Page 62 of Project Duchess
Still, Grey doubted she had the strength—or the will—to pull a man off his horse and break his neck, even a man in his sixties. She would need her brother to help her. Despite Wolfe’s bad leg, the two of them might manage it between them.
But to assume that, Grey would have to believe he’d been entirely wrong about her character, had mistaken every word, every blush . . . every sweet, hot caress. Could he really have beenthatwrong about her?
Staring off into space, Grey examined her behavior since they’d met. Until today, she’d actively avoided being around him, especially whenever he brought up her brother or uncle. Even today, she’d probably only taken him aside so she could keep him from seeing Wolfe’s reaction to the spot where her uncle had died.
All this time he’d assumed she might have another reason for her evasions, but what if she hadn’t? She’d accused Grey of cozying up to her . . . but what if all this timeshehad been cozying up tohim, just more subtly and effectively than any woman he’d ever met? What if she’d been trying to allay his suspicions by tempting him into madness? Trying to find out what he knew, what Sheridan knew . . . if Sheridan was planning to sell the dower house?
If shehadbeen such a schemer, she was even more manipulative than his aunt and uncle, which he had trouble believing.
The more he thought about that possibility, the angrier he got. What if, in his . . . foolish infatuation for her, he’d simply played into the hands of a murderer and his accomplice?
“Grey. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Grey rose. “But I need to go. There’s something I must check on.”
As Grey headed for the door, Sheridan said, “I almost forgot—what happened with you and Joshua on the trip to the ruins? Did he react to seeing the spot where Uncle Armie died?”
“We didn’t get that far,” Grey said.
No, they hadn’t. Because Beatrice had made sure that they hadn’t.
Beatrice was eating her supper when a pounding came at the front door. What on earth? It couldn’t be Joshua. He wouldn’t knock, and anyway, by the time she’d returned from Armitage Hall, he’d already ridden off to Leicester. At least that was what their maid-of-all-work, their only servant these days, had told her before going home to her family.
Leaving Beatrice alone here. Which made her reluctant to let anyone in now that night had fallen. She told herself it was probably a servant from the hall, come to fetch her for some reason, but still . . .
“Open this door!” demanded a voice she recognized only too well.
Him.
She hesitated a moment longer. Grey sounded angry. And given how they’d parted, perhaps he had a right to be. She’d as much as admitted he had good reason for his suspicions, even though she wasn’t sure of that herself.
Still, she knew him too well to think he would just go away and leave. And when he cried, “Wolfe, damn it, I want to speak to you now!” she ignored the butterflies in her belly, strode to the door, and swung it open.
“What do you want, Your Grace?” she asked, fighting to sound unafraid. It was hard not to be afraid when he was looking so ducal in his evening attire.
He seemed startled to see her standing there in her nightdress and wrapper. Then he collected himself. His gaze took in the empty room behind her. “Where’s your brother?”
“I believe we had this discussion before,” she said tartly. “The appropriate greeting—”
Temper flared in his face. “I don’t give a damn about social rules just now. I want to speak to Wolfe!”
“He’s not here.” She started to close the door. “Go away and come back tomorrow.”
Grey stuck his foot in the door to prevent her from shutting it. “Not until I get some answers. Where is he?”
Grey wasn’t just angry—he was well and truly furious.
She shuddered. “Joshua is in Leicester. He was supposed to go this morning, but he put his business off for our outing. Why are you asking? What has happened?”
“Your brother has left you, a woman, alone at night?” He ran his gaze down her, obviously taking in the flimsiness of her attire.
“Our maid-of-all-work generally stays with me if he’s gone, but her babe is sick, so I told her to go home. It’s safe enough on the estate.” And she kept a loaded pistol on the console table near the door, though she didn’t have the best aim. “Joshua will be back tomorrow.”
He leveled a hard gaze on her. “Are you sure he’scomingback?”
What an odd question. “Of course he’s coming back. When he goes to Leicester on business, he’s rarely gone more than one night. Now please go and leave me to my supper.”
Instead, he shoved open the door and entered. “Then I will talk to you in his stead.”
