Conspiring with a Rogue (27 page)

Whitney’s coffee cup broke into pieces, sending shards of the cream china mixed with the black coffee all over the countertop and all over her trousers and shirt. “Damnation,” she cursed.

Mr. Blightson gave her a fierce frown before his gaze settled on Drake. “I thought that was you, Sutherland. You’ve not answered any of my missives nor shown yourself at the bank as I requested.”

With a scowl at Mr. Blightson, Drake handed Whitney a handkerchief without looking at her. “Go clean yourself up, Wentworth. The gentleman’s privy is that way.” He pointed to the right of the room.

Riveted to her spot by fear and an instinct to protect Drake, Whitney blotted at her sopping clothing but made no move to leave. If Drake thought to get rid of her that easily, he was sorely mistaken. A sane person would not continue to sit here by the enemy she was supposed to be avoiding, but Whitney had left her sanity behind several hours ago when she had decided to let Drake seduce her. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said without looking up.

“
Listen, Sutherland.” Mr. Blightson picked his hat up from the bar and put it on his head. “The board’s nervous about your loan because of all your troubles.”

“
I’ll be there tomorrow to soothe their fears. Things will be fine,” Drake said dismissively. “I’ve several big runs coming, and the capital should flow nicely again.”

“
It may not be that simple.”

Drake threw some coins on the bar. “It has to be. If you call my loan, I’m sunk. Your bank will not see a dime repaid if I’m bankrupt.”

“
Tomorrow, then,” Mr. Blightson said. He glanced at Whitney, and she cursed herself for having stupidly looked up.

His gaze raked over her face. “Do I know you?”

Does he know me?
Not in person, but he had been more than willing to threaten the man she loved at his wife’s command. “I don’t think we’ve met.” There was no hope for avoiding him now, so she stuck out her hand as a man would. What would shaking the devil’s hand feel like? “I’m Mr. Wentworth,” she said, pleased her voice did not hold the slightest tremor of the fear that raged inside her.

Throwing her an insolent look, Mr. Blightson ignored her outstretched hand and shoved his arms in his coat. “Good day to you both.” She watched the devil disappear into the crowd, her heart fluttering from the encounter.

“
Rude of him not to shake your hand,” Drake said.

“
Insufferably rude people usually have clammy hands anyway.” Her voice was barely a whisper, yet Drake’s gaze slanted toward hers. Sympathy swam in the brown depths of his eyes.

“
Shall we go?” she blurted, wanting to lead his thoughts away from Mr. Blightson lest it lead to Mrs. Blightson and conjure up questions best left unasked.

Drake gave her a hard look. “I wish I didn’t have to deal with that man. I’ve not forgotten how his wife maligned you.”

A strong swell of gratefulness filled her. “Thank you. After everything that has happened, I don’t deserve your loyalty.”

His mouth set in hard lines of anger, yet he did not verbally agree or disagree. Instead, Drake jerked his head toward the door and strode away. She followed him, her steps slow with her thoughts. Drake had stood by her side when the majority of the
ton
had labeled her a murderess, and she had no doubt he would stand by her side even if it meant losing his company. His love and loyalty were exactly why she was doing what she was. If she allowed him to, he would sacrifice everything.

She ground her teeth, picking up her pace so as not to lose sight of Drake. Everyone she had ever loved had tried to protect her and been terribly hurt because of their efforts. Drake was just like her sister and father. He would sacrifice himself to protect her, but this time she was doing the sacrificing. Never again would she be an albatross around the neck of someone she loved.

She blinked away the red veil of anger threatening to blur her vision. For a moment she could not see Drake, and then she spotted him at the entrance, shoulders hunched in determination. What was she going to do? She’d abandoned him and undertaken all sorts of lies and mischief to keep him safe so he would not lose his company. And now it seemed his loan could be called anyway. What if it was? If Mr. Blightson was the one to call the loan, he and his wretched wife would have no reason to stop other banks from assisting Drake.

And if Drake secured a loan from another bank, she could come back to him. How had she not considered this possibility sooner? They could be reunited if she could make him understand why she had really left in the first place. The realization left her so giddy she practically skipped the remaining few steps out of the building.

Whitney followed Drake into the study of his townhome. Keeping the stony silence he had maintained since departing the Society of Lloyd’s was about to kill her. On the way, her two attempts at starting conversation had been met with a cold glare. She could not understand what had instigated his sudden anger. She wished he would break down and speak so she could ask him some of the questions clamoring in her head. Like why they were at his townhome in the first place. Surely he did not mean to start his seduction here and now. In the daylight with her dressed as Mr. Wentworth to boot.

Self-consciously, she touched the wig that covered her hair. She longed to remove the blasted itchy thing. Drake strode to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink before turning and regarding her over his glass with a hooded gaze. “You might have consulted me before telling Lloyd you were going to Cadogan’s party tonight. It’s too dangerous, and Johnnie-boy sure as hell can’t protect you amongst that crowd.”

