He opened his eyes, and Lucia punched him in the ribs. He scowled. “What the bloody—”
“The door,” she whispered with a terrified look in that direction.
“Selbourne!” Pounding sounded on the other side. “Open the door before Hodges here throws me out. Dash it, Hodges, if you so much as lay one scrawny finger on this tailcoat, I’ll throw you out.”
Alex groaned and tried to pull the sheets over his head, but Lucia beat him to it, fastening them just under her chin.
“Lord Dewhurst has arrived, my lord,” Hodges called from the hallway. “Do you still wish to speak with him?”
“No,” Alex mumbled, gaze still on Lucia. Her azure eyes were dark and huge, glorious hair in a tangle from sleep. He started to reach for her.
“Alex, my brother,” she said. “The note.”
“Selbourne!” Freddie called, and Alex swore.
“If your valet wrinkles this tailcoat, I cannot be held accountable for my actions.”
“Stubble it, Freddie,” Alex called, moving away from Lucia. “I’m coming.”
“Wise decision,” Freddie said from the hall. “Step back, Hodges. I’m giving you fair warning.”
Alex rose and scooped his trousers from the floor and yanked them on. Lucia gasped. “What am I going to do? Should I hide?”
Alex laughed. “No.” He crossed to his clothespress and extracted a robe. “Put this on.” He tossed it to her, but she made no move to take it. Instead she stared at him—panicked, vulnerable, beautiful.
“Dash it, Selbourne. What is taking so long?”
Alex clenched his jaw, and Lucia jumped in alarm, looking wildly about. Alex went to her, draping the robe around her shoulders. “Relax.”
“But—”
“Freddie’s not going to talk. You can trust him.” She blinked. “But—but what will he think of me? I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.” She pulled her arms through the sleeves of the robe, then cinched it tight, clutching the collar closed at the neck.
“Good,” Alex said, heading for the door. “I don’t want you looking at him.” Reluctantly he turned away from her. He liked seeing her bundled in his robe, her hands swallowed in the sleeves and the hem trailing on the floor. With a shake of the head, he chalked up another broken rule. Sleeping together, waking together—these were intimacies too domestic for his taste. He’d intended to take her home long before now.
Annoyed with himself, Alex yanked the door open, not trying to hide the tousled covers or the fetching picture Lucia made, sleepy-eyed and rosy cheeked, sitting on his bed.
“Dewhurst,” Alex nodded to his friend. “Thank you, Hodges.” He dismissed his man, who looked just as perturbed as Alex felt. “You may go.”
The stiff-necked valet bowed and turned away.
“Meddlesome old frump,” Freddie said and sauntered through the doorway. “Ah, good evening, Miss Dashing.”
Alex shut the door, and while Lucia turned a shade of purple, Freddie settled himself in the armchair by the fire. “Got any gin?”
“No. Let’s go downstairs. I have something to show you.”
Freddie peered about the room. “Brandy will do.”
“Dewhurst.”
Freddie tossed him a look full of meaning, and Alex paused. Despite his nonchalance, Freddie’s appearance wasn’t up to his usual standards. Two buttons on his waistcoat were open, and his cravat dangled sloppily down his white lawn shirt. His wavy blond hair was mussed, and there was a look of fatigue in his eyes and strain in his voice.
Alex crossed to a side table, poured a hefty dose of gin in a glass, and handed it to him. “Downstairs,” Alex said, inclining his head toward Lucia.
“Alex, I deserve to know what’s going on.”
Freddie took a swallow of gin. “I agree. This concerns Miss Dashing as well.”
