Too Wicked To Kiss Part 13

Evangeline bit back a grimace. All men were were like her stepfather. Edmund Rutherford was a s.h.i.+ning example. like her stepfather. Edmund Rutherford was a s.h.i.+ning example.

"Why the long face, darling? I'll try you, too, if that's what you want. I've never minded a bit of dirt before." He lumbered closer. The alcohol from his breath burned Evangeline's nostrils.

"No, thank you." She ducked under the arm holding the whiskey and headed down the hallway.

His free hand grabbed for her, ripping a bit of the lace from her back. "What's the hurry, Miss Pemberton? You've got nowhere to be. Everybody thinks you're asleep in your chamber." He leered at her. "I'll be glad to give you something better to do with your time."

"If you touch me," she ground out, "I'll scream."

"Kind of like you did when Lioncroft pulled you into his lap? Oh, wait. You weren't screaming then. I doubt you'll scream for me, either. Except in pleasure."

"You're disgusting."

"Some women like it that way." He winked, tipped back the rest of his whiskey, and stumbled to stay upright.

Evangeline took advantage of his momentary imbalance, and took off down the corridor at a dead run.

Within seconds, Edmund lumbered right behind her.

"I love a chase," he called out drunkenly. "Makes the capture so much sweeter."

She ran faster.

Up ahead, a door creaked open. A familiar cane poked through, followed by a yawning Mr. Teasdale. "What's the meaning of this ruckus? Good Lord, Miss Pemberton. You look like a dust rag."

Evangeline slowed, then flew forward when Edmund crashed directly into her. His empty tumbler shattered against the wall.

"Rutherford, what is the matter with you?" Mr. Teasdale held out a trembling hand toward Evangeline. "May I help you up?"

She shook her head and scrambled to her feet before Edmund could grab her.

"Nothing's the matter with me," he said from the hallway floor. He met Evangeline's glare with laughing eyes. "Miss Pemberton and I were just having a friendly chat, that's all."

Mr. Teasdale harrumphed. "About what?"

Evangeline crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Edmund.

He grinned. "About her tete-a-tete with G.o.d, of course. She was just saying how she can't wait to tell us all about it...once she has a nice hot bath, with lots of sweet-smelling soap all over her wet-"

"Rutherford, really." Mr. Teasdale shook his cane at Edmund before turning to Evangeline. "Will you be joining us for lunch, Miss Pemberton? You can recount your story to us all at once."

She glanced at Edmund out of the corner of her eye. He was on his feet now, and swaggering closer.

"I may take a tray in my room," she answered. Forever, if that meant she could avoid men like Edmund Rutherford.

"Very well, child. You can join us after lunch, since we certainly won't be bothering you in your chamber."

"I will." Edmund's eyebrows wiggled. "If she says please."

She glared at him. "Over my dead body."

The c.o.c.ky smile vanished from his face.

"In this house, Miss Pemberton, you'd better mind what you wish for."

Chapter Eleven.

When Evangeline finally reached her section of the guest quarters, a dark figure lounged against the wall outside her door, thumbs hooked in his waistband, eyes closed as if asleep. She tried to slip in her room without catching his notice, but the creak of a loose floorboard betrayed her.

His eyelashes lifted. "Miss Pemberton. How do you feel?"

"Much improved, Mr. Lioncroft. Thank you for asking."

"I meant it when I said you could call me Gavin."

"I'd rather not." She stepped past him, ducked her head, and reached for the doork.n.o.b.

"Did you forget something?"

Her fingers clutching the cold bra.s.s of the doork.n.o.b, she glanced at him over her shoulder. He hadn't moved. He hadn't changed. He still stared at her with the most intense gaze she'd ever encountered, his posture tense but casual, the soft tumble of his hair carelessly rakish, the familiar lines of his warm mouth-no. She wasn't forgetting anything. She only wished she could.

"No," she said at last. "I plan to stay in my chamber for a while."

"You plan to-" As his eyes finally quit their focus on hers long enough to take in her tangled hair, her tattered dress, her ruined fingernails, his words simply stopped. He blinked once, twice, again. And then, "What happened?"

What could she say? Oh, I've been skulking between the walls, just like you? Oh, I've been skulking between the walls, just like you?

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Look at you. Where the h.e.l.l have you been?"

"Your favorite place, no doubt."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, go away. I'm not in the best temper, and I don't want conversation. I want a bath."

"I'll call for one." He strode forward, intent on entering her bedchamber.

"You stay right there! I can operate a bellpull myself."

Mr. Lioncroft paused. He leaned back against the wall, his demeanor not quite as relaxed as before. "All right."

Evangeline's hand fell from the doork.n.o.b. "What are you doing?"

"Staying here."

"I said go away!"

"You also said to stay right here," he pointed out reasonably. "I chose to follow the latter directive."

