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“Be that as it may, I find it highly suspicious that you just happened to assist someone in delivering a threatening letter to me while pretending to be someone you are not.”

“Threatening?” Siobhan puzzled her brow, the epitome of confused innocence. “It wasn’t arrangements for a secret liaison?”

Shewas unswerving in her story.

Fletcherwould credit her with her consistency.

“I do not dally with married women.” His cryptic response earned him a skeptically raised arched eyebrow.

Widows, yes. However, husbands complicated matters, and he had no desire to feel a lead ball or sword pierce his flesh. Still, he didn’t owe her an explanation.

“Then what did it say?” Siobhan appeared so confused and earnest that Fletcher waffled with telling her the truth.

However, she might be—probably was—playacting.

She’dalready proven to be highly skilled in that area.

“It said, It’s not over.” He watched her closely for a reaction.

Shedidn’t disappoint.

Puckeringher forehead further, she narrowed her eyes. “What’s not over?”

“That, MissSiobhanKenney, remains to be seen.”

Paleand surrounded by the large mattress, she appeared young and vulnerable.

“By the way. How old are you?” Most women flew into a dust-up when asked their age, but Fletcher was far past niceties.

Herglower suggested he could go straight to Hades. Finally, she sighed. “Seven and twenty.”

“That old?” She glared daggers at him then, and despite the gravity of the situation, a chuckle throttled up his throat. “I meant it as a compliment. You look younger. Most women would be delighted.”

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve gleaned, I am not like most women.”

“Indeed.” This petite sprite was unlike any woman he had ever met.

Then, before the sprouts of sympathy that had dared try to influence him had a chance to take root and grow, he slammed from the chamber.

Whatwas he to do with her?

Whata bloody conundrum.