Page 18 of When a Lady Dares
“Yes. Of course.” Miss Cornwall stood aside as Gavin unlocked the door.
He opened it with a flourish. “And there you have it, Sophie. The chamber where my dearly departed sire took his last breath. I’d wager the old goat had a smile on his face.”
He’d expected her to be taken aback by his off-color remark, but she merely pulled her lips into a wan semblance of a smile. “Good for him. If one must leave this existence behind, it’s best to do so while enjoying one’s earthly pursuits.”
Chapter Six
Damnation, Sophie was going to make this a challenge. Gavin sensed it and the prospect stirred his interest all the more. What would it take to derail her composure, to induce her to fumble her performance and reveal some hint of the truth behind Trask’s operation?
They stepped inside, and he closed the door behind them. He watched her closely, seeing the way her throat constricted ever so slightly. Was that a gulp? Had the sound of the latch clicking triggered a show of nerves in the seemingly unflappable Miss Devereaux?
She moved to a window and pulled open the curtains. He followed her and glanced down to the bustling Strand. Congested with pedestrians and carriages, the street swarmed with activity. Sophie stood calmly, watching the hurried comings and goings, then turned to him.
“The manager’s concern was a bit unexpected, wouldn’t you say? Rather peculiar, given he’s likely seen his fair share of illicit liaisons.”
He met her gaze. “I have that effect on people. My scandalous reputation, you see.”
She gave a small smile. “I feel confident you’re not preparing to pounce.”
“Do you now?” he said, deliberately teasing her. His hand glided along the length of her arm, over her sleeve. Even if he had intended a randy overture, he’d have his work cut out for him—she’d attired herself in what might as well have been a woolen suit of armor.
“Surely, you would not go to such lengths simply to coax a woman into bed.”
“Can you be certain of that?”
“How can one ever be truly confident of another’s intentions?”
She swept her tongue over her lips, presumably to moisten them. If she had any idea of the impact of the small gesture on his male body, she might’ve thought better of her assumption. If the circumstances were different—if she were not tangled in the treacherous web that had led to Peter’s death—he might well scale Ben Nevis to taste her passion.
“I’ve learned to trust my instincts. They’ve seldom failed me.”
“Is that so?” She touched a fingertip to her bottom lip. Was the subtle gesture an attempt to set him off base? “Could it be the treasure you seek has been gifted to your father’s mistress?”
“Not bloody likely,” he said. “He was a randy old goat, but he wasn’t a fool. He would not have squandered an heirloom on a woman who made no secret that the silver in his coffers was the key to her attraction.”
“This woman…you are acquainted with her?”
“Yes.” No need to provide Sophie with any further details she might weave into her performance. He’d given her enough to stir her imagination, if she chose to use it.
“I can picture her.” Sophie lifted her gaze as if envisioning something he could not hope to see. “Quite lovely. But of course, that goes without saying. Your father had a taste for brunettes. And blue eyes…deeply hued, almost violet.”
Her words caught him off guard. Bugger it, the description was meaningless. His father had been far less than discreet where his mistress was concerned. Sophie had likely spotted her image in the gossip sheets. The press had salivated over Annabelle Malone’s relationship with the octogenarian tycoon. Every detail of the actress’s appearance had been described and analyzed. Apparently, Miss Sophie Devereaux kept up with the news.
“He indulged her taste for sapphires,” Sophie went on. “Blue as her eyes. She wanted you to pick up where your father left off, didn’t she?”
Her words knocked him ajar. How did she know? A calculated guess, perhaps. It would not take a seasoned detective to deduce that the theatrical doxy had designs on the Stanwyck fortune. Annabelle had run out of time with his father. In her eyes, she’d had everything to gain and nothing to lose in seeking Gavin’s favor.
“Well done, Miss Devereaux. After my father’s death, his paramour did indeed reach out to me with the most blatant of propositions. I had no taste for the woman. The very idea was abhorrent. Does that surprise you?”
Sophie shook her head, her little hat wobbling precariously atop her golden curls. “You’d never be satisfied with such an empty arrangement, for that is all it would be. You’d much prefer a challenge.”
A challenge.Indeed. How ironic that she’d usedthatword, the very term he’d chosen to describe her. He centered his thoughts. She was a confounding woman, but he couldn’t allow her to throw him off his mark.
“You do possess a talent for deduction, though, I would not attribute your ability to describe Annabelle Malone to any otherworldly insight. She’s been treading the boards for years, and her portrait has been widely publicized. As for her penchant for wealthy, gullible men, I see nothing remarkable in your conclusion that she sought to exchange her rather questionable affection for an expensive bauble.”
“I regret that I have not impressed you with my abilities, such as they are.” Her gaze was direct, and she pinned him with it. “So, Professor Stanwyck, what is it you hope to achieve by coming here?”
The look in her deep brown eyes made him feel she’d already turned the tables on him. She studied him, seeming to read him with a scientist’s focus. Devil take it, it wasn’t as if she held any genuine interest in him. She’d likely developed the skill over time, the ability to perceive a person’s motives, to discern what had driven a desperate soul to Trask’s doorstep. That observant quality no doubt aided her in defrauding the trusting blokes who attended the fraud’s gatherings. In her line of work, if she could deduce what a person wanted to hear, that would make her all the more convincing.
