The Redemption of a Rogue, стр. 45
Her smile, which had still shone on her face, faltered at those words. “I…see. Did he tell you that?”
He shook his head. “No.”
She rubbed her temples briefly. “Please tell me you didn’t act as my agent in some way and tell him I would wish for that kind of offer.”
“Of course not,” Oscar said. “I am not your agent, for one. And I wouldn’t act as such unless you told me specifically to do so. I only pointed out the obvious so that you might see your situation is not as hopeless as you’ve thought. With the right introductions and connections—”
She turned her head, her lips thinning. The good will he had renewed with her that afternoon seemed to have faded away entirely. “Well, thank you for that lesson,” she said softly. “I suppose I will have to consider it once we resolve my current dilemma.”
He frowned. He’d brought up the subject, but now that she had agreed, even in theory, he couldn’t help but picture what that future would look like. Imogen as another man’s lover. Perhaps even as another man’s love.
He shook off the unwanted feelings that accompanied the thought and instead changed the subject. “At any rate, it’s nearly time for supper.”
“Back home?” she asked, and though she looked at him again, he felt the walls back up between them. There was regret that accompanied their return.
“No,” he said. “We’ll be meeting with my mother, actually. She asked us to return to her, I believe she’s done some looking around for you.”
Imogen’s annoyance left her face and she straightened up. “Then I look forward to seeing her. I’m sure you do, too. You must be ready to be rid of the burden I’ve put on you.”
He hesitated, because what he wanted to do was reply instantly with a passionate no. But when she turned away again to look out into the fading light of sunset, he instead said nothing. And wished he was capable of saying more.
Wished he were capable of anything more than what he could give.
Chapter 16
Imogen tried to keep her expression serene as Oscar led her down the hall and into a parlor at his mother’s home. He was so capable of divorcing himself from his emotions—she would do well to practice the same response.
Only it was so difficult. There were moments where she glimpsed something deeper in him. Like when he’d smiled at her at the museum and she’d thought she’d seen…
Everything.
She’d seen everything. But he’d pulled it back swiftly enough and he was always very clear that the future would not hold some connection between them. What they were sharing was purely sexual and absolutely limited to however long the investigation lasted. God’s teeth, he was already trying to find another lover for her. A protector, he’d said.
She’d be a fool not to consider the suggestion. After all, Edward Carlton was intelligent, friendly and handsome. A few weeks ago, she would have jumped at the opportunity to become his mistress and get out of her terrible situation. Today?
Well, today the idea that Oscar could push her in that direction without feeling anything about it stung.
He released her as they entered the parlor, and walked over to the sideboard. “Drink?” he asked.
“I could use one,” she mused, and watched as he poured her a splash of sherry. He didn’t even have to ask what she liked anymore. He knew. And he would take Scottish whisky, just as he did any time he had a drink before supper. But he sipped it, never overindulging. No, Oscar Fitzhugh did not do that. He was always in control.
She frowned as she took the sherry and moved to the window to look out onto the busy street below. All these people buzzing from place to place, happy or not, but not trapped. Not in danger to be murdered if they so much as left the protection of four walls.
She felt those four walls closing in even now.
“Good evening!”
She pivoted back to watch Joanna step into the room. She was beautiful, of course, but Imogen found herself caught off guard by it again. It was as if she somehow forgot it or softened it in her mind, and then she saw Joanna and her loveliness rushed back.
Joanna kissed her son’s cheek and then crossed to her, arms open in greeting. “My dear. Oh, you look lovely. That blue suits you.”
Imogen glanced down at the gown she wore. Very pretty, yes. And still the left-behind dress of a dead woman who haunted Oscar. Drove his every decision, including the one never to let Imogen near. She almost hated the pretty outfit.
“And this is our dear friend, Will White,” Joanna said as she parted from Imogen. She’d been so distracted, she hadn’t noticed another man come into the room behind Joanna. He was tall, though not quite so tall as Oscar, who he was standing beside at the sideboard. He was very handsome, with gray hair, a defined jawline and bright blue eyes that flitted over Imogen before darting to Joanna. He smiled slightly at her and their connection became palpable, if only briefly.
“Will is my partner in the club,” Oscar explained as Mr. White crossed to Imogen and shook her hand in greeting.
“A pleasure.”
“And he was once my protector,” Joanna added, never one to shy away from awkward subjects. “And he remains my dearest and truest friend.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Imogen said.
He shrugged. “The two of them have never been the kind to mince words. Any friend of Joanna or Fitzhugh is a friend of mine. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance after hearing so much about you.”
Imogen