Page 35 of Silence of Deceit
A swoop of guilt dragged her low at the pinched look upon Hugh’s face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to look into your mind.” He probably feltviolated—that was how her mother had described it when Audrey had been foolish enough to admit to her what she could do.
Her pulse pumped heat up her neck to her face, and back down, under the collar of her traveling cloak and dress. The legs of her chair scraped across the unvarnished wood floor as she pushed back from the table. Hugh stood roughly, but she found it difficult to meet his eyes.
“I should go up,” she said.
“You haven’t finished eating.”
“I’ve lost my appetite.” In truth, she had. She felt flustered by the back-and-forth with Hugh and the vision of Sir, and worse, the hedonistic pang of satisfaction knowing that the Bow Street officer would be sleeping under the same roof as her that night. She shouldn’t have felt anything at all.
“I’ll see you to your room,” he said, stepping away from the table.
The bar stools where Greer and Carrigan had been sitting were now empty. Presumably, her maid had rushed through her meal in order to get up to the room and prepare the room. A proper duchess would not have felt a twinge of guilt over such a thing. Then again, a proper duchess would not be about to spend the night at a posting inn on her way to an asylum to investigate a pair of murders.
“That isn’t necessary,” Audrey said.
Hugh stepped into her path and as good as turned to stone. “If you think I am going to allow a lady to walk alone to the upstairs landing of a public inn, you’ve badly misjudged my character.”
That same hedonistic pang of satisfaction trembled, teasing her with the truth: that his chivalrous gesture pleased her. It was wholly unlike her, to long for such coddling. If Philip had attempted it, she would have scoffed.
She feigned a look of annoyance and continued toward the back of the tavern, to the steep steps leading to the inn’s rooms. A few candles guttered in wall sconces, casting long shadows, and obscuring what Audrey presumed to be the less than pristine conditions of the floor and walls.
Hugh climbed the steps behind her, the silence between them thickening as they reached the landing. Audrey took an immediate right, which brought her to an alcove and a door—however, not to room three.
“This way,” Hugh said. She turned and saw him holding out an arm, gesturing toward another corridor, to the left. Audrey followed, though they had to retrace their steps and shunt down another section of rambling hallway before finally coming to the correct door.
Reluctantly, she turned to face him and bid him a good evening.
“If you should need anything during the night, I am in room five,” he said.
A delicious picture surfaced in her mind: Hugh in his room, in his bed, and in a state of dishabille. Her throat constricted and with a shake of her head, she scattered the imagining. “I am sure that won’t be necessary.”
They stood within the alcove to room three another moment, the muted din of the tavern below sounding miles away.
“Please reconsider,” he said, and for the quickest moment, she startled, thinking he was referring to her need to find him during the night. But of course, that wasn’t it. “There is no need for you to continue on to Shadewell.”
With a renewed thread of anger, she shook her head. “I am a part of this, Hugh, even if you wish to push me out. I owe it to Delia, to Mary—”
“To put yourself at risk?”
“To find out why they were killed,” she continued. “And to stop the person who did it.”
He stepped closer. “No, that ismyjob. I am trained to deal with murderers and criminals, while you—”
“Are a duchess and incapable of anything worthwhile, is that it?”
“Do not put words into my mouth,” he snapped, coming closer still. Audrey stood in place, refusing to budge or cower. But he was too close. She stabbed a finger into his chest, between the open panels of his coat, to shove him away.
“Youcame to me.Youwanted my help! Why can’t you admit that?” With every statement, she poked his chest, until he caught her hand. His fingers clamped around her wrist, but he didn’t fling her arm aside. He tugged, and Audrey stumbled forward. His body caught hers like a wall, pinning her arm between them. His scent, warmed amber and male musk, enveloped her.
“You drive me mad,” he said.
Heated thrill prickled her skin as Hugh held her stare, his hand a manacle around her wrist. Audrey’s breathing shortened at the hard press of his body. He was all muscle and warm skin. She knew she should reprimand him, shove at him, demand he release her. Instead, a shiver raced through her as he haltingly lowered his mouth to hers.
Their lips danced together, then apart, barely touching. His other hand settled onto her waist, and points of fire erupted where he touched. Every buried desire burst forth to consume her. Audrey parted her lips on a sigh, and Hugh shattered the tenuous barrier between them. His mouth came down firmly upon hers, his lips nudging her own. They sipped at her mouth with the gentle tease of his tongue. She gasped at the sensation of it. She’d never felt anything so divine, so sparkling, as if her very blood had become effervescent.
A sound behind the door shocked her out of her stupor.
“Your Grace?” came Greer’s voice from behind the closed wood door. “Is that you, Your Grace?”
