Page 90 of A Devil in Silk
“She knew because I told her,” Lord Tarrington said without apology. “I wanted proof the curse was a lie. She dismissed it as nonsense, then conveyed Margaret’s wish that I move on.”
Clara noted a discrepancy in his account.
“When we spoke in Mr Daventry’s office, you refused to believe Lavinia lied. Yet you had already struck Mr Murray, and now you tell us he confessed she was a fraud.”
A faint smile touched his lips, though it never reached his eyes. “Who would believe a toad like Murray? Only when I returned from Daventry’s office and replayed all that had happened did the truth become glaringly obvious. You must think me a fool for not seeing it sooner.”
Clara’s thoughts raced ahead of the conversation. If Lord Tarrington spoke the truth, then Lavinia’s dishonesty might have reached other ears. Had Mr Scarth killed her in a fit of vengeance? Was Mr Murray driven by greed when he learned of the treasure box?
Lord Tarrington glanced at the mantel clock. “You’ll forgive me, but I have an appointment and there’s nothing more I can tell you.” He rose, replaced the brass talisman on the table, and let his fingers glide over it once, perhaps for luck, before bidding them good day.
Bentley inclined his head. “Then I hope our visit to the seminary tomorrow brings answers. Ones that will spare us the need to trouble you again.”
“You’re visiting the source of the curse?” The lord seemed shaken by the news. He reached into a vase of roses, pulled asmall sprig of rowan and handed it to Clara. “Keep it with you. Such things can linger within the old walls.”
Then he ushered them from the room.
They stepped into the hallway, both releasing a breath after the strain of the interview, and made their way to the waiting carriage. Once inside, Clara adjusted her skirts, watching Bentley settle opposite her with that unreadable look she knew too well.
“Well?” she asked. “Do you believe him?”
“He changes his story with the wind. Proving he poisoned the wine will be impossible. But I suspect Tarrington knows that.”
“Why kill Miss Picklescott?”
“Maybe she saw something she shouldn’t have that night.”
“Sadly, we’ll never know.” A pang of trepidation gripped her, though whether from Daniel’s impending arrival or the fear of becoming the killer’s next victim, she could not say. “I only wish the culprit were behind bars. Then we might rest easier in our beds.”
His lips curved faintly as he studied her, his gaze lingering on the sweep of her neck, the rise of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the very paths his hands had traced last night. “It’s not rest I crave when I’m in bed with you.”
She tried to smother a smile and failed. “You make it sound as if we’ve been lovers for years.”
“If I count the number of times I’ve made love to you in my mind, we have.” His husky voice sent heat curling through her. “You’re mine now. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”
She arched a brow in mock challenge. “Yours? That sounds dangerously like a claim, my lord.”
“Damn right it’s a claim.” His gaze roved over her face as if committing every detail to memory. “I’m not prepared to lose you.”
Her heart kicked, the thought of life without him pressing sharp and cold beneath her ribs. “You make me sound … exceptional.”
“You are exceptional. Clever and beautiful?—”
“Not reckless and maddening?” she teased.
“I prefer to dwell on the things you refuse to believe.”
“Then you’ll be thinking about me for quite a long time.”
His smile deepened. “I’ve been doing that since the day we met.”
A wave of sadness stole over her. So much time wasted. “Why didn’t you say something? I thought you saw me as Daniel’s irritating sister.”
“You are Daniel’s irritating sister. And believe me, I did try to think of you that way. Out of respect for oaths made in my name. From a fear of ruining friendships with men who are like family.”
She thought of his mother’s warning.
If you’re fond of my son, you’ll stop your brother from beating him bloody and tossing him to the crows.
