To Seduce an Earl by Lori Brighton Page B

backward. They stumbled into the kitchen, Alex grasping onto her upper arms to hold her steady. Grace slid a glance left, then right. The maids had stopped cleaning the hearth, kneeling before the fireplace with stunned expressions upon their pale faces. The two women rolling out dough were frozen in action, their pins held in midair, another woman, with the bread door wide, stood with a peel in hand, the lump of dough settled on the end of the paddle, waiting to be baked. Apparently clients didn’t often burst in through the back door.
    Heat shot to her cheeks. Had she so quickly made a muddle of things? Usually it was a good five minutes before people started staring. She shut the door behind her and leaned against the hard panel, taking pains to slow her thumping heart. Just as quickly as the kitchen had stopped, the action resumed. Servants scurried back and forth across the brick floor, snapping out orders.
    The room smelled of scones, Sheperd’s pie, nutmeg, tea. She breathed deep taking comfort in the normalcy. It smelled like any other kitchen. Looked like any other kitchen. Her gaze traveled to the ceiling where water stains and smoke marred the plaster. But what went on in those rooms above was not like any other place she’d ever been.
    Alex settled his hands on the door, on either side of her head. Grace started, realizing she had nowhere to look, but at him. Blast, but she didn’t want to look at him. When she looked at him she couldn’t think straight.
    He leaned toward her, close, always too close. “Grace, you asked for me, dragged me from slumber, please tell me it was not for nothing.”
    She peeked up at him through her lashes. Lawd, he was as beautiful as she remembered. The dark circles under his eyes only made the blue more brilliant. And that scruff along his jaw added a manly appeal that most women would swoon over. “It’s four in the afternoon, you were asleep?”
    He smiled, a wicked charming smile that produced those dimples. “My clientele prefers to be up in the evenings and at night.”
    Heat shot to her face, an embarrassed flush she couldn’t seem to control. His clientele. And that’s just what she would become if she went through with this nonsense. One of his women.
    “Of course.” She glanced around the room, so many people, so many eyes and ears. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
    He hesitated a brief moment, a small line of suspicion creasing that area between his brows. He looked leery, and she didn’t realize until that moment that she worried he would refuse her.
    “My room. You’ve got five minutes. I’m a busy man.”
    Busy indeed. She bit back her sarcastic reply. She was used to speaking her mind, even to John. It wasn’t in her nature to be demure. But she’d try, if it would get her what she needed, if it got her Rodrick. “I did pay for thirty minutes.”
    He narrowed his eyes, as if he didn’t believe her in the least. He’d met her only once, what did he know about her character? “You’re lucky I wasn’t with someone.”
    His words brought a wave of disgust roiling through her body, and something else…interest.
    With a sigh, he raked his hand through his hair, the soft waves clinging to his fingers and for one moment she remembered the feel of the strands…remembered those curls clinging to her fingers. So bloody beautiful. If he hadn’t worked in a whorehouse, she would assume he was an Archangel dropped on earth.
    “Come along.” He started toward the back stairs, a narrow set meant for servants to run up and down unseen…and for clients who didn’t want to be noticed. Clients embarrassed and ashamed. Clients like…her.
    Grace weaved around a butter churn and followed Alex up the steps. She pressed her gloved hands to the brick walls on either side, feeling suddenly dizzy. What the bloody hell was she doing? Insane! Her father was most likely rolling over in his grave. But father was gone and John was an arse and someone had