Page 59 of Her Beast

Malcolm could see she was struggling to adjust to the thought of her father engaging in criminal activities and was glad he’d not told her the truth: that her father had betrayed Greene’s trust and carved up his empirewithGreene’s successor.

Or maybe it was just hard for her to imagine her father—a man who’d become one of England’s leading industrialists—working for anyone.

Either way, he was tired of talking about Tommy.

“It’s my turn to ask some questions.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “The way you talked my first morning led me to believe you knew a great many things about me already.”

Malcolm knew they were both thinking about the comment which had triggered the knife throwing.

“I actually know very little,” he lied, for the second time in as many minutes.

She chewed her plush lower lip, her expression thoughtful. Malcolm suspected she was weighing answering his questions against her recent boredom and wasn’t surprised when she capitulated to his request.

“Very well, what do you wish to know?”

The wicked things.

Instead, he said, “Tell me about life at your father’s house in—where was it, again?” Not that he didn’t knowexactly.

“You want to know about life in Dorset?”

“Isn’t that where you’ve lived since leaving school?”

“We spent a good deal of time there as we’ve been in mourning for almost two solid years.” Her face briefly flexed into a frown.

“You don’t like the country?”

“Ilovethe country,” she said, “Why do you ask?”

“Because of the way you said it.”

“Oh. That’s because I would much rather be at my father’s other house, Brookfield, but…” She shrugged her shoulders.

Malcolm’s antennae twitched at her answer. “Why is that?”

Her mouth twisted strangely. “I just like it better.”

She was a terrible liar, but he decided not to probe.

“I enjoyed being in Dorset when it was hunting season. It was smashing,” she added, her smile blinding.

“You like to hunt?”

“I love it.”

“You feel you are ridding the country of vermin?”

She looked momentarily perplexed. “Oh, the foxes. Well, actually they are quite adorable—although they do lay waste to game birds—but I like the opportunity to run neck-or-nothing.Thatis what I crave about hunting.”

“And you can’t do that just anytime?”

“Not in our household.” She saw his questioning look and explained. “My stepmotherdespisesall things having to do with horses. Well, other than the ones pulling her carriage. She doesn’t think it a fitting activity for a female. If not for the fact thatallthe best people hunt—and Basingstoke is especially mad for it—she would have forbidden me to ride at all.”

“And your father? Does he feel the same way?”

“Papa hates hunting, too. Not because he thinks it is savage but”—she smothered a laugh and gave him a shy look.

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