Never Trust a Rogue by Olivia Drake Page A

fingers of suspicion prickled her skin. She had assumed that he and the maid intended to engage in a sordid tryst. But what if he’d had an even more sinister purpose?
    No. No, it was absurd. He was a peer of the realm, not a criminal from the stews of London.
    She realized that Jocelyn was gazing avidly at her, awaiting her reaction. Good manners dictated that shechastise the girl for stepping outside the bounds of propriety.
    With studied composure, Lindsey set down her teacup on the tray. “Don’t be silly. That seems a rather dramatic accusation to make of your guardian.”
    Jocelyn ducked her chin. “Perhaps you’re right. You must think I’m dreadfully ungrateful, don’t you? To suggest such an awful thing about the man who has given me a home and shown me naught but kindness.”
    “I think you’re bored and in dire need of an outing. You should ask His Lordship to remedy that situation straightaway—”
    “Remedy what?”
    The deep male voice startled her. Lindsey’s heart gave a wild lurch. She glanced over her shoulder to see the menacing figure of Lord Mansfield looming in the doorway.
    Handsomely groomed, he wore a tailored black coat and buff breeches with black riding boots. The pure white of his cravat set off the swarthiness of skin darkened from years spent in the sun. Despite his fine garb, he exuded an aura of toughness, perhaps because of the breadth of his shoulders or the hard contours of his scarred face.
    He was not smiling. Rather, he looked as if he contemplated strangling her.
    A shiver eddied through her. The hostility that emanated from him was a palpable presence in the air. Was he one of those high-and-mighty aristocrats who thought a commoner unfit to associate with his ward?
    He strolled into the sitting room, his powerful figure making the walls seem to shrink. “This is quite a surprise, Miss Crompton. I had no notion that you were acquainted with my ward.”
    Her mouth felt too dry to form words. What was he doing here? And how much had he heard?
    To buy time, Lindsey flung a question at him: “Do you always walk in unannounced and eavesdrop on private conversations?”
    “There’s a connecting door between this house and mine. I own both homes. Or didn’t you know that?”
    His cynicism made her nerve endings vibrate with discordant emotions. She felt defensive for being caught here, embarrassed that he might think she was trying to worm her way into his affections, and alarmed at the possibility of him guessing her true purpose here—to locate Nelda and to steal the IOU.
    Then Jocelyn made matters worse by lying: “Don’t be angry, m’lord. Lindsey and I have known each other for
ages
. You see, our families hail from the same area of Lancashire. We share a
long
history together.”
    “Indeed.” Arching a skeptical eyebrow, the earl took up a protective stance at the end of the chaise. He glanced down at his ward as if to assure himself she hadn’t been tainted by Lindsey’s visit. “It seems your father would have mentioned such a connection to me.”
    “Why would he?” Lindsey said, recovering her aplomb. “I’ve lived most of my life in India. And what Jocelyn really means is that we have known
of
each other for years. I thought it only polite to renew the acquaintance in person.”
    “I see. You should be informed, then, that Miss Nevingford tires easily. The doctors have prescribed complete rest for her.”
    “All I
ever
do is rest,” Jocelyn said with a pout. “I vow I’m not weary in the least—”
    “It’s all right,” Lindsey said, forcing a smile. It was a difficult effort, considering the potency of her resentment toward Mansfield. “I really must return home anyway. Perhaps we’ll talk again sometime. Good day.”
    Rising from the chair, she concentrated on keeping hermovements graceful to convey the message that she was leaving of her own accord and not because she had been intimidated into doing so. It was not an easy task. All the way