Page 84 of A Little Bit Dangerous
The crude word hit like an uppercut to the jaw.
Christian lunged forward, grabbing his brother by the throat. “What happened in my bed wasn’t fucking. I’m in love with her, you damn fool.”
“No, you’re not.” Aaron gripped Christian’s fingers, squeezing hard until he was forced to deliver a low punch or surrender. “Most people mistake lust for love. Passion is a drug more potent than opium. You’ll forget about her in due course.”
Though Christian wanted to rant, rage and tear the house down, he laughed. “There’s no man I respect more than you. You’re right about most things, but not this. You wouldn’t understand. Your heart is buried beneath so much hatred you refuse to let yourself care for a woman.”
Aaron firmed his jaw. “I know my limitations. Opening my heart would be like opening a blasted Pandora’s box. The only thing that would come of it is untold devastation. It’s the same for us all.”
“No, it’s not.”
A discreet cough drew Christian’s attention to the stairs. Aramis stood grinning at them. “If there’s to be a fight, at least give me time to sell tickets. This will be the bout of the century.”
Aaron raised an imperious brow. “You’re supposed to be searching the rooms for Miss Lawton, not loitering and listening to our conversation.”
Aramis held up his hands in mock surrender. “There’s no sign of her. She’s not in the house. She visited Mrs Maloney half an hour ago, and they spoke about Christian. Doubtless she had complaints about his anatomy and needed a wise woman’s advice.”
Half an hour ago?
Had something Mrs Maloney said made her leave?
“Miss Lawton agreed to steal a glass of your best port, Aaron, and bring it upstairs for Mrs Maloney,” Aramis continued. “When the lady failed to return, Mrs Maloney believed Christian had lured her back to bed.”
“Then she can’t have gone far.” With renewed faith, Christian grabbed his coat. “It’s almost impossible to get a hackney cab at this time of night.”
“Christian!” Aaron’s voice held a sharp warning. “Lawton is out to kill you. You can’t trawl the streets alone. And there’s every chance she left of her own volition.”
No! He didn’t believe that.
He couldn’t believe that.
“If she has left, it’s because she’s trying to protect Christian.” Aramis sounded confident in his assertion. “I saw how she looked at him. I saw them together. Not that I’m any judge on how a woman looks when she’s in love.” Aramis shook his head as if ridding himself of a painful memory. “I’ll go with Christian. As he said, Miss Lawton can’t have gone far.”
Determined to prove they couldn’t trust Miss Lawton, Aaron was quick to reveal a vital clue. “Might she have arranged to meet someone? A woman came knocking, asking to speak to Miss Lawton but Sigmund turned her away.”
Christian raised his hands in exasperation. “Why the hell didn’t you say so before?” It could be Nancy Jones. But Isabella wasn’t foolish enough to leave the house. Not after the conte’s threat. Not unless she planned to leave town.
Mounting the stairs two at a time, Theo joined the fracas. “Aaron, there’s someone demanding to speak to you. By all accounts, it’s urgent.” Judging by the tense lines on Theo’s brow, it was someone unsavoury. Else why would he be so vague? “I made them wait in your study.”
“You did what?” Aaron dragged his hand through his raven hair. “For the love of God. If it’s Barker complaining that his cousin cheated, have Sigmund throw him out.”
“It might be Nancy Jones,” Christian offered.
“Who?”
“It’s Miss Scrumptious,” Theo declared.
Aaron seemed momentarily ruffled. “What the bloody hell does she want? If she’s come to complain about the noise, send her away.”
“She believes she witnessed a crime. That’s all she would say on the matter. As I said, she’s waiting for you in your study.”
Aaron hissed a breath. “You left her in my private office?”
But Christian didn’t wait for Theo’s reply. Miss Scrumptious had something to confess, and it might be relevant to Isabella’s sudden disappearance.
Upon inspection, the lady had most certainly left The Burnished Jade in a hurry. Her golden hair was fashioned into a braid that hung over one shoulder. The hem of her white nightdress was visible beneath her pale blue pelisse, and she wore dainty satin slippers.
“Miss Lovelace,” he said, remembering not to use her moniker.
