Page 46 of How the Earl Entices

He pushed away from the windowsill and pulled himself up to his full height as he slowly stalked toward her. Standing her ground, she let her eyes roam over him, taking him all in. Bare chest and bare feet, with only his trousers doing a poor job of keeping any part of him covered, given how the sight of her in the shadows, all bed-ready and warm had him nearly hard.

“I mean it, Grace. Don’t take any more risks for me.”

“I’m not doing it for you.” But there was no conviction in her voice.

“Then you can stop doing it completely. I’ll keep my word to help you once we reach London. If not me, then Kit and my cousins. Ethan will have everything he deserves, I promise you.” He reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. Then he opportunistically sifted his fingers through her silky tresses as he drew his hand away. “But I won’t allow you to be hurt. Understand?”

She stared at him defiantly for a moment. Then she grudgingly nodded.

“Now go back to bed and sleep. You’ll need rest for tomorrow’s travels.”

Knowing to take his victories wherever he could, he returned to the window, to keep watch a little longer into the night. And to keep away from her before he took more than a caress of her hair. Behind him, he heard her footsteps as she returned to bed and the soft rustle of fabric as she nestled down beneath the warm blankets.

It took all his strength not to follow her.

Chapter 13

London

Two Evenings Later

Christopher Carlisle lifted a glass of Madeira from the tray of a passing footman. He leaned a shoulder against the Grecian column at the edge of the Marquess of Totteridge’s ballroom and cast a bored glance around the crowded room.

No one dared approach him. Word had flowed through thetonfaster than the Thames through London that Ross was wanted for treason, and the news had made him a social pariah by proximity.

Not that Kit had ever cared what polite society thought of him. He had his work with the Home Office to give his life purpose. And now, he had a new mission—redeem his brother’s good name.

Which was theonlyreason why he was here tonight, why he’d attended a musicale this afternoon, and why he would drop by as many of the clubs tonight as he could tolerate once he’d left this ball. And at each place he went, letting himself be cut. He needed to be visible to show the world that he considered the news about Ross to be ridiculous, and to remind them that the Earl of Spalding occupied a respected place in society and would again as soon as the charges were revoked.

Hiding would only fuel the gossip.

Yet how much longer could he continue the show? In the four days since Ross had been declared a traitor, the invitations had already stopped coming and his name stricken from the guest list at White’s. In truth, he was only allowed into the ball tonight because the soiree came so quickly on the heels of the treason declaration that the invitation was already in the post and so Lady Totteridge had been unable to rescind it. But sweet Lucifer was it entertaining! He smiled with private amusement at the way the merry widows tripped all over themselves to catch a good look at him, how the innocent young misses gave him wide berth, how the men simply ignored him.

Not all. A few longtime friends had greeted him when he arrived, to tell him that they hoped the charges would be dismissed and to offer their support. He was certain their loyalty was helped along in no small part by his cousins’ devotion. The Duke of Trent and his brothers refused to believe that Ross was a traitor. Sebastian Carlisle wielded a great deal of power these days, and no one wanted to cross him. Neither did they want to be at odds with Robert and Quinton, both of whom were now successful in their own right and highly influential in all quarters.

But most were happy to cut him, and Kit was happy to keep a list of their names for when this whole mess ended and they once again wanted the favor of the Earl of Spalding.

Ifit ended.

He hadn’t heard a single word from Ross since his brother fled Paris, and dread sat like a lead ball in his chest as he feared the worst. From what little information he was able to gather from his contacts within the War Office and the Court of St James’s, Ross was most likely dead. The last time anyone could pinpoint him he’d boarded a fishing boat in Le Havre to cross the Channel right as the storm hit. There was no record of him disembarking on English soil.

So now Christopher was here, drinking watered-down Madeira and pretending to watch the dancing, because he hadn’t yet given up hope. If Ross were somehow still alive, then he would need Kit’s perseverance in protecting his name. But if he were dead…well, it was only a matter of time before the family was stripped of the title and all of its possessions. The standard punishment for traitors. Already the Home Office had taken Kit’s assignments away from him. The crown was simply waiting to lower the axe.

Since the moment Kit learned what Ross had been doing in Paris and the risks he was subjecting himself to, he’d publicly threatened his older brother with the prospect of becoming a vicar, in order to make a point about the uselessness of martyrdom. But if Ross couldn’t miraculously resurrect himself, then Kit might very well have to become a vicar after all just to survive. Ross would laugh from his grave at the irony ofthat.

“Good evening, Mr. Carlisle,” a soft voice said from behind him. “I’m so glad to find you here.”

He tensed, the glass stopping halfway to his lips. God help him, heknewthat voice. Because the woman attached to it frightened the daylights out of him.

“Miss Winslow.” Lowering the Madeira, he sketched a polite bow as she approached him. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Her eyes gleamed at that, as if she knew it was a lie. But she was too polite to dispute his untruth—or more likely, the unpredictable chit simply saw it as a challenge. Instead, she sank into a curtsy.

Evelyn Winslow. A more intimidating creature the good Lord had never made, except perhaps for her sister Mariah, who was now married to his cousin Robert.

At first glance, Evelyn seemed as ordinary as any other unmarried young lady, from the rosebuds in her hair to the bow-capped toes of her pastel satin slippers, complete with an intoxicating smile.

What lay beneath, however, was a different matter entirely.