she’d garnered the reputation as one of the most fascinating women—and gamesters—in the ton . Yes, she was lovely and intelligent, but that didn’t explain it. Still, he’d have to spend more time with her to decipher that puzzle, and he had no intention of doing so. He couldn’t afford to like her, for either of their sakes.
Briskly, he wrapped her feet into the folds of the blanket. When he finally met her gaze, she looked heavy-lidded and sated, and some of the color had returned to her cheeks. She looked like she’d just come from a man’s bed after a night of thorough shagging.
Christ Almighty.
He lifted her legs and shifted off the seat, tucking the blanket around her limbs. Moving to the opposite bench, he pulled his coat around him. Now she looked puzzled, her luscious lower lip thrust out in a little pout that begged for a response. That did nothing for his self-control, but it certainly had a marked effect on his burgeoning erection.
He forced himself to give her an impassive stare. “What question would that be, my lady?”
When she rolled her eyes he had to repress a smile. He hadn’t forgotten her question and she knew it.
“Who are you?” she repeated with a decisive tilt of her chin. Her tone brooked no attempt at evasion.
He gave her a lazy smile. “As I recall, we did exchange introductions. I am Aden St. George, at your service.”
Now her lovely eyes narrowed with irritation. “Yes, of the Thornbury St. Georges. But that tells me next to nothing. You obviously know a fair amount about me—from Sir Dominic, I assume. But I still know very little about you.”
He shrugged, holding his silence. After all, there was very little he could tell her.
A frown creased her brow and she glanced toward the window of the coach. And just like that, damned if she didn’t begin to look nervous again, her gaze flickering back to him and then once more to the window.
Mentally, he sighed. The less she knew about him the better, but he didn’t want her stewing all the way back to London. The last thing he wanted was for her to fret herself into a state of hysteria.
Not that she hadn’t conducted herself with a great deal of aplomb so far. In fact, when he’d almost fallen off the step of the coach, she’d had the presence of mind to grab onto him. But now she had nothing to do but think, and worry over her abduction like a kitten with a toy. She had no control over events—even over her own person. She’d been mauled and terrified, and had lived for hours with the threat of rape. Aden had more than a passing acquaintance with helplessness, and if answering a few questions restored a measure of her dignity then he would do what he could.
Within limits, of course.
“What is it you wish to know, my lady?”
“Are you in the military? Tom called you captain , after all.” She waved a vague hand. “And other things, too. Few men of the ton would be comfortable sneaking about damp tunnels and subduing dangerous criminals.” She frowned. “In fact, that sounds more like—”
He cut her off. “Yes, I’m with the Royal Horse Guards.” Partly true, since he’d served for six months in The Blues when he’d finished university. But it hadn’t taken Dominic long to recruit him into the Service. His “commission” with the Guards was nothing more than a convenient cover, used only when necessary.
She raised her eyebrows. “Then why aren’t you with your regiment?”
“I’m on leave, temporarily attached to the Home Office.”
“So that’s how you know Sir Dominic.”
He gave her a slight smile, not answering. To the world at large, Dominic worked for the Home Office. Only a select few knew he was one of the most powerful spymasters in England, with extensive connections in both the highest and lowest circles of English society. On any given day Dominic could be whispering in the ear of the Duke of York or enjoying a pint of heavy wet with some of the more disreputable denizens
Briskly, he wrapped her feet into the folds of the blanket. When he finally met her gaze, she looked heavy-lidded and sated, and some of the color had returned to her cheeks. She looked like she’d just come from a man’s bed after a night of thorough shagging.
Christ Almighty.
He lifted her legs and shifted off the seat, tucking the blanket around her limbs. Moving to the opposite bench, he pulled his coat around him. Now she looked puzzled, her luscious lower lip thrust out in a little pout that begged for a response. That did nothing for his self-control, but it certainly had a marked effect on his burgeoning erection.
He forced himself to give her an impassive stare. “What question would that be, my lady?”
When she rolled her eyes he had to repress a smile. He hadn’t forgotten her question and she knew it.
“Who are you?” she repeated with a decisive tilt of her chin. Her tone brooked no attempt at evasion.
He gave her a lazy smile. “As I recall, we did exchange introductions. I am Aden St. George, at your service.”
Now her lovely eyes narrowed with irritation. “Yes, of the Thornbury St. Georges. But that tells me next to nothing. You obviously know a fair amount about me—from Sir Dominic, I assume. But I still know very little about you.”
He shrugged, holding his silence. After all, there was very little he could tell her.
A frown creased her brow and she glanced toward the window of the coach. And just like that, damned if she didn’t begin to look nervous again, her gaze flickering back to him and then once more to the window.
Mentally, he sighed. The less she knew about him the better, but he didn’t want her stewing all the way back to London. The last thing he wanted was for her to fret herself into a state of hysteria.
Not that she hadn’t conducted herself with a great deal of aplomb so far. In fact, when he’d almost fallen off the step of the coach, she’d had the presence of mind to grab onto him. But now she had nothing to do but think, and worry over her abduction like a kitten with a toy. She had no control over events—even over her own person. She’d been mauled and terrified, and had lived for hours with the threat of rape. Aden had more than a passing acquaintance with helplessness, and if answering a few questions restored a measure of her dignity then he would do what he could.
Within limits, of course.
“What is it you wish to know, my lady?”
“Are you in the military? Tom called you captain , after all.” She waved a vague hand. “And other things, too. Few men of the ton would be comfortable sneaking about damp tunnels and subduing dangerous criminals.” She frowned. “In fact, that sounds more like—”
He cut her off. “Yes, I’m with the Royal Horse Guards.” Partly true, since he’d served for six months in The Blues when he’d finished university. But it hadn’t taken Dominic long to recruit him into the Service. His “commission” with the Guards was nothing more than a convenient cover, used only when necessary.
She raised her eyebrows. “Then why aren’t you with your regiment?”
“I’m on leave, temporarily attached to the Home Office.”
“So that’s how you know Sir Dominic.”
He gave her a slight smile, not answering. To the world at large, Dominic worked for the Home Office. Only a select few knew he was one of the most powerful spymasters in England, with extensive connections in both the highest and lowest circles of English society. On any given day Dominic could be whispering in the ear of the Duke of York or enjoying a pint of heavy wet with some of the more disreputable denizens
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