CHAPTER 4
Persephone passed the days following Rafe Sutton’s garden visit and subsequent accusations in a state of tense anticipation. Each time she spoke to Mr. Jasper Sutton or Lady Octavia, she expected to hear the damning words telling her she would need to find another situation. That she would be relieved of her position without a written character to recommend her as she struggled to find yet another post.
You slipped laudanum into my brother-in-law’s brandy, she imagined Lady Octavia saying, her voice stern and cold as ice. How dare you betray our family? Leave this house immediately and never return.
Instead, Lady Octavia had praised her over the progress Anne and Elizabeth were making with their letters. No one in the household had seen her alone with Rafe that night or morning as the house had been bustling with frantic activity. Her secret was safe.
But for how long?
That was the question that haunted her even as she walked toward the waiting carriage. This afternoon, she was off to a bookseller where she would seek new reading material for her charges. Ordinarily, she preferred to travel in public infrequently, lest she be seen by someone who might carry word back to Cousin Bartholomew. However, she was wound as tightly as a watch spring, anticipating Rafe Sutton’s blow to her carefully constructed peace at any moment. The twins were in need of more challenging books, and Lady Octavia had offered the use of the carriage and the accompaniment of a groom on her excursion. And leaving the confines of the town house would do wonders to help shake the worries and fears haunting her.
At least, she hoped it would.
A groom opened the carriage door for her, and she stepped up and inside, her mind so filled with thoughts that she failed to realize the conveyance was not empty until she was nearly within.
There, seated in the shadows of the bench to her left, sat Rafe Sutton, long legs crossed at the ankle in an indolent pose. His boots were gleaming, his trousers the perfect complement to his dark, well-cut coat. The hat pulled low over his brow did nothing to diminish the appearance of those blond curls. He looked like a fallen angel come to claim the wicked.
Her heart felt as if it had dropped through her stomach.
“Mr. Sutton!” she said on a shocked gasp, freezing on the step.
“Get in,” he ord
ered her, his voice low and commanding.
The easy flirtation was gone from his mannerism. The charming rogue blessed with dimples who had dared to wink at her was nowhere to be seen.
“What are you doing in this carriage?” she demanded, ignoring his curt directive.
“Come in, and you shall see.” His voice was calm and smooth and yet, there was an underlying hardness to it, the suggestion that he would not accept any outcome other than the one he wished.
“Why should I?” She cast a glance over her shoulder, trying to find the groom who had opened the door and seeing no one.
“You need not worry about young Jonas,” Mr. Sutton said smoothly. “I have greased his hand quite generously.”
He had bribed the servant?
Her heart stuttered and tripped over itself. “What do you want, sir?”
“You know what I want,” he said, his hazel stare traveling down her body in a thorough sweep that left her skin tingling. “Now step inside like a good governess.”
Surely he was not suggesting he wanted something amorous in nature from her. But then, he would hardly be the first. She supposed nothing should surprise her. Her four-and-twenty years may as well have been a lifetime for the experiences she had endured.
And yet despite that… Oh! What is the matter with you, Persephone?
Why did the threat of an impending ride in a carriage with Rafe Sutton make heat blossom in her belly and spread lower, to a far more forbidden place? Why did her body react to his, trusting him in a way her mind did not dare?
Barraged by a rush of confusing emotions—trepidation, longing, curiosity—she hesitated, chastising herself inwardly.
“Get in, or I will pay a call to my brother this very moment,” he added.
Persephone stepped up and into the vehicle, settling herself on the seat opposite his. The carriage door closed with a loud snap. Mr. Sutton rapped on the roof, and it rocked into motion.
He had planned this, she realized. How efficiently and effortlessly he was spiriting her away. She ought to be alarmed, and yet, there was something about this man that felt somehow, inherently, different from the other, far more unscrupulous men she had known.
This man had teased and flirted and was wonderfully sweet to his nieces. Even when he had arisen in her bed, he had never attempted to press his suit.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked him.