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“If that’s true, then you’ll know.”
Uncle Alfred.
Her stomach twisted as she spoke, as if she was revealing some closely guarded secret. “His guardian was Sir Alfred Lewis. He was eleven when he came to England. After his parents died.”
But Rafe’s face remained hard. “Who told you this information? I can have you brought up on charges of treason for interfering in Crown business.”
“No one! No one told me!”
“Then how do you know?” His voice was unbearably smooth, controlled, but there was a harsh, frightening look in his eyes.
Lottie merely shook her head, unsure of how to answer.
“Trust me. You won’t like the jail cells here.”
“Because,” she choked out. “BecauseI was there.”
Something like fear flickered across Rafe’s face, and he immediately stepped away. Lottie sank to the floor. All she could hear was the pounding of blood in her ears. Rafe loomed over her, but she wouldn’t look at him. He was the very last thing sheeverwanted to see, but after what felt like hours he uttered a single, short curse.
“You’re Lottie Carlisle.”
She didn’t bother to respond. Rafe bent down, but Lottie shied away. He whispered another curse. “I’m—I’m so sorry. Please, let me help you.”
Lottie shook her head, but he swept her into his arms anyway. Before she could protest, he had already placed her on the ancient sofa. Lottie steadied herself as he moved to the flat’s tiny kitchen. Eventually, he returned with a cup of tea. When he knelt beside her, she flinched.
His eyes filled with remorse. “Here.” He handed her the steaming brew. “It’s chamomile. It will help calm your nerves.” Lottie cut him a skeptical look as a light, flowery scent rose from the cup. “It’s a traditional remedy,” he offered.
Lottie cleared her throat. “Aren’t you a fount of knowledge.”
He gave her a weak smile. “It comes with the job, I’m afraid.”
Lottie took a tentative sip as Rafe watched. She couldn’t stand the guilty look on his face, as if she was a figurine he had carelessly knocked off the shelf. “You know who I am, then?” The silence was becoming excruciating.
“Of course I do,” he said softly.
Lottie frowned. What wasthatsupposed to mean? She glanced at him. Perhaps she could use his remorse to her advantage. “What did Alec tell you?”
Rafe’s gaze turned sympathetic. “I’m afraid you’ll need to take that up with him.”
Lottie let out a little huff. “Nowyou’re loyal?”
His eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?” The dangerous growl returned, but Lottie wasn’t scared anymore. She was too furious on Alec’s behalf.
“You had someonewatchinghim last night.”
“That was for his own protection,” Rafe insisted. “He wasn’t himself yesterday. I could see that he was distracted. And if I had knownwhy—” He stopped before finishing the thought and shook his head. “You of all people should understand why I was concerned. And why you need toleave.”
Lottie held her tongue. She had no intention of taking orders from this man. He didn’t appear to be any kind of friend to Alec, no matter his reasons.
Rafe seemed to read her very thoughts. “If he is at all distracted, that will put him in danger,” he insisted.
“He has business with me at the moment,” Lottie sniffed. “Your mission, or whatever it is, will have to wait.”
Rafe lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so? My apologies, then. I’m sure another opportunity to gather time-sensitive information about one of our greatest adversaries will arise whenever is most convenient forhim.”
How on earth could flirting with a Frenchwoman lead to that?
But that was just the sort of thing she could never know and would have to accept.
