As Posy hurried up the imposing steps of Thornfield House, Lord Thorndyke’s London residence, she felt dread settle over her like a fine mist of perfume.
She was shown into the library by his housekeeper, a capable, self-possessed woman who made her plain black dress look like the latest Paris fashions, called Pippa (note to self: Must find out Pippa’s surname). The bodice of Posy’s own modest grey walking dress felt uncomfortably tight, as if she were about to have a fit of the vapours.
But Posy Morland, orphan, guardian of her fifteen-year-old brother Samuel, and heiress to a series of bad debts, had never had a fit of the vapours in her life and she didn’t intend to embark on such an endeavour at this juncture.
Instead, she took a couple of deep breaths, though the faint trace of cheroots lingered in the room, then gracefully comported herself to the nearest set of shelves.
Posy could never feel alone or scared in a room full of books. Her slender fingers caressed the worn leather spines. Who would have imagined that a rakehell, a rapscallion, a rogue such as Thorndyke would have such an extensive library?
No sooner had she pondered the question than the door was flung open and there he stood, dressed all in black, so he resembled an angel cast out of heaven. ‘Miss Morland,’ he said in dark, sonorous tones. ‘An unexpected pleasure.’
‘Lord Thorndyke,’ Posy said evenly, though her heart trembled and her bosom fairly heaved. ‘Forgive the intrusion, but I come to you with a proposition.’
‘Indeed.’ He seemed to suck the very air from the room with each long stride, until he was standing in front of Posy, cornered as she was by the shelves of books, which no longer seemed like friends but witnesses to her abject humiliation. Thorndyke looked down at her from his lofty height and Posy felt like a fox caught in a trap. ‘A proposition, you say? How intriguing.’
‘Not so intriguing, sir.’ She scarce had room to open her reticule and pull out her treasure. ‘I thought, that is, I hoped that you may be amenable to holding these items as a guarantee against the fifty guineas that you want so badly, though fifty guineas is naught but a drop in the ocean to you,’ she finished on an angry breath.
‘Now, now, my dear Miss Morland. If you want me amenable then you must conduct yourself in a more conciliatory manner,’ Thorndyke drawled as he arched one devilish brow. He flicked an elegant, careless finger at the small muslin-wrapped package she clutched. ‘I suggest you show your hand.’
With a sigh of weary capitulation, Posy unwrapped the muslin to reveal a thin gold wedding band, a locket and a brooch set with garnets. ‘They belonged to my late mother,’ she explained. ‘They’re all I have of any value and I implore you, no, I beseech you, to take them as a sign of good faith that I will honour my father’s debt. And if I haven’t within twelve months, then they’re yours to do with as you see fit.’ And may Satan himself take you!
‘What use do I have for these trifles, these mere baubles, when you have far greater riches to bargain with?’ he enquired, and before Posy could ask him to explain himself for she knew not of any riches in her possession, he lowered his head so she could feel the kiss of his breath on her cheek. ‘I propose to you, my sweet Miss Morland, that you warm my bed, lie in my arms, whenever I have use for you for those same twelve months and you may consider your debt discharged.’
Then as Posy stared up at his cruelly amused features, he suddenly enfolded her in his arms and proceeded to plunder the sweet lips that she’d opened only to protest his dastardly demands.