“They haven’t left Bletsoe, so it’s nothing they’ve contracted from abroad and brought home with them. Lord Willoughby denied owning any artefacts that might have a spirit riding them. He cannot think of any similarities between his wife and grandmother, and the grandmother appears to have led a happy and healthy life following her own experience—despite the early death of her husband. I examined Lady Willoughby’s aura while she talked, and while it is a muted, she appears whole. But that could also be Lord Willoughby. There’s a connection between them and even though he’s psychically inert, his aura is inadvertently strengthening hers. He’s so protective of her that it’s bleeding all over her.”
“What a romantic statement.”
“You’re the one with the silver tongue.”
“True love.” Sterling bumped his shoulder against hers. “More powerful than any demon spirit.”
She bit her lip. “It is a little sweet.”
“To see a man who loves his wife so dearly?” The words were mild. But there was a hint of tension about his tone.
“Well, it’s rare,” she pointed out. “Particularly among the upper classes.”
“True. My mother despised my father and vice versa.” Sterling stared at the road as he strolled beside her. “I sometimes wonder how they ever managed to produce two children.”
This time, it was her turn to bump her shoulder against his. “The usual way I’d imagine.”
“And what do you know about the ‘usual way?’”
He wasn’t going to trap her again. Not that easily. “Well, I imagine your father visited the duchess’s chambers once or?—”
He clapped his hands over his ears. “Edwina Marie Sheffield. That was absolutely uncalled for. I do not want to even imagine such a thing. It had to be the under-butler, wearing my father’s robe.”
She burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, Sterling. But you look too much like your father.”
“Now you’re simply being unkind.”
“The duke is extremely handsome,” she pointed out, “and age has done him no unkindness.”
“Pray tell me you haven’t been staring at my father’s forearms the way you do mine.”
That was one step too far. She grimaced. And then blushed.
“Aha,” he murmured, turning to walk backward in front of her so he could see her face. “It is the forearms. I shall have to thank Bishop for all that boxing he invites me to do.”
“Oh, stop it.” She moved to playfully push him, but he captured her hand.
And then he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss against the back.
Her breath stalled. They were barely through the gate. Anyone might be able to see them.
“I’m learning your weaknesses, Edie.” His voice was soft and rough and utterly dangerous. “Do you want to know mine?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Yes.
But her mouth said, “A lady’s undergarments, judging by the amount of garters and stockings you receive in the mail.”
He cocked his head and let her go with a smile. “Only one pair of stockings, if truth be told. White silk. Red ribbons.”
She pushed past him in exasperation. He could never be serious. “Grey serge?”
“Only if I can burn it.”
Edwina plucked at her skirts. “Well, we can’t all afford pretty cottons and silk.”
“If you could afford it, would you wear it?”
Edwina’s steps slowed as he caught up to her. She didn’t know why this line of questioning was getting to her. “Sterling, this is ridiculous. We have a case to solve, and here you are, questioning me about something that’s never going to happen. We need to focus on?—”
