She walked up the short flight of steps to the front door, tucking a shoe under her arm as she fumbled to open the drawstring of the silk pouch that held her keys. Guy came up behind her, twitched the bag out of her grasp, deftly loosened the neck and took out the keys. He held the bunch up to the lamp above the door, selected one and maneuvered it into the lock. The door swung open onto the deserted hall. Without a word he extricated the key from the lock, dropped the set into her bag and handed it back to her.

The whole business had happened so fast and so smoothly that Petra hadn’t had time to react. She was still searching for coherence as he urged her into the square hall with a hand at her waist and closed the door behind them. She took a breath and managed to say, “I don’t mean to be inhospitable, but I’m going to bed.”

“Not until you’ve explained what you meant,” he stated, his voice clipped. “We can stand here in the hall while you explain yourself, if you wish, but explain yourself you will.”

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Petra gathered her thoughts in the suddenly menacing silence. The household had all gone to bed. She and her brother were much less demanding than the elder Rutherfords and never kept the staff waiting up for them at night, which meant she had no diversion to hand. If Foster, the butler, had still been up and about she could easily have fobbed off her unwelcome visitor. As it was, she could see no way out of this uncomfortable conversation.

She hadn’t meant to let her tongue run away with her, but it had and she’d accused Guy of behaving badly. He was entitled to an explanation, although she couldn’t understand how he didn’t seem to know what pain he’d caused her. But perhaps he’d forgotten all about her. Out of sight out of mind. She must have meant so little to him it hadn’t occurred to him that she had feelings of her own. The bitter reflection restored her confidence. She was entirely justified in wishing Guy Granville, Lord Ashton, to Hades.

“There’s no need to stand here, and the marble’s cold on my feet. Come into the library.” She turned and led the way to the library at the back of the house.

Foster had left two sconced gas lamps turned down low on either side of the mantel, and a copper jug of sunflowers stood in the empty hearth. Charged decanters were arrayed on the sideboard, cut glass tumblers beside them, together with a cheese board under a glass dome and a biscuit barrel in case the younger members of the family or their guests had need of late-night sustenance.