A frisson of happiness ran through her. He was upset over that? Even now, after everything Drake thought of her, he still worried for her. “Is that why you’re angry with me?”

“
I’m not angry.” He gulped down his drink, the glass thumping against the desk as he set it down.

She suppressed her smile. “You’re not? Then your clenched fists and jaw are indications of happiness?”

He inhaled deeply, his jaw working side to side as if he was testing what she had said. “I’m tense. Not angry.”

She suspected he was both. “You can relax. I never intended to go with Jonathan to Cadogan’s. I had hoped
you
would take me.”

“
Did you?” He walked toward her, reached up and took off her wig. Slowly, he uncoiled the tight knot of hair at the top of her head and ran his hands through it. She sighed at the warm pressure of his fingertips massaging her sensitive scalp and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully let go for a moment.

The heat of his body radiated toward her, beckoning her closer. Unable to resist, she leaned in, breathing in his scent of maleness as a slow burn spread to every part of her body. Between her thighs, a tingling sensation made her squirm. She wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her everywhere. As if summoned by her mere thoughts, his mouth descended on hers, warm and searching. His lips massaged hers, causing her to groan with the ache his sweet kiss ignited.

His kiss became harder, more demanding. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth, the taste of whiskey and cigar smoke a welcome invasion. She wanted to take everything he had to give her, but she also wanted to give to him in return. Her tongue touched his, and a growl erupted from Drake as the length of his arousal pressed into her belly. She had to stop before this went too far too soon. His tongue flicked a searing path down her neck. One more second and she would push him away, make him believe she still loved Jonathan. When his hands came to the fastener of her trousers, she forced herself to pull away. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“
You can, but you won’t.” He cupped her bottom and pulled her closer to him. “Eventually, though,
you will
.” The delicious promise of his words made her catch her breath. He massaged her bottom, and though she tried to stifle her reaction, she moaned. “See, Kitten? Jonathan is not enough for a vibrant, sexual woman like you.”

“
He is,” she managed to say and twisted away from him. In Drake’s arms, she could not think clearly enough to keep up her façade.

He smirked at her. “If he’s enough for you, why do you return each of my kisses with such vigor? Moan when I touch you? You allowed me to take your virginity.”

“
Stop it.” She needed to appear indignant, not crazed for his touch. “Just stop. I do love Jonathan. I chose to sleep with you.
Once.
To experience the act.
Once
. You know why.”

“
And just now? What about the kiss we shared?”

Her gaze drifted inadvertently to his lips. “It was a mistake.” Was that too much? Would he give up the seduction? God, she hoped not.

“
Keep telling yourself that, Kitten. I don’t want you to feel too guilty when you find yourself on your back in my bed.”

She turned away, sure her hunger for him was shining in her eyes. Drake wasn’t stupid. She needed to appear reluctant, a woman at war with herself, or the seduction would not accomplish what she wanted it to for him.
Unless Mr. Blightson called the loan and Drake sought out money from another bank.
Then she could abandon her lies. Mrs. Blightson would have no more hold over her.

Her legs trembled with the thoughts. She barely managed to get to his desk and sit down. Could it be possible they might have a future together? “Drake, what will you do if your bank calls your loan?”

He sat in the chair opposite his desk and regarded her. “Go bankrupt.”

“
Be serious.” She gripped the edge of the desk, desperate for something solid to hold on to.

Drake smiled a slow, devastating smile. “I am serious.”

“
Surely you could go to another bank. Get another loan?”

He shook his head. “I’ve already casually inquired and repeatedly been turned down flat. Seems Oceana Shipping Lines is no longer a good bet. I’ve lost too many ships lately, and the creditors are running scared.”

Whitney’s world tilted, blurred and righted itself enough that she did not fall out of her chair from shock. “You could ask someone else for assistance. Alex? You used to be business partners,” she suggested desperately.

“
No.”

“
Sin or Peter?” she tried, her heart thumping against her rib cage. “Either would loan you the money. They both have much more than they need.” She heard the high pleading note of her voice. Did he? She glanced at him. He gazed back at her, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“
You know I won’t ask for help.”

“
What if asking for help would solve all your problems?
Every
one of them.” She prayed he would understand her meaning.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You do remember what I told you of my childhood?”

She swallowed convulsively, her throat suddenly dry. How could she forget the stories of the days, sometimes a whole week, he went without food? How could she forget the scams his father had made him run, the shame standing on the street corner and begging for handouts had caused him? “I remember.”

“
Then you know I’d sooner die than ask for help.”

She picked up a crystal paperweight on his desk and considered throwing it at him to knock some sense into his thick skull. Why were men so bloody obtuse? This was too much. Really it was. The only way to save him was to unravel who was sinking his ships and stop the culprit. Then—and this was the blasted, bloody awful part—if she could manage all of that, Drake would likely retain his loan with Mr. Blightson. She wanted to laugh. She was going to help Drake ensure he kept his loan with the man who had driven her away with his threats. Life was unfair.