“Advances?”
Finley sighed, part of her wanting to reach out and slap the man for being so dense. “He tried to force himself upon me. Apparently he made quite a habit of it amongst the younger servant girls.”
Constable Jones frowned. “Why did you not report this injury, Miss Jayne?”
She snorted, drawing a censorious look from Lady Marsden. “Begging your pardon, Constable Jones, but you and I both know that the police would have done nothing against a peer of the realm and I would have been turned out without so much as a reference.”
“I doubt very much running away will serve you well, either, miss.”
Finley smiled at him. “It got me here, didn’t it?” Dear God, what was she saying? She felt perfectly normal and yet her other self was awake—and talking.
The constable looked so surprised by her statement that he was momentarily speechless. This was when Griffin finally joined the conversation. And it was about bloody time. “Really, Constable. I respect that you have a job to do, but surely you can see that Miss Jayne has no knowledge of your reason for calling upon her today. A girl her size would be no match for Lord Felix, I’m sure you would agree.”
The officer seemed to mull this as he watched Finley. Finley looked away from him for a moment to stare at Griffin, who now had a strange glint in his eye. She wondered just how far he would go to protect her—and why he would bother. Then she returned her gaze to Jones. “What is your reason for calling upon me, sir?”
Constable Jones sighed. “It will be in all the papers by tomorrow. Lord Felix August-Raynes was found dead this morning. He was murdered.”
Griffin watched as the color drained completely from Finley’s face. For a moment he’d feared that her “other” self might make an appearance given the earlier change in her demeanor, but now she just looked shocked.
“How?” she asked.
Constable Jones didn’t look surprised that she asked, which meant that he didn’t really consider her a suspect—at least he didn’t anymore. There was no faking such terrible surprise as Finley’s. “He was strangled,” the Peeler replied.
Finley pressed a hand to her mouth. It was a good thing she was a girl, and that Jones knew nothing about her past, otherwise he might not be so quick to scratch her—and her bruised knuckles—off his list of possible culprits.
Griffin didn’t know whether to scratch her off his list, either. Oh, he believed her shock, but that didn’t mean she was completely innocent. She might have been so completely taken over by her darker nature that she didn’t remember. She had been out late last night and he had no idea where she’d been or what she’d been doing. He didn’t want to believe her capable of such violence, but the simple truth was that she was not a normal girl and she was very capable of killing a full-grown man should she put her mind to it.
Regardless, he had made up his mind to help her as best he could, and that meant protecting her as he would any of his friends. If she had harmed Lord Felix, it wasn’t her fault.
It was his father’s, and—by primogeniture—his, as well. The reminder drove him to action. He rose to his feet, officially put an end to the interview. “Constable, if you’re done I think Miss Jayne needs time to recover from this terrible news.”
The officer gave Griffin a bland glance, obviously accustomed to being brushed aside by rich and powerful men who rose and dismissed him before he was ready. “Of course, Your Grace.” He tucked his notebook inside his coat and stood.
“Thank you for your time, Your Grace, Lady Marsden, Miss Jayne.” Jones bowed. “I’ll show myself out.”
Griffin remained by the desk for a few minutes, watching Finley, waiting until he knew the three of them were truly alone before crossing the plush rugs to close the study door.
The police had only been in his home twice, once after the death of his parents and now. He didn’t like his home or his people being looked at by Scotland Yard. Not even Sam’s attack had brought the law into this house. Part of him was a little angry at Finley for calling attention to him. People would talk about this. Society would be abuzz, wondering what the Peelers were doing at the Duke of Greythorne’s.
He turned and looked at the girl sitting in front of him. This wasn’t about him. He was a bloody duke and could tell the world to go to the devil if he wanted. In fact, he was above the law in most circles. He had nothing to fear except a few whispers, which would blow over when another scandal erupted.
“Finley,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Isn’t there another question you should ask her?” Aunt Cordelia prompted from the sofa where she’d been sitting quietly up until now. “Such as whether or not she killed that boy?”
Finley’s head lifted. Wide eyes turned to his. “I don’t know what I did last night. I don’t remember anything.”
She shook her head, little tendrils of hair brushing her cheeks. Had she always had that bit of black in her hair? “Nothing.”
“Wonderful,” Cordelia muttered.
Griff shot his aunt a sharp look. “She didn’t do it.” He believed it. He had to.
Cordelia returned the expression, mouth tight. “She’s capable of it. You thought so yourself.”
Finley flinched and Griff swore under his breath. “She is physically strong enough to do it. That’s a far cry from having the moral flexibility to snuff out a life. And stay the hell out of my head.”
His aunt rose from the sofa. “Enough of this debate. If you won’t take control of this situation, I will.”
Griff wasn’t sure what she meant until he heard Finley make a low noise. His head whipped around. She was sitting in the chair in front of his desk, her head in her hands, an expression of pain on her face.
“Stop it,” she pleaded. “Please stop.”
His attention jerked to his aunt, who was staring at Finley with such intensity she looked positively frightening. A trickle of blood slowly slipped from her right nostril.
“Cordelia.”
Finley moaned. Her eyes were squeezed shut now as she leaned forward. She was on the edge of the chair, looking as though she might slump to the floor at any moment.
“Delia!” He grabbed his aunt’s arm, but she didn’t seem to notice. She kept her gaze fastened on Finley. Blood trickled from her nose, and slowly ran down her chin to drip on the front of her gown. She was too deep into Finley’s head—determined to get past the girl’s barriers even at the cost of her own well-being.
Any force against Cordelia might do real damage to his aunt’s mind. The connection had to be broken at the focal point, which was Finley, who was on the floor now, kneeling in a silent scream.
Griff swore again. He knelt beside Finley and put his hand around the back of her neck. She didn’t even seem to notice his touch, she simply continued to suffer, in so much distress not even her other nature could overcome this attack. All of her energy was directed at keeping Cordelia out as instinct demanded, when it could all be over so quickly if she just let his aunt in.
“Finley?” he said softly. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
He took a deep breath and focused inward. Summoning up his determination, Griffin concentrated very carefully. He had never done this before, but it was the only solution he could think of with both of them so far beyond his reach in this realm.
It was like opening a window and letting the wind in. The Aether welcomed him with the spiritual equivalent of open arms. Power rushed to meet him, so potent he could taste it. He resisted the urge to let it fill him completely, closing his eyes and allowing himself to see Finley with his inner sight. On the Aetheric plane she was awash in pain, but the strength of her soul was undeniable. Her power glowed around her in a dual aura—one for each separate side of her personality. Those auras would have to merge into one for her to ever have any peace. At this moment the darker aura was the more powerful, pulsating under the strength of Cordelia’s psychic attack. His aunt was a powerful telepath—and determined. She would not give up until Finley let her in—a moment that very well might come too late for either of them. She wouldn’t give up because she thought Finley was a threat to him, and despite being cocky about her abilities, Aunt Cordelia would give her life to protect him. As much as he loved her for it, it was bloody inconvenient at the moment.
