Persuasion in the Pantry [Maid for More #1]

Chapter 27: Lover's Quarrels

[Welcome back to the Bexley Manor! Did you enter via the chamber with the secret chapter? If not, if was just before this one. Just follow and refresh your library to get the key.  If you still can't find it then use this link: https://www.wattpad.com/246495104-persuasion-in-the-pantry-maid-for-more-1-secret   ]

Liara collected her hooded robes around her, luxuriating in the soft folds of the deceptively simple black cloth that concealed a liner of deep red satin. Veronique was right, there was a great deal of beauty in simplicity. She hopped down from the simple hired hack that masked her presence to the Rinehart home and now carried her home. She had asked to be let out a few blocks from the Crimson Guild so that she could walk the last mile in the cool comforting air of Mayfair. The night was too beautiful to waste and she marvelled at the stars that hung like a canopy around her concealed form. She loved to wander through the uncluttered streets of the wealthy and gaze into their alcove windows imagining the splendours of the lives that they lived. But, tonight was unlike any other, it had been her first liaison for the Crimson Guild and she bore it well. Imbued with success she felt something wild yawn within her veins. She tilted her head back throwing off her hood and let the coyote in her blood howl with freedom at the moon.

If she could see the vision she made with upturned brilliant red lips breathing in the moonlight under starry skies, her heart would have smiled with something her eyes had yet to recognize. She was not in the first flush of youth and possessed ample curves which were not currently popular among the ton who idolised the more waifish virgin in their beds. And, as a result of years with slimmer friends and a brusquer demeanour, she relegated her appeal to that of a potato sack, or that dishrag her mentor had mentioned. She often wondered of late whether Veronique had lost a bet to the Duchess.

Liara was blind to her own blossoming wiles, but Marco was most certainly not. He had exited his rented apartment on the opposite side of Beresford Square and watched the woman in the shadows step into the shaft of light like a panther prowling through the jungle of Central London.

His eyes tapered to slits before he strode across the square with all the purpose of a man charging into battle. This time she would not escape him.

"Lady Lariana." He announced cutting through the soft night air with the tenacity of an axe.

She turned to face him with wide eyes and vibrant ruby rouged mouth parted on the edge of a gasp. If he hadn't seen her in the Bexley Manor he could have confused her for a doxy. And yet, she held herself with more refinement than those women, but still not enough for a ballroom. She was an odd combination of something in between, like moonshine and mountain dew.

Shit

Liara's heart kicked up its beat like Marco's headstrong stallion. Her breath came in fast, shallow bursts beneath the tightened corset and her lips tingled with the memory of his touch.

"My Lord." She curtsied low, concealing the inner scarlet lining of her robes.

"You know who I am?" He stopped short in surprise.

Liara mentally hit herself. She had forgotten that she wasn't supposed to know that the Captain was also a Conde of Spain, although she wasn't entirely certain what that meant. At best guess she assumed it made him like a knight. Perhaps she should have called him Sir?

She rose unsteadily and met his eyes with feigned nonchalance. "Word gets around, Captain."

The light crossed his face as he stepped even closer pushing her further into the shadows. "And so do you."

"What?!" Liara held her breath, a difficult task to manage when encased in a material held rigid by bone.

His impressive size hovered over her, inescapable and demanding. "I saw you at the Covent Garden Theatre the night before last. I watched you on stage performing La Fille du regiment. It was impressive."