Dark Angel Read Online Free

have liked tea, I poured the wine into the glass provided.
    I ate quickly, my bare feet dangling over the side of the bed since I left the tray on the nightstand and helped myself from it. The storm had blown itself out. Night settled over the horizon through my window, darkening the sky to royal blue.
    My hunger satisfied, I pushed the dishes away. I had slept the day away and wondered if Gerard would visit me again before the night was through. While I had eaten, I thought continually of the children—I waited anxiously for someone to come. I had to make plans. I needed something to wear, information about my location, and how soon I could book passage to Liverpool—my ship’s destination—and find transport to London.
    I went to the ornately carved door with its polished brass knob to flag down a passing servant, but the door would not open.
    It was locked.
    Outrage, and then apprehension, quickly followed. Why had I been locked in?
    I tried hammering on the door and calling out, but when no one came, I returned to the bed. I distractedly picked up my wineglass and drank from it while I contemplated my situation.
    As if summoned by my thoughts, the door opened and in strode Gerard. I had not heard the key turn in the lock.
    I quickly tucked my bare legs beneath the blankets, nearly choking on my wine in my haste. I sputtered and my eyes watered.
    “Do you not knock before entering someone else’s bedroom?” I demanded, mortified.
    The question brought him up short, as though it had never occurred to him before. Perhaps it had not. His manner with me earlier indicated he was a man of some privilege and rank. He had likely never been denied entrance to any room in his home he wished to enter.
    “I have never had occasion to do so,” he finally responded, confirming my suspicions. “Is it your preference for me to knock?”
    I nodded vigorously, clearing my throat as I wondered whether he was admitting to never having had the occasion to knock , or of entering someone else’s bedroom.
    “Why was I locked in here last night?” I demanded. “Am I a prisoner?”
    He clasped his hands behind his back. “Merely a precaution. You were quite dazed. I did not wish to risk your well-being if you wandered away.”
    “My well-being?” What was he protecting me from in his own house?
    His gaze was steady. “There are places here which are not safe. It is best to have an escort at all times.”
    I had no choice but to accept his explanation, but a sense of unease lingered.
    He tilted his head, his expression curious. “Why do you wish for me to knock before I enter?”
    I stared at him in disbelief. Was he mocking me? The expression on his face spoke only of mild curiosity, nothing more.
    How to respond? He had entered without warning or chaperone into the bedroom of an unattached, undressed female, and he did not seem to understand the shattering of propriety his act entailed.
    If word filtered back home, I could be—would be—ruined beyond all redemption. Due to Jonathan’s status in society a few of my transgressions had so far been overlooked, but hosting a man in my boudoir would not be one of them.
    I tried to think of a way to explain that did not reveal my own disquiet at being alone with Gerard. My apprehension in his presence surprised me—he had rescued me, cared for me, seen to my health. I doubted he would go to such trouble if he had meant me any harm.
    Then again, he had also locked me in.
    “Why? Surely you must realize it is simply not proper. Others might judge us.” I did not know what else to say.
    He snorted. “Who?”
    “Everyone. Your servants, to begin with.”
    One black brow rose imperiously. “The opinion of servants is not a consideration.”
    I might have expected such a response from him. “Your friends, then.”
    He looked away, out the window, to where the dusk had turned to full night. “I have no friends…no friends of any consequence.”
    Something about the stiffness in his