the dark chamber? The way he had pinned her body to the door with his still haunted her. She had lain awake for the past two nights, thinking of nothing else.
But he had been strangely silent.
“Jo?” Alexandra prodded her quietly, tearing her from her troubled thoughts. “Would you like to play the piano, or sing? You know I am wretched at singing, but Clara has volunteered herself to read, which leaves the two of us with the musical bits.”
“You are a dreadful singer,” Jo agreed without bite, for it was an undeniable truth that her science-minded sister was far more at home in her sphere of studying and experimenting than in any of the feminine arts.
Music was not one of Alexandra’s gifts. Careful thought, objective thinking, and rigorous scientific study? Yes—those were much more the sorts of things at which Alexandra excelled.
“I attempted to argue with her whilst you were gathering cobwebs in your mind, but she is feeling rather ungainly these days and wishes a more comfortable seat than the piano bench. As I shall be in her place all too soon, I deemed it wise to be sympathetic,” her sister explained.
Clara was heavy with child, her first baby with Jo and Alexandra’s brother Julian set to arrive soon. However, in true Clara form, she refused to retreat for her lying in until, as she phrased it, I am half the size of London and am feeling miserably bovine.
“Soon, the two of you will have to take my place,” Clara said with that airy, sugary-sweet accent, the one that never failed to wrap their brother Julian around her little finger.
In all the best ways, of course.
Julian had been an out-and-out rogue. Clara was just what he needed, rather in the way Lord Harry had been just what Alexandra needed.
Also in the way Decker is just what I need.
No. She must not think such perilous, foolish thoughts. Decker did not want to marry. And neither did she wish to wed him. She was too busy attempting to experience her life. To break free from the ties which had always bound her.
“I am afraid we shall have to leave her here and decamp to the music room after the miniature menaces arrive,” Alexandra added with a frown.
“You shall have a miniature menace of your own soon,” Jo could not resist reminding her sister, grinning.
Alexandra’s smile was satisfied and warm. Her hand settled over the subtle rounding of her belly. “Such a peculiar notion, tiny version of ourselves, is it not? The children are all quite dear, however. The lads are the most exuberant of the lot. I say menaces affectionately, of course. But I do hope I have a daughter.”
Jo chuckled as the children arrived, Mrs. Chisholm not far behind them. Jo noted that each one appeared to be wearing dresses and short pants and shirts which were not ragged or ill-fitting or stained.
“Our benefactor also has provided each of the children with new clothing,” the proprietress said proudly, “as you will no doubt have taken note.”
Generous benefactor indeed, Jo thought, her suspicions mounting. What manner of man would have the coin to so thoroughly aid an orphanage thus? As she and her sister, along with their small cadre of children, reached the room housing the rosewood piano, Jo had her answer.
The piano was identical to the new model standing in Decker’s club’s wicked room.
She trailed her finger over the lone, gilt letter D emblazoned upon the polished case. His words returned to her.
“This piano is our newest, one of only a few of its kind—Lord and Lady Sinclair are in possession of one, and there is another as well, aside from this,” he had said.
Just when she had been convinced it was impossible for him to burrow into her heart any deeper, he did.
Oh, Decker. What other secrets do you keep?
Three interminable, painful, endless days.
That was how much time had passed since Decker had last felt Lady Jo Danvers’ lips beneath his. Since he had last held her in his arms. Since she had uttered those terrifying, ruinous words in that darkened chamber. Words which had been echoing in his mind ever since she had first spoken them.
I like you, too, Decker. Quite a bit more than I ought.
She bloody liked him. And not just physically. That was what her quiet little confession had meant. She did not just feel desire for him, that aching want he perpetually felt in his cock and ballocks whenever he thought of her or