Page 15 of Summoner of Sins

Max looked over at Ironheart as well, a brow notching. He liked this woman even more for being immune to Ironheart’s charms. Most women stopped paying attention to his character when they saw his face. And secondly, she had both intelligence and spunk. He drew in a breath, saying the next words slowly. “I will keep…” he paused, “a-an eye o-out.”

His arms crossed, his fists clenching as he straightened up. It was a reflex, to grow more physically intimidating when he revealed his vulnerability.

She didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you. I know she’ll be in attendance tonight and I’d hope to learn more, but I’m worried they won’t allow her a moment alone with me.”

“Tonight?” he asked, hope rising in his chest.

“That’s right. She told me at Lady Elsa’s luncheon that this was on the list of events she’d attend.” Lady Tabetha scanned the room, craning her neck.

“You’re far too short to see anything,” Ironheart grumbled, as though it was a pox upon her to be the height of an average woman.

“And you’re likely not smart enough to know when you’re seeing something important,” she fired back.

Ironheart cringed, his lips thinning.

Tabetha paused, cocking her head to the side. Then, she let out a small sigh. “I’ve changed my mind, my lord. Let’s dance. Perhaps if we turn about the room, we can find them.”

Silently, Ironheart offered his elbow and the two set off onto the dance floor.

Max used the opportunity to circle the room, watching for Sophie as he stayed on the fringe of the activity. In the candlelight, it was easier to go unnoticed, even with his height, and after nearly a quarter of an hour, he stopped when he recognized Sophie’s uncle.

Was Plimpton impersonating a lord? Now that was something that Max could take to the authorities. He crouched down, staying against the wall as he moved closer. He saw Sophie next, standing between two men, neither looking as though they belonged in a ballroom.

She held her hands demurely folded together, her chin level as she stood silently.

Lord Whitehouse stood next to the man to her left. He neither looked at Sophie nor spoke as he stood one person away from her. What he did do was greet a series of men, shaking hands and talking with them as though they were friends. None of them spoke to Sophie. It was strange.

As if she sensed him, Sophie looked over her shoulder, her gaze connecting with his. Her eyes widened and then she snapped her face forward again. She must have alerted the man to her right because he grabbed her elbow and spoke in her ear.

She cringed, her chin dipping, but she nodded as though agreeing. Whitehouse flicked a finger in her direction and the man who had his hand on her arm pulled her away.

Max followed. Naturally.

Ought he have stayed and continued to watch Whitehouse? Probably. Ironheart, annoying as he was, had been right. The original intent of dancing with Sophie had been to send a message to Whitehouse that Max was watching, paying attention, and stepping out into the open. He’d gone to spy on Whitehouse’s home to learn more about the man. He’d followed Sophie to Lady Tabetha’s because he’d been curious. He hadn’t expected her to be there, and he’d wondered how she fit into the puzzle of this investigation.

But he also personally craved information about her.

The man turned down a quiet hall and stopped. “The repose is just that way. Five minutes. No more.”

She nodded again, starting down the hall and disappearing into a door on the right.

For a split second, he debated and then he moved forward, going straight for the man.

“Who are you then?” the guy grumbled, his chest puffing out.

Max, not favoring conversation, answered with a stiff fist to the jaw. He had hands like anvils and the man dropped like a stone.

Max opened the door just to his left and then stuffed the man inside, closing it again.

Pulling at his collar, he walked down the hall, waiting on the other just outside the door of the repose.

Several women came out, eyeing him with skepticism. They then disappeared with quick steps.

Finally, Sophie came out.

She gasped. “What are you doing here, Lord Maxwell?”

Both his brows rose. He had every right to be here.

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