After so many years working to uncover the secrets of the elite, he’d spent more tedious evenings than he could count with members of the ton. He’d spent even more with lowlifes and the downtrodden of society as he unearthed secrets and ferreted out the truth.
But in all that time, he was rarely shocked. Not by people, at least. Their secrets might differ, their circumstances might change, but people tended to be utterly predictable.
This girl?
She was anything but.
He’d expected her to scream, to faint, to burst into hysterics. Instead, she’d been the epitome of arrogance and disdain—on the surface, at least. Beyond that, he suspected, though he could not be certain…
He thought perhaps she was enjoying herself.
Not entirely, clearly, but she wasn’t afraid, either. And that was so baffling it made him wish to know her better. To figure out what made her angry, what made her scared…
What made her passionate.
“You are not afraid?” He cursed himself for the words as soon as they were out. Of all the things they ought to discuss, and he chose this moment to cater to his curiosity.
She scoffed.
The girl scoffed. She was being held against her will by a person she did not know, and she scoffed in disdain at the implication that she might be frightened.
“It is hardly as though we are in some back alley, and you are clearly no ruffian,” she said. “Why should I be afraid?”
He pulled his head back to try and see her better, marveling a bit at her curious mix of confidence and naiveté. “Do you really believe that bad things can only happen in back alleys?” His voice lowered gruffly as the urge to protect her sweet innocence had him pulling her back against him once more. “Do you think villains cannot be found in high society? Have you not yet learned that men of means and power can make the most fearsome foe?”
She stilled in his arms and he thought perhaps he’d finally gotten through to her the serious nature of his business here. When she moved, it was not to pull away, but to turn in his arms so she was facing him. The candle hovered between them and this close—he was certain she had a full view of his face just as he could see hers.
Beautiful.
She was so much more beautiful than he’d realized. This close he could see her perfection. She was indeed like a doll—all porcelain skin and sharp angles. Her dark hair, brows, and eyes highlighted her fairness and her lips looked rosy and pink even in this light.
But that was where the doll comparison came to an end.
This girl was life.
Her eyes glinted with it, and it made her whole body vibrate. Her skin fairly crackled with her energy, her vivacity…her passion.
And she was to be wed to Everley.
A rage like he’d never known had him gripping her tightly. Too tightly. With her turned the way she was, she was now pressed against him in an embrace that was so highly inappropriate, it did not bear mentioning.
“Your future husband is just that,” he said, his gaze never wavering from her steady glare. “He is a villain of the worst order.”
It was there and gone so fast he nearly missed it. A flicker of alarm. She covered it quickly with pursed lips and a haughty sniff. “And I suppose you have some evidence to support this claim?”
Her tone was full of derision, but he knew better. He knew her better, though he could never explain how. She was digging for information.
He opened his mouth and shut it, trying to weigh his options. A big part of him wanted to spill all his secrets, to tell her of his past and his suspicions…
When he didn’t immediately respond, her lips pressed together in a look of annoyance, that might have been intimidating were she not being held his captive. As it were, it was rather…adorable.
His prisoner was put out, and that made him want to laugh all over again.
“I suppose that is why you are here,” she said, her gaze darting to the right and left pointedly. “You are trying to prove whatever claims you have against my…my fiancé.”
It was the second time she’d stumbled over the word. He wondered if she knew it.
He wondered if she hated the word as much as he did.
“You are correct,” he admitted. “I am here in the hopes of proving my suspicions.”
She tugged back, and this time he let her go. Mostly. He kept his arm around her loosely just in case she got the idea to run.
He had no time to battle this girl and whomever came running.
“I knew it,” she said, her chin tilting up so her nose was in the air. She looked like a spoiled child, and yet he knew…he knew without a doubt that she was covering up her own fears.
The proud girl would sniff and look down her nose even if a pistol were aimed at her head. He knew this like he knew his own name.
“Aren’t you curious?” he asked. “Don’t you wish to know what crimes I suspect your betrothed of committing?”
She pursed her lips as she seemed to consider that. “I suppose you wish to tell me.”
He felt his lips quirking up against his will. Stubborn little minx. She wouldn’t admit to it, but he could see the curiosity in her. “I suspect that he murdered my cousin.”
Her eyes widened at his blunt words.
“M-murder? Y-your…what?”
He leaned in closer, needing her to hear. To understand. “I don’t mean to scare you, Miss Clemmons, but—”
“Well, you’re not doing a good job then, are you?” she snapped. Her brows had drawn together and he saw her chest rise and fall as her breathing grew ragged. “You cannot just throw out words like murder. It is just not done.”
He growled as he drew her closer, setting
