Temptation & Twilight. Charlotte Featherstone

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СКАЧАТЬ he could have anything. Even Elizabeth back again.

      “Good God, Alynwick, what the devil were you thinking, coming to the Sumners’ and stirring up that scene?” Sussex continued, his considerable arrogance pricked. “It’ll be in all the gossip rags this morning, and we don’t need that kind of exposure. Damn you!”

      Sulking, Iain stared out the window, thinking of last night and the scene that had greeted him. A smiling—glowing—Elizabeth standing beside a man who was looking down upon her with far too much interest. “A provocation, I believe.” He was under control now, his brogue banished. “I was never good at resisting taunts.”

      “Taunts?” Black asked quizzically as he looked from Alynwick to Sussex. The duke shrugged.

      “I told you,” Alynwick growled with quiet menace, “to leave her out of this.”

      “We’re afraid, old boy, that neither of us understands a damned thing coming out of your mouth,” Black drawled.

      “Yes, whom are you referring to, and what was this taunt?”

      “Elizabeth!” Iain said it with such a snarl that Sussex sat back in his chair. “Damn you both, don’t you know the trouble she can get into? It could make matters worse for us. She has no place in this affair. She should be at home, beneath a wool blanket, sitting by the fire, where nothing and no one can touch her!”

      Black and Sussex stared at one another, confusion written all over their expressions, but Iain didn’t give a damn. So be it if they discovered that he was unable to think of anything other than Elizabeth this morning.

      “Dear me,” said a sweetly feminine voice from the doorway. “All this roaring and fighting has awakened the entire house.”

      Iain stiffened at the sound, but kept his gaze focused on the grey streaks of daylight breaking through the rain clouds. He was not yet ready to see her, to feel the onslaught of emotions when he looked into her lovely and haunting grey eyes.

      “Elizabeth, do come in,” Sussex ordered.

      “I’ll be on my way, then,” Iain muttered, while he rose.

      “Really, Alynwick, don’t be so childish. Do you think I am naive? I know exactly what you think of me, my infirmity and my limited skill in aiding your cause. You don’t have to go slinking off because I’ve overheard you talking about me.”

      It was like a knife to his heart. He never wanted to hurt her. Never again. “My apolo—”

      “I don’t require that, either,” she said. “Because it’s a lie. You aren’t sorry. It’s what you feel. Don’t bother to deny it.”

      “You have no idea what I fe—”

      With a slight wave of her hand, she effectively cut him dead, and he knew the expression on his face was one of shock and outrage.

      “Do carry on,” Elizabeth ordered. “I only came for a cup of tea. Mrs. Hammond claims to have brought you a tray, and I don’t want to wait for another tray to be sent up.”

      Black did the honours pouring, and Iain watched as his friend carefully passed her the cup and saucer. Her morning gown, a crème-colored silk-and-lace confection with long, fluttering sleeves, was at once prim and proper, yet so damn enticing. It made him want to slowly pull the tie of her wrapper loose to discover what wicked thing she wore beneath.

      “Now, then, keep it down, if you please, or the servants will be privy to everything. I heard two maids giggling as I approached the study. No doubt they were spying. As an aside, Lucy and I will be meeting today. It’s likely she’ll come here, so I hope the three of you will make yourselves scarce, because I plan on quizzing her about matters.”

      “What matters?” Iain demanded. He hated how Sussex allowed her take to part in any Brethren discussions. It wasn’t safe.

      “That, my lord, is none of your concern. Seek your own clues to this case, and I will seek mine. Now, then, come along, Rosie,” she said regally. And obeying her ladyship, Elizabeth’s spaniel nudged her in the right direction, away from anything that might impede her regal exit.

      “Damned female,” Iain grunted bitterly. “A curse and a pox on headstrong women who won’t be led by a man.”

      “I daresay you’ll have half the women of London sporting pox marks and curses, Alynwick.”

      Iain scowled at Black, but continued to watch as Elizabeth disappeared through the door. The thought of her being hurt while trying to aid them in the search for Orpheus sent fear through him. Iain Sinclair, Marquis of Alynwick, feared nothing—except losing Elizabeth. Even though she did not belong to him, and likely never would, Iain took comfort in the fact that he could see her, listen to her, stand back and quietly watch her, and think of the impossible—all the things he would do and say to her if she was his to possess. If he couldn’t see her, if she were taken and no longer a part of his world, he wouldn’t survive. His stolen looks and dreams of her sustained him.

      No, Elizabeth must not be allowed to be part of this mystery that surrounded them. The danger was too real, and the thought of losing her much too painful. But before he could speak his mind, and protest her involvement, Black interjected.

      “Now, then, gentlemen, if you please,” the earl murmured as he sat in the chair opposite Sussex’s desk, sipping at his tea as though he were a damned prince. “The task of the duel is done, the objective reached and our mission can commence,” he said smoothly. “I acted as second, performed a credible act, and now it is all water under the bridge.”

      “Oh, go to hell, Black,” Alynwick muttered as he sank farther into the matching chair. “You’re being a self-righteous bastard, and I’d love to shove my fist into that smug face of yers.”

      Black’s black brows rose over the rim of his teacup, and Sussex groaned, closing his eyes.

      “Be that as it may, we need to go forward from here. What is our next move? Sussex, have you learned any more about the coins, or Orpheus?”

      “As a matter of fact I have, just last night—”

      “Your pardon, Your Grace,” his butler said from the doorway.

      “What is it now?” Sussex groaned, sending the butler, Hastings, scurrying behind the wooden panel, only to peer around it.

      “You have a caller.”

      “What?”

      “A caller. A visitor,” Hastings clarified.

      “Now? At this hour?”

      “Your Grace?” the butler discreetly cleared his throat. “Shall I send her on her way?”

      Before Sussex could answer, a flurry in emerald-green velvet trimmed in black satin swam through the door, causing Sussex’s butler to grow white with horror.

      “And what is the meaning of this?”

      Iain watched as Lucy Ashton stormed into the room, cornering Sussex in his domain.

      “I do not,” she spat, “respond to this sort of blackmail. Oh, СКАЧАТЬ