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Authors: A Most Devilish Rogue
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got more to do than chase after the likes of us.”
“I say.” Upperton cleared his throat. “It was no trouble at all. I reckoned you’d worry where the lad had got to. I only thought to spare you.”
She straightened. He stepped closer and reached his hand toward her. She stared at it, and his fingers curled inward, as if that might hide the intent behind the gesture. As if she might render the motion void. Her glance shifted to his eyes, and, as yesterday when he’d looked her over, the intensity behind his gaze slammed into her.
He’s interested. He finds me attractive
.
If only he wouldn’t. It would be so much easier to ignore the heat unfurling in her midsection in response. She couldn’t stop the feeling, but nothing required her to act on it. Only … the darkening of his eyes was beginning to tug at her—like a demand.
“It was no trouble at all, I assure you.” Even his voicedeepened to something gravelly and compelling. “Give over,” it seemed to say. But she’d given over once, to her disappointment and ruin.
“I thank you for your assistance.” She squared her shoulders, held them stiff to reinforce the formality of her tone. “I do not think we shall require any more.”
“Jack, why don’t you run along home?” The boy blinked at the request, his eyes alight with curiosity. “There’s a good lad. Your mama and I will be along presently. Only I wish a word with her—alone.”
“Wait for me, Jack,” Isabelle interjected before turning back to Upperton. “I do not have time to chat. I thank you for finding my son and returning him to me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must be off.” Mrs. Weston’s stomach remedy wasn’t going to wait much longer.
His hand lashed out to clamp on her forearm, firm, solid, not quite a threat, but a demand nonetheless. “I would discuss a certain matter with you.”
“What can we possibly have to discuss, sir? We hardly know each other.”
“Mama?” Jack looked from one to the other, his brow wrinkled.
“Go on now,” Upperton said. “Your mama and I will follow.”
Jack, drat the boy, jogged on up the path. She drew in a breath to call him back, but the hand on her arm tightened.
“Unless you’d rather he overhear us discussing him?” Upperton grumbled.
“My son is none of your affair, and I have work to do.”
She moved to follow Jack, and Upperton released his grip but fell into step beside her. Gracious, what could he possibly want with her? She’d appear of little enough account to him with her simple dress. No better than aservant or a shop girl. Beneath his notice. She retained no outward sign of what she had been.
“What do you want?” She hated the way her voice sounded, so small and feeble faced with him.
“Where is the boy’s father?”
“What?” She quickened her pace, but he lengthened his stride to match.
“His father.”
“Jack,” she called. “Do you remember that plant I showed you the other day? The one you said smelled so good?”
The boy turned and nodded.
“Do you recall where we found it?” Another nod. “I need you to pick some for me. As much as you can. Hurry along now.” She didn’t spare Upperton a glance. A steady stride and she’d be home soon enough. She fully intended to close the door in the man’s face.
“Thank you,” Upperton said. “Best he doesn’t have a chance to overhear.”
“I’ve no intention of discussing this with you. It is none of your affair.”
Keep walking. Just keep walking. Don’t look at him. Don’t acknowledge
.
“Did he abandon you?” His voice took on a hard edge of outrage for her sake. But why should he care? To him, she was nothing. He was so far above her, yet at one time that might not have been the case. Six years ago
she
might well have been above
him
.
“It does not signify. He is not here. That is all that matters.”
“All that matters? That boy needs a father.”
She pulled up short, her hands balled into fists at
“I say.” Upperton cleared his throat. “It was no trouble at all. I reckoned you’d worry where the lad had got to. I only thought to spare you.”
She straightened. He stepped closer and reached his hand toward her. She stared at it, and his fingers curled inward, as if that might hide the intent behind the gesture. As if she might render the motion void. Her glance shifted to his eyes, and, as yesterday when he’d looked her over, the intensity behind his gaze slammed into her.
He’s interested. He finds me attractive
.
If only he wouldn’t. It would be so much easier to ignore the heat unfurling in her midsection in response. She couldn’t stop the feeling, but nothing required her to act on it. Only … the darkening of his eyes was beginning to tug at her—like a demand.
“It was no trouble at all, I assure you.” Even his voicedeepened to something gravelly and compelling. “Give over,” it seemed to say. But she’d given over once, to her disappointment and ruin.
“I thank you for your assistance.” She squared her shoulders, held them stiff to reinforce the formality of her tone. “I do not think we shall require any more.”
“Jack, why don’t you run along home?” The boy blinked at the request, his eyes alight with curiosity. “There’s a good lad. Your mama and I will be along presently. Only I wish a word with her—alone.”
“Wait for me, Jack,” Isabelle interjected before turning back to Upperton. “I do not have time to chat. I thank you for finding my son and returning him to me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must be off.” Mrs. Weston’s stomach remedy wasn’t going to wait much longer.
His hand lashed out to clamp on her forearm, firm, solid, not quite a threat, but a demand nonetheless. “I would discuss a certain matter with you.”
“What can we possibly have to discuss, sir? We hardly know each other.”
“Mama?” Jack looked from one to the other, his brow wrinkled.
“Go on now,” Upperton said. “Your mama and I will follow.”
Jack, drat the boy, jogged on up the path. She drew in a breath to call him back, but the hand on her arm tightened.
“Unless you’d rather he overhear us discussing him?” Upperton grumbled.
“My son is none of your affair, and I have work to do.”
She moved to follow Jack, and Upperton released his grip but fell into step beside her. Gracious, what could he possibly want with her? She’d appear of little enough account to him with her simple dress. No better than aservant or a shop girl. Beneath his notice. She retained no outward sign of what she had been.
“What do you want?” She hated the way her voice sounded, so small and feeble faced with him.
“Where is the boy’s father?”
“What?” She quickened her pace, but he lengthened his stride to match.
“His father.”
“Jack,” she called. “Do you remember that plant I showed you the other day? The one you said smelled so good?”
The boy turned and nodded.
“Do you recall where we found it?” Another nod. “I need you to pick some for me. As much as you can. Hurry along now.” She didn’t spare Upperton a glance. A steady stride and she’d be home soon enough. She fully intended to close the door in the man’s face.
“Thank you,” Upperton said. “Best he doesn’t have a chance to overhear.”
“I’ve no intention of discussing this with you. It is none of your affair.”
Keep walking. Just keep walking. Don’t look at him. Don’t acknowledge
.
“Did he abandon you?” His voice took on a hard edge of outrage for her sake. But why should he care? To him, she was nothing. He was so far above her, yet at one time that might not have been the case. Six years ago
she
might well have been above
him
.
“It does not signify. He is not here. That is all that matters.”
“All that matters? That boy needs a father.”
She pulled up short, her hands balled into fists at
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