Evan stared at her. Was she expecting to fall? Did the woman plan such things? And when had he been enlisted as her personal safety net? The man so far below her lofty status that his only usefulness was that of impromptu carriage? His flesh steamed. He had left his past behind specifically to avoid class conflicts with theton.This was Bournemouth, for the love of whiskey. He wouldn’t let a comely little debutante play the superior.
“In that case,” he replied icily, “you will have the satisfaction of knowing it was your own damn fault, given that I am too far ahead to give you a proper push.”
Surprisingly, the London debutante did not gasp at his effrontery in highly dramatized outrage. In fact, if it weren’t simply a trick of the sun’s glare upon her spectacles, Miss Stanton’s initial reaction had been to... roll her eyes?
“Walk with me,” she gritted out in a voice even surlier than his own. “... Please.”
He did. Primarily in surprise. She had not wanted to say please. He had not expected to hear it.
He did not offer his arm this time. He didn’t have to. She slipped a gloved hand into the narrow gap between his elbow and his greatcoat and stared straight ahead as if wishing she were anywhere in the world but at his side. At this point, the feeling was mutual.
At least he wasn’t expected to engage in small talk.
As they made their way up the cliff in silence, Evan turned his thoughts from his present companion to his late brother. How he missed Timothy. He’d had such a logical mind and strong sense of justice. Had their situations been reversed, Timothy would’ve solved Evan’s murder with ease, Evan was certain. Timothy had always been clever.
So why was he dead? Was it possible hehadbeen doing something as trivial as adding sums when a miscreant chanced upon him? Evan let out a sigh. There were too many unknowns. Was Timothy the intended target? If so, why? And if not, how the devil was Evan going to track down a killer whose only complaint against his victim had been the happenstance of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?
The delicate fingers curving around his arm dug into his skin.
“What?” Miss Stanton’s voice was interested. Too interested. He couldfeelher gaze boring into his skull.
“What’s what?” he mumbled absently, trying to keep his mind focused on unraveling what few clues he had. He would show his brother that the elder Bothwick had as much ability to use his brain as his balls. Vengeance would be swift.
Provided he not lose time with jasmine-scented blonde distractions.
“You sighed.”
That warranted a complete set of nails puncturing his arm through three layers of fabric?
“I did not.”
“You did,” she insisted, staring at him as if the intensity of her blue eyes could force him to voice his darkest thoughts aloud.
“So I did,” Evan agreed, so as to derail the current pattern before the conversation degenerated into the black tar of did-not, did-too as so many of his and Timothy’s childhood arguments had gone. “If you must know, my sigh was because I suffer from horrible asthma. My physician says I should stop carrying women about, and the next time you fall... I should let you hit the ground.”
As before, she failed to gasp in outrage. Her eyes were probing, not wounded. And her muttered response sounded almost like... “Bollocks.”
“What was that?” he inquired politely. “I didn’t quite hear you.”
“Isaid,” she began, “I doubt you’d notice if I fell to my death. Something else is on your mind. What is it? The corpse you mislaid?”
Here he’d thought she’d been about to dispute his alleged lung condition.
He gave those alarmingly intelligent eyes his most careless smile and marched forward in renewed silence. He’d never have mentioned the missing-body situation had she—and the loss of his brother—not caught him utterly off guard. He was on guard now, however. He’d be watching his back around this little Londonite with big eyes, a dangerously round arse, and a grip like a deckhand. Matter of fact, he’d be keeping his eye on everyone.
Someone in town was a killer. And Evan would have revenge.
For best results, however, he would have to keep up appearances of his usual devil-may-care attitude and puss-on-the-prowl activities. In fact...
He slid Miss Stanton a sideways glance.
She noticed.
He couldn’t prevent a slow, satisfied smile from curving his lips.
She noticed that, too.
“W-what?” she stammered, loosening her grip on his arm and edging away as much as the cliff’s edge would allow.
