flowers?”
“There were flowers, but I was too bloody nervous to notice anything else. A man like me doesn’t marry for love, Matilda. It suited me, is all. She suited me. I needed a good wife and have always found her to be attractive.”
Matilda stared at him for an abashed moment, then narrowed her gaze. Gritting her teeth, she kicked her slippered foot toward him. “Is that all a woman will ever be to you and Carlton? Attractive? It is a shame, Bradford, that a woman should mean so little to you, as it does your brother. A shame. I think it is time for you to leave. I have decided not to make use of your assistance.”
Radcliff rigidly pointed at her and stepped farther back. “I am not about to leave you like this. I have a conscience, despite what you or anyone else thinks. And if you so much as wander from this room or this brothel in your current state before I return with the doctor, I vow you’ll regret that decision. Do you hear me?”
A sob escaped her as fresh tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. “Why does Carlton continue to punish me whilst refusing to let me go? I don’t understand.”
Jesus Christ. This was a nightmare. “I… Matilda. He wasn’t always like this. He had a soul once. And I have not been the best sort of brother, imposing upon what mattered most to him. Which was you.” He cleared his throat. “It’s late. I should fetch the doctor. Promise me you’ll stay right where you are. Promise me you will not leave.”
She nodded and whispered, “I will not.”
“Good girl. I shall return shortly.” He yanked the hood up and over his head, turned and stalked out.
Just past midnight, long after delivering Matilda to her sister
RADCLIFF WASN’T SURPRISED to find Carlton’s lavish abode filled to the ceiling with people the ton always avoided.
Pushing back the hood of his cloak, he strode by pompous, overdressed men and women smothered with perfumed oils that had lost their scents over the course of a long night spent dancing and drinking. Scents that were now giving way to the raw stench of sweat, heat and wine.
Radcliff paused within the gold-and-ivory-accented ballroom and scanned his candlelit surroundings, trying to find Carlton amongst the masses.
A few strides away, an older but very pretty dark-haired woman dressed in a stunning alabaster gown watched him with marked curiosity from behind her fluttering ostrich fan. Her sable eyes drifted across the length of him in a predatory manner before boldly meeting his gaze again. She smiled.
He smirked, amused she even thought him worthy. Perhaps his scar provided greater appeal to some women.
Her fan stilled. She lowered it and erotically ran the feathered tips of the fan across the rounded edges of her breasts. Her pink tongue darted out and disappeared back into her mouth as she wet her lips.
Radcliff’s smirk faded and his chest tightened. He stepped back and away, her flirtation infringing upon his ability to breathe.
The sparkle in those dark eyes invited him to play as she slowly made her way toward him, her fan still tracing her breasts.
Radcliff drew in a shaky breath and let it out as he continued to move backward. He had no doubt he could whisk her into a corner somewhere in the back of the house and hitch up her skirts. For he knew that devious look all too well.
He seethed out a breath through his teeth and quickly turned. He pushed his way through the crowd, toward the direction of the dance floor, moving as fast as he could without startling those around him.
Sweat coated his skin as he kept moving and pushing forward, trying to ensure that the woman did not engage him. He knew once his obsession took hold, there was very little he could do. Fortunately, she did not follow.
He blew out an exhausted breath and focused on his surroundings. He was not here to bloody hunt for women.
He searched the crowded dance floor before him. Carlton’s tall, muscled frame came in and out of view before him. The
“There were flowers, but I was too bloody nervous to notice anything else. A man like me doesn’t marry for love, Matilda. It suited me, is all. She suited me. I needed a good wife and have always found her to be attractive.”
Matilda stared at him for an abashed moment, then narrowed her gaze. Gritting her teeth, she kicked her slippered foot toward him. “Is that all a woman will ever be to you and Carlton? Attractive? It is a shame, Bradford, that a woman should mean so little to you, as it does your brother. A shame. I think it is time for you to leave. I have decided not to make use of your assistance.”
Radcliff rigidly pointed at her and stepped farther back. “I am not about to leave you like this. I have a conscience, despite what you or anyone else thinks. And if you so much as wander from this room or this brothel in your current state before I return with the doctor, I vow you’ll regret that decision. Do you hear me?”
A sob escaped her as fresh tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. “Why does Carlton continue to punish me whilst refusing to let me go? I don’t understand.”
Jesus Christ. This was a nightmare. “I… Matilda. He wasn’t always like this. He had a soul once. And I have not been the best sort of brother, imposing upon what mattered most to him. Which was you.” He cleared his throat. “It’s late. I should fetch the doctor. Promise me you’ll stay right where you are. Promise me you will not leave.”
She nodded and whispered, “I will not.”
“Good girl. I shall return shortly.” He yanked the hood up and over his head, turned and stalked out.
Just past midnight, long after delivering Matilda to her sister
RADCLIFF WASN’T SURPRISED to find Carlton’s lavish abode filled to the ceiling with people the ton always avoided.
Pushing back the hood of his cloak, he strode by pompous, overdressed men and women smothered with perfumed oils that had lost their scents over the course of a long night spent dancing and drinking. Scents that were now giving way to the raw stench of sweat, heat and wine.
Radcliff paused within the gold-and-ivory-accented ballroom and scanned his candlelit surroundings, trying to find Carlton amongst the masses.
A few strides away, an older but very pretty dark-haired woman dressed in a stunning alabaster gown watched him with marked curiosity from behind her fluttering ostrich fan. Her sable eyes drifted across the length of him in a predatory manner before boldly meeting his gaze again. She smiled.
He smirked, amused she even thought him worthy. Perhaps his scar provided greater appeal to some women.
Her fan stilled. She lowered it and erotically ran the feathered tips of the fan across the rounded edges of her breasts. Her pink tongue darted out and disappeared back into her mouth as she wet her lips.
Radcliff’s smirk faded and his chest tightened. He stepped back and away, her flirtation infringing upon his ability to breathe.
The sparkle in those dark eyes invited him to play as she slowly made her way toward him, her fan still tracing her breasts.
Radcliff drew in a shaky breath and let it out as he continued to move backward. He had no doubt he could whisk her into a corner somewhere in the back of the house and hitch up her skirts. For he knew that devious look all too well.
He seethed out a breath through his teeth and quickly turned. He pushed his way through the crowd, toward the direction of the dance floor, moving as fast as he could without startling those around him.
Sweat coated his skin as he kept moving and pushing forward, trying to ensure that the woman did not engage him. He knew once his obsession took hold, there was very little he could do. Fortunately, she did not follow.
He blew out an exhausted breath and focused on his surroundings. He was not here to bloody hunt for women.
He searched the crowded dance floor before him. Carlton’s tall, muscled frame came in and out of view before him. The
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