Page 51 of Sir Durham’s Disarming Asset

But long after the two had gone, she sat alone in the dark of her bedroom and pondered how she might come to terms with her wealth—and all its barbarous sources.

One man would help her sort that out.

The very idea of being in his presence fired her blood.

Rafe Durham, prepare yourself. I will bring you more trouble tomorrow, sir.

*

Rafe tried to swallow his shock when his butler told him his caller was Miss Butler.

Why was she here? What had happened?

He could not imagine whatever it was could be anything bad. Kane and Gus would protect Zeph like hawks.

Dismissing his butler, Rafe took his stairs down at a measured pace. It would not do to have her hear his pounding on the steps and assume she was here to make amends. He was the one who had handled that last conversation poorly.

He took a calming breath. Whatever she wanted, he would provide. Whatever she said, he would accept. She was the only woman he had ever loved, and nothing was beyond him to grant her.

When he opened the door, she stood by the window and turned slowly to face him. The smile on her face showed a serenity and a certain joy. Each time he saw her, she became the woman he anticipated she would become, calm, composed, confident, and so gorgeous that his knees went weak and his fingers twitched to take all of her to him.

He dared not hope she was here because she had come to announce her return to his house. He had, in essence, thrown her out. She would not invite herself back. Should not. The risk of her social ruin was too real. The probability was that if he accepted her return, with the temptation of her luscious body so near, he would ravish her.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “You look wonderful. I hear you are well.”

She gave a laugh and did not appear insulted. “Kane and Gus tell you of my days, do they?”

“I ask via notes. They reply that you are well.”

“Good to know.” She strolled toward the chair near the fire.

He extended his hand for her to sit. “I also read of your appearances at events in the ton.”

“I enjoy most. Of particular delight are my afternoon teas with a certain Lady Vic.”

He chuckled as he took the chair opposite her. “Quite a female! Kane will never know how to contain her. Gus will give up trying to tame her.”

“I expect she will run off with some fellow who fancies himself a lover of ancient Greek statues, or she will break all traditions and become a professor of obscure aboriginal languages at Cambridge.”

Rafe relaxed into the comfort of his chair. She was not here to argue with him. “I am pleased you have come to see me.”

She tipped her head. She did look better than she had when with him here, as if perhaps living with him had become a strain. God, he hoped not. But then, here she was. Violent red hair gleaming. Gossamer skin pure and vibrant. And the gown…dear heavens, the pretty pale green voile with embroidered dark green sprigs of pink roses set her before him like a pastry he could nibble on for endless erotic nights.

“My reason to see you is a matter of business. I did not intend to come here to apologize.” Her declaration pierced his indulgent ramblings. “Though I do believe in leaving the past where it is. No crying over spilt milk and all that. I hope you forgive my sour words of our last discussion. Today, however, I have news and I need your thoughts.”

The joy he felt at her statement relieved him of most cares about her appearance here before him. “Tell me all. I am yours.”

She blinked at that.

He didn’t blame her. Their recent past was too raw for him to speak with such sentiment. He tried for reason instead. “What has happened?”

“You know that I wished to learn what had happened to my father’s profits that he put in a French banker’s hands.”

“Lenoir was his name.”

“Yes. I was agonizing how to find him. I did not know where in England he was, nor even if he had landed here.”

“And?”