Page 11

Moreland

I watched Victoria climb the stairs, powerless to look away. I was used to getting what I wanted. If she were anyone else, I would have tried to seduce her.

I made my way down the hall to the library, which would suffice for the task at hand. I hadn’t been completely honest about needing to compose correspondence. The only people expecting to see me today would make their way to King’s, and they all knew about my current responsibilities.

No, what I desperately needed right now was to hide from Victoria. I knew some would call the instinct cowardly, but I chose to consider it a strategic retreat.

Closing the door behind me, I surveyed the library. It was a nicely sized room, its walls lined with mahogany bookcases and a cozy sitting area before a large window. Just to one side was a large desk made of the same wood as the shelves.

To my surprise, the shelves were filled with books, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Rexford had purchased the house for himself. He lived above the club and hadn’t mentioned that he was considering moving to another residence.

The house was close to his father’s ducal manse in Berkeley Square. If Rexford did take up residence here, it would drive Sherbourne to distraction knowing his son lived so close but remained beyond his reach.

Watching the old man’s antics amused me. Like clockwork, Rexford’s father would send him a summons on Rexford’s birthday, expecting his heir to come back to him on bended knee. And when Rexford ignored his summons, Sherbourne would deign to make an appearance in person.

I couldn’t remember what we’d been doing the last time he’d arrived, just that we’d been in the billiard room talking about something or other.

When Sherbourne made his appearance, I witnessed firsthand the way Rexford transformed from a powerful, capable man who was admired by many into the wastrel his father thought him to be.

He adopted an air of insouciance that enraged the duke.

The old man’s jowls shook as he clenched his jaw and inclined his head toward the stairs leading to Rexford’s study, making it clear that he expected his son to obey.

Rexford did, but he never spoke about what happened behind those closed doors.

Ten minutes later, Sherbourne stormed out. When Rexford reappeared shortly afterward, he acted as though the incident had never taken place. I took my cue and never asked him about it. I’d long since accepted the fact that Rexford was a man of secrets.

I made my way to the large mahogany desk and settled into the surprisingly comfortable chair.

The surface was bare, but I found parchment, quills, and ink in the top drawer.

Pushing aside thoughts of the young woman who was supposed to be my mistress, but whom I could never touch, I composed a note to my steward.

After finishing the note, I dispatched a footman to deliver it.

Then I stood and began to pace. My steward would be overjoyed to receive my note.

He’d been trying to get me to go over the accounts for my estates.

Since I had a few hours ahead of me, I might as well perform the task I’d been avoiding for some time.

I tried to banish the guilt I felt for avoiding Victoria, remembering the way her eyes had widened with fear when she’d spoken of the gossip column.

Her lower lip had trembled, and I’d wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms. I was no stranger to desire, but I’d never cared about the women I spent time with.

We gave each other pleasure, then went our separate ways.

That wasn’t the case with Victoria, who I wanted to protect.

And no matter how much I tried to convince myself that it was because she was Rexford’s sister, I couldn’t deny that my feelings for her went beyond duty to her brother.

I wanted to take care of her, to watch over her, and to ensure no one ever hurt her.

The hours crawled by, but at least I managed to fill them productively.

When a footman knocked on the library door and informed me that dinner would be ready soon, I nodded my acceptance, grateful for the excuse to escape my self-imposed exile.