Silence descended.
Mr Trent closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened them, his compelling gaze settled on Verity. “If anything happens to you, I shall never forgive myself.”
And that was the bare truth of the matter.
“Nothing will happen to Miss Vale,” Mr Wycliff interjected, though she had every intention of saying the same thing. “Not while she is in your care.”
“Then I pray you are right.” With a pained expression, the gentleman turned to her and added, “If we’re to visit Mr Bradley tomorrow, you should get some rest. Permit me to escort you back to Jaunay’s.”
Verity fought to hide a rush of elation. “Thank you, Mr Trent. I would be delighted if you would accompany me to the hotel. Though I hope you spoke in jest when you said you intend to rent every available room.” The thought of Mr Trent occupying the room next to hers would make it impossible for her to sleep at night.
“No, Miss Vale. In my current state of mind, I am considering purchasing the whole hotel.”
Chapter Six
Terror should have been the only emotion swimming in Miss Vale’s eyes as she sat opposite him in the dark confines of his carriage. Lawrence knew she was scared, scared of the masked rogue, scared of sleeping alone in a hotel. And yet whenever she looked at him, he saw a vibrant love for life.
“Sir, I know having me here goes against all notions of what is right and moral.” Intrigue and excitement flashed in her eyes as the words burst from her mouth. “But something is dreadfully amiss, and I cannot have the deaths of other young men or the abuse of other young women on my conscience.”
Miss Vale was right. Having witnessed the underscored text in the book, Sebastian Vale had attempted to issue a warning. But to whom? Miss Vale? Charles Farrow? Still, one could not rule out the possibility that the message was naught but a man’s drunken prank.
“Mrs Wycliff delivered a persuasive argument.” How could he dispute the claims of a woman who had suffered at the hands of a monster? “That doesn’t mean I agree with her opinion.”
Did Miss Vale not know she had more to fear from him than any cowardly villain? Did she not know that every time she opened her mouth, he thought of nothing other than plunging his tongue deep inside and tasting heaven’s sweet nectar?
How ironic that he should be the one to play protector when his thoughts were sinful and wicked. He watched her sitting demurely—so prim and innocent—and it stirred his blood. His gaze slipped slowly down the length of her body, coming to rest where he imagined the blade hugged her milky-white thigh. The warrior appealed to him just as much.
Lawrence cleared his throat lest a lustful groan escape.
“I shall not disappoint you, sir.”
“No,” he drawled. “If I know one thing from our short acquaintance, Miss Vale, it’s that you could never disappoint.”
The corners of her mouth curled into a smile. “Sir, you are the only person to say such a kind thing. My parents cried for a year after my birth. What use is a daughter when it comes to land management?”
No doubt his mother had cried after his birth, too, for an illegitimate child was a dreadful inconvenience. “Many ladies run great estates. I’m sure a woman with your fortitude would do a remarkable job regardless of the role.”
Miss Vale narrowed her gaze. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re somewhat of an enigma?” She did not give him a chance to respond. “You have the ability to make me feel weak and incapable and in the next breath as fearless as if I might charter a ship and navigate the world.”
The comment gave him pause.
The word illegitimate came with many hidden meanings—inferior, incompetent, inadequate. Aware of the destructive force of one’s thoughts, the last thing he wanted was to impose the same restrictions on another human soul.
“I shall attempt to suppress my dictatorial attitude.” That would be a feat in itself. Something about this whole situation with Mr Vale and the cryptic message roused a deep sense of foreboding. “And hope you see any advice given in the way it is intended.” With the utmost care for her situation.
He expected her to remind him of how unreasonable he could be at times, of his cold and often brash manner. But the corners of her mouth turned downwards, and those pretty blue eyes lost their sparkle.
“I’ve made things difficult for you. Decency prompts you to act as you do.”
Decency? Hell, his principles regarding innocents might make him appear gentlemanly, but he could frolic and fornicate just as well as any other skilled seducer.
“By society’s standards, I am at fault,” she continued. “You are right. I should be at home in Shepperton, not risking my neck on a whim.”
Lawrence blinked back his surprise.
“Are you risking your neck on a whim or more an impulsive need to save the world, Miss Vale?” Perhaps it was not too late to persuade her to return to the comfort of her manor house and take up a new hobby instead. And yet he felt compelled to keep her close. The man yearning for what Wycliff had found—love and acceptance—urged him to take risks.
Miss Vale clutched the overhead strap and shuffled forward in her seat. Lawrence wasn’t sure where to look. At her knees resting so close to his they would invariably touch? At her parted lips and excited eyes?