“I don’t think she should be. Sir.”
“We should honor her request, given the circumstances.”
Ian’s voice carried enough edge to make Turner pale.
“Someone must deal with the guests, who will arrive any minute,” he added. “I must entrust you to manage things while I attend to something that could help with Jared’s care.”
When the housekeeper was safely out of earshot, Ian cautiously lifted the door to the dumbwaiter.
Diana’s exquisite face poked out of the darkness.
Her thunderous expression made it marginally less beautiful.
She opened her mouth to rail at him, but he clamped a hand over it, swiftly lifted her out of the dumbwaiter, and pulled them both into the nearby pantry.
“The entire household, minus your fiancé, is here in the kitchen,” he warned before he removed his hand.
“Then there’s no need to linger,” she retorted. “Show me the route out.”
He paused. “The doctor believes Jared consumed an illicit substance, which explains why we could not wake him.”
Diana’s face remained impassive while she waited for him to elaborate. He had a stray thought that this was how others reacted to him when he signaled nothing, gave away nothing, and he wondered if they were as infuriated by his patience as he was by hers.
There were a hundred reasons she’d keep a rein on her composure, particularly around Ian. But most women—even those who had little regard for their betrothed—would show more than a hint of emotion at learning their intended was in such ill health.
The logical explanation was that Diana knew something about what had happened to Jared.
Ian immediately detested the thought, and himself for thinking it, while also knowing he was likely right.
“Whatever Jared…took…the doctor believes he will recover from it?” Diana asked calmly.
“If it is opium, then he should wake within a day.”
“But if it is something else, he might be permanently affected. We must find out what happened.”
“That would not be wise. You are not inconspicuous.” Dressed in a dream of a wedding gown. With a fortune of emeralds—his future—woundaround her throat.
“No one here will notice my absence. You know every escape route to this house,” she countered. “And I don’t care who sees me. Once word breaks about Jared—and it will get out—no one would blame me for needing to escape for a bit of air.”
“That will be difficult to explain since everyone believes you have taken to your bed with abject fatigue from disappointment.”
A smile spread across her face, lighting it up like fireworks.
The small burst of delight it roused in him was all too brief. He’d revealed too much by admitting he’d invented a believable excuse to buy them time, and now she knew how easily she could entice him into doing what she wanted.
If they proceeded, they’d be poking around in something more dangerous than his brother’s riotous habits and gambling debts. They’d confront secrets Ian had fought to protect.
But if they didn’t resolve their investigation quickly, he’d lose his one chance to take the emeralds.
“Sunderland gave me an address,” he conceded. “I expect what I’ll find there would make you uncomfortable.” An understatement, but he was a cold man, not a cruel one.
“I’m a woman.” Diana lifted a shoulder. “My entire life revolves around navigating discomfort.”
There was no safe response to acknowledge it, and he was both envious of and irked by her clever retort. He’d forgotten how adept she was at twisting him into a corner with innocent-sounding verbal traps.
He reached for a similar weapon to disarm her. “Forgive me. I’ve been so single-minded about finding out what happened, I’ve overlooked the fact that you must be so worried about Jared.”
The sharp breath she drew made him discover new ways to detest his existence.
