When the Earl Desired Me (THE RAKE CHRONICLES #3) by Lydia Lloyd EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Lydia Lloyd
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
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Later that same evening
Bang. Bang. Bang.
From within semi-consciousness, Olivia was aware that the walls of the
townhouse were shaking. Housebreakers have beset us, she thought, unable
to move, her mind still viscous with sleep, the pounding seeming to be all
around her.
How could a sound be everywhere at once? Was this an earthquake, the
kind that Eloisa had experienced in the West Indies as a child, the type that
brought down walls and disturbed the ocean?
Her eyes flew open. Suddenly, she was awake. Because she knew. She
hoped that she was wrong, prayed that it was so, as she threw on her
wrapper and headed for the door of her bedroom. But even still, she knew
only one man who would be entitled enough to make such a racket. It was a
wonder that she had been able to fall asleep at all, after what had happened
at the opera.
Olivia took the stairs two at a time, her feet bare on the lush carpets.
The painted walls shone with the hues that Eloisa had been guaranteed
would be stylish in Mayfair that season. Indeed, the entire home had been
buffed and manicured to a point of almost painful fashion. Eloisa would
never allow herself or her daughter, Natasha, to appear desperate for the
approval of society—only the house itself came close to showing the
intensity of the hopes that had driven them from Paris to London.
Voices rose to meet Olivia as she descended. Even though she had
known, in her bones, who it was, when she heard his voice, it chilled her
blood.
“I only need to speak with her,” he said, his tone low and controlled,
confident and ineffably aristocratic, “I am very sorry to disturb you,
madam, but I cannot leave until I have seen her.”
“My lord, my lord,” protested Chassey, the butler and head footman
(Eloisa might be rich, but she wasn’t above economy, especially in
temporary lodgings), “the lady, much like the rest of the house, is—”
“I suppose you think by virtue of your rank,” Eloisa herself broke in,
“that I will overlook you nearly breaking down my door at this unholy—”
Eloisa stopped speaking when she saw Olivia. If the situation had been
different, Olivia might have laughed at her expression. Her lips had formed
a perfect O of surprise and she almost looked chastened—a rarity for her
friend and the woman who was still, technically, her employer.
She didn’t want to look at him. If she could have chosen, she would
have kept her eyes trained on Eloisa. A beautiful woman of forty-five, her
dark hair well-coifed despite the hour, her skin still gleaming from her
nightly cosmetic ablutions, her chestnut eyes kind, Eloisa was a comforting,
familiar sight. No, if she could choose, she would never let her gaze dart
away from Eloisa, the woman who had given her safe harbor thirteen years
ago after—well, him.
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