Page 72 of A Devil in Silk
Rothley stirred beside him. “Friend? The woman is out to steal my sanity.”
When Miss Woolf spoke, the world sat up and listened. With quiet confidence, she selected each word carefully as if chosen from a well-worn drawer of memories.
“I dreamt I told the truth,
But no one believed me.
I wore red and they called it mourning.
I laughed and they asked who had died.”
The haunting cadence held everyone spellbound.
Rothley leaned forward, fixated on the woman in green.
“So I learned to be silent,
To carry secrets in my glove,
And speak in riddles,
So no one could say I lied.”
When she finished, there was a beat of silence before the room erupted into applause. Beside him, Bentley heard Rothley exhale.
“Shewrote that, not a fictitious friend.” Rothley stared like the lady was an inconvenient obsession. “Perhaps she knows lies are the bane of my existence.”
Eager to prod the viper, Bentley said, “Perhaps a lover wrote it. With her mind and beauty, I imagine every literary man in London wants her for his muse.”
A muscle in Rothley’s cheek twitched. “You should speak to the countess. Warn her of the dangers of her proteges consorting with such men.”
“Why me? I have my own troubles.” Bentley glanced at Clara, seated beside the Countess of Berridge on the front row, acutely aware he was enjoying every moment of his unfortunate predicament. “Perhaps Miss Woolf is in love and is willing to overlook the danger.”
Bentley chuckled inwardly.
Few men were more dangerous than Rothley.
“Intelligent women don’t fall in love,” Rothley countered.
“Maybe she’s searching for a protector.”
“Hmm. I find that easier to believe.” Rothley paused before adding coolly, “Speaking of protection, I wrote to Dalton. He’ll want to know his sister is named in an article about a murdered medium.”
Bentley’s jaw tightened. “Of course. I’m sure he’ll rush back to town to take command.”
“As any decent brother would.”
Bentley looked away before his thoughts betrayed him. The burn in his chest had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with Clara Dalton, and the unshakeable truth he could never give her up.
Everything we touch is doomed to fail.
His mother’s words echoed in his mind. Yet the real battle wasn’t with fate, but with his parent and his closest friend. Mere skirmishes compared to the challenge of convincing Clara their relationship had a future.
“Well? Do I need to inspect your duelling pistols?” Rothley said with dry amusement. “Shall I scout a convenient location or start accepting invitations, should I find myself short of friends?”
Bentley heard the not-so-subtle warning. “I’d suggest having your tailor fit you for a new black coat, but you’ve worn mourning like a uniform for the last decade.”
Rothley didn’t curse or scoff at the veiled confession. “Lust has stolen your brain and left a turnip in its place. And you ask why I avoid romantic entanglements. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
