Page 61 of An Inconvenient Duke

Dani blinked hard and nodded, only for it to turn into an uncertain shake of her head. “But from what Beatrice told me, she didn’t know what Elise was doing and so didn’t directly help. She warned Elise to leave the women alone, that it was too dangerous. She said she didn’t know anything about the people Elise was working with.”

“You believe her?”

“Beatrice has always been worried that we’d be discovered. Even when she had easy responsibilities within Nightingale—running messages, arranging money transfers, collecting clothing—half the time, she’d lose her nerve and not do them. I cannot imagine her doing the kinds of risky work that Elise must have been doing.”

He took her chin and lifted her head until she had no choice but to look at him. “At Vauxhall, you said it was Hartsham. That you knew he’d killed Elise.”

“I thought so, from the way Beatrice stared at him…” Her shoulders sagged in frustration as her doubts rose to the surface, now that the heat of the moment was over. “But it’s Beatrice! She’s always overly dramatic, even at the most relaxed of times. She’s always been worried that the earl will discover what she’s been doing with Nightingale. Maybe…” She shook her head. “I don’t know… Maybe that’s why she looked at him like that.”

“Because he’d finally found out?”

“Perhaps.” She frowned, then shook her head. “No—as if she were terrified of him.”

“Then possibly he already knows what she’s been doing.”

“Or worse, that he found out and might have hurt her over it.” Her stomach sickened, and she placed her hand on her belly to press down the guilt churning there as she turned away from him.

“Or hurt Elise.”

She’d already thought of that, too. After all, that had been her first gut reaction when Beatrice had looked at the earl, when she’d warned Dani that the same fate might happen to her. She’d said it so intensely, with so much anger and hatred… Lord Hartsham had played a part in Elise’s death. Dani had been certain of it.

But she knew him, for heaven’s sake! He was good friends with her father, had come over for dinner countless times before her parents left for the continent—that was how she’d gotten to know Beatrice, why she’d invited the countess into working with Nightingale. How could the same man who laughed so heartily at Harriett’s stories and gave both women guidance in her father’s absence be a coldhearted murderer?

“I know that it doesn’t make sense,” she whispered. “But I saw her reaction. Sheknewwho had killed Elise. I didn’t even have to mention Porter or Scepter—she just looked directly at Hartsham, and her face… Good God, Marcus!” The cold accusation she’d witnessed on Beatrice’s face had ripped the air from Dani’s lungs with its intensity. “But why?Whywould Hartsham want to harm your sister for helping prostitutes when Beatrice apparently had nothing at all to do with it? What could be gained by murdering Elise?”

“I don’t know. But I’m damned well going to find out.”

Fingers of worry played along her spine. “What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I have to in order to learn the truth.” He stepped away from her, grabbed up the iron poker, and jabbed at the fire, and not because the fire needed to be stirred. If she weren’t here, would he have taken out his anger with the weapons on the walls? The flaring glow of the fire lit his face and dark eyes, making him resemble the devil himself come from the fires of hell for vengeance. “Starting with Hartsham’s whereabouts the night that Elise was killed.”

Dread swelled coldly inside her. Already, the man was undoubtedly forming battle plans in his head. “Marcus, whatever it is that you’re planning—”

“I’m not planning anything.”

“And I’m a blue goose.” She picked up one of the stockings. “We don’t have any real proof that Hartsham was involved. All we have are his wife’s nervousness and my instincts, andIwouldn’t place a bet on those, let alone accuse him of murder. The man’s a peer.”

“So am I.” He jabbed the fire and sent a shower of sparks rising into the chimney. “You keep forgetting that.”

Never. He wore the authority of the dukedom and his generalship like a second skin. “You cannot confront him about this.”

“I don’t plan on directly confronting him.”

“Andindirectly?” she threw over her shoulder, knowing him too well.

He rested the poker against the side of the fireplace and turned to face her, his eyes darting immediately to the stocking in her hand. “Need help with those? I’m very good with stockings.”

Her body heated with wanton desire, despite her knowing that he was simply attempting to charm her into distraction. For a moment, she nearly let him. “I’m fine on my own, thank you.”

“Pity.”

Ignoring that, she propped her foot on the edge of the settee. She struggled to ignore his gaze on