Page 43 of Cocky August Rake

Lord Reginald descended one measured step at a time.

“Captain Preston.” His voice was calm. Almost too calm. “And presently the owner of this club.”

“So it’s true, Malum is letting it go.” The stout gentleman gave a short laugh. “Ah, well. We appear to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Be a sport, old boy. The wenches are all the same anyway.” His eyes flicked over to Rose and then back to Lord Reginald. As though they ought to be in on the same joke.

Lord Reginald—Captain Preston—was not laughing.

“Your name,” Lord Reginald demanded.

He reached the last stair.

Up close, Lord Reginald was even more imposing.

His cravat had loosened at the throat, and a faint shadow roughened his sharp jaw.

But it was his eyes that mesmerized Rose.

Silver. Steady. Cold with authority.

Mr. Harcourt’s smile faltered.

“H-h-harold Harcourt,” he finally answered. “Second cousin to the Earl of Grimstead.”

Lord Reginald regarded him without expression.

“You have worn out your welcome, Mr. Harcourt. Leave. And do not return.”

The man, who had been an established member for up to a decade, looked toward Rose, perhaps expecting her to soften the moment. To laugh. To assure Lord Reginald he had misunderstood…

Rose met his gaze. “Denny will escort you out, Mr. Harcourt.”

For one tense moment, she thought he might refuse.

Denny stepped forward.

Before he could touch him, Harcourt jerked his cuffs straight and pulled away. “Fine,” he snapped. “With Malum abandoning the helm, I doubt this sorry excuse for a whorehouse will survive much longer anyway.”

He made an irritated turn and strode toward the entrance.

Denny followed closely, and only after they’d both disappeared did Lord Reginald look at her.

The anger she’d seen was still visible in the hard line of his mouth and the tension in his jaw.

But then… his gaze moved over Rose with unmistakable awareness—taking in the sensual curls, the ivory silk, the bare curve of her shoulders.

Rose felt his stare everywhere.

“Miss Darling,” he said. “A word, please.”

Good.

Better than good.

She’d have him alone, which was exactly what she and the others had hoped for.

Still, Rose had no intention of following him back to his office. She wouldn’t stand before that enormous desk like a woman called in to answer for herself.

She’d be at a considerable disadvantage.