“You are Lord Marlsbrook now,” she said simply. “Am I correct?”
“That is what I’ve been told,” he said drily.
She gave a curt nod. “Miss Quinn is expecting you. Please, come in.”
She ushered him to the parlor. As Alexandra entered the room, rays of sunlight streamed through the window and danced over her dark brown hair. Traces of copper and red gleamed beneath the warm rays. A flash of very recent memory invaded his thoughts. His mind went back to when he’d kissed her. Tasted the sweetness of her mouth. Drank in the supple heat of her body.
It had only been mere hours since he’d held her. Yet, he ached with an unbidden hunger. He wanted to touch her again, to take her in his arms, and drive away the doubts in her eyes.
Hellfire and damnation, he was a fool.
When had he become so weak?
He knew better than to allow desire to cloud his judgment. He must keep his focus at all costs.
If he didn’t, she might well be the one to pay the price. The very thought took a dull knife to what was left of his heart.
“Shall I bring you both some tea?” Mrs. Thomas asked.
“No, thank you,” Alexandra said. She came directly to the place where he stood at the edge of the carpet, watching as the housekeeper moved out of earshot.
“Benedict, I have decided against going to Cairo at this time.”
“You might have sent that word with the messenger,” he said. “I doubt you summoned me here to tell me that.”
Her slender shoulders lifted and fell. Her expression was bland, purposefully so. “I have news I would not be so bold as to convey through a courier.”
“Do you intend to enlighten me?”
“Of course.” Her eyes flashed as she motioned him to an overstuffed blue chair.
Slowly, he shook his head. “I’ve no desire to sit here as if we are two old friends having a chat.”
“Very well.” She gave another little shrug. “I will be direct. Colton has informed me there is good reason to believe the person who is responsible for Professor Stockwell’s death is not in Egypt, but in England.”
Her eyes betrayed no trace of deception. How much had Matthew Colton and his operatives learned of the supposedly cursed expedition?
“Why would he say that?”
“You already know the answer to that question. Colton’s operatives are top-notch. They know about the deaths. And there’s more… There has been another death…one you may not be aware of.” Her expression betrayed the undercurrent of fear she seemed to be trying to hide. “In London.”
“By hellfire, I should not have let Rooney evade me. I might have stopped him from killing again.”
Her mouth pulled tight, and she appeared to pull in a breath. “Unfortunately, the evidence points to someone else. Rooney cannot be the killer.”
Her words plowed into him, a blow he had not been able to guard against. “Colton is sure of this?”
“His conclusions are preliminary. But Rooney was not in the country when Sir Clayton Finch was murdered.”
Sir Clayton. Dead.The revelation delivered another vicious blow. Finch had been a dedicated explorer, an eminent scholar with a brave heart and unquestioned integrity. Why would anyone want the man dead?
“Another so-called accident?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“It was made to appear so.”
He stalked away from her, unable to face her while he gathered his storming thoughts. “Colton is wrong. It has to be a coincidence. Nothing more.”
“Colton had good cause for arriving at the conclusion. Sir Clayton drowned…in his own bath, evidently without suffering a fall.”
