Too Wicked To Kiss Part 14

"My lady's maid. That is, my borrowed lady's maid."

"You talk to Lionkiller's servants? Maybe that's why you're so pale. You were supposed to be sleeping, not talking. Couldn't you sleep?"

"I-no." Evangeline frowned at Susan, who was too busy warming her feet by the fire to notice. Of course, Evangeline talked to the servants. She understood them. They tended to be more straightforward, friendlier, safer safer than Polite Society aristocrats. She didn't expect Susan to feel the same. They came from different worlds. "Where are the others now?" she asked. "Dining?" than Polite Society aristocrats. She didn't expect Susan to feel the same. They came from different worlds. "Where are the others now?" she asked. "Dining?"

"No, they're in the Green Salon. Well, those who remotely believe in the possibility of you chatting with G.o.d are."

Evangeline glanced around her crimson chamber. "There's a Green Salon?"

"Don't look so hopeful. Not green like dandelion leaves and lime ices and gra.s.s in the springtime. Green like decaying moss moldering atop a tombstone. Gray is the only other color. Well, and brown. Made me long for scab-colored furniture again. Lionkiller is in dire need of a bride. And a shopping excursion."

"Who is in the Green Salon? Your mother?"

"Of course." Susan selected a poker from next to the fireplace. "She's not going anywhere until the matter is solved, one way or the other."

"I don't understand why she doesn't want to escape while we're all still alive. Does she think him innocent?"

"Lioncroft? Lawk, no. But he got away with murder last time, didn't he? History may repeat itself. In which case, he remains rich and eligible, and with his neck intact."

"You'd marry a murderer?"

"I was already planning to do so," Susan pointed out, nudging the fire with the poker. "If he escapes the noose again, nothing of substance will have changed."

Not true. Plenty had changed.

Evangeline leaned against one of the cavorting-troll bedposts and frowned. For one, "Lioncroft" was no longer a faceless name. She'd met the man himself. Argued with him. Danced with him. Kissed him. Watched him threaten a man...for laying a hand to his sister. He admitted being angry enough to kill. And he didn't deny having done so in the past.

What was wrong with her for being attracted to him in spite of herself?

His weren't mere character flaws. Dangerous, violent, unpredictable. He shared many of his worst traits with her stepfather, a man of no redeeming qualities. A vile man she'd never understood why her mother had remained with, even if-as Mama claimed-she'd only done so for Evangeline's sake.

What if Mama had felt a similar...attraction...to Neal Pemberton? A quickening of the pulse, a tingling of the skin, an undeniable awareness from deep within?

Evangeline shuddered. Revolting idea. But suddenly, horribly, humiliatingly plausible. Understandable. Relatable. Oh, G.o.d. Had her mother's attraction to her second husband's pretty exterior blinded her to the evil inside? Evangeline would not make the same mistake. Would not not.

"What's wrong?" Susan asked, one hand on her hip, the other gripping the poker. "You made the most horrid face of revulsion I have ever seen in my life. What were you thinking about?"

"Mr. Lioncroft."

"And he merited such an expression? I'm the one to marry him, not you."

That's right. Evangeline would never marry. She stared into the crackling fire. The carved trolls scaling her bedpost dug into her back. "Don't you-that is to say, do do you-find him attractive?" you-find him attractive?"

Susan shrugged. "Perhaps, if you're the sort to find Satan himself attractive."

"How would you know what Satan looks like?"

"Obviously, like Lioncroft." Iron clanked against iron as Susan shoved the poker back in its stand. "At least the man's been tarrying outside your door instead of mine."

Evangeline pushed away from her bed. He had, but how would Susan know? He'd disappeared long before she'd sailed through the connecting door.

"You saw us?"

"'Us'? You mean him. Of course. He took root right there in the hallway and said he planned to wait until you woke, just to make sure you were all right. Disturbing. If I should sicken after we marry, I hope he leaves me well alone."

Evangeline crossed over to the cracked mirror next to the doorway. Disturbing? Only because it was Mr. Lioncroft. In any other man, such an act would've been sweet. Charming. Kindhearted.

"You didn't tell me he was out there waiting."

"I did so. I said he came by with that horrible treatise on metallurgy."

After trying and failing to poke her flyaway curls back into their coil, Evangeline glared at her reflection. "You didn't say he stayed stayed by." by."

"I figured he'd get bored and leave. Why, is he still there?"

"No."

"There you are. Pa.s.sing fancy." Susan strode to the doorway, nudged open the door, and peered through the crack. "He's long gone."

"What if he hadn't been? What if he'd slipped inside my room and killed me? You weren't concerned about my safety?"

"I'd hear you scream."

Evangeline crossed her arms. "Not if I was smothered in my sleep like Lord Hetherington."

"Well, I'd know Lioncroft was the villain because I saw him around. He'd be sure to hang. But you're still alive, and guests are waiting for you in the Green Salon. At least, they were." Susan pushed the door completely open, then glanced over her shoulder at Evangeline "Are you feeling up to an appearance?"

"No."

But she headed out into the corridor anyway.

