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in the distance but no one was near. “And now you are upset. Obviously, you must be worried. We should discuss it.” He pulled her into the nearest room, an expansive library with large, airy windows now cluttered by obstructing wreaths and candles.
    Susanna growled deep in her throat and wrenched free. She hated being alone with him. He made her feel weak and worthless. As he quickly closed the double doors and faced her, she braced both hands on her waist, refusing to appear weak or scared. “This is highly inappropriate.” Even though she had spent time alone with Camden, and that was just as inappropriate as this now, that door had been open and she trusted Camden. In her mind, though perhaps not in society’s, there was a difference. “Have you been drinking? You know this is improper.”
    Lord Gaynor simply smiled and motioned her to the nearest couch. She refused to budge. He remained in front of the doors. “Improper? Not at all. We are family and I am married.” He glanced down at the gold band circling his finger. His gaze then encompassed the large chamber filled with scores of heavy, leather-bound books. “You are a respectable young woman and we should discuss your fears. If I can offer advice or assistance in any way, I would be honored to do so.”
    Her brows rose. The blasted man was incorrigible! They had never been close. And even if they were, she would never discuss such private things with a man!
    A man not her husband.
    The first time he touched her—an accidental grazing of her breast when she was sixteen—had left her wary of him. She convinced herself she imagined it; that he truly had lost his footing and bumped into her. But when it happened again, and this time his gaze connected with hers, fiery intention blazing, she knew to avoid him, to never be alone with him again. She should have told her mother the first time it happened. Or the second. Or the third or fourth. But she was too embarrassed. Not only that, the scandal would have publically humiliated her sister. Every time she visited her eldest sister, or Deandra and her husband visited Lorican Manor, Lord Gaynor always found reason to be alone with her. She couldn’t escape him when everyone considered them friends. Family.
    Once she finally summoned the courage last year and confessed everything to her sister, she had lost Deandra as a friend. But she didn’t regret telling the truth. Deandra, as foolish as she was, deserved nothing less.
    She thought of Camden and her thumping heart calmed. He would search for her once he returned to the vacant tea room. Several servants saw Gaynor walking with her, but would think nothing of it. After all, strolling through the hall where anyone could see them left them little privacy compared to behind closed doors where anything inappropriate could happen.
    Unlike her sister, Camden believed her and promised to keep the bastard away from her. An impossible promise, but she hoped for it nevertheless.
    Now that she was alone with Lord Gaynor, an important earl who lived in an immaculate estate outside London, she truly felt alone. This was her father’s home, a place she should feel safe, and the library was her favorite room in the manor, but now everything felt alien.
    As Lord Gaynor stalked toward her, she backed up and hurried around a delicately-carved lounger, placing it between them. Her heart pounded in her throat. She swallowed hard and jerked her gaze to the solid, sturdy doors, wondering if she could dart by him and escape. She knew there wasn’t enough time to race to a window, toss the greenery and candles aside, thrust open the panes and somehow gather her wide, billowing skirts in her hands to jump out into the deep snow.
    “No, you aren’t nervous about tonight.” Gaynor easily maneuvered around the lounger. “You have experience. I’m sure the viscount is grateful, but I highly doubt he would like that information spread. I have many connections, you know. All I have