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But Adrian had been there. He had made her say his name last night, over and over again, rewarding her in deliciously sinful ways each time she said it aloud. Adrian. He was always there, to rescue her, perhaps. Or to pretend he was doing so if there was an inconvenient witness. Was he a murderer, a liar? Was she a blind fool?
She brought the clothes down with her, trying to move a little faster. The last thing she wanted to do was depend on Emma for help. Emma, who’d been her friend as well. She could manage on her own.
She washed thoroughly, wishing she could manage a bath on her own. Her hair was a mess, and all she could do was try to wind the unruly mass in a coil at the base of her neck and pin it there, hoping it would stay. She was just finishing, buttoning the front buttons of the ugly dress, when the door to the large bathing room opened, and she looked up, relief and welcome overshadowing her doubt, expecting Adrian to walk in, to kiss her, to quiet her fears and doubts.
But it wasn’t Adrian. She looked up, into the charming, handsome face of Rufus Brown, Lady Kilmartyn’s cousin, and she quickly yanked her bodice together, outraged. “I beg your pardon, sir…” her stiff voice trailed off as she got a clear look at him.
He lounged against the door, a smile on his face, a small pistol held negligently in one hand. “Oh, don’t mind me, Miss Russell. You may continue getting dressed before we leave. Indeed, I do think you’d be better off with shoes, because I’m certainly not going to be heroic like Kilmartyn and sweep you into my arms. But then, I have different plans for you than Kilmartyn did.”
She slowly finished fastening the row of tiny buttons, trying to force her mind past the shock that left her frozen. Should she scream? Would the staff hear her in time, or would she be calling them to rush up and face a bullet?
“Did you shoot me?” she said finally, once her voice came back to her.
“I would think that would be a reasonable assumption since I’m now holding a gun on you. I’m usually a much better shot, but you were moving at such a determined pace it was hard to draw a bead on you. Most unladylike, I must say. You were practically running back to the arms of your lover.”
“He wasn’t my lover.”
“Not then, perhaps. But he is now. This house practically vibrates with sex.” He gestured with the gun. “Go ahead with the stockings and garters. I have to admit that lovely young women and their limbs hold no interest for me at the moment. I have more important things on my mind.”
Being missish was a waste of time when she was looking into the barrel of a gun. “I can’t put my stockings and shoes on with only one working hand,” she said flatly.
“Then barefoot it is. Get up.”
She hesitated. “Was I wrong then? You weren’t having an affair with your cousin?”
He laughed. “Cecily? That tedious tramp isn’t related to me, thank God. And yes, I fucked her. It was the only way to ensure her cooperation and get into the workings of the shipping company. And it kept her quiet long enough, but I really hate to perform on cue.”
“You killed her.”
He sighed dramatically. “Must we have a full recitation of my crimes while we’re sitting here? If you think Kilmartyn is going to return and rescue you if you stall long enough I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”
She stared up at him, at his handsome, slightly impatient face, so normal, so charming, so deadly. “Who are you, really? What do you want?” There was no disguising the thread of fear in her usually strong voice.
“I’ll be more than happy to entertain you with the scope of my genius once we get to where we’re going. The only problem with this brilliant endeavor of mine is that there’s no one else to appreciate its complexity.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Of course, my dear. You’re going to die. What could be the harm?”
She’d thought that clawing in her stomach was hunger. It was fear, cold and stark. “And after you kill me?”
“Why, then, you’ll be dead.”
“And Kilmartyn?”
“Still worrying about your lover, are you? You shouldn’t. As I said, he’ll be in custody when you’re killed, providing him with a perfect alibi. You really should have stayed wherever you were, Miss Russell, and not gone poking into your father’s death. I had arranged everything so carefully, and then there you come, upsetting everything.”
Of course! Why hadn’t she realized it sooner? “You… arranged it?” she demanded in a raw voice. “You killed my father?”
“Not now, Miss Russell,” he said impatiently. “I’ll answer your questions when we get there. In the meantime, you’re throwing me off schedule.”
“Should I say I’m sorry?” She didn’t bother to hide her hatred or her bitterness.
“Indeed you should. Stand up, Miss Russell. I don’t want Kilmartyn to change his mind. Men can get foolishly sentimental once they’ve bedded someone, and I don’t want him thinking there’s any way he could have his cake and eat it too.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Why, that’s he my confederate, my partner in crime. He killed his wife on my orders, and he was supposed to kill you, but instead he allowed a bit of lust to get in the way. I think it’ll be much easier on him if we’re simply gone if he happens to be released. You want that, don’t you?”
