Dangerous in Diamonds by Madeline Hunter

labor’s effects on her.
    She could hardly bear the way the tease seemed to affect all of her skin now. Her mind began betraying her badly, and she could not block speculations of other caresses and more direct sensations. Deep now, low and deep, prickles of desire began beckoning—
    “You deserve better.” He released her and sat back in his chair, oblivious to her arousal, it appeared. “If the women cannot come here, I will have to ensure their privacy there. I will send Mr. Edwards down with the others. He will make sure your household is in no way annoyed. He will stay at that inn in Cumberworth and accompany the men every day to the property.”
    She felt she should object, only she did not know why. He had been sly enough so far that she sensed that he must have some ulterior motive for this too. Of course, even his stated one—to discover if that land held hidden value—was hardly good news for her.
    “How long do you think this will take? I should like to inform Katherine and Mrs. Hill.”
    He shrugged lazily. “If nothing is found, a fortnight. Somewhat longer if discoveries are made.”
    A fortnight. Apparently she would now remain in London at least that long.
    “I will write to them and explain everything.” She stood to make an escape before he made any other attempt to touch her. “I thank you for informing me.”
    He stood. As they faced each other, her composure returned.
    “How did you know about the man who drives that wagon, Your Grace?”
    “Damned if I remember. It must have been mentioned by one of our mutual friends.”
    Undoubtedly. But not in passing.
    “Have you been asking questions about me?”
    “Not beyond the normal sort regarding a tenant I have inherited.”
    “Are you also asking about the other ones, then? The tenants on those other bits of land you received from Becksbridge?”
    “I have not met them, so they are not yet of enough interest to provoke questions.”
    “I look forward to your visiting them as you did me. It will be soon, I trust. I expect they are also close by.”
    “Not at all close by. They are inconveniently scattered all over the country. Shrewsbury. Devon, I think. Manchester.” He speared her with a sharper gaze. “Why would you look forward to my visits to them? Are they acquaintances of yours?”
    “I am only praying that they provide you with new distractions. I find the inquisitiveness that you aim in my direction excessive.”
    “So do I.” He laughed lightly at himself. “It happens sometimes. There is really no predicting or explaining it. I am confident this little bout of curiosity will pass soon, however. In a week, perhaps, or a fortnight. Three weeks at most.”
    She did not want him inquiring about her at all. “Would it not be more useful if you turned your curiosity to the mysteries of the natural world? To questions of philosophy? You waste your abilities on a matter of insignificance.”
    He reacted as if she had scolded again. Which she had, she supposed.
    “Mrs. Joyes, be assured that my abilities are devoted to matters of consequence most of the time, and the small puzzle you present does not interfere. Among other important vocations, I am writing a book that will be a great boon to mankind. It was that which you interrupted when you arrived.”
    She felt her face warming as he dismissed her importance. How vain and stupid she must appear to him. He merely toyed with her as a momentary diversion, and she had taken to attributing sly and lengthy plotting to him, without true cause.
    She looked at the writing desk and even took a few steps in that direction. All those papers. He had appeared most intent too and had bluntly told her he did not write letters.
    He had not been whoring and drinking all night but engaged in this literary endeavor, and so absorbed that he did not even sleep. In light of such ambitions, it was a small wonder he had not even dressed for their meeting.
    She had forgotten whom she really dealt with