A Daughter's Destiny by Jo Ann Ferguson

most frigid tone, “If it is parentage we are discussing, it might be more interesting to explore yours which gave you your beastly manners.”
    He laughed and stood. “Honey, years ago, my progenitors and I reached an agreement to part ways. They seem pleased with the arrangement, for they made only one attempt to contact me. I think it was after I was involved in a little episode in Bath.”
    â€œOne I should not ask about?”
    â€œYou might regret it if you do.” He smiled as if he were remembering a frolic, but she guessed it had more to do with larceny.
    â€œI can only assume it went more successfully than this escapade?”
    â€œYou are a cruel woman, Brienne LeClerc, when I am trying to protect you and your family.”
    â€œIn exchange for finding the vase?”
    With a sigh, he drained his glass and put it on a nearby table. “No, for that is useless, isn’t it? Although you lied to me after you were attacked, the fire proved the thieves did not get what they wanted. So they wanted to be sure no one did.”
    She put her glass next to his. “Now I understand why you were so anxious to go back there after the fire. How kind of you to take me when you were eager to sift through the ashes in hopes of finding the vase! I am sick of you and your schemes. Tomorrow I shall look for another place to live!” Silently, as she went to the door, she congratulated herself for steering the conversation in this direction. If Evan thought she was going to find another home tomorrow, he would not suspect what she had planned for just past midnight. “Good night.”
    â€œBrienne?”
    â€œYes?” She glanced over her shoulder and discovered that he stood right behind her.
    He put his hands on her shoulders as he moved between her and the door. “Honey, I know you have no reason to trust me.”
    â€œYou are correct about that!”
    â€œListen for once!” He frowned. “I am trying to save your pretty neck. I do not know who else is after the vase, but, until I do, I think you and Madame LeClerc should leave London.”
    She hid her shock. “Where would we go?”
    â€œI have a friend with an estate not far from Brighton.”
    â€œAnother friend? You have quite a few, don’t you?”
    â€œBrienne, I do not know why I care what happens to you. You are determined to get yourself and everyone else around you killed.” His hands stroked her shoulders as he drew her closer. “Despite myself, I find I do care about keeping you alive.”
    When she saw his mouth lowering toward hers, she averted her face. “No,” she whispered, “do not do that.”
    â€œYou did not mind this afternoon.” He whispered in her ear, “In fact, you seemed very eager.”
    Pushing away from him, she opened the door. “That was a mistake. Good night, Evan.” She ran across the foyer, then skidded along the slippery floor to avoid bumping into Hitchcock. Grasping the newel post, she careened around it and up the stairs to her room.
    She closed the door, sliding the bolt into place, before she dropped into a chair. Hiding her face in her hands, she wondered how she could have ever thought she had control over any conversation with Evan. Or any control over her longing to be in his arms. She could not halt herself from imagining the rapture of his mouth against hers. It was so perfect and all wrong.
    She closed her eyes as she leaned her head back against the chair. He shredded all her defenses with his facile, seductive lures which drew her to him even when she knew how dangerous he could be for her and her family.
    Her family!
    Rising, Brienne went to the armoire and pulled out the bag. After tonight, she doubted if she would ever see Evan again. She would catch a late coach to Dover. There she would find someone willing to take her to France. When she reached France.… She had no idea what she would do then,