. It isn’t right.