When she entered the Green Salon, she discovered it much as Susan had described it. Stark gray walls. Mold-colored chairs. Fluttering white tapers that failed to cast enough light on the half dozen or so framed paintings to determine their subjects.

Lady Stanton sat on the edge of a tattered chair. Mr. Teasdale slept on the sofa, his head lolling to one side, his cane taking up most of the cus.h.i.+on. Mr. Lioncroft leaned against a tall bookcase. For all Evangeline knew, it was another facade for his network of secret pa.s.sageways.

"At last." The small black mole s.h.i.+vered above Lady Stanton's pursed lips. "You kept us waiting, Miss Pemberton."

"Mother, don't-"

"She's feeling much improved," Mr. Lioncroft interrupted, his voice low and lazy but his eyes dangerous. "How thoughtful of you to inquire."

Frost coated Lady Stanton's voice. "You dare to correct my manners?"

"You dare to sling accusations of murder while imposing on my hospitality?"

"Evangeline," Susan interjected loudly, causing Mr. Teasdale to start. "Why don't you explain what happened in Hetherington's chamber?"

"Yes, do." Lady Stanton fixed her colorless eyes on Evangeline. "Did 'G.o.d' tell you anything?"

"Just that Lord Hetherington was, er, smothered. With a pillow."

"Eh? What's that?" Mr. Teasdale struggled to his feet, relying heavily on his cane. "Smothered with a pillow, you say?"

One of Lady Stanton's pale eyebrows arched. "But who who smothered him?" smothered him?"

"I don't know."

"Then that's useless. Your mother could often-"

Evangeline's spine stiffened. "Lady Stanton-"

"Can't you strive for more accuracy in your-"

"Lady Stanton, honestly-"

"We're no better off than we were before!"

"We do know how, if not whom," Susan interjected with an encouraging smile toward Evangeline.

"Useless. If 'G.o.d' spoke to her through Lord Hetherington, why doesn't she know the killer's ident.i.ty?"

"Eh," Mr. Teasdale grunted, one pinkie digging in his hairy ear. "Because dead men tell no tales."

Susan straightened her spectacles. "Might the fact that he is dead be a factor, Evangeline?"

"I imagine so. This was the first time I've specifically sought...interaction with G.o.d through a corpse."

Mr. Lioncroft lifted a brow. "I should hope so. Hardly the favorite pastime of most young ladies."

"How about the living, then?" Lady Stanton turned her glare from him to Evangeline. "Have you tried the obvious?"

"That's right." Susan's eyes widened. "We could know right away."

"Know what?" Mr. Lioncroft demanded.

Evangeline backed up a step.

"I'll ensure your privacy so Mr. Teasdale doesn't suspect anything," Susan whispered excitedly. "As soon as I get him and Mother away, go touch Lioncroft."

"I can't," Evangeline whispered back. "I-"

But Susan had skipped to her mother's side. She tugged Lady Stanton from her seat. "Come, Mother, we've heard enough. Mr. Teasdale, would you be so kind as to accompany us?"

Mr. Teasdale's forehead wrinkled. "Where?"

"Yes, Susan, where?" Lady Stanton stared down her nose at her daughter. "I'm not leaving Mr. Lioncroft alone with Miss Pemberton. We We don't want don't want her her to be to be compromised compromised, do we?"

Mr. Lioncroft crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Why does everyone think I'm going to compromise her? I haven't had a rakeh.e.l.l reputation in years."

Mr. Teasdale's cane trembled. "I don't think you'll compromise her."

"Thank you."

"You might kill her. That's your reputation now."

"We'll stay in the hallway." Lady Stanton swept past Mr. Teasdale and into the corridor.

"With the door ajar," Susan added. "Significantly ajar. No killing."

Shaking his head, Mr. Teasdale allowed himself to be tugged from the room.

With that, the threesome pulled the door mostly shut and left Evangeline and Mr. Lioncroft quite alone.

Splendid. Abandoned in pursuit of visions from the one man who couldn't provide her with them.

He did not look pleased.

"What the h.e.l.l just happened?" Mr. Lioncroft demanded.

"I don't know," she hedged. "They're mad as hatters?"

"Undoubtedly." He prowled forward, until the meager candlelight tossed his shadow over her skin. "But something bizarre just took place beneath my nose. Why are the Stanton women lurking in the corridor? What do they expect you to do?"

Evangeline sighed. "Chat with G.o.d."

"Now? About me?"

"Apparently."

"Why?"

"They think G.o.d will confirm you killed Lord Hetherington."

"Hmmm. Although I'm unconvinced heavenly hearsay will do much in a court of law, the lot of you have me all but convicted already. Well, except for my nieces."

"Your nieces don't know you killed their father?"

"They don't know he was killed. Rose told them he died in his sleep."

"Is she packing them up to go? What will you do when they learn the truth?"

"I don't know." He hooked his fingers in his waistband. "I'm just concentrating on being an uncle while they're still here."

She tried not to look skeptical. "Do you know much about being an uncle?"

"Not one whit."

"Then what are you doing to be uncle-ish?"