My Dangerous Rogue - Paula Wong (bts book recommendations TXT) 📗

alone with the dinner tray.
Richard pushed it aside, as it turned out, he was not hungry after all. “Georgiana,” he called out before she could go any further out of the hallway.
The sound of heels that was distant now became more louder as the door opened and she entered. Georgiana was a petite woman, with fiery red hair and bright blue eyes. She was slender and he believes that she is about to turn fifty. Wrinkles masked her face.
“Yes me lord?” she asked, her head down.
“Has Lady Chase returned from her trip yet?”
“Yes me lord, she is in her room as of now.”
He raised a brow, he leaned in the chair, his hands behind his head. “In her room?”
She nodded. “She had requested her own room when she had come back from her outing. I was glad to point her to the room across from yours.”
Richard put a hand under his chin, resting it there. “And who had told you to give her the room?”
Georgiana looked nervously on the ground, fingering her apron. She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted.
“I did,” Loretta entered his study. He could see that she had changed her dress when she came in the house. The bright blue dress neatly folded her body. Every curve was visible, the shape of her breast more full. He met her gaze. There was something in her eyes that made him hesitate. A sudden warning to the person she would come against. It was the same look that she had worn when she first entered his study. When they had first met.
Her hair was undone, the curls falling down to her waist, the other masked her face, making her look like a dazzling goddess. No.
A goddess can’t be compared to her. She looks like Loretta. His erection throbbed against his breeches, wanting to be in her body again. To feel those small but powerful legs around his waist, his tongue tasting her skin, nibbling on the tender flesh.
God what was she doing to him? She had him under her fingers. But he doubted she knew that. The words he had said earlier that day was in his mind. He regretted it dearly as soon as he saw her face. He wished he could take back every word he had said, but he knew that was too late.
Richard wants to protect her, hell if something bad would happen to her, it would be on his head. But she can’t know that. She can’t know what he is thinking, what he is feeling.
Because he doesn’t want to know that either.
He can’t afford to show his emotions. Showing emotions only brings weakness and pain to the one who possess it.
He had seen that before, when he was a child. An outcast with the family. Richard never fitted in, no matter how much his sisters pulled his hand, motioning him to play with them. He could never find happiness.
He will never will.
Richard looked up at her. “You are back,” he mumbled. “How was your outing?”
“My business is none of yours,” she replied as she strided across the room to examine one of the files.
He stiffened. She was different. Different than before she came into his study. Now she was like a walking statue, her expressions unreadable, distant. “I will take one of these and study it in my room,”
“You mean in my room,” He replied, his gaze expression as well.
“I mean in MY room,” and with that, she turned her heels and exited out of his study, turning on the opposite side of the house entrance and into the west wing, where her room was located.
He stared after her, his fists clenched together. The maid still stood there, waiting for an order of any kind. “You may go,” he said in a low voice.
Georgiana nodded and bowed in farewell, before scurrying off to do about. Richard felt his body sank into the chair. He let out a breath and put his hand on his eyes, rubbing them furiously. Have to focus, the sooner you are done with this the better.


