Page 27 of One Night for Seduction
Nor had it been feigned.
Cole could not allow such a lapse in judgment to repeat. What the devil had he been thinking?
That she was beautiful and maddening and clever. That moments with her were completely unpredictable. That he could not live another moment without knowing the taste of her lips.
“Imbecile,” he muttered.
Something had to be done. He summoned his carriage and directed the coachman toward the Wicked Duke. The tavern would not open for a few more hours, but the familiar drive might help to clear his head.
The sooner he found a worthy match for Miss Middleton, the sooner he could have done with the wager and put all of his attention toward Parliament.
Being chosen to replace Lord Fortescue as committee leader required far more than luck. He needed to be a viable candidate. Strategic and clever, conservative and steady. The sort of man who would not embroil himself in embarrassing scandal. Such as stealing kisses from a woman he had no intention to wed.
There. That put paid to the matter. Cole would not be on the hunt for a bride until the following year, at the earliest, which meant absolutely no roguery with proper young ladies until he was prepared to marry one.
“Wicked Duke,” called his driver as he pulled the horses to a stop. “Where to now?”
Cole exchanged a crooked grin with the coachman. This was far from the first drive they’d taken without any particular destination in mind.
“Home, please.”
Within seconds, the horses were once again on the move.
Often when Cole needed to think, watching London trundle by did him a world more good than staring at the walls of his study. Particularly if he was ruminating a matter for Parliament. Putting eyes on the very people he was trying to serve kept his focus sharp.
There was never any reason to exit the carriage, because the decisions he needed to reach were located within his mind. More often than not, he was back home within the hour, refreshed and—
“Stop!” he barked, his nose nearly crushing against the carriage window when the coachman immediately obeyed his command.
Perhaps the morning sun slanting across the glass distorted his judgment, but Cole could swear that the plain-clothed woman striding unaccompanied down an alleyway between two buildings was none other than Miss Middleton.
“Stop,” he said again, but did not know whether he was speaking to the baffling Miss Middleton or his own galloping heart.
“Wait here,” he instructed the driver and leaped from the coach.
Carriages, horses, and carts crossed the busy road, blocking Cole’s path—and his view. When at last he could cross the street in pursuit of Miss Middleton, she was no longer visible to the eye.
Swearing beneath his breath, Cole hurried in the direction he’d last glimpsed her.
Perhaps nothing was amiss. Perhaps there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for a proper young lady to be dressed in drab muslin, wandering alone in empty alleyways hours before her genteel counterparts would even open their eyes.
Or perhaps something was very wrong, and she needed his help.
Cole sprinted down the alley and drew up short when it terminated between two storefronts. To the right, a milliner. To the left, a hostel.
He ducked into the milliner’s shop. While he could not fathom what urge might spur a young lady to purchase a new bonnet at half eight in the morning, it was the only explanation.
Miss Middleton was nowhere inside.
He spun back out to the alley and narrowed his eyes at the tavern next door. Although he had never frequented this particular establishment, it was known to sell ale by the cup or the gallon, and had an inexpensive menu to accompany one’s libation.
But what on earth could any of that have to do with Miss Middleton?
Perhaps he’d been mistaken. The woman he’d seen hadn’t been her at all, but rather some matron or housekeeper or headmistress whose own kitchen was inoperable for some reason, forcing her to visit an establishment such as this in order to break her fast.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside, anyway. Just in case.
As with the milliner’s, Miss Middleton was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the dining salon was empty of customers and employees alike. Perhaps Cole had hallucinated the entire charade.
