As the blush faded she canted her head to one side.
‘Somehow that amounts to quite a few more conditions than mine.’
‘I’m not negotiating. Well?’
She gave a brisk nod and he relaxed.
‘Good. Off we go, then. Just keep your hood pulled low. I prefer not to be seen abroad with such a reckless character as yourself at this late hour.’
She laughed and stood, pulling on her hood, and he felt a twinge of regret. He reached out and arranged her hood so that it better covered the silver-gold glints of her hair. Her eyes rose to his in surprise and he didn’t immediately release the soft fabric. Her irises were an interesting combination of shades of grey and blue—from slate to ice to a rim of darker blue. This close he caught her scent, something warm, like a field of wildflowers in summer. His eyes glided down towards her mouth, slightly parted in surprise. A very generous mouth. For a moment he was tempted to taste that lush curve. The memory returned of her coming towards him on Petra, her hair tumbled and her face alight, except that now his imagination embellished, it was no longer a girl but this young woman coming towards him, and now he was drawing her down onto the grass, spreading that fairy hair out on the wildflowers her scent evoked...
He didn’t move, noting with cynical amusement the enthusiastic response of his body. Trust it to show interest now that he was within arm’s reach of escaping this engagement. Whatever the case, he had no intention of acting on the urge. He stepped back and held out his arm.
‘Shall we?’
Nell obediently kept her head down as they descended from the hackney cab. At least that had been her intention, but a quick glance at the building they approached made her look up in swift surprise and her hood slipped back. She grabbed at it, but stood staring upwards. She had expected a house similar to Lord Hunter’s or like her father’s more modest town house. This looked more like a rambling school and took up half the road on this side.
Lord Hunter noticed her shocked expression.
‘I know, not ideal, but it’s the best I can do at such short notice. Aunt Sephy and Aunt Amelia live in a separate apartment. Their entrance is down this alleyway.’
He took her hand and placed it on his arm, leading her towards a narrow gap between the building and a row of modest-looking houses scantily lit by a single oil lamp at the corner. His arm was very warm under her gloved hand and it spread a pleasant heat through her, like the comforting animal warmth of leaning against a horse in a cold stable.
She smiled at the thought. Lord Hunter would probably not appreciate being compared with a horse. In fact, she had no idea what he might appreciate. He was not at all what she had expected. Neither the perplexing young man she remembered nor Mrs Sturges’s debauched rake. There was still that rather irreverent amusement hovering in the background, and sometimes not so far in the background, but she certainly didn’t feel threatened by him. Perhaps just a little when he had helped her with her hood; something unsettling in his eyes had set off alarms, but it had come and gone too quickly for her to act on her need to draw back.
Still, it wasn’t wise to trust this man and she shouldn’t presume that she understood him simply because he was so unfashionably blunt. As someone who kept most of herself firmly out of public view, she had a good eye for identifying people whose surface differed from their interior. She could see beyond painfully shy or boisterously loud exteriors and she had used this skill time and again helping Mrs Petheridge with the schoolgirls and even with recalcitrant or challenging horses. Not that he appeared to be masking vulnerability or fear, but there was definitely something behind the urbane façade that outweighed it, and until she understood what it was she would do well not to take him at face value, no matter how charming the face.
As they weaved their way into the gloom she realised she was being all too complaisant about being led into a dark alley by a man she hardly knew. Admittedly the mention of an Aunt Sephy and Aunt Amelia didn’t exactly invoke images of rape and pillage, but still...
‘What is this place?’ she asked in a whisper, slowing her steps, but just then the alley curved into a small courtyard set around a single tree. The cobblestones glistened with the remains of the drizzle and light shone through curtains which were definitely pink and embroidered with flowers. Even in that weak light Nell could see the façade here was well tended and the tree surrounded with chrysanthemums. It was so far removed from the dour impression of the front of the building that she couldn’t help staring.
Hunter stopped as well and his hand covered hers where it lay on his arm. He stood with his back to the faint light from the window, once again a dark-on-dark shape like that first moment he had opened the door, but this time it was a different kind of shock that spurted through her. There was enough light to infuse his eyes with a startling burn of gold and his smile was so enticing that her hand began to turn under his. She froze before she could complete the gesture, but she was incapable of doing anything else but waiting for his move, as surely as if this was a game of chess and these the iron rules of a game they had engaged in.
He wasn’t doing anything, just looking down at her, but in her weary and overwhelmed state he seemed to grow, take on the dark of the night, expand and envelop her. She had never been fanciful but she imagined Lucifer might look like this the moment before he claimed a failing soul for his own. It would feel like this, too: hot, terrifying, all encompassing, seductive. If she leaned forward she might fall into that heat and be consumed by it, claimed and changed for ever. It would be inescapable.
Then he spoke and the moment broke.
‘A bit of a surprise, isn’t it?’ he said and there was nothing in his voice to reflect the swirling heat of the moment. She stepped back, pulling her hand away. It must be the weariness and the confusion, that was all. More proof that she should not trust him, even if that moment had been merely her imagination.
‘I can’t go in there!’ She heard the panic in her voice, but couldn’t help it.
He took her hand again, layering it between his own. This was no longer Lucifer, and though the warmth flowed through her, now it was soothing.
‘It’s all right. You will like them and they will like you, I promise. There is nothing to be afraid of.’
She tried to resent being spoken to like a child except that it wasn’t the patronising tone of some of the schoolmistresses. It was an offer, but the decision would have to be hers. She glanced at the pink curtains and nodded. She had little choice, after all.
He tapped lightly on a lion’s-paw knocker and the door was opened immediately by a round little man who bowed and stood back.
‘Good evening, my lord. Miss Amelia is waiting for you in the parlour. Miss Sephy has of course retired.’
Lord Hunter urged Nell up the stairs into the well-lit hall.
‘Thank goodness for that, Bassett.’
The butler’s mouth relaxed as he opened the door into a room at the back of the house and stood back to let them enter.
‘Indeed, my lord. May I bring refreshments?’
‘You may. Tea for Miss Tilney and something stronger for me.’
Nell cringed at the trouble she was causing and almost began apologising, but Lord Hunter ushered her into the parlour where a woman moved towards them with a smile in honey-brown eyes that clearly were a shared family trait. She also had her nephew’s strong brows and slightly aquiline nose. It was a formidable face, but contrarily Nell didn’t feel at all intimidated. In fact, and very uncharacteristically, Nell liked her on sight and met the woman’s smile with one of her own.
‘Amelia, this is Miss Helen Tilney. Miss Tilney, this is my aunt, Miss Amelia Calthorpe. She lives here with my other aunt, Miss Seraphina Calthorpe,