Page 11 of Sir Durham’s Disarming Asset

Interesting. I will remember that.

“One thing before I go to Lucy…” The housekeeper turned back to them. “Tell me what else I can do for you both today.”

Rafe swallowed his coffee and regarded his servant with a strained smile. “I want patisserie from the French chef in the Lanes. Make it the cream and chocolate.”

Zeph stopped chewing the bite of her flaky lemon scone. Pastry made her mouth water as much as the novel idea of having Rafe to herself, for herself alone, wrapped in more than this cloak of friendship.

Oh, that is shocking. Isn’t it, Zephora Butler? You have told yourself you do not want a man. Not after…that. Perhaps not for a long time. Maybe never. So why would your instinct rise up to imply that the man who has saved you from death would be a smashingly good lover?

“Also, I think we would like…” Rafe continued to Mrs. Pratt, his gaze devouring Zeph and leaving her wondering if he recognized that she would like him. “Yes, I think we should have you go to the Steine and bring back Madame Clermont with her samples.” He waved a hand at Zeph to indicate her poor attire. “We need all her skills, and every silk and velvet the woman has in her store.”

*

What in hell happened there?

Rafe stalked around his garden like a man possessed. His heart had stopped. The look on Zeph’s face was enough to fire every nerve in his body to high alert. Bed her? Ridiculous. That she could want him, physically, was absurd. She wanted no man that way. Not yet. Not for a long time. And with good reason, too.

Not him, certainly.

He had never touched her in that way. Never looked at her with devouring eyes. So why had she gazed at him with glistening golden eyes and parted lips?

He was crazed, trying to figure it out. But he knew her. Didn’t he? Her every move, her shrugs, her frowns, the pursing of her lips, the lift of her chest and the heave of her breasts when she was delighted.

He grew hard at the possibility that he could want her…

No. He would not.

He found the garden chair and plunked down in it.

He had to be firm with himself. He must be more cautious now.

No touching her hand. No reaching for her in carriages. No cuddling. No whispers. None.

He steepled his hands and rubbed his lips with one fingertip.

His heart gave a flip-flop.

She was his ward. His charge. Nothing more. Nothing ever more.

With one new realization, he shot to his feet. One sweep of his hand before him and he knew he was right to feed his soul and wrong to feed the evils of gossip. Still, he dashed the absurd idea that he would take a room and leave her here. If he did that, then she would be alone—and he would have given her up before he must.

Chapter Four

The heat of July turned to August. Zeph’s days with Rafe had a new tempo. She knew exactly why that was suddenly so. Still, she rejoiced that, here in Brighton, Rafe saw no one. He had no guests. Nor did he go out without her. All he wanted or she requested, especially French pastries, he would order.

While still kind, accommodating, and quick to smile at her, he was a very different man toward her. Not so mellow. Not so happy. Yet he would offer his hand to help her along the beach or to descend from a carriage. He would offer his arm as they strolled along the promenade. He held her chair for her before meals. Her conclusion was that safety or formality were motivation for his actions.

Indeed. He did not hug her when delighted. He did not take her to him in a carriage and cuddle her. Oh, she had known those intimacies were granted her since first he rescued her, then all through the spring and early summer, because she had been frail and cold. Always cold.

Now she grew cold from his reserve. His distance.

She could not run to his arms like a child. Nor embrace him like a woman. But she longed to have him back, to enjoy his affections so freely given…and so sorely missed.

She knew not how to get him back. Time, she told herself, would show her a way.

So she watched him. She watched to see if he stroked his lip with his fingertip. Sadly, he did not.

But she waited.