Page 12 of A Stolen Heart

“Miss Ward!” Lord Thorpe looked shocked. “You can’t believe that I would take your niece to such places!”

Alexandra wasn’t sure whether his dismay came from the idea that her aunt thought him capable of such ungentlemanly actions or because she so bluntly brought up the subject.

“Too bad,” Alexandra interjected lightly. “They sound terribly fascinating, I must say.”

“Miss Ward.” Thorpe jumped to his feet, relief spreading across his face.

“Good evening.”

“You look—”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow as he paused. “I hope you are not going to say ‘like a country bumpkin.’”

“No, indeed. It is simply that you render me speechless.” His gray eyes shone in the candlelight as they drifted involuntarily down the front of her body, taking in the curves to which the rose satin clung. “You look stunning. I fear you will cast our London beauties into the shade.”

Alexandra chuckled. “Very pretty words, my lord, but I am not so naïve as to believe that.” She turned toward Hortense. “Good night, Aunt. I am going to take your victim away from you.”

“Victim!” Aunt Hortense assumed a look of great offense. “I was merely looking out for my niece’s best interests.”

“Your aunt is a very careful woman,” Thorpe remarked politely. “You are quite rightly cherished.”

Alexandra grinned. “You see, Aunt Hortense, how polite he is.”

A servant brought her Paisley shawl, which Thorpe took and draped across her shoulders with a courtly air. The brush of his fingertips against her bare arms sent a tingle through Alexandra, intensified when he leaned in to murmur, “It seems a shame to cover up such beauty.”

Alexandra ignored the little thrum that started along her nerves and smiled at him. “It is a lovely dress.”

“It was not the dress of which I spoke.” His gaze dropped significantly, if fleetingly, to the expanse of bosom that swelled above the square-cut neckline.

Alexandra wrapped the shawl more tightly around her, covering the swell of her breasts. “I think it’s time to leave,” she said repressively. “Good night, Aunt.”

She smiled across the room at her aunt, who was glowering suspiciously at their whispered conversation. Lord Thorpe sent the other woman a polite bow, and they left the room.

Outside, he helped her into the same elegant carriage that had taken her home this afternoon, and they settled across from each other on the plush seats.

“I was beginning to fear that your aunt was about to question me about my intentions toward you,” Thorpe said dryly.

“I am sure she would have, given enough time. Her first concern, of course, was the wickedness of the place you were taking me. Aunt Hortense has a collection of stories of what has happened to innocent girls in the Babylon of London.”

“I don’t doubt that. What intrigued me was why she presumed I was going to introduce you to these evils.”

“That is easy,” Alexandra replied with an impish grin. “The English are given to wicked pursuits, but those who are most given to them are English noblemen, who, apparently, spend most of their time abducting or seducing innocent maidens.”

“Indeed? I suspect that abducting you would prove to be a tiresome experience, so I must stick to seduction.” His sensual mouth curved up in a way that made Alexandra’s heart pound.

“Indeed?” Alexandra smiled, striving to keep her voice light. “I’m afraid you might find that experience equally tiresome.”

“Oh, no.” His eyes glittered in the dim light. “Lengthy, perhaps, but never tiresome, I assure you.”

Alexandra’s mouth went dry, and she had to glance away from his gaze. She looked out from beneath the rolled-up curtain of the carriage window, watching the houses go by as she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. Why did this man have such a strange effect on her?

After two blocks, the carriage turned and joined a long line of carriages stretching down the block. At the front of the line stood a house ablaze with lights.

“Is that where we are going?” Alexandra asked in some astonishment.

“Yes. Why?”

“But it—it can’t be more than four blocks from my house.”