"I meant 'go away' both times." She glared at him. He didn't move. "Why were you lurking in the shadows?"

He lifted a shoulder. "I wanted to make sure you were all right. You frightened me."

"Well, you can't just-Oh. That's very kind of you. I frightened me, too. But I'm fine now, so you can-"

"You don't look fine. You look...dirty."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Lioncroft. That's why I'm calling for a bath."

"And call me Gavin." When she made no effort to do so, he just grinned. "Are you going back to bed?"

"Not if you plan to sneak in and smother me."

Evangeline regretted the snappish words the moment they flew from her lips.

Mr. Lioncroft, however, seemed neither stung nor perturbed by her waspishness. Because he was guilty? Or because he was simply accustomed to being presumed as much, and expected no preferential treatment from her?

She opened her mouth-to say what, exactly, she didn't know-but in one smooth step, he stood between her and the safety of her bedchamber.

"I'm here because I was worried about you, Miss Pemberton. And because I'm attracted to you."

"I-" The protest caught in her throat as his dark gaze burned into hers.

"As to your imminent death...Did you see me smother anyone?"

She backed up a step. "I wasn't there."

"Did G.o.d tell you I smothered Hetherington before He sent you that attack?"

"Don't be ridiculous. The Lord didn't send me an attack."

"What did happen, Miss Pemberton?" He studied her face as if he'd spent the better part of two hours trying to solve that particular riddle.

"Nothing happened. Much." She glanced down both sides of the deserted corridor. "I truly don't wish to talk about this."

"No? Or not out here? I'll gladly follow you into your chamber."

Evangeline swallowed. At this rate, she'd be the one compromised with Mr. Lioncroft, not Susan. And the last thing she needed was to be the legal property of yet another murderer. "You'll do no such thing."

He smiled, leaned forward, brushed his fingertips down the curve of her cheek, along her neck, to the hollow of her throat. He lifted his fingers away just before they could slide across the lace of her bodice. Gooseflesh raced down her spine and along the bare flesh of her arms.

"Why not?" he asked softly. "You don't trust yourself alone with me?"

"I don't trust you you."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"Tell me anyway."

He wanted the truth? Fine. She'd give him the truth. "Because you're a known murderer," she said through gritted teeth. "Lord Hetherington's death was no mysterious accident-he was clearly murdered. And none of us will be safe while the crime goes unpunished."

Heavens above. Had she just blurted out all that to the killer? Mr. Lioncroft crossed his arms over his chest, but his gaze never fell from hers.

"Hmmm." He slanted her a considering glance. "If you're convinced of my guilt, why explain your reasoning to me instead of screaming for help?"

"Because I-well, because-I don't know." She stared at him for a moment, speechless. "I guess that's not very logical of me."

"On the contrary. Thus far, you've proven yourself the most logical of all my uninvited guests. Unfortunately for me, I happen to be the most logical suspect."

"Fortunately for you, n.o.body summoned the constabulary."

"Ahhh." He smiled. "Perfect. Use your logic, Miss Pemberton. What does that mean?"

"You're a blackguard with devilish powers of persuasion?"

"I like to think so, yes. Nonetheless, would I have been able to shoo away the constabulary had an angry mob arrived to string my neck from a gibbet?"

She stared at him for a moment, at the seriousness of his expression, the furrow in his brow, the white slash of his scar against the stubble of his jaw. Would he be able to escape punishment by fleeing through his labyrinthine mansion? If he used the secret pa.s.sageways, perhaps. For a time. But would he ever be truly free?

"No," she answered grudgingly. "I suppose not."

"Then why aren't they here? If everyone present was as convinced of my guilt as you are, surely by now one of them would have put ink to paper and demanded my capture."

Evangeline had no response. She stormed forward, intending to shoulder past him by force if necessary. When he stepped aside to let her pa.s.s, she half-stumbled, half-fell into her chamber. She turned, positive his expression would be smug, his wide lips curved, his eyes mocking her.

But he was gone, leaving only his subtle masculine scent behind.

During her bath, Mr. Lioncroft's words echoed in her mind. Later, as her lady's maid attempted-and failed-to fas.h.i.+on a chignon from Evangeline's heavy curls, his words kept repeating themselves to her. By the time Susan Stanton burst through the connecting doorway, Evangeline was dressed, somewhat coiffed, and sick unto death of her mind replaying Mr. Lioncroft's parting words.

He had a point.

She couldn't fathom why most of the guests seemed equally averse to constabulary intervention. She was right to label him a blackguard with devilish powers of persuasion. He almost had her considering the notion he-but, no. He was no doubt the villain. Because if he wasn't...who was?

"You look better," Susan observed from her position in the sole chair, "but still deathly pale. Are you certain you're feeling quite the thing? Have you eaten anything?"

"Yes," Evangeline said, choosing only to respond to the latter. "Molly brought me some bread and fruit."

"Who's Molly?"