The Lady Hellion by Joanna Shupe Page B

heart kicked hard in his chest, and this time it had nothing to do with fear. Encased in thin stockings, her feet were small and delicate. She wriggled her toes and sighed, a sound that caused heat to unfurl in his groin.
    Tools of bipedal locomotion , he told himself and snapped his gaze to the gardens. Nothing more . They were functional appendages that should in no way be tempting. He should not be thinking of running his tongue along the smooth instep . . . or wondering how the soft underside would feel as it slid along the backs of his thighs—
    “I wish I could remove my stockings,” she murmured. “But even this feels heavenly.”
    Quint swallowed hard and crossed his arms over his chest. The image of her sliding stockings down her bare legs was too erotic to dwell on—not if he didn’t want an obvious erection frightening her. “I am not surprised. Traipsing through the mews of Mayfair is exhausting business.”
    “Indeed it is,” she returned cheerfully.
    “Why have you returned, Sophie?”
    She stared at her toes, moving them back and forth, clearly hesitating. No doubt attempting to fabricate a reason because she didn’t want to tell him the real one.
    “The truth,” he said.
    “It seemed a nice night for a stroll. You are generally up late, so I thought I’d see if you were still awake.”
    He snorted. No lady strolled by herself in the middle of the night. “You are aware I live alone. That this is a bachelor’s residence?”
    “Should I be worried? Are you planning to chain me to your bed and ravish me at your whim?”
    He strove not to combine the words “ravish” and “Sophie” in his head; the idea only served to remind him of what he could never have. “Indeed. Merely allow me to remove the other woman there first.”
    She chuckled. “That’s one thing hardly anyone realizes about you: how amusing you are.”
    Only she would believe that. Amusing was not a word anyone had ever used to describe him. Odd, strange, and aloof were far more likely. “Not everyone appreciates my humor.”
    “Admit you are fond of the dog, Quint.”
    Never. “Did you know the Romans sent mastiffs into battle wearing armor in order to attack the enemy?”
    She sighed, irritated with his evasion, and he hid a smile. “As always,” she said, dryly, “you are a wealth of information.”
    “Actually, I find myself quite in the dark these days.”
    Her eyebrow rose. “Oh? About what?”
    “I cannot think of a single reason you should be sallying about London in the dead of night, dressed as a man, even if to visit the Thames Police Office. Would you care to enlighten me?”
    “How . . .” She crossed her arms and thrust up her chin. “Are you having me followed?”
    “Yes. And you should hardly be surprised. If any woman in the history of England ever needed constant supervision, you are she.”
    “The driver. I should have known.” She rubbed her forehead. “I cannot fathom your audacity. You have no right to oversee my activities, and furthermore I am doing quite fine on my own.”
    “Only because no one gets a good enough look at you. How anyone could mistake you for a man is beyond comprehension. You are a hairsbreadth away from the scandal of the decade, Sophie.”
    “And you are wasting your time if you think to stop me.”
    “I never said I wanted to stop you. If I did, I would write to your father and inform him of what I know.” He held up a hand as panic clouded her face. “I will not do so unless I feel you are in immediate danger. But that does not mean it’s wise for you to do this. Therefore, I’ve hired someone to drive you about and ensure your continued safety—no matter what you are wearing. But what I do not understand is why you are posing as Sir Stephen in the first place.”
    He didn’t think she’d answer, the silence stretched so long. “You’ll laugh,” she said quietly.
    “I sincerely doubt it. Tell me, Sophie.”
    “I’ve fallen into a bit of a . . .