The Bachelor by Sabrina Jeffries

Author:Sabrina Jeffries [Jeffries, Sabrina]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2020-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

What the devil was she up to? As she wound through the gardens, Joshua prayed she wasn’t trying to leave the grounds. Given the note she’d sent Malet earlier in the day, Joshua would have to put his foot down about her heading anywhere beyond Greycourt’s property. And right now he didn’t want to get into an argument with her.

She was holding his hand. She was complaining about her suitors. He liked both things better than he should, especially after an evening of being forced to watch her dance with every fool in creation. Of fighting to keep his jealousy under control when all he wanted was to punch her partners in the face.

And thus prove to Fitzgerald that he was unequal to the task of spying on anyone.

Damnation! He had sworn not to become besotted with her. What was wrong with him? He knew better. He had to be careful, had to not let her manipulate him into going along with her plans, whatever those were. It may not seem like it sometimes, but she was not his employer. Thornstock was. And Fitzgerald, hopefully.

“Where are we heading?” he asked her, more gruffly than he’d intended.

“To the orangery.”

Relief coursed through him. He’d forgotten Beatrice’s mention of Greycourt’s orangery, a separate building that could be entered from the garden or the house.

“There, we can have both privacy and a nice stone floor on which to dance,” Gwyn added.

He groaned. The last thing he needed was privacy around her. His record on that score hadn’t been good so far. He didn’t know which was worse: being alone with her while taking her in his arms, or attempting to dance and falling flat on his face at her feet.

Still, God save him, the prospect of holding her for an entire dance tantalized him. Even knowing she was secretly corresponding with Malet didn’t keep him from wanting her. So he’d have to use their privacy to his advantage.

After all, two could play her game. She wanted to lull him into letting her do whatever she pleased? Fine. He would let her. It might be the only way to get to the bottom of what was going on between her and Malet. If he asked her flat out, she wouldn’t tell him. She’d already had ample chance today to tell him that Malet had corresponded with her. But if he strengthened their intimacy, she might begin to trust him enough to confide in him.

He snorted. Now he was lying to himself. Forget strengthening their intimacy—what he really wanted was to be intimate with her. Even the thought of it made him hard.

Damn, they’d better reach that orangery soon, before they ran into one of her many suitors—or worse yet, one of her brothers—who might take note of the decided bulge in his breeches.

He needed to take his mind off desiring her. “So tell me, what are some of the other pieces of ‘balderdash’ gentlemen have ‘spouted’ at you this evening?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. My eyes are like emeralds—”

“They are.

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