“Olivia asked in bewilderment. “We’re nearly back in York Street.” “I want to talk to you.” Erith ignored the coachman, although he felt the man’s avidly curious eyes boring into the back of his head. An impatient frown crossed her face, bringing it back to vivid life. “You’ve talked all the way from Kent, for heaven’s sake.” “I want to talk to you away from this damned black box that belongs to damned Peregrine Montjoy.” “But it’s the middle of a rainstorm.” “I don’t care.” “Madam?” The coachma...n sounded like he thought his betters had lost their minds. Olivia stared at Erith through the gloom as if she believed he’d gone mad too. He himself wasn’t even sure of his sanity. What he was sure about was that he wasn’t going to tamely watch her move out of his life. He intended to fight for what he wanted. Probably for the first time ever. No wonder he made such a god-almighty hash of it. For a long silent moment she studied his face. The Devil knew what she saw there.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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