Page 17 of A Story of Love

“I understand you were once an English teacher?”

She blinked at the sudden change in subject. “Er, ye—”

“Did I use any words you didn’t understand? Do you need me to define any of them for you?”

His condescending sneer ignited her anger and Lori pushed to her feet, not caring about their proximity.

At least she didn’t care until her breasts pressed against his impossibly hard chest and she had to bend her neck to an even more uncomfortable angle to hold his gaze.

“I understood what you were saying perfectly well, my lord. Perhaps it is you who do not understand?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so? Why don’t you explain matters to me.”

“Just because you give an order does not mean everyone must obey it. Let me make my point clearer”—she poked him in the chest with her index finger, earning a disbelieving scowl and a sore finger for her effort. “I am not one of your dependents who is obliged to grovel and leap to do your bidding. And I am not a—a whore or a servant in one of your grand houses. I pay my own way in this world, and I do not answer to any man.”

“Except Parker, it would seem.”

Lori ground her teeth at the accusation, which was truer than she would like. “He is my employer, my lord. When a person works for their crust, they invariable must obey somebody. Of course you wouldn’t know anything about that,” she couldn’t resist adding.

His lips twisted into a truly malevolent smile. “You should have considered what I said at Avington’s ball more in the way of a warning, rather than an order, Miss Fontenot.”

“Well, fine then. Consider me warned.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She had hoped the gesture, which caused her elbows and forearms to shove against his hard-as-iron torso, would make him step back. But he didn’t budge so much as a hair.

He nodded slowly, menacingly. “Fair enough, Miss Fontenot; I consider you warned. You share lodgings with Lady Winifred Sedgewick?”

She frowned. “Why? What has that to do with this?”

His smile widened, until he seemed to have twice as many teeth as other people, and then he turned and strode toward the bed.

“What are you doing?” she demanded shrilly.

And then felt like a fool when he merely pulled the velvet servant cord hanging beside the bed. His sardonic expression made her face scald. “More wishful thinking?” he taunted. Before she could answer, he said, “You will wait here, and Mr. Gregg will take you home.”

“I don’t need his escort. If you just—”

“Don’t come back here, Miss Fontenot.” He opened a door that had been made to look like part of the wall paneling and closed it soundlessly behind him.

Lori’s ears buzzed in the sudden silence, her thoughts as torn and tattered as her gown.

What had just happened?

And exactly what did he mean by asking where she lived?

Chapter 5

“I could go to gaol, David!” Lori waved the now crumpled letter from the two Bow Street Runners in front of her employer’s face.

David Parker was sprawled lazily in a big chair behind a desk that was so cluttered with papers there was no hint of wood. His handsome but rather debauched face wore the sort of indulgent, superior smile that made Lori want to slap him. It was the sort of smile that said a woman was—yet again—overreacting and being overly emotional.

“You are overreacting, Lori,” he said, confirming her suspicions.

She briefly imagined hurling his inkwell at his head, enjoyed the mental image, and then carefully tucked it away and said, “That is all very well for you to say as it is not your name on this letter.”

The letter in question was from Lord Severn’s solicitor. Or battalion of solicitors, rather, because the man had an entire building full of them.

“It is just a scarifying tactic employed by the rich and powerful to suppress the truth and intimidate journalists,” David said in an irritatingly soothing tone.

“Well, it is working,” Lori snapped and the turned her back on him before she really overreacted and said something that would both get her sacked and lose any chance of getting her wretched book in front of a publisher.