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“Fine. Then, shall we?” The earl extended his arm to her, and Noelle stepped forward, slipped her fingers through it.
It was their first real contact, and it was as sensually charged as the verbal exchanges that had preceded it. The wool of his coat rubbed against her palm—warm, abrasive, magnetic—and Noelle could feel his powerful muscles flex beneath her fingertips, forceful yet carefully restrained.
Their gazes locked, and awareness surged between them in a rushing, heated tide.
Hot color suffused Noelle’s cheeks, and she looked away, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind. “You never mentioned what your business is here.”
“Didn’t I?” Tremlett’s voice was husky, so close it whisper
ed through her hair. “An oversight. I’m looking into an insurance matter. I have a few questions for Williams.”
With that, he guided Noelle deeper into the gallery, drew her over to a section of finely detailed paintings. “Do you care for the Pre-Raphaelite style?” he asked. “Or are you more of a traditionalist?”
Noelle halted, recognizing the earl’s subtle test and knowing she’d fail it miserably. “I wouldn’t know a watercolor from an oil, or a Pre-Raphaelite from a rococo,” she replied frankly, tilting back her head to meet his penetrating scrutiny. “But you already surmised that, didn’t you?”
A flicker of surprise flashed in the orange glints of his eyes. “Yes. But I wasn’t expecting you to admit it.”
“Why not? I’ve told you I’m disgustingly forthright. I’m too horrid a liar to attempt doing so. Not because I’m virtuous, but because I’m practical. Since I’m so unconvincing at telling untruths, everyone sees through me, and I always end up getting caught, or tangled up in my own lies. Then I’m forced to face a more severe reaction than I would have from the start, not to mention—assuming I care about the person I lied to or the principle I lied about—a heavy dose of my own guilt. So why bother?”
Tremlett shook his head in amazement. “You, my lady, are as unpredictable as a summer storm—a true tempest, as your father says. Just when I think I understand you, you do or say something—”
“Pardon me.” Williams came up behind them, interrupting whatever the earl had been about to say. “Lady Noelle, I wonder if I could presume upon you to come with me for a moment. Alone,” he added, darting a quick glance at Tremlett, then Grace.
“For what purpose?” Noelle demanded, her eyes widening with surprise.
“The owner of the gallery would appreciate having a word with you.” Williams rubbed his palms together nervously. “He’d like to help you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“I see.” Noelle’s heart began slamming against her ribs, and she abandoned all attempts at subtlety, going directly for the answer she sought. “The owner—I assume you mean Mr. Baricci.”
Williams nodded. “That’s precisely who I mean.”
Indecision warred inside Noelle’s mind. She’d promised herself, Chloe, and—silently—her father that she’d only venture so far as to catch a glimpse of Baricci, not to speak with him. No, that wasn’t true. What she’d promised, not only silently, but aloud, was that she wouldn’t seek him out. Well, she was keeping her promise. She wasn’t seeking him out. It was he who was seeking her.
That clinched it.
“Very well,” she heard herself reply. “I’ll go.” She moved to release Lord Tremlett’s arm, feeling his muscles go positively rigid at her decision. Why? she wondered, her chin coming up, allowing her to study his expression. Why would he care if she spoke with Baricci?
Whatever his reasons, he most definitely did care. His clenched jaw left no doubt as to that.
“You needn’t wait for me,” she tried, assuming that his annoyance might be based upon the fact that her actions were inconveniencing him. “You’ve been more than kind. Grace and I can find our own way back to the station.”
“That’s very gracious of you,” he returned, eyes narrowed, mouth set in hard, grim lines. “But I arranged for my driver to see you safely to your train, and I intend for him to do that. As for me, I recall mentioning to you that I have my own business to conduct here. So, I’ll browse about until you conclude yours. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll discover some new and worthwhile talent—or another, equally remarkable finding. Either way, Grace and I will be here when you emerge.”
“My lady, this is most improper,” Grace sputtered. “I should be accompanying you. You’ll be in the company of two gentlemen.”
“One,” Williams corrected. “I’ll be delivering Lady Noelle to Mr. Baricci’s office, then returning to speak with Lord Tremlett.”
“That’s even worse!” Grace exclaimed. “Lady Noelle, I must insist—”
“Stop it, Grace.” Noelle drew herself up to her full diminutive height and gave her maid a no-nonsense look. “I understand and appreciate your concern. However, I intend to honor Mr. Baricci’s wishes to speak with me in private. I’ll be perfectly safe and back before you know it. Wait here.”
Ignoring Grace’s protests and Lord Tremlett’s icy censure, she followed Williams to the back of the gallery, past the storage and workrooms, to what appeared to be an office.
The door was shut.
Williams knocked. “I’ve brought Lady Noelle to see you, sir,” he announced.
A deep, slightly accented voice replied, “Show her in.”
