Dangerous to Love by Elizabeth Thornton Page B

pained expression on her face. “Ah,” he said, “that rankled, did it?”
    She did not deign to reply to this, but merely lifted her hand a fraction, waiting for him to take the note from her.
    “Give it to Victoria,” he said flippantly, viciously. “She was worth every penny of it.” He opened the door, then said over his shoulder, “Oh, and if you should happen tosee her, you may tell her that my original offer still stands.”
    She waited till she heard the sound of the front door close upon him before venting her spleen. With one sweep of her hand, she sent books and papers flying from her brother’s desk. She was tempted to rip the note into tiny shreds, but instead stuffed it in her pocket, promising herself that one day she would make Julian Raynor eat it.
    Flynn entered a moment later. “Well?”
    “Well what?” she said brusquely, and brushed by him.
    He followed her into the hall and up the stairs. “Did the major offer marriage?”
    “In a manner of speaking,” she replied coolly.
    “What does that mean? Either ’e did or ’e did not.”
    “His reluctance was insulting—not that it matters. I would not marry that man if—”
    “Yes, yes, I know. If your life depended on it. If ’e was the last man on earth. And what does reluctance ’ave to say to anything? You surely did not think ’e would be overjoyed to find ’imself caught in the parson’s mousetrap?”
    She halted on the stairs and turned to face him. “Flynn,” she said sweetly, making him wince, “the major has promised to
give
me the one thing I desire above all others.”
    “Which is?” he asked cautiously.
    “His everlasting absence,” she retorted and continued on up the stairs.
    Flynn watched her progress in simmering silence. Not for the first time, he reminded himself savagely that Serena was her own worst enemy. After a moment’s inward debate, he turned on his heel and quickly left the house. His destination was Julian’s gaming house in St. Dunstan’s Court.
    As Serena approached the door to Catherine’s boudoir, it opened, and a gentleman came through it. Serena frowned. “Lord Charles?” she said. “I did not know that you were present at Catherine’s levee.”
    “Didn’t you?” he said. “Oh yes, I was there, in the background. Good day to you, Miss Ward.” He left her so abruptly it was almost uncivil.
    Serena’s eyes trailed him as he descended the stairs. She did not like Lord Charles Tremayne. Now that she thought about it, he put her in mind of Julian Raynor. But whereas Raynor reminded her of an alert black panther, Lord Charles had the look of a tawny, sleepy-eyed lion. The difference was superficial. They were both predators.
    When she entered the boudoir, she saw that Letty and their guests had all taken their leave.
    “Serena, help me?” Catherine had donned her long chemise and was being helped into her corset by one of the maids. Serena went to assist her. The maid was happy to relinquish the strings of the corsets into Serena’s capable hands and moved about the room, tidying and straightening cushions.
    “He’s very handsome, wouldn’t you say?” Catherine peeped provocatively over one shoulder, then faced the mirror.
    “Who?”
    Shaking her head, Catherine laughed softly.
    The strings of the corsets suddenly tightened and the laughter turned into an agonized squeal. Aware that her sister-in-law was in one of her capricious humors, Serena dismissed the maids.
    “Say when,” said Serena without much sympathy and hauled vigorously till, by degrees, Catherine’s tiny waist was whittled down to a man’s handspan. When her victimcroaked a hoarse protest, Serena eased back on the strings and deftly tied them in a bow.
    It was some time before Catherine was able to chance movement. After slipping into the discarded negligee, she gingerly reseated herself at her dressing table and waved Serena into a chair.
    Catherine’s lips were twitching. “Who?” she said and laughed in