Page 42 of The Virgin Who Vindicated Lord Darlington
“That’s not any way to talk about my future mother-in-law, Cecilia.”
Cecilia’s hand frozeon the spoon.
Lord Darlington’s soft, husky laugh brushed across her nerve endings. “Well? Nothing to say for yourself? I don’t recallthatever happening before.”
Cecilia turned, her face on fire. Lord Darlington was standing in the doorway, one hip leaning against the frame and his arms crossedover his chest.
She wished with everything inside her the floor would open up and swallow her whole, but it wouldn’t, and so she did the only thing she could do. She raised her chin, and met his gaze. “Surely you didn’t come to the butler’s pantry to hear my opinion, my lord.”
“No. I came to have a look at your injury.” He sauntered toward her and held out his hand when he reached her side. “Let me see it.”
Cecilia hesitated, her breath catching. It didn’t seem a good idea to turn any part of her body over to Lord Darlington just now, not when a delicious shiver chased up her spine every time she thought about his large, warm hand cradling hers earlier today. “I, ah…there’s no need, my lord. It’s fine.”
He raised that commanding eyebrow at her, and she held out her hand, swallowing.
He caught her wrist, his fingertips grazing her knuckles as he unwound the linen cloth Mrs. Briggs had wrapped around her hand to protect the wound. The glass had left a livid red gash across her palm, and the skin around it was swollen. He frowned when he saw it, and raised those blue, blue eyes to hers.“Does it hurt?”
His voice was soft, his tone unbearably gentle, and for a single, blissful instant Cecilia let her eyes drift closed to savorit. “A little.”
He traced a finger over the uninjured part of her palm. A soft gasp broke from Cecilia’s lips before she could stop it, and his gaze flew to hers. They stared at each other, one moment after the next ticking by without either of themlooking away.
He stepped closer, crowding her against the table at her back, the heat from his big body making Cecilia’s head spin with dizzying awareness. “Miss Honeywell seems to be quite certain she knows you, Cecilia. She mentioned itagain at tea.”
Cecilia’s heart began a panicked thrashing against her ribs. “She’s mistaken.”
“Is she?” He touched her chin, tipping her face up to his. “Or are you lying to me?”
“I-I’m not lying.” Dear God, how could he smell so divine? Cool and soft, like a silent snowfall, a faint hint of porton his breath.
He pressed his fingertips more firmly into her chin, titling her head back. “You say so, but I don’t know if I believe you, Cecilia. I don’t know if I’ve ever believed you. What will I do with you if I find out you’ve lied to me?”
It might have been an innocent question, but the wicked edge to his voice turned it dark and sultry, as if he’d already made up his mind what he’d do to her, and was very much looking forward to doing it.
“I-I don’t know, my lord.” Cecilia fought to keep her eyes from dropping to half-mast as his warm breath drifted over her, stirring the loose hair at her temples. “I suppose you’d have no choice but to order me to leave Darlington Castle.”
The corners of his lips curved. “I already tried that. You gave me the scold of a lifetime for my troubles.”
“One doesn’t scold a marquess, my lord.” She meant the words lightly, but the stroke of his fingers against her skin made her breathless, and they fell from her lips as a soft tease.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, his eyes darkening to a hot, stormy blue. He stroked his thumb over her chin, and the tip of it brushedher lower lip.
Cecilia’s mouth opened a little in response to the caress, and his own lips parted on a strangled breath. He leaned closer, his mouth drawing nearer to hers, but just when she was certain her heart would leap from her chest, a shadow cameover his face.
He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, the huskiness had bled from his voice. He released her chin and turned away, but paused before vanishing through the door. “The dressing on your hand needs changing. Good night, Cecilia.”
Chapter Twelve
Cecilia closed the castle door behind her and descended the stone steps onto the drive, her lips curved in a satisfied smile. She was well pleased with herself this afternoon.
Anyone who happened to catch a glimpse of her wouldn’t think she was anything other than a devoted nursemaid taking her adorable charge for a walk in the gardens. That is, shewasthat, but then that was the brillianceof the thing.
It was an inspired idea, disguising herself as…well,herself.
But she wasn’t only a nursemaid this morning. No, this morning she was part nursemaid, and part investigator. She wasn’t quite sure what she was investigating yet today, but one thing was certain. In another six days, Fanny Honeywell would marry Lord Darlington.
She was nearly out of time and the mysteries at Darlington Castle kept piling up, one after the other. She wouldn’t get any closer to unraveling them sitting about the castle. After some discreet prodding at breakfast this morning, she’d discovered from Duncan that the White Lady had only ever been seen near the edge of the woods, or wandering through the rose walk before she disappeared again somewhere near the kitchen gardens.
So, Cecilia and Isabella were headed toward the rose walk for a morning’s stroll. Cecilia doubted she’d find a ghost there waiting for them, but perhaps something else of interest would turn up. She’d simply have to hope for the best, and trust she’d recognize anything suspiciousif she saw it.
