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Standing near the door’s corner, against the wall, he nevertheless seemed to fill the room, his shoulders wide and solid against feminine wallpaper. Though he remained near the darker side of the room, his skin picked up a hint of the golden glow of sunlight. Thick hair, the color of her old ginger cat, streaked with all shades of bronze and honey caught by the light, had been combed back neatly and rose above his high forehead. Yet, its very color and the hint of untamed waves near his ears and throat suggested something less staid and proper lurking beneath.
The sensual little curl at one side of his mouth contributed to that lack of propriety…along with the fact that his neckcloth hung loosely knotted from the opening of his shirt. The shallow V of golden skin and the hollow of his throat she found fascinating, and more than a bit disturbing as her imagination ran to places it had never been.
“Angelica.”
Her gaze flew to his and the expression she saw there made her insides plunge. Oh.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to close the door again,” he said in a voice that tempted her to ask him to do so.
Heat rushed to her cheeks and Angelica caught her breath, aware of a sudden, very pleasant tightening in her insides. What if he did? What if he came to sit on the edge of the bed—no. That was outside of proper. She swallowed.
As if to put a distance between himself and that enticement, Voss stepped away from the opening and sat on an upholstered stool in front of a small dressing table. His long legs were bent up a bit and, sitting amid lace and glass, he appeared more out of his element than she’d ever seen him.… Yet, with him there was no real awkwardness. He wore no coat, but the crisp white sleeves of his shirt and the intricate pattern on his waistcoat detracted from the pink and yellow florals surrounding him.
Angelica decided she should be relieved that he’d taken a seat so far from her. “Where are we? And who is Rubey? Is she your…sister?”
Her cheeks warmed when he gave a short little laugh. “No, indeed, Rubey is not my sister.”
Angelica drew herself up a bit and pulled the coverlet higher. “I suspected not,” she added in what she thought of as her Maia-voice. “I was simply giving you the benefit of the doubt. She is a proprietress of some sort, I suppose. Is this her home?”
A suspicion had begun to form during Voss’s exchange with Rubey, wherein Angelica realized she was missing some of the underlying meaning of their words. She didn’t know much about the demimonde or the sorts of women who would become a man’s mistress, but the way Rubey had looked at Voss and the ease of manner between them—along with the very low line of her bodice—made her wonder. She’d spoken of services and of settling accounts.… Angelica became more suspicious.
“Rubey owns the place,” Voss told her. “One of several, in fact. She’s agreed to let you stay here until I can make other arrangements.”
“Is she your mistress?” Angelica asked. “Or is this a brothel?”
The slight widening of his eyes was the only indication of his surprise. “I didn’t believe young, well-bred women knew of such things.”
“Am I to presume that is a confirmation?” she asked, trying to decide why she felt so uncomfortable. Right in the pit of her belly.
“You needn’t presume anything of the sort,” Voss said. “Rubey is merely a woman with many skills and assets—not unlike yourself, Miss Woodmore.”
She couldn’t help but wonder just exactly what sort of skills and assets Rubey had.
And then she realized that, a moment earlier, he’d called her Angelica. Now it was back to Miss Woodmore.
Angelica frowned and all of her warm thoughts dissipated.
But Voss didn’t seem to notice, for he continued. “In fact, I was hoping you might use one of your talents to assist me.”
Her attention flew to him, but his expression was neutral. Perhaps even…apprehensive. For the first time, she noticed that despite his easy manner, his eyes held weariness. “What exactly do you mean?” Angelica asked, resisting the urge to ask if he hadn’t slept well.
Voss shifted in his seat, his long legs ruffling the lacy table cloth, causing the glass bottles to clink gently. “You foretold the death of my associate Lord Brickbank. And I understand that you have been able, in the past, to predict or foresee the death of others.”
When she would have spoken, something like dismay and perhaps anger bubbling up inside her, he continued. His voice lowered and became…tentative. “I confess, it was more than a bit of a shock to me—that which happened with Brickbank. You’d warned us, you’d foretold it…and yet we couldn’t prevent it.”
His face seemed to sag in the uneven light. Emotion clouded his eyes, and the bit of annoyance she had with him ebbed. “Perhaps not,” she said, but gently. “If you had stayed away from the bridges—”
He looked sharply at her. “But you clearly said which bridge. We went nowhere near it, and he still died in the manner you’d foretold.”
Angelica eased back against her pillows, closing her eyes briefly. Yes, that very same realization had settled uncomfortably in her thoughts, as well. It made her fingers grow stiff and icy, despite the mild summer day, and her insides tighten.
There was no escaping fate.
And she was fated to bear its knowledge.
“How do you manage it, Angelica?” he asked suddenly, as if it burst from him. Earnestness and something much deeper blossomed in his gaze. “Seeing death at every turn?”
She sensed that he needed the answer; that it was a need for him as much as an understanding about her. “It’s become part of my life,” she said. “Since I was very young, I would touch something and sometimes the flash of a vision would rush through my mind. I didn’t understand what it was at first.”
“The first time you realized it was something more, you must have been quite distraught.” His voice had gentled.
“I was perhaps five or six. One of the footmen had dropped a glove and I picked it up. The vision was very strong and it startled me. I had an image of him lying on the floor of the stable. He looked odd, but I couldn’t have known it was because his neck and legs were broken. I returned the glove to him and two days later, he fell from the loft of the barn.”
Voss’s eyes glinted golden-green. “Were you the one to find him?”
Angelica shook her head. “No, I was spared that, at least. But I’d told Maia about the vision, and she had managed a peek into the stable when all of the activity was happening. She wouldn’t let me look, but she did.” Her lips moved in the hint of a smile. “Chas was at Eton or he would surely have taken charge himself.”
