Lady Derring Takes a Lover - Julie Anne Long Page 0,68
sovereigns, three sovereigns, three whole sovereigns,” Delilah muttered all the way down the stairs to the kitchen, and all the way through the heating of the water and the dispensing of the tea. Most guests were considerate enough not to ring for tea late in the evening, even though their rules generously allowed for one nightly libation.
But not Mr. Brinker. Which didn’t surprise her in the least.
Before she drifted off to sleep tonight perhaps she ought to count the kinds of things they could buy with those three guineas. Enough staff so that neither she nor Angelique would need to rise in the middle of the night to see to a guest—so she would never need to do it again, for instance. Or perhaps a pair of footmen. Though the cost of feeding a footman was almost equivalent to the cost of feeding a horse.
She settled the tea on the tray and balanced it carefully up the stairs. She’d reached the foyer when a voice called softly from the larger drawing room.
“I’m in here, Lady Derring. Would you please bring the tea in?”
She froze. Hell’s teeth.
She was trapped there, in her night rail and slippers, braided hair spilling out of her cap.
“Oh . . . Mr. Brinker. I thought I told you I’d leave the tea outside your door.”
“I would rather take my tea in this comfortable drawing room. Would you please bring it in and leave it before it gets cold?”
It sounded much less like an invitation than an order.
Her heart instantly stuttered. Damn damn damn. Then set up a pounding that sickened her.
Her arms were now trembling, and not just from the weight of the tea. Which would crash to the floor in seconds if she didn’t set it down.
Quickly, she stepped into the drawing room, lowered the tray to the nearest table, and pivoted to bolt.
She choked on a gasp.
Mr. Brinker was standing right behind her. Between her and the door of the room.
He said nothing. She couldn’t see his expression in the dark. His breathing, however, was heavy.
“Perhaps, Mr. Brinker, because you’re only staying the evening you weren’t aware of our rules. Our guests are usually in their rooms at this hour.” She’d raised her voice in the futile hope that someone might hear.
“Rules,” he snorted, softly. Genuinely amused. “Come, now, Lady Derring. I gave you three sovereigns. Surely you didn’t think it was just for lodging and tea?”
“I did indeed think that you were simply generous.”
He snorted.
And she understood why he’d done what he’d done: down here, in the parlor, if he wished to assault her, it was possible that no one could hear her scream.
That was when terror set in in earnest.
“Come with me over here to the settee, please,” he said offhandedly.
“I think not.”
“If you’d like to put up a bit of a struggle I won’t complain, as sometimes it can be a bit exciting, am I right?”
“Not in the least,” Delilah said brightly.
She took two steps sideways to the next little table, where a pewter candlestick stood next to a book.
She reached behind her. She succeeded only in tipping the candlestick over just out of reach.
The lowering fire threw shuddering shadows of her and Mr. Brinker against the wall. She was uncomfortably aware that in all likelihood he could see more or less clearly through her night rail.
She tried bravado and reason. “Well, Mr. Brinker, I’ve explained how things are. I should be happy to return a sovereign to you if you object to the amount you paid, because you will be enjoying no other services apart from the ones listed in our rules. Now, if you would be so kind as to step aside to let me pass?”
She’d just given him an opening to claim this was all in jest. An opportunity to change his mind.
“But I also won’t pay more for it, if you’d like to put up a struggle,” Mr. Brinker added, as if continuing a conversation. As if she hadn’t said a thing. “I do expect to get my money’s worth, however. Just come with me, lie back here on the settee, and we’ll get it done swiftly.”
And he reached for his trouser buttons. She feinted quickly to the left. She managed to get around him.
She was wrenched back. He’d seized her forearm. His hand was a heavy clamp of a thing.
Her scream was soundless, a raw rasp, shredded and frayed by terror. Useless.
He yanked her up hard next to his body and walked the two of them