“My brother—”
“One of those young fools from earlier, I suppose. He has not returned as yet to reclaim you.”
“Tom is—”
“Is that your brother?”
Clara nodded. “He will be looking for me.”
“Yes, that seems obvious.” The mocking note to Woolwich’s words did not help, given it was clear that Tom had either forgotten or been delayed in returning.
In the group of young men, she had been shielded from closer inspection, but if she were to venture back to the Hurstbourne townhouse through the bustling streets of London, the fact she was only five foot and three inches in men’s clothes might well start to attract undue attention. She did not look remotely like a young man of theton. Theshirt she wore hardly did enough to hide her bosom. She had hoped the large jacket would work to shield her feminine attributes, but given the dubious and assessing stare of Woolwich, she had her doubts it had worked.
Before her mind had been made up, Woolwich let out a sigh, one of mingled annoyance and frustration. “I will help you, Miss Blackman.”
CHAPTER3
Woolwich could not believe he had made his offer to help the ungrateful chit, but for all the decentness of his kind words, it did not seem Miss Blackman was appreciative. She looked at him with a complete lack of trust. Her quizzical brow was furrowed, her blue-green eyes narrowed, and Woolwich could not guess her thoughts besides knowing she hated him.
Miss Blackman folded her arms under her bust, and she straightened her frame. Which immediately drew his eyes to her breasts. Despite ignoring Miss Blackman a great deal of the time, Woolwich was not dead to the appeal of the infuriating woman’s curvaceous figure. At this present moment in time, her curves were pushing against the masculine clothes, and it shocked him completely that these items made him wish to strip her out of the shirt and jacket. Hastily, Woolwich told himself it was just to have her back in her traditional garb.
“How considerate of you, Your Grace. But I think I will take my chances out there,” Miss Blackman said, cutting into his wayward thoughts. He hoped to God that she would never guess what he had been imagining doing to her.
“Hm,” Woolwich forced himself to say. “I never took you for an out-and-out fool, Miss Blackman.” With measured calm, he leant closer, his voice low but penetrating, their faces inches apart. His eyes moved over her face, not allowing himself to over-dwell on her features. It galled him, on closer inspection, how pleasant and pleasing her face was. “You are sublimely lucky that no one has entered here so far to discover you in such an outfit. Or in such a location.”
“I can only assume it is your well-known and poor reputation keeping the gentleman from entering here.”
“Including your brother? I do not see him running back in here to rescue you,” Woolwich asked. He was deeply unimpressed with her brother’s less-than-stellar behaviour. Were the man in his family, he would have words with the young man. What was the daft idiot thinking, bringing his sister here?
“My brother will have a very good reason for his delay,” Miss Blackman said. She tilted her chin to gaze up at him. She was ridiculously short, so much so that many men would feel instantly protective, but Woolwich would not be tricked into such feelings. Miss Blackman was a demon, and he would not be distracted.
“Your brother must be the greatest of fools to leave you. Hell—he brought you here.” With the hardest of looks, Woolwich’s eyes swept over her clothes and face, not lingering as he considered her fully. “Unless,” he mused, “it is a trick to trap an unaware bachelor into some compromising position. Is that your game?”
“By Jove, you think that highly of yourself to ask me that?” Miss Blackman said, anger colouring her words.
The truth was, though, he was regarded by almost everyone in thetonin such a light. He was rich. He was told he was passably good-looking. He had one of the oldest and most respectable dukedoms in the country. It did not thrill Woolwich but instead made him feel as if he was a prize goose or similar. Of course, he was hardly about to tell this to Miss Talkative, so instead, he kept still, his hands resting by his sides—so he would look as cool and calm in case she guessed the truth. “This little plan of yours might have worked to your advantage if you had trapped someone else in with you. Your reputation would be ruined, but that would not matter if a man were to propose to you. Perhaps I can go downstairs and send a single one up to trap the pair of you together.”
“As long as no one finds me now, I will be content,” Miss Blackman said. “You need not be concerned for your precious unmarried state. That would never be my intention. Least of all with you.”
A smirk quirked his thin lips. “I would not save you, Miss Blackman, from ruination. So, I am glad we are agreed on that point. Even if Hurstbourne were to call me out, I would not be forced into matrimony again.”
The shock of his icy disregard for her would have caused other females to look at least surprised, but Miss Blackman did not seem remotely concerned.
“How original,” Miss Blackman remarked drily. “A man who does not think marriage would suit him.”
“You are mistaken,” Woolwich said. His remaining sadness and anger over Annabelle reared their head. She was the reason he could never consider the state again. “The difference is that I know marriage does not suit me. From experience, I am well aware of how atrocious the wedded state is for someone of my disposition.”
“I would never ask you to, even if you were the last man on earth, Your Grace. I cannot imagine a worse fate than being your bride.”
“Then I suppose I should leave you here, unattended, in the vague hope your brother will remember you?”
Their eyes locked. Dislike pulsed between them, but finally Miss Blackman lowered her head, as if she was finally admitting that he was right.
With a sigh, Woolwich stretched out his hand. His gloved fingers closed on hers. “Here.” He passed her back the hat, which she had donned to sneak into White’s. “I do not think you a liar. On this occasion, you appear more foolhardy than anything else. Put that hat back on, and I will do my best to help you from the building.”
“My brother—”
“He is not here,” Woolwich said. “You are welcome to remain crouched behind a curtain with the desire that Mr. Blackman will come and save you. That faint hope may change when a stranger walks in, one who would take one look at you in that outfit and know precisely how he could take advantage of you.”
