The Love Affair of an English Lord by Jillian Hunter

with hands like yours, Lady Chloe, gives pleasure not pain. I’m glad you’ve decided to do as I ask.”
    â€œI never agreed to anything of the kind.” Her expression grim, Chloe eased back onto her feet and glanced around the closet. Dominic’s big sprawling body occupied half the space. The other half looked as if a full-scale orgy had taken place during the night. Muffs, shawls, gloves, and shoes were tossed willy-nilly. Her aunt would expire of shock if she saw this.
    Chloe wasn’t certain she would survive herself. The sooner she got her ghost back on his feet and gone, the better.
    â€œWell, go,” he said in a grumpy voice. “Don’t stand there staring at me.” Then, “Wait. Are you usually up at this hour?”
    â€œGoodness, no. I sleep until noon, take three pots of chocolate in bed, answer love letters for another hour or two. Sometimes I have my hair dressed, or take a soak in a rose-oil bath while my maid massages my toes.”
    â€œAll that in one day? Poor thing. It must exhaust you.”
    Chloe narrowed her eyes. “I daresay it is not a good idea to insult the person who has control over one’s life.”
    â€œExcellent advice,” he retorted, flashing her a rude grin. “Keep it in mind when you are tempted to betray me because if you do, I’ll come back for you, soaking in rose oil or not. Now busy yourself in some other frivolous pursuit until it is safe for you to go about your affairs.”
    Chloe ventured a nervous look at her window. “Safe? You don’t think the killer will come after me, do you?”
    â€œBy safe,” he answered, arching his brow at her, “I mean I do not wish you to attract attention by any unusual behavior. And you might avoid taking walks in the woods or talking to any dangerous men you meet.”
    Why? Chloe wondered in chagrin as she backed into the door. The most dangerous man she had ever met was hiding in her bedroom. Could a young woman have found herself in greater peril?

Chapter 8

    Chloe stared at the sumptuous array of breakfast dishes on the sideboard, her stomach churning with anxiety. The smell of kippered herrings made her feel slightly ill. The bite of hot buttered toast she’d taken wedged in her throat like sawdust.
    Stratfield might be hungry though; being a surly beast probably worked up a good appetite. She ought to sneak some of those sausages up to him. No. On second thought she ought to let him starve, drive him out like the wolf he was at heart. Heaven forbid she should encourage his insane behavior by feeding him buttered toast. Heaven forbid he regain any weight and grow stronger.
    â€œDear, dear Chloe, you have hardly eaten a crumb,” her aunt chided, expelling a dramatic sigh. “You must have heard the awful news. It has affected my appetite, too.”
    Uncle Humphrey glanced at Chloe over the top of his newspaper and gave a subtle shake of his head. Presumably he was reassuring her that the awful news did not involve Devon.
    â€œWhat news?” Chloe asked in a casual voice as she folded her napkin into tiny squares. In Chistlebury a chimney catching fire was liable to be viewed as an earth-shattering event.
    Her aunt paused to make sure she had everyone’s attention. “The Stratfield Ghost struck again last night.”
    Chloe put down the mangled napkin, her heart giving a loud thump. “Oh?”
    Aunt Gwendolyn nodded. “He seduced another young innocent as she slept.”
    Chloe caught her uncle rolling his eyes heavenward. “Seduced—”
    â€œOh, for the love of God, Gwennie,” Humphrey said. “Don’t fill her head with these lurid tales so early in the morning.”
    Aunt Gwendolyn looked offended for a full three seconds before continuing her tale. “Rebecca Plumley was seduced last night in bed by the Stratfield Ghost,” she announced.
    Chloe blinked. “Say it isn’t