Page 42 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
“Not at all!” he said a little too eagerly. “You’re welcome to come any time, Lady Claire.”
Claire turned her dazzling smile on him. “I do love to come,” she said, her tone airily innocent. “Unexpectedly . . . or otherwise.”
Cosmos flushed to the roots of his hair but grinned all the same.
Heavens!It was one thing for Claire to flirt outrageously with him. It was quite another for my normally staid, scholarly brother to actually enjoy it.
Surprisingly, Grandmother said nothing. More than likely, she’d chalked up Claire’s outrageousness to her usual nonsense.
Without waiting to be invited, Claire seated herself, brushing a speck of imagined lint from her skirts. “You’re all looking wonderfully domestic,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Truly, it’s like a portrait of English virtue.”
“We were just enjoying fairy cakes,” Petunia offered brightly, seizing the opportunity to sneak another one while no one was watching.
“Ah,” Claire said. “The true highlight of any afternoon.”
Chrissie grinned from behind her magazine. “Some of us enjoy the company just as much.”
“Indeed,” Claire said. After accepting a cup of tea from me, she turned her full attention to Cosmos. “How is your work at the Royal Botanic Society coming along, Lord Rosehaven?” she asked sweetly.
She didn’t give a fig about botany. But it was becoming more and more apparent, she was interested in Cosmos. I couldn’t begin to divine her reason.
Cosmos straightened at once. “Quite well, actually. We’ve received a new collection of alpine specimens from the Tyrol region. Rare varieties ofRanunculus glacialis—very delicate.”
Claire blinked, then leaned forward, eyes wide. “How fascinating. I’d love to see them,” Claire continued. “The specimens, I mean. You must show me sometime.”
“Yes, of course. If you’d like to visit the conservatory?—”
“I would. Very much.” Her smile was feline. “Though I warn you, I haven’t the faintest knowledge of flowers. You’d have to teach meeverything.”
“I—well—yes. Certainly.” He reached for a scone and very nearly knocked over the cream dish.
Claire reached for a cube of sugar, but it slipped through her fingers and landed squarely on her lap. With an easy laugh, she plucked it up—not with the tongs, but with her bare hand—and popped it into her mouth. Then, as if by afterthought, she lifted one finger to her lips and slowly ran her tongue along it, her eyes never leaving Cosmos’s face.
He was absolutely mesmerized.
“Oh dear, what an awfulfaux pas,” she said with a sweet little sigh. “I do hope you don’t think less of me, my lord.”
“Not at all,” he managed, once he’d put his eyes back in his head. “Perfectly understandable.”
Claire laughed, rich and unrestrained.
I made a mental note to bar her from the house. Indefinitely.
Before Claire could further press her advantage—or Cosmos said something irretrievably awkward—the unmistakable knock of the front door echoed faintly through the house.
Claire tilted her head. “More callers? Goodness, this must be the place to be today.”
Moments later, when Honeycutt’s quiet footfalls sounded outside the drawing room, my fingers tightened around my teacup.
Our butler reappeared in the doorway once more. “His Grace, the Duke of Steele.”
The room went still as the duke entered—dark, deliberate, and composed in his usual unrelenting black. The light from the windows caught the sharp line of his jaw, the streak of white in his dark hair, but it was the bruising I saw first—the raw, purpling skin across his knuckles, the subtle tightness in his posture, the way he favored his right side as he moved.
My breath caught, sharp and immediate, but I said nothing as our eyes met for the briefest moment.
Petunia had no such restraint. She immediately leapt to her feet. “Duke! Did someone hit you? Were you in a fight?”
Steele lowered himself carefully to her level, bracing one hand on his knee. His expression softened just enough to betray the pain behind it.
