Page 18 of Unmasking the Earl

She jerked out of his grasp and regarded him as if he were something that had just crawled out from under a stone. Ungrateful hussy! Had she no idea of her own stupidity? Clearly not.

Although she was now free of him, she made no effort to escape. An astounding thought struck him. Was she, perhaps, enjoying their battle? Because to his surprise, under his supreme exasperation, he found he quite liked crossing swords with this lively, intriguing woman. The indignation, however, was real.

He forced himself to calm down. His warning would never be heeded if both of them were angry. And arguing without being able to raise one’s voice was frustrating beyond endurance.

He stepped back as far as he could in the enclosed space and modulated his voice. “I only have your best interests at heart, Miss Blythe. If you knew what I suspect about Captain Wycherley—”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I’ve heard the rumors. Whatever people have said, it does not affect me.”

His ire returned in force. “It damned well should. Forgive my vehemence, but it really should. And I sincerely doubt a gently bred young lady like yourself has heard the worst of the rumors.”

She regarded him icily. “I’m surprised you remain in Captain Wycherley’s employ if you think so little of him.”

He met her hard stare, trying to read her. Was he getting anywhere at all? If only he could keep his temper in check—and his burgeoning, highly inappropriate lust.

He said, as evenly as he could, “Good positions are hard to find, and this one suits me well. However, I say again, this is no place for a young lady of your obvious quality.”

When her glare eased a fraction, he berated himself inwardly. He hadn’t intended to flatter her.

“What does a servant know about such matters, anyway?” she asked with a huff.

“My dear Miss Blythe,” he said, striving for patience. “Nothing pleasant can ever come of your association with Wycherley. He has a history of ruining young women such as yourself and simply can’t be trusted. That you should come to his home, chaperoned or not, is highly improper. Does your reputation mean nothing to you?”

Her shoulders notched down, and an unreadable look flashed through her eyes. “I understand your concern, Mr. Ganstridge, and I do appreciate it. But you can’t stop me coming again. My purpose here is not yet accomplished.”

He narrowed his eyes in frustration and suspicion. “I dread to think what that purpose may be,” he said darkly.

She shook a finger at him. “That’s my concern alone. The sooner you accept that, sirrah, the better. You cannot go about accosting your master’s visitors, however noble you believe your reasons to be. One word from me and you’ll be demoted to boot boy.”

Boot boy? He was barely able to restrain himself from grabbing her and teaching her a lesson.

A lesson she so richly deserved. And one which Ned was itching to administer—to show her what happened to innocent young ladies who found themselves alone with unscrupulous, lack-moral men. Men who desired them. Who craved the taste of their soft lips and the touch of their silken skin. Who wanted nothing more than to take what was so naively offered and revel in the thrill of conquest. Men like Captain Francis Wycherley.

But not Ned.

Ned was not without honor, regardless of his current lowly status.

If she only knew who she was actually dealing with.

If he told her, would she be any more likely to heed his warning?

No, it wasn’t worth the risk.

A sudden knocking at the front door made her jerk back. She tore her gaze from…his lips?…and looked up at him in alarm.

“That will be Ella,” she said in a breathy whisper. “I cannot be seen coming out of a cupboard with you!”

He shook off the powerful, unbidden arousal his wayward thoughts had wrought. “Move quickly. No one will be any the wiser.”

She made to go, but he caught her elbow again. “Promise me you’ll say nothing of this.”

Her eyes widened at his grip on her. “Is that a threat?”

“There’s much at stake.”

“For me? Or for you?” she bit out.

For a moment, he was distracted by the way the anger sparked in her dark eyes, bringing them to life. Their promise of passion taunted him and aroused him further.