Page 19 of A Relentless Rake

“Your brother’s work was compelling.” He watched closely for her reaction. “But it was also wrong. That’s why you corrected it, in case the men from the Society returned and gave it closer scrutiny.”

She froze like a doe before the hounds, and Alec suspected she might just bolt.

Instead, the brave creature from last night returned. Fearlessly not moving her gaze from his, she tangled her right hand in her skirt to wipe away all evidence of any chalk dust that might still be clinging to her fingertips.

“You’re mistaken,” she said softly.

“I’m not.”

A flash of guilt flitted across her pretty face, not at correcting the equations but at getting caught. It was the same expression his sister Elizabeth used to make whenever he’d found her sneaking biscuits from Cook and later stealing kisses from suitors.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she challenged. “I didn’t make any corrections.” Despite the trembling in her voice at that blatant lie, her blue eyes flared in defiance, and this time, it was Alec who caught his breath. Sweet Lucifer, she was enthralling. “My brother is a brilliant mathematician.”

“Perhaps.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “But I have a feeling his sister is even better.”

Her lips parted in speechless surprise.

He doffed his hat and sauntered away, grinning to himself. Clayton’s mission had just become very interesting.

Six

In her dreams, Olivia searched the narrow alleys of the City, but they weren’t the barren, dark places she remembered. They had transformed into a masquerade ball with a crush of couples in fine clothes and jewels, old-fashioned wigs and masks, all laughing and dancing wildly over the cobblestones to eerie music played by unseen musicians in the darkness. Her heart pounded harder with every step she took, her breathing fast and shallow, and while the others danced to normal timing, Olivia moved in frustratingly slow motion. She was searching—no, hunting—for the masked man. But every masked face was wrong, every masculine set of eyes not bright enough, not devilish enough to be—

She awoke with a silent gasp. As her sleep-fuzzed mind cleared, her heart skipped.

Someone was in her room.

She sat up in bed and clutched the coverlet to her chest. Around her, her attic bedroom was flooded with darkness except for the faint glow of the banked fire, which lit the room just enough to reveal a large figure dressed all in black standing in front of her dresser. Silently, he opened each drawer and searched methodically through its contents. She glanced across the room. The doors of her armoire hung half-open. Proof he’d already searched it.

His broad back faced her, but she knew without having to see—

Her masked man.

She should have been terrified, but she wasn’t. He could have hurt her in the alley if he’d wanted, but instead, he’d saved her life. He could have harmed her here, too, while she’d been sleeping, but he hadn’t.

What she was, though, was immensely curious.

She took a deep breath and blurted out before she lost her courage, “Are you finding what you’re looking for?”

His head snapped up, his hand frozen in midreach into the drawer. Then he returned his attention to the dresser and continued his search.

“No, I’m not,” he answered in the same low, raspy whisper she remembered from the alley. He closed the drawer and opened the next.

Olivia studied him through the shadows. Whowasthis man? The mask disguised his face and the rasp hid his voice, but he possessed the bearing and speech of a gentleman. Yet from his muscular build and the way he moved so fluidly, she suspected that last night wasn’t the first time he’d been in a fight. He was a walking, talking, masked contradiction.

“You won’t find anything in there but stockings and garters,” she put in helpfully, “and I don’t think I have any in your size.”

When he shot her an irritated look over his shoulder, she pointed at the bottom drawer.

“I should warn you that I keep my shifts and stays in there. I wouldn’t want you to be unduly embarrassed when you see them.”

He slid the drawer closed, turned to face her, and crossed his arms as he leaned back against the dresser. His stance was as casual as if breaking into a woman’s bedroom in the middle of the night was an everyday occurrence for him. But then, for all she knew, it might very well be.

“Trust me.” His full lips curled in amusement beneath the dark silk of the mask covering the upper half of his face. “I’ve seen enough stays and shifts with women still in them that yours won’t cause a second glance.”

If he’d meant to shock her, he wasn’t even close. She drew her knees to her chest beneath the coverlet and waved her hand nonchalantly. “Then by all means, continue with your search, but I own nothing worth stealing.”

“I’m not a thief,” he bit out, as if offended by the notion. Even through the dark shadows, she felt the heat of his stare as his eyes narrowed on her. “You’re not frightened?”