Page 28

It was a fair deal. More than fair, considering her position. But I needed her to believe that cooperation benefited her as much as it benefited me. The illusion of equal exchange would keep her talking far longer than threats ever could.

“Agreed.” I opened the door. “How about that stroll in the garden while we question each other?”

She looked surprised, then wary. “You're letting me outside?”

“Under supervision. Don't get any ideas about escape.” I gestured for her to follow. “Besides, you look like you could use some fresh air. That dress cannot be comfortable.”

“It's like wearing a straightjacket made of fabric and societal expectations.” But she moved toward the door, and I caught the hint of relief in her expression.

As she passed, I noticed she'd managed to tame her red hair into something resembling a proper style—though several strands had already escaped, curling against her neck. The blue of the dress sharpened the sea blue color of her eyes, an observation I noted and immediately dismissed as irrelevant.

She caught me looking and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” I stepped back, creating distance. “Just wondering how long it'll take before you tear that dress off in frustration.”

“Is that what you wonder about?” She lifted her chin, challenge in her eyes despite the flush creeping up her neck. “Seems like an odd preoccupation for a man who's supposed to be interrogating me.”

Heat crept up my neck. “That's not—I meant that you'd find it confining.” I cleared my throat, annoyed at how flustered I sounded. “That's all.”

“Of course.” But her smile suggested she didn’t believe me at all. The knowing curve of it made my chest tighten.

“After you, Miss Whitmore.”

I found myself watching the way she walked—that direct, purposeful stride that Adeline had immediately identified as wrong for this era. She didn't glide or float or any of the other ridiculous things women were trained to do. She walked like she had somewhere to be and wouldn't let anything stop her.

It should have been off-putting. A clear sign she didn't belong here.

Instead, I found it. . . compelling.

A reckless thought.

She was a source of intelligence. A puzzle to be solved. A potential threat that needed to be understood and neutralized.

Not a beautiful woman with fire in her eyes and a sharp tongue that made me want to⁠—

“Are you coming?” She'd stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back at me with a mixture of impatience and curiosity. “Or are you just going to stand there?”

“Coming.” I moved to join her, falling into step beside her as we descended. “And Miss Whitmore?”

“Yes?”

“Try not to say 'shit' in front of others. It rather ruins the respectable cousin illusion.”

Her laugh was sudden and genuine, and it did something dangerous to my chest. “I'll try to remember that. Though I make no promises.”

“Does Adeline act that way with everyone?”

“She does. You should have seen what she put me through with Constance.”

“Constance?” Lily's eyebrow arched. “The woman Mrs. Hartley mentioned?”

“Miss Constance Sterling. Daughter of one of my father's associates.” I kept my tone neutral. “Adeline had. . . opinions about the match.”

“Had? Past tense?”

“The arrangement is ending.” I'd meant to sound decisive, but it came out more complicated than that. “It was never particularly serious.”

“But serious enough that your housekeeper knows about her.” Lily's eyes were too knowing. “And serious enough that ending it matters.”