Loretta sighed as she closed the door behind her. That was the hardest thing she had ever done. She had never talked to anyone like that before. She was taught to respect every person, no matter who or what they are. Her heart pounded in her chest, her hand trembling. No, it was not because she was like this. It was because of the look on Richard’s face.
From a matter of brief second, he looked so secluded and unhappy. It almost wanted to make her approach him, and take him in her arms. Hold him tight and tell him she is here. She won’t be going anywhere.
But that’s a lie.
After this investigation is done, she’ll have to go home and attend the Season yet again. Find herself a suitable husband, though she knew that her reputation is now tainted because of Frinchester’s mouth. She’ll just have to make an exception.
With a breath, she made her way toward the table in the corner of the room, next to the window. She shivered and tightened her shawl around her. Making her way toward the fireplace, she took a couple pieces of logs and stacked them, taking the candle from the bedside table and lighted it. Warmth started to fill the room.
She sat down on the wooden chair and splayed out the files that were on the table. One by one, she studied them.
And one by one, the same information repeated. She put a hand to her forehead, rubbing her temples in agony. She glanced down at the paper, she was missing something. Something of importance.
Then a particular sentence caught her eye.
The disappearance of Anne Paisley, has been ruled out. Though, a witness from the stance had said that she was acting quite nervous and looking over her shoulder once in a while. The witness who had foreseen this is an old man who had lived in the alley way next to the London Square. His name was given as Brock Dismantle.
Loretta smiled and got up. This man knew something, something he did not want the police to know. And it must be something that can help find Anne. She picked up her skirts and made her way outside of the room, heading toward his study. She stopped slightly as she neared his door. Taking a deep breath, she masked away all of the emotions she had contained. She raised her hand to knock on the door.
Silence, followed by a rustle of papers then the door opened. Richard stood there, his green-blue eyes clear as the open filled in summer time. His hair was muddled, his overcoat was off leaving her with the outline of muscular chest, the white tailored cotton loose shirt, was the only thing he was wearing to protect him from the cold. Does he even care that it is freezing? She caught a glimpse of his study. The fireplace was not lighted up. Her gaze landed on his body again. It didn’t look like he was shivering. The tray was still filled with food. It was untouched. He did not eat yet? Loretta’s gaze met his. He was not her responsibility nor she was his. She does not car whether he starves himself or kills himself with hypothermia. She only came here to tell him what he had found. “I had found something,” she declared. “It seemed like there was a witness who had seen Anne for quite some time, walking by the streets. The man’s name was Sir Brock Dismantle. We will ride for tomorrow to seek this man,”
Richard nodded stepped into the room again, closing the door behind him, leaving her alone in the hallway. Then a scent hit her, almost knocking her out of her balance. Liquor. The scent of liquor filled the study. Was he drinking? Liquor is bad if you did not have any energy and strength to burn it. What in the world is he doing in there? Drinking without even dinning his food, the fireplace unlit if it is freezing cold out in the mansion. She raised her hand to knock on his door, only to hesitate. Richard is not her husband, nor her friend. She should not care for him. She tightened her hold on her sides, turning around to head toward her room yet again. Loretta closed the door behind her, her back against the wooden door. The sooner she gets out of his home, the better.

They left early dawn. The carriage lurching forward into the winter sky. London Square was not far off of where he had lived. But Richard’s home was in an open filled, nothing surrounded it except grasslands. It will take a couple of hours till they arrive to their destination. Loretta looked out of the window across from Richard, while he leaned against the leather seat, his eyes closed. Normally, she wouldn’t mind the quiet. But this sort of quiet was torturing her. It made the tension between them worsen tenfold.
She wore her morning gown; the light green dress was covered by her black cloak. Her dress had sleeves that stopped right on her wrist, her pale white hands contained white satin gloves. Richard, she saw was wearing a dark blue tailored overcoat. His trousers, tucked in his boots, his vest neatly ironed.
She looked outside of the carriage window, watching the view outside of the tress pass by. They been this way since breakfast. No one had said a word, one good morning and surprisingly, he was the one who greeted her. She on the other hand gave him a nod and continued eating her breakfast. She cleared her throat. “I think we should try and discuss our plan on how will we interrogate this Sir Brock Dismantle.”
“Not needed,” he mumbled.
Loretta raised a brow. “Not needed?”
Richard nodded and continued to remain silent, his eyes still closed.
She felt her temper rise slightly, if someone can make her mind in five seconds it will be him. Only him.
“I think you are wrong. It is needed. We need to know how to approach this man. He might be dangerous. We need to-,”
“It’s not we, it’s me. I am going to be the one who will talk to him. I will be the one who will approach him. YOU are going to stay in the carriage and wait here for me.”
She leaned forward, anger flaring. “Do not forget Lord O’Conner, that I am the one leading this investigation. You are the one who will stand by and watch me. I can take care of myself. I am not your responsibility, remember?”
“Right, you are not my responsibility, apparently neither does Pauline. She told me to watch over you not get you killed by a street mob.”
She opened her mouth to reply at his rude comment, but the carriage, which rode over a boulder, made her slip from the seat and head down first on the opposite side of her, the black leather welcoming her face--only to be welcomed by a warm muscular chest, and a hand on her back, steadying her.
Her eyes widened in surprise. He smelled like aftershave and mint. She inhaled it, happily savoring it. “I don’t want you hurt,” he whispered in her ear, sending electric shivers down her spine.
His hand caressed her back, his finger tracing up and down her spine. She was splayed on top of him, his long legs on either side of her hips, she on the center. Loretta pulled away, but he stopped her, his arms holding her tighter. Chest to chest. She