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Sloane glanced over her shoulder. Empty corridor behind her. Falsted in front. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to tackle this snake by herself.
Where were Claude and Lawrence? Reiner had had them discreetly shadowing Falsted’s every move since he arrived at Wolfbridge.
Apparently, too discreetly.
She forced the edges of her lips into a tight smile. “As it was, I was just about to retire for the evening.”
“Come now, my lady, surely you have a few minutes to spare for the man that knows exactly why you initially came to Wolfbridge?”
The smile at the corner of her lips wavered. “What is it you wish to say to me, Lord Falsted?”
He motioned to the open doorway of the room he’d been lurking within. “Come. I believe you would want this conversation to be just as private as I would.”
Sloane bit her tongue. No matter what, the man mustn’t know what she and Reiner were about.
She gave a furtive glance over her shoulder one last time. No Claude. No Lawrence. But she would have taken anyone. She just needed one person—any person—to walk into the corridor and she could remove herself from Falsted’s tentacles.
Not a soul.
With a slight incline of her head, she moved into the dark room, positioning herself directly next to the door.
Falsted stepped into the room, his hand reaching to close the door.
“The door stays open, my lord,” she whispered.
“As you wish.” His head tilted to the side and he stared at her for long seconds. Then the side of his mouth curled into a sneer. “You’re playing in much larger fields than you should be, little lamb.”
“What are you insinuating?”
“You came here for one small purpose, which has morphed into something much, much larger than you realize. Be sure you know where your loyalties should lie, before you commit to one side.”
Her head went down for breath as she smoothed the satin of her skirts, her heart thundering in her chest. She looked up at him with as much serenity as she could muster. “You speak of my future husband?”
“You should know you were useful at one point. But sleeping with the enemy will only get you killed in the end.” His once distinguished face, now wrinkled with time, tilted to the side. “Or him killed.”
“That sounds distinctly like a threat, my lord.”
“Not a threat. A warning.” His boney fingers slid along the lapel of his coat, creasing the fold line. Only a scant shaft of light fell through the doorway to illuminate his face and his colorless grey eyes. “Have you found the book?”
She blinked hard.
Hell. He didn’t know.
He didn’t know that she’d already found the book and left Wolfbridge with it. If he didn’t know, then who were the men that were following her in Buchlyvie that knew she had the book?
Something wasn’t quite right and the best she could do was play along. “I have yet to find the book and this”—her hand flitted in the air—“relationship with the duke went much farther than I intended it to. I was forced into it, but within it a unique opportunity has presented itself.”
“The book is what is important, Lady Sloane. Not your own advancement.”
“You think this has a thing to do with me actually wanting to marry the duke?”
“Explain.” Even with the low light, the distrust in his dull grey eyes made her pause. Like he could crush her with one grind of his boot heel.
Her right hand swung out about her. “This. What better way to ruin the man than from the inside?”
“How?”
“The blasted fool fell in love with me.” She lifted her gloved left arm. “And with my scarred arm I’m damaged goods and will never make a proper match. So why not take my pound of flesh directly from the duke? I become a duchess. Gain so much wealth and power none in society would dare look down their nose upon my scars. It gives me plenty of time to find the book. And when the time is right, I can give you the book and the man’s downfall will be complete.”
