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Circumstances pointed fingers at His Grace, she had to admit. The secrecy, his reluctance to speak about it, the suspicious movements in the estate, his shadowy actions. He never explained why others thought him dead or where he had been at that time. It became a heavy burden in her heart to think about this and the way she just forgot herself when he touched her.
She was incapable of even mustering shame upon her actions, so embroiled was she in the temptation of him, in the pleasure they gave each
other. In how he dominated her thoughts every minute of the day. She must avoid it to manipulate her, or she would become a pliable puppet in his seductive hands.
In London, they would confirm if the information she gathered demonstrated any veracity to their suspicions. The most obvious conclusion was to go back and find out.
Because this whole thing was becoming cloudy indeed. She needed to ascertain it, and not only due to the nature of her mission; for her own sake, too. She required answers.
Which put to her mind she must ask those questions. Ask him first. So far, they merely exchanged accusations and used withdrawing tactics. It was time to put everything in the clear.
She did not have to wait long. Next day, she read in the library, as rain visited them nonstop since early morning.
The door opened to reveal the man himself gloriously dressed in black shirt, black neckcloth and equally black trousers, irresistibly tall and masculine. Her heart somersaulted, as she should already be used to, she berated herself.
When his eyes spotted her there, they remained on her creating a frisson of unspoken sensations, mute desires, unconfessable fantasies. Weakness melted her insides and she struggled to overcome it.
“Annabel.” He rasped as if he was as entranced as she. Breaking eye contact, he walked further into the room and closed the door. “I came to consult a book on agriculture.”
Still with her voice clogged somewhere in her throat, she watched him literally prowl towards a bookshelf. Unable to remain sitting, she sprang from the armchair where she read a book on the newly published German philosopher Schelling. Unexpected that his library already displayed so new a book.
She paced around the desk and bookshelves, as he took a book and checked the index, his long forefinger travelling the page. She wanted to avoid remembering what that forefinger did to her, but the reminiscence already popped in her mind. With a blush, she lowered her face though he was not looking. Uncertainty dominated her and almost got the best of her good intentions. But she resisted firmly.
Resolutely turning to him, she straightened her back. “We need to talk.”
His head snapped up to pierce her with that penetrating gaze. “About?”
“I need to ask what is it you really do.” Her chin elevated a little more as his expression showed he did not like the intrusion.
“You know what I do.” He lifted a forbidding brow. “I manage my estates.”
“You can well surmise I am talking about the plans regarding Saint Helena.” She demanded firmly. The man could be as open as a tomb when he put his mind to it.
Everything on him shuttered to prove her point. “And you can very well remember I told you to stay out of this.”
“Are you plotting to free him?” She asked point blank.
Anger smothered his tall, rigid stance. “I will not talk about this.” Finality in his gelid tone.
“I see.” She murmured, frustrated with his unwillingness to collaborate with the dialogue. “If I cannot be sure, I have to go back to my life.”
Seemingly lazy, he ambulated to her, a vexed expression darkening his square jaw. “Go back?” He breathed silky.
“Yes.” She kept her ground, even though his proximity perturbed her inner cool. “I cannot possibly continue consorting with a suspected traitor.”
“And you came here to investigate it, I gather.” His attention rested on her so focused it coursed through her like lightning.
This was her chance to come clean. And she would if she wanted to be repaid in kind. “Yes. I work for a branch of the government.”
“Government?” His brows pleated in contrariety. “You do not care for your safety?”
“I am safe enough.” She asserted. “I acquired the appropriate training.”
“And this… branch that exploits women for their own ends sent you here.” He probed derogatorily. What was supposed to be her chance to get answers, became his interrogatory. The man proved to be a master in twisting situations to his favour.
“Women are invisible in political circumstances.” She took a deep breath, for his imperviousness was definitely unwelcome. “I joined them so that I could have a sense of purpose and not live my life around milliners and dress fittings.” She jabbed him with his own accusation in the chapel when she claimed she had serious things to do in town.
He nodded dryly.
