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“I did not ask what you prefer, ma souris,” he growled. “Answer the question.”

“Thomas intends to take me to Norfolk on Friday.”

Edmond made a sound of disgust. How typically foolish. Was there ever a woman born who did not allow herself to be ruled by flights of fancy rather than common sense?

“And you risked utter ruin because you have no wish to leave London society?” He gave a shake of his head.

Without warning her hands lifted to smack against his chest, her face flushed with fury.

“I do not give a bloody hell about London society, you wretched man,” she gritted. “Indeed, if I never had to spend another night in this horrid city I would be delighted.”

“Then why the devil are you so desperate to avoid Norfolk?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, almost as if in pain. “Please, do not do this, Edmond,” she whispered.

Edmond stilled, realizing that there was far more to this than a mere feminine whim.

“Brianna?”

A shudder wracked her body, before her thick lashes at last lifted to reveal haunted green eyes.

“My stepfather intends to take me to his hunting lodge so he…he can…have his way with me.”

“Have his way with you?”

“He intends to rape me,” she hissed. “There, are you satisfied?”

“Christ, Brianna,” he rasped, shocked to the very depths of his being. “What the hell makes you think such a thing?”

“Because he attempted to force his way into my bed three months ago.” Her voice was wooden, but Edmond was not fooled by the lack of emotion. She was so on edge, he knew she was a breath away from shattering.

“I warned him that I would contact Stefan and reveal the treachery if he so much as touched me. I thought the threat would be enough, but two weeks ago he informed me that he had purchased a new hunting lodge in Norfolk and that he intended to take me there. He also made it clear that any servants he hired would be completely loyal to him. So loyal that they would turn a blind eye if Thomas chose to keep me locked in my chambers.”

With a hiss, Edmond surged off the bed, a fury trembling through his body. The rotten, sick bastard.

“Why haven’t you contacted Stefan before now?” he snapped.

Keeping her wary gaze on him, Brianna slipped off the bed and wrapped her arms around her waist; the bodice of her gown disarranged to reveal a far too tempting glimpse of her creamy breasts.

“I sent a letter the moment that I learned of Thomas’s plan to leave London, but Stefan did not respond. After I learned that he had arrived in the city, I had hoped that he had come to assist me.” Her tone was accusing. She clearly held him to blame for Stefan’s absence. “Of course he never came to call, so I sent near a dozen messages to the town house. I even had my maid deliver a letter—only to be turned away by a huge brute of a man who would not so much as allow her across the threshold.”

“I did not hire Boris for his talents in proper London etiquette,” he said dryly.

Her eyes flashed, her beautiful hair tumbled about her shoulders. “Well, because of Boris, I was forced to attend this hideous ball in the hopes of speaking with Stefan. And now you have ruined even that.”

Edmond was not a gentleman who was chastised by others. Not even Alexander Pavlovich would dare offer more than a mild reproof. And yet, this tiny scrap of a woman stood there and boldly dressed him down, as if he were no more than a disobedient child.

Astonishingly, however, it was not resentment, but fascination that flowed through him.

Brianna Quinn had the sort of spirit that was all too rare among well-bred females. For God’s sake, any other woman would have been mindless with fear, or at the very least hysterical, after being threatened with rape by her stepfather. Brianna instead had boldly set upon a course to save herself, even daring to attend the most notorious ball in all of London.

“I will contact Stefan to ensure he knows of your troubles,” he promised, not bothering to inform her that he intended to deal with Thomas Wade in his own straightforward, if covert, fashion. “Until then you will stay with a friend. You must know someone in London.”

Her lips thinned at his sharp command. “I know several people in London, but none are in a position to prevent Thomas from taking me away. Only Stefan…”

Edmond frowned as her words came to an abrupt halt, her eyes narrowing as if she had been struck with a brilliant notion.

“Only Stefan, what?” he demanded, impatient to return to the ball and Howard Summerville now that he had solved the mystery of Brianna Quinn.


Tags: Rosemary Rogers Russian Connection Historical