Page 88 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
“Don’t you want me anymore?”
With an anguished groan, he buried his face in the curve of her shoulder, inhaled her unique fragrance now laced with the musky scent of sex. “If at all possible, I want you more.”
“Then what’s the matter? Something is. I can tell. And you’re frightening me.”
Drawing back, he moved strands of her hair from her face. He wanted to do that every morning, tuck strands behind her ear. He skimmed his finger across her collarbone.
“Drake?”
“I’m not ready to give you up, and I know it’s wrong of me.”
She smiled at him. “How can it be wrong when I’m not ready to give you up either? Shall we stay abed allday?”
Knowing what he knew, he couldn’t in all good conscience take her again, no matter how tempting she was. They needed to talk, but not yet. “Let’s go to the seaside,” he said.
Her eyes widened, green pools in which he thought he might drown. He didn’t know why it seemed imperative that they have one more day together before he told her the truth. Especially as tomorrow he would no doubt think the same thing.
“On the railway?” she asked.
They would travel in the least expensive seats. No one would know her. Anyone she knew would be traveling at the front of the train, waiting for their servants to bring them refreshments when the train stopped. Only he didn’t want her sitting at the back of the train. He didn’t want to hide her. He cradled her jaw, could feel her pulse thrumming against his fingers. “We need to talk first.”
“Yes, all right.”
Where did he even begin? With his discovery last night? With his discovery of her in the river? Before that, with the kiss she almost remembered, the kiss in the alcove.
He heard the door chime. Phee gave him a questioning glance. “Are you expecting someone?” she asked.
“No.” He rolled out of bed, walked to the window, and glanced out. The Duke of Lovingdon’s coach was in front. Dammit. The timing could not have been worse. What the devil was he doing here? He should not have returned for another week. Drake could ignore his friend—
The bell chimed again. Or perhaps he could seek counsel from Lovingdon.
“I’ll get it,” Phee said, climbing out of bed in all her naked glory.
“No, I’ll see to it,” he told her. He strode quickly into the bathing chamber and snatched up his trousers and shirt from last night and hastily donned them.
Then he was out of the room and pounding down the stairs. He opened the door to find Grace standing there. Apparently, things could get worse.
“Lady Ophelia Lyttleton has gone missing,” she announced, before she swept over the threshold, causing him to step back.
“What?” He stared at her with incredulity. How had she come to discover that?
She faced him. “She was supposed to be caring for her aunt, but when Somerdale went to Stillmeadow to see her, Wigmore told him that she’d run off. He thought she’d returned home, which is why he didn’t notify Somerdale of her leaving. But I find it all very odd.”
Very odd, indeed. Somerdale had been telling the truth, which meant he was innocent in all this. But what of the uncle?
“As she hadn’t returned home, Somerdale wrote me to see if I knew where she might go, but I haven’t a clue. So Lovingdon and I returned straightaway. We arrived only this morning. He’s gone to find Avendale, because God knows the company he keeps these days might come in handy. I thought you might help as well.”
“Grace—”
“I know you don’t like her, but Somerdale is trying to keep this as quiet as possible to protect her reputation. You know the darker elements of London.” She rubbed her brow and began to pace with agitation. “I don’t know why she would run off. Not willingly. She didn’t fancy anyone, so it’s not an elopement. The only thing I can imagine is that Vexley kidnapped her as he kidnapped me, and Wigmore was too lazy to pursue the matter. I’ve never liked him.”
He hadn’t even considered that Lord Vexley would be involved. Vexley had tried to force Grace into marriage in order to gain her dowry. Had he succeeded with Phee, consummated the marriage? Rage shot through Drake with the thought. It would explain things. At her first opportunity, she would have run away from Vexley. But it might have come too late.
Grace stopped her pacing and grabbed his arm, her eyes imploring him to put aside any ill feelings he might have toward Phee. “You will help, won’t you? We’ll start with Vexley’s estate.”
“Grace.” He couldn’t have them traipsing over the country when Phee was here. He would have to explain everything to Grace, and if she didn’t kill him first, perhaps she might help him reveal everything to Phee.
“Please, Drake, she is my dearest friend in the entire world. If he is involved—”
