Beauty and the Rake by Erica Monroe

Author:Erica Monroe [Monroe, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Quillfire Publishing
Published: 2015-10-09T23:00:00+00:00

The next day, Michael breakfasted with Abigail. They hadn’t spoken about the event in the library. “Event” wasn’t the right word. What else could he call it? Nothing polite. Nothing properly worthy of the world-shaking sensations that clutched him, forcing him to question his previously held stances on sex.

This had been lovemaking. He didn’t make love, he fucked.

“I quite enjoy the chocolate.” Abigail took a dainty sip, cupping the mug in both her hands. “The pound cake is also delightful. Very fluffy.”

Michael nodded, half-listening to her chatter on about the various treats spread out on the sideboard. Once he’d observed her sneaking an extra slice of cake at dinner, he’d switched his normal breakfast of eggs and leftover meat from dinner to include pound cake, those Chelsea rolls she adored, and a selection of fruit preserves. Watching her gobble up delicacies she’d never been able to afford in Whitechapel had quickly become the favorite part of his day.

She paused mid-lift of the cup to her mouth. Her saucer remained on the table. She didn’t know to lift the saucer with her cup.

“You haven’t eaten any of your eggs.” She gestured toward his still-full plate. “In fact, you’ve barely touched your food. Is something troubling you?”

“No, nothing at all,” he lied. Curse her ability to puzzle out the differences in his temperament. Rarely did anyone look past his smirk, and when they did he could dissuade them with a quip or compliment.

Abigail saw beyond the surface. He felt human in the light of her gaze, for she witnessed the worst sides of him and she didn’t run. She stayed, damn her, stayed through the breaking of his resolve, stayed so he could drink up every drip of the pleasure he wrought from her body, stayed while he pretended it had never happened.

He piled his fork high with eggs and meat to convince her that this was a day like any other for him. She observed him, the slight tilt of her head indicating he’d have better luck fooling the charlatans he interrogated than her.

He swallowed. The eggs tasted rotten; the meat leaden.

“I may have some good news.” Another partial truth, for while the news was good for her, it was not for him.

“Oh?” She set her cup down. Chocolate sloshed over the rim, splashing onto the saucer. Instead of coloring with embarrassment as his sister would have, she blotted at the mess with a serviette, her attention focused on his announcement.

“I met with one of my sergeants two days ago,” he said. “They received a tip that Clowes has been spotted preparing to leave the country. Currently, he’s in St. Giles.”

Her fist clenched on the side of the table. “So he’ll be gone soon.”

“That’s one theory.” He’d expected her to be jubilant. If Clowes was in the West End instead of Whitechapel, he wasn’t concerned with harming her. “However, I did receive another note from him. This time, he said we’d never stop him–that he’d win.”

Her forehead scrunched. “What could that mean?”

“I’m leaning toward believing that he’s gloating about his preparations to leave.

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