theoretical way, that is. So I simply intended to have a closer look.”
“Quite right. It isn’t every day that one gets to examine such an interesting apparatus,” said Augustina gravely.
“And then…” Heat rose to the ridges of her cheekbones as Eliza recalled watching Gryff strip off his clothing and turn around, the candlelight gilding his masculine profile. “Um, and then…” She glossed over all but the bare facts in admitting her transgression. “Afterwards, I slipped away while he was sleeping, and left at first light to come visit you.” She pressed her palms over her eyes, feeling a flush of heat singe her cheeks. “I couldn’t face him in the light of day.”
“You have no reason to be ashamed,” said her friend stoutly.
“I suppose I am, just a little,” she admitted wryly. “But most of all, I’m confused. I find myself attracted to him, and I don’t want to be.”
“Ah. A friend of Harry…”
“He says that he is not a friend of Harry. I—I don’t know precisely what brought him to Leete Abbey, but he didn’t seem interested in spending time with the others.” Her brows pinched together. “There is the mill, of course, which might explain it.”
Augustina nodded sagely. “Yes, men do seem to take delight in watching brutes pummel the stuffing out of each other.”
“Would that some paragon of masculine muscle knock some sense into Harry,” mused Eliza. “But that would not be a mill—it would be a miracle.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
Like me making love to one of the most notorious blades in London.
Her expression must have given some hint as to her thoughts, for Augustina hid a grin behind her hand. “Did you like him? Not Harry, of course, but the Lord of the Manacles.”
Eliza tried to think. “He makes me feel rumpled.”
“Rumpled?”
“Delightfully disheveled. Like I looked better with everything slightly askew.” Her hand gave a vague wave before hooking an unruly curl behind her ear. “Like I didn’t have to have every stay laced tightly and every hair pinned in place. He looked at me as if I was Delectable.” She blew out a sigh. “I know, I know, I’m not making any sense.”
“You are making perfect sense, my dear. The man makes you feel like you can be yourself.”
“He makes me laugh,” she added in a small voice, feeling her mouth crook up at the corners. “He’s funny, and doesn’t take himself so seriously.”
“He sounds utterly charming. Does this Paragon of Perfection have a name?”
“Haddan.”
“ The Haddan. The Hedonist Hellhound?”
Eliza nodded.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Augustina. “That could be trouble.”
Trouble. As if I need any reminder.
“But then,” mused her friend. “Life can be awfully boring without the prospect of a little piss and vinegar.”
A snort of tea nearly went up her nose. “What would I do without you and your wise, witty teachings, Gussie?”
“You would manage just fine, my dear. Though neither of us would laugh quite as much. Which would, of course, be a great pity, as humor is what helps make the sun shine.”
“Right.” A flicker of light on the ivy outside the window reminded her of Gryff’s lazy, lidded gaze. “I have learned a lesson, at least. Men like the marquess have no place in my life.” She forced herself to look away from the glints of shadowed green. “You see, Haddan is not the only threat of trouble. Harry’s debts are getting worse, and I fear that things are truly getting out of control.”
Augustina’s look of amusement sobered to one of concern. “I take it he won’t listen to reason.”
“He turns a deaf ear on all my pleas, and…I don’t quite know what to do. I am powerless to control him. I was in Town last week, staying with Margaret while I met with Mr. Watkins about a commission, and…” She had to pause, in order to wash the taste of fear from her throat with a tiny sip of tea. “Lord Brighton stopped me in Bond
“Quite right. It isn’t every day that one gets to examine such an interesting apparatus,” said Augustina gravely.
“And then…” Heat rose to the ridges of her cheekbones as Eliza recalled watching Gryff strip off his clothing and turn around, the candlelight gilding his masculine profile. “Um, and then…” She glossed over all but the bare facts in admitting her transgression. “Afterwards, I slipped away while he was sleeping, and left at first light to come visit you.” She pressed her palms over her eyes, feeling a flush of heat singe her cheeks. “I couldn’t face him in the light of day.”
“You have no reason to be ashamed,” said her friend stoutly.
“I suppose I am, just a little,” she admitted wryly. “But most of all, I’m confused. I find myself attracted to him, and I don’t want to be.”
“Ah. A friend of Harry…”
“He says that he is not a friend of Harry. I—I don’t know precisely what brought him to Leete Abbey, but he didn’t seem interested in spending time with the others.” Her brows pinched together. “There is the mill, of course, which might explain it.”
Augustina nodded sagely. “Yes, men do seem to take delight in watching brutes pummel the stuffing out of each other.”
“Would that some paragon of masculine muscle knock some sense into Harry,” mused Eliza. “But that would not be a mill—it would be a miracle.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
Like me making love to one of the most notorious blades in London.
Her expression must have given some hint as to her thoughts, for Augustina hid a grin behind her hand. “Did you like him? Not Harry, of course, but the Lord of the Manacles.”
Eliza tried to think. “He makes me feel rumpled.”
“Rumpled?”
“Delightfully disheveled. Like I looked better with everything slightly askew.” Her hand gave a vague wave before hooking an unruly curl behind her ear. “Like I didn’t have to have every stay laced tightly and every hair pinned in place. He looked at me as if I was Delectable.” She blew out a sigh. “I know, I know, I’m not making any sense.”
“You are making perfect sense, my dear. The man makes you feel like you can be yourself.”
“He makes me laugh,” she added in a small voice, feeling her mouth crook up at the corners. “He’s funny, and doesn’t take himself so seriously.”
“He sounds utterly charming. Does this Paragon of Perfection have a name?”
“Haddan.”
“ The Haddan. The Hedonist Hellhound?”
Eliza nodded.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Augustina. “That could be trouble.”
Trouble. As if I need any reminder.
“But then,” mused her friend. “Life can be awfully boring without the prospect of a little piss and vinegar.”
A snort of tea nearly went up her nose. “What would I do without you and your wise, witty teachings, Gussie?”
“You would manage just fine, my dear. Though neither of us would laugh quite as much. Which would, of course, be a great pity, as humor is what helps make the sun shine.”
“Right.” A flicker of light on the ivy outside the window reminded her of Gryff’s lazy, lidded gaze. “I have learned a lesson, at least. Men like the marquess have no place in my life.” She forced herself to look away from the glints of shadowed green. “You see, Haddan is not the only threat of trouble. Harry’s debts are getting worse, and I fear that things are truly getting out of control.”
Augustina’s look of amusement sobered to one of concern. “I take it he won’t listen to reason.”
“He turns a deaf ear on all my pleas, and…I don’t quite know what to do. I am powerless to control him. I was in Town last week, staying with Margaret while I met with Mr. Watkins about a commission, and…” She had to pause, in order to wash the taste of fear from her throat with a tiny sip of tea. “Lord Brighton stopped me in Bond
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