Page 75 of A Devil in Silk
He didn’t hesitate.
“Home it is,” he said, knocking twice on the carriage roof.
During the drive to Bruton Street, they discussed the investigation.
“If I’m not the scapegoat, then there’s another possibility,” she said, the familiar talk settling her nerves, just as he’d hoped. “My name is a clue, left to direct us to the villain behind the murders.”
“A clue left by whom?”
“Someone at the seance.”
“Then we should visit the Rosefield Seminary ourselves and discover why it’s relevant.” He forced himself to sound interested, though his mind was already in Bruton Street, with the chamber door locked and the world kept at bay.
Hockton was somewhat surprised to see him, probably because Bentley had been avoiding home for the last few days.
“I’m sure you remember Miss Dalton,” Bentley said, handing the butler Clara’s gloves and cloak. “She’s working with me on the case of the murdered medium.”
Ever polite, Hockton bowed as he took her apparel. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Dalton.” Then his gaze fell on the velvet eye patch, and he turned the colour of roasted beetroot. “When I saidsee you, I meant it’s good to make your acquaintance again.”
Clara rested a hand on the servant’s sleeve. “I’m partially blind, Hockton. It’s not a secret. You don’t need to walk like you’re treading on broken glass. Now, I don’t suppose there’s any of that delicious seed cake I had last time.”
“I’m afraid not, miss. Might I tempt you with Madeira cake? Cook baked one fresh this morning.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Bentley set his hat on the console table. “We’ll take two slices in the study. And open a bottle of Château Lafite from the case Lord Rothley sent.”
“Very good, my lord. I’ll have Nancy light the fire.”
“There’s no need. It’s rather warm tonight.”
Hockton moved to the study, drawing the curtains and lighting the lamps as they followed. When the butler closed the door behind him, the air shifted.
Bentley watched Clara slowly circle the room, her gaze roaming the flock wallpaper and leather-bound books as if all his secrets lived there.
Time faltered. Nothing existed but her. Every breath carried her scent. Every glance stoked the heat coiled in his veins.
He couldn’t look away.
She felt it too. Her fingertips grazed the polished edge of his desk as if tracing lines on his skin. “Do you recall the last time I stood here?”
“As easily as I can recite my own name.”
“I tried to dissuade Daniel from calling because I didn’t want to see you.” She touched the inkwell, his papers and books, hearing his silent plea to leave her mark on everything, claim every space as hers. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. Yet I fear you’re going to ask me to remove my mask tonight.”
“I don’t want any barriers between us.” And the patch hid more than her maimed eye. “You can be yourself with me.”
A light laugh escaped her. “That night, when you saw my green feathered eye patch, you said I looked like a forest sprite come to cause mischief.”
“You were. You put me under your spell and turned my life upside down.” He’d lived and breathed her every hour since.
“I could release you,” she teased. “Set you free.”
“Never.”
She moved towards him, the sway of her hips betraying her thoughts. “Never,” she echoed softly as her gaze held his and her palm came to rest against his chest. “That’s a very long time.”
Her words hung in the charged silence, tightening the air between them. Bentley dipped his head, and her mouth met his before either could draw breath. The kiss was slow, intoxicating, their sighs spilling into the space where the world ceased to exist.
