watched her until she disappeared into the first-class entrance.
Was she the distraction he badly needed?
A hush always descended in the final moments before departure, quiet enough to hear the commands issued from the bridge and passed along the length of the ship. The harbor slipped away. On the main deck below her, the crowd waved madly at the loved ones they were leaving behind. The throngs on the dock waved back, just as earnest and demonstrative.
Venetia’s throat tightened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such unbridled, unabashed emotions.
Or when she last dared to.
“Good morning, baroness.”
She jerked. Lexington stood a few feet away, an ungloved hand on the railing, dressed casually in a gray lounge suit and a felt hat that had probably seen service on his expeditions. He regarded the waterfront of New York, its piers, cranes, and warehouses sliding past, and displayed no interest in her whatsoever.
It was as if an iceberg had come to call.
“Do I know you, sir?” He’d spoken in German; she replied in the same language, surprised to hear herself sound quite calm, almost unaffected.
He turned toward her. “Not yet, baroness. But I would like to make your acquaintance.”
They’d been in greater proximity in the hotel lift. Yet whereas the day before his nearness only angered her, today she felt as if she were balanced on a high wire over Niagara Falls.
Was she ready to play the game?
“Why do you wish to know me, Your Grace?” No point pretending she didn’t know his rank—the hotel staff had not been reticent about it in her hearing.
“You are different.”
From the greedy whore you held up as an affront to decency?
She fought down her agitation. “Are you looking for a lover?”
Know the rules before you play the game, Mr. Easterbrook had always told her.
“Would that be agreeable to you?” His tone was utterly unexceptional, as if he’d expressed nothing more untoward than a desire for a dance.
After the flowers, she shouldn’t be surprised. All the same, her skin prickled hotly. Thank God for her veil—or she would not have been able to hide her revulsion. “And if I say no?”
“I will not impose on you again.”
She’d dealt with men wanting her favors her entire life. She could recognize feigned nonchalance from a furlong away. But there was no affectation to his dispassionate stance. Were she to turn down his overture, he would simply turn his attention elsewhere and not give her another thought.
“What—if I am not sure?”
“Then I’d like to persuade you.”
Despite the brisk breeze on the river, the veil threatened to asphyxiate her. Or perhaps it wasn’t the veil at all, but his words. His presence. “How would you do that?”
His lips lifted at the corners—he was amused. “Do you wish for a demonstration?”
She’d known only his sharp mind, his arctic demeanor, and his limitless capacity for slander. But now, with the almost playfulness of his tone, the lean strength of his build, and the sight of his fingers absently stroking the railing, she became conscious of his sensuality, her awareness dark and potent.
It was too much. She couldn’t. Not in a million years. Not if he were the last man alive. Not even if he were the last man alive
and
the guardian of the last store of foodstuff left on Earth.
“No,” she said, her voice seething. “I do not wish for a demonstration. And I would be grateful should I never see you again.”
If her sudden rejection took him aback, he did not show it. He bowed slightly. “In that case, madam, I wish you a pleasant voyage.”
B ridget, Millie’s maid, came back from the hotel clerk’s station with the news that Mrs. Easterbrook had not yet checked in.
“Do you think she might have gone to a different hotel?” Millie asked Helena.
Helena felt uneasy. “But Lady
Was she the distraction he badly needed?
A hush always descended in the final moments before departure, quiet enough to hear the commands issued from the bridge and passed along the length of the ship. The harbor slipped away. On the main deck below her, the crowd waved madly at the loved ones they were leaving behind. The throngs on the dock waved back, just as earnest and demonstrative.
Venetia’s throat tightened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such unbridled, unabashed emotions.
Or when she last dared to.
“Good morning, baroness.”
She jerked. Lexington stood a few feet away, an ungloved hand on the railing, dressed casually in a gray lounge suit and a felt hat that had probably seen service on his expeditions. He regarded the waterfront of New York, its piers, cranes, and warehouses sliding past, and displayed no interest in her whatsoever.
It was as if an iceberg had come to call.
“Do I know you, sir?” He’d spoken in German; she replied in the same language, surprised to hear herself sound quite calm, almost unaffected.
He turned toward her. “Not yet, baroness. But I would like to make your acquaintance.”
They’d been in greater proximity in the hotel lift. Yet whereas the day before his nearness only angered her, today she felt as if she were balanced on a high wire over Niagara Falls.
Was she ready to play the game?
“Why do you wish to know me, Your Grace?” No point pretending she didn’t know his rank—the hotel staff had not been reticent about it in her hearing.
“You are different.”
From the greedy whore you held up as an affront to decency?
She fought down her agitation. “Are you looking for a lover?”
Know the rules before you play the game, Mr. Easterbrook had always told her.
“Would that be agreeable to you?” His tone was utterly unexceptional, as if he’d expressed nothing more untoward than a desire for a dance.
After the flowers, she shouldn’t be surprised. All the same, her skin prickled hotly. Thank God for her veil—or she would not have been able to hide her revulsion. “And if I say no?”
“I will not impose on you again.”
She’d dealt with men wanting her favors her entire life. She could recognize feigned nonchalance from a furlong away. But there was no affectation to his dispassionate stance. Were she to turn down his overture, he would simply turn his attention elsewhere and not give her another thought.
“What—if I am not sure?”
“Then I’d like to persuade you.”
Despite the brisk breeze on the river, the veil threatened to asphyxiate her. Or perhaps it wasn’t the veil at all, but his words. His presence. “How would you do that?”
His lips lifted at the corners—he was amused. “Do you wish for a demonstration?”
She’d known only his sharp mind, his arctic demeanor, and his limitless capacity for slander. But now, with the almost playfulness of his tone, the lean strength of his build, and the sight of his fingers absently stroking the railing, she became conscious of his sensuality, her awareness dark and potent.
It was too much. She couldn’t. Not in a million years. Not if he were the last man alive. Not even if he were the last man alive
and
the guardian of the last store of foodstuff left on Earth.
“No,” she said, her voice seething. “I do not wish for a demonstration. And I would be grateful should I never see you again.”
If her sudden rejection took him aback, he did not show it. He bowed slightly. “In that case, madam, I wish you a pleasant voyage.”
B ridget, Millie’s maid, came back from the hotel clerk’s station with the news that Mrs. Easterbrook had not yet checked in.
“Do you think she might have gone to a different hotel?” Millie asked Helena.
Helena felt uneasy. “But Lady
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