that, my lady.
Winnie felt the blood drain from her head. What was she going to do? How was she going to pay for her mother to remain at Saint Christina’s? How was she going to pay her blackmailer? Or additional guards? She’d be left with no choice but to tell her father that her mother wasn’t dead like everyone thought.
What was the possibility that any of them could survive the scandal? Her father would be ruined, his advice and influence no longer valued.
Ben and Rachael would never be allowed to show their faces in London Society again.
Gideon’s twin sons, one of them the future Duke of Townsend, would hold the title, but it wouldn’t be a title he wanted, or was proud to possess.
And then there was Anne. What kind of future would Anne have if Society discovered that their mother was a murderer? How much happiness would Anne be left with if she lost the Earl of Montroy’s love?
No, her father could never know that his wife was still alive. Somehow, Winnie would have to find another way to get the money she needed.
“Very well,” she said, unable to hide her anger. The choice he was forcing her to make was unbearable.
“Very well, what?” he said.
“Very well, you do not have to worry about me returning to The Dove .”
“Your word?”
“Yes, you have my word.” Winnie sat back against the velvet squab, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, if you’re finished berating me, I’d like to go home.”
Nick Stillman tapped on the roof of the carriage, then leaned toward the open window. “You can take the lady home now, Hodgekens,” he said, then sat back to face her. “One more question, my lady,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on her as if he could see through her. “Where is she? Where have you taken her?”
Winnie feigned ignorance. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Stillman.”
“Oh, you know. Just as I know that your obsession with gambling has nothing to do with the game, but with amassing all the money you can from winning. Money you need to keep your mother where you’ve put her.” He paused. “Or is there another reason you need your winnings?”
Winnie dropped her hands to her lap and turned her head. She couldn’t allow him to see the fear she knew was evident in her eyes.
“You can’t handle this alone,” he said, reaching for her hands and holding them. “This is too dangerous.”
Charges of emotion tingled through her, traveling from the spot where his hand covered hers, up her arms, then raging a war inside her breast. From there the stirrings plummeted deep in her stomach, then even lower to a place to which Winnie couldn’t put a name. A place she’d never known could harbor such sensations.
“I’m in no danger, Mr. Stillman,” she finally managed to say. Except her voice didn’t sound as forceful as she’d intended, and the words came out raspy with a breath she couldn’t control. “Except from you.”
A slow, lazy smile changed his features, and Winnie realized how true her words were. This wasn’t the first time she’d realized he was a danger to her. Not a physical danger. But a danger to her emotions.
The carriage slowed, then turned into the alley behind her father’s town house. When it stopped, Nick Stillman jumped to the ground and turned to help her down.
His hand reached out to her and she hesitated before she took it. Even though both hands were gloved, she knew this time the response would be more intense.
The smile on his face broadened.
Winnie forced herself to take his hand as if the contact wouldn’t send rivers of molten lava racing through her.
But it did. The contact was like the heat from a raging fire.
Winnie stepped down on legs that trembled beneath her, but when her feet touched the ground, he didn’t move back so she could step around him. Instead, he stood his ground and forced her to stand so close to him that she could feel the heat from his body.
Slowly, his hand
Winnie felt the blood drain from her head. What was she going to do? How was she going to pay for her mother to remain at Saint Christina’s? How was she going to pay her blackmailer? Or additional guards? She’d be left with no choice but to tell her father that her mother wasn’t dead like everyone thought.
What was the possibility that any of them could survive the scandal? Her father would be ruined, his advice and influence no longer valued.
Ben and Rachael would never be allowed to show their faces in London Society again.
Gideon’s twin sons, one of them the future Duke of Townsend, would hold the title, but it wouldn’t be a title he wanted, or was proud to possess.
And then there was Anne. What kind of future would Anne have if Society discovered that their mother was a murderer? How much happiness would Anne be left with if she lost the Earl of Montroy’s love?
No, her father could never know that his wife was still alive. Somehow, Winnie would have to find another way to get the money she needed.
“Very well,” she said, unable to hide her anger. The choice he was forcing her to make was unbearable.
“Very well, what?” he said.
“Very well, you do not have to worry about me returning to The Dove .”
“Your word?”
“Yes, you have my word.” Winnie sat back against the velvet squab, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, if you’re finished berating me, I’d like to go home.”
Nick Stillman tapped on the roof of the carriage, then leaned toward the open window. “You can take the lady home now, Hodgekens,” he said, then sat back to face her. “One more question, my lady,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on her as if he could see through her. “Where is she? Where have you taken her?”
Winnie feigned ignorance. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Stillman.”
“Oh, you know. Just as I know that your obsession with gambling has nothing to do with the game, but with amassing all the money you can from winning. Money you need to keep your mother where you’ve put her.” He paused. “Or is there another reason you need your winnings?”
Winnie dropped her hands to her lap and turned her head. She couldn’t allow him to see the fear she knew was evident in her eyes.
“You can’t handle this alone,” he said, reaching for her hands and holding them. “This is too dangerous.”
Charges of emotion tingled through her, traveling from the spot where his hand covered hers, up her arms, then raging a war inside her breast. From there the stirrings plummeted deep in her stomach, then even lower to a place to which Winnie couldn’t put a name. A place she’d never known could harbor such sensations.
“I’m in no danger, Mr. Stillman,” she finally managed to say. Except her voice didn’t sound as forceful as she’d intended, and the words came out raspy with a breath she couldn’t control. “Except from you.”
A slow, lazy smile changed his features, and Winnie realized how true her words were. This wasn’t the first time she’d realized he was a danger to her. Not a physical danger. But a danger to her emotions.
The carriage slowed, then turned into the alley behind her father’s town house. When it stopped, Nick Stillman jumped to the ground and turned to help her down.
His hand reached out to her and she hesitated before she took it. Even though both hands were gloved, she knew this time the response would be more intense.
The smile on his face broadened.
Winnie forced herself to take his hand as if the contact wouldn’t send rivers of molten lava racing through her.
But it did. The contact was like the heat from a raging fire.
Winnie stepped down on legs that trembled beneath her, but when her feet touched the ground, he didn’t move back so she could step around him. Instead, he stood his ground and forced her to stand so close to him that she could feel the heat from his body.
Slowly, his hand
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