“Yes, I fear I am.”
“Then sleep, sweeting.” He caressed her hair. “I promise your future will be far, far better than your past.”
* * * *
David awoke with a start. Sunlight illuminated the tiny garret in all its stark poverty. Jeanne was nowhere to be seen.
At last, he now remembered everything from that last day at his chambers at the Inns of Court.
That pivotal day, over a week ago now, he had wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, still tasting the bitterness of tea and stomach juices. Dizziness had confused him as he wandered back into the Inn and leaned against the corridor wall.
Charles Toovey had been at his side. He had aided him back outside into the fresher air and eventually had helped him into a carriage.
Now, in Jeanne’s bed, David bent his head and rubbed the aching spot between his brows. He must have been completely out of his senses.
Toovey was the one person he loathed with a visceral, burning passion. The hate was reciprocated. All over the one thing the two men shared: the memory of having loved Thérèse.
Lord Toovey, an impoverished but well-connected baron, was also a leading figure on the opposite political side. It was well known that David championed the cause of better regulation for insane asylums, and Toovey would do anything he could to hurt David.
It was past time for him to return to his own world.
He arose from the bed, shaved with cold water, then found his clothes where Jeanne had left them, folded neatly over a chair.
* * * *
Jeanne returned with the day’s food shopping. David stood before her little mirror, fully dressed, and giving what looked to be the final adjustments to his cravat.
She shut the door. At the soft click, he turned.
Bernard had often used the term “force of presence” to describe a person. Looking at David in this moment, Jeanne knew exactly what he meant. David’s expression was that of a stranger. Cool, slightly arrogant, focused on whatever business he had out in the world. Power seemed to radiate from him, so much so that instinctively, she took a step back and then another. She felt that perhaps she ought to bend into a curtsy, but then again that would be silly given their previous carnal frolicking.
She could also sense his urgency to be gone as if though were a tangible thing.
Of course she was glad he was going. She looked forward to having her peace and privacy restored.
“My man of business, Mr. Packer, will come and see you soon.” Even his voice sounded different. The voice of a man who was aware of every moment spent on trivialities.
“It is not necessary.” She reached into her pocket and closed her hand around the bills he’d already given her, her percentage for the landlady and repayment for the shaving articles and food. That she hadn’t minded. Her funds were limited. But she wouldn’t take payment for doing what had only been the humane thing to do. More than that, she wouldn’t become obligated to a gentleman who then might feel he had the right to come and disturb her privacy any time he felt lusty or despondent with life.
He stepped closer. His look became a shade more personal.
It was as though she was noticing his handsomeness for the first time. She caught her breath.
He bent toward her, smelling of inexpensive shaving soap and her clove toothpowder.
He kissed her mouth.
It wasn’t necessary for him to do that. They weren’t lovers now. And it should have been a brief salutation. However, their lips seemed to cling. Her mouth came open as if of its own accord. Their tongues caressed. The taste of his was all spice, sparking in her blood like fire. Her hands slid up his arms and gripped his shoulders.
He pulled his mouth from hers and stared down with a fierce expression. “Damn.”
Then he put his hands to her back and with one jerk, slammed her body to his. He brought his mouth on hers again, crushing her lips with his own, running his tongue over the seam, demanding entry. She opened and he thrust inside, sweeping her breath away. For long moments, she ardently returned his tongue’s strokes, desperate to imprint his feel, his taste on her senses.
He broke the kiss and put her from him. The suddenness left her swaying, fuzzyheaded, and a little dizzy as she watched him turn and walk to the door.
A moment later, her door closed and he was gone. Out of her life forever.
Chapter Six
“Hold up, Hartley.”
David stopped and turned.
Toovey approached him, a grin on his face.
While staring at that idiotic smirk, David reminded himself that Toovey was not worth the price to his reputation and standing in the House. The former Duke of Hartley, David’s father, had been a hotheaded, rash man. David had worked hard to prove himself a sane, rational-minded, and responsible man. Throttling a fellow peer in the corridor outside his office wasn’t exactly going to help boost that image.