Page 34 of An Inconvenient Duke

“You damn fool,” she whispered as the answer pulsed icily through her. Claudia’s earlier pleas regarding her brother now made terrible sense…why he seemed so lost, why he lacked purpose. He hadn’t accepted the title for his own gains, had never wanted it or the obligations that came with it, had hated every moment of it—“You did it for Claudia and Pippa.”

“To give them the protection and wealth of a dukedom? Of course I did.” He sat forward himself, placing his glass onto the desktop. “What wouldn’t you do, Danielle, to protect the ones you love?”

He meant Elise, and a burning formed behind her eyes. Apparently, she hadn’t done enough. “I would do all that I could,” she breathed, the sound little more than the brush of a feather. “Allthat I could.”

He rose from his chair and circled the desk to stand in front of her, to be closer and catch every whispered word from her lips. “Me, too.” He leaned back against the desk in a casual pose, but she knew every muscle in his body was tensed and alert. “What else do you know about the days leading up to Elise’s death? What else are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing.” She leaned back in the chair and out of his reach. “I’ve told you all I know about your sister.”

“And the men and women who might have been working with her? You’ve said almost nothing about them.”

“Because I don’t know.”

“I’ve got men tracking down John Porter.” He pulled at his cravat as if it choked him. Although it might very well have been the turn of conversation that pained him. It was certainly distressing her. “But there were women involved, I’m sure of it. If Elise had created her own network, one modeled after Nightingale, then she would have made use of her friends for some of the same tasks that you do. Perhaps even the very same women.”

“I will never give up their names,” she resolved firmly. She would go to her grave before she shared their identities. “If you value your sister’s memory, do not ask me again.”

“All right then.” He pushed himself away from the desk and stopped directly in front of her. “It’s back to the kisses.”

Not this again! “I willnot—”

“Did you enjoy them?” He placed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned in over her, bringing his gaze level with hers.

She kept her lips closed. Any answer to that would only provoke the rascal to keep discussing it. Or worse, attempt to kiss her again right here.

“Surely you did,” he answered for her, a knowing smile pulling faintly at the corners of his mouth. Then he leaned in to brush his lips against her temple.

Dani closed her eyes against the sweet torture. Even now, she trembled at his nearness, unable to hide the effect he had on her.

“I certainly did,” he murmured.

“Stop staying things like that.” But her order emerged as an unconvincing, throaty rasp.

“Then tell me your last secrets, Danielle.” His warm lips caressed down the side of her face to her jaw. “Share the names of the women with me.”

“I won’t tell you that.”

He placed his mouth against her neck, to lightly nibble at the tender flesh just below her ear and send a shivering heat sparking out to the tips of her fingers and toes. She put her hand against his chest, but she couldn’t find the willpower to push him away.

“John Porter?” he pressed in a low murmur.

“I know nothing about him.” She knew what he was doing, teasing her with kisses that weren’t true kisses, hoping she would crave the inevitable reward of his mouth on hers that he would give if only she named the women. But she wouldn’t, no matter how much her traitorous body longed to be back in his arms, and she stifled a whimper. “Neither do any of the women in Nightingale.”

“And Scepter?”

Her heart stopped. In that moment’s brutal stillness, she felt her blood turn cold.

“Porter cautioned Elise about it in his note,” he murmured against her ear, not realizing that every word stirred icy fear inside her.

She swallowed. Hard. “John Porter gave good advice. You should heed it, too.”

He shifted away from her, just far enough to look down into her face. “What is Scepter? Is it a person or a club—a network like Nightingale?”

“I don’t know exactly. An organization of men from London’s underworld with ties to all kinds of crimes. Smuggling, fencing stolen goods, running brothels, extortion—” She shook her head. The rumors of what Scepter had been doing, the ruthlessness of the men behind it—God help her,whywas he asking about them? “No one knows how large it is, how far-reaching.”

“How do I find them?”

His appearance hadn’t changed; his expression was still sober and hard. But she felt the change in him, a yearning so subtle that she nearly missed it—Revenge.