The Passionate Love of a Rake by Jane Lark Page B

assistant was immediately at her side. Jane dismissed him with a flick of her hand.
    “I have merely come to browse.”
    Her heart was still pounding in a steady thump, the pace of a grandfather clock. She could see Robert’s curricle through the shop window. It stood vacant.
    Hiding her agitation, she took an aisle between the narrow shelves and hurried to its end, then slipped about the corner and stood with her back against the end of the row. Her breathing was ragged and unsteady.
    The shop bell rang again.
    Glancing along the back row of books, Jane saw a middle-aged gentleman studying the shelves at the end of the next aisle. She busied herself reading the spines of the books on the shelf facing her.
    Heavy, confident strides echoed along the aisle beside her.
    Jane held her breath, unsure whether to try to run or simply stay and face whichever one of her antagonists it was.
    “Jane.”
    Robert.
    Her breath slipped out on a deep sigh, and, despite herself, she had a sudden feeling of relief. His familiar face was a comfort, even if he was glaring at her.
    “I was on my way to call upon you. I do not see why there is any need to avoid me? I am surely not such a monster. I believe the other night was—”
    She shot him a meaningful look and turned her gaze to the gentleman further along the aisle.
    Robert looked contrite when she faced him again. “Perhaps we could look for a tea shop?”
    “No, thank you, my Lord. I am busy.” Her initial relief had waned. She had nothing to say to him, after all, and he was the last person she would wish to know of her problems with Joshua.
    She moved to pass him, but he gripped her elbow, though not painfully, just with a pressure she felt sought to deliver some message he could not speak in public.
    “I was bringing your winnings,” he said in an over-earnest voice, his eyebrows lifting, “and—”
    “Look, my Lord, I gave you no money, they are not really my winnings. Keep it. Please. I am shopping.” Whatever it was he wished to say, she did not wish to hear it. She had enough concerns without Robert making her life more complicated.
    His brow furrowed, and his eyes studied her with greater intensity. “Ja—”
    She glared at him and moved her eyes to remind him of the gentleman playing audience.
    He recommenced, “
Your Grace
, I thought only to offer to take you for a drive. If you are busy today, what if I called tomorrow?”
    Jane lost patience. She was in no mood for his dogged denial. She’d slept poorly the night before, and she was far too tired to play Robert’s cat and mouse games. She neither had the time nor the inclination for it. She was still feeling shaky from her flight from Joshua. She just wished Robert would accept that no meant no. “Or, my Lord, you could simply not call.” Jane knew her reaction was waspish, but she was exhausted. He knew nothing of her now.
    His eyes narrowed. “Not call?” His voice said he thought her completely mad.
    Jane backed away a single step, her arm pulling against his grip. Why must he make things even harder? Her gloved hand lay on his chest, on his morning coat, over his heart, holding him back as he would have stepped forward. “Please, my Lord, just leave me alone. I have enough to cope with at the moment.”
    His expression clearing, he answered curtly, “If that is what you wish.” Then his fingers let go her arm and lifted to the brim of his hat, and he bowed. “Your Grace, excuse my interruption.” He turned on his heel and began walking away. But at that moment, the shop bell rang again.
    Jane looked along the aisle and saw Violet’s footman, and beyond him, through the glass door, Joshua’s curricle stood before the shop.
    Damn the man
.
    She looked back at what was currently the lesser of two evils, her gaze narrowing on her former swain’s back. “Lord Barrington! Wait! If you would?”
    He halted and turned back, lifting his gloved hands in an expression of disbelief.
    “Either you wish