Pleasures of a Tempted Lady by Jennifer Haymore Page B

identity—they’d given up pressing her for it—or his relationship to the Marquis of Millbridge. They didn’t know that Caversham would never give up.
    Still, she nodded and tried to give her sisters and Lord Stratford a game smile. “When shall I go?”
    “We’ll plan this carefully,” Lord Stratford said. “We must take great care in obtaining everything required to ensure your safety.”
    “Next week?” Serena asked.
    “Next week is perfect,” Meg said. It would give her time to prepare Jake for the journey.
    She looked down at him, her expression softening as she watched him mix up the pieces of the puzzle, then shove them to the side to clear a space to put it back together again. Dear, sweet Jake.
    Someday, she promised him silently, we’ll have a home where we will live, without moving, until you’re old enough to want to move away. And you’ll never have to worry or be fearful ever again.

Chapter Seven
    W ill sat in the alcove that served as his breakfast room. Laid out before him on the round oak table were his coffee, toast, poached egg, and an ignored copy of the Times.
    He hadn’t touched the egg, and he held his half-eaten toast between his fingers as he stared out the window into the small, grassy courtyard behind his house.
    He’d lived alone for a long time now, but in the past fortnight his house had begun to feel so… lonely . So quiet. Before he’d encountered Meg in the Irish Sea, he’d considered this his place of refuge, but now it seemed so cold and sterile. He hadn’t read the Times since he’d arrived in London—extremely out of character for him, a man who liked to keep informed. Every day, he rushed through his breakfast and abandoned it half uneaten simply so he could leave his empty house.
    No, that wasn’t completely true. It wasn’t so simple. The truth was, he rushed to get out of here every morning because he missed her.
    Will dropped the toast onto its plate and pushed a hand through his hair. It didn’t make sense. He’d managed for so long without her. Why did his skin ache when he was apart from her? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Why did he make excuses every day to leave his offices early so he could visit Stratford’s house? He’d never been a man to shirk his duties or make excuses… but he was becoming that man.
    He’d begun to obsess about the reappearance of the man who’d captured her. Every day, when he rushed to Stratford’s house and after he made sure she’d managed without him for the past several hours, he surreptitiously stood guard over her. When he left at night, he couldn’t help but to remind the butler to check the locks before he retired, and he always took the time to scan the square before entering his carriage.
    Will drank the dregs of his coffee and then set down his cup and stared at his half-eaten toast. If it was possible, Meg had become even more remote since they’d arrived in London. And she wasn’t remote only with him—her sisters had noticed it, too. She and Serena were always polite and kind to each other, but he’d seen them together eight years ago. He’d borne witness to their closeness, their understanding of every subtle nuance of each other, their way of communicating without speaking a word. That all seemed to be gone now—crumbled beneath the heavy weight of all that had happened to both of them.
    The permanent bleakness that had overtaken Meg’s expression made his gut twist. He wanted her safe. He wanted her happy. Most of the time, both of those seemed unattainable goals.
    He pushed back from the table, the chair legs scrapingover the wooden floor. God, he was tied in knots. He wanted the old Meg back; he wanted to once more be the recipient of that smiling splash of sunshine that had been her personality.
    She would hate it if he told her that.
    Perhaps he was still pining for a ghost. With a sigh, he rose. His presence was required in his offices this morning. And even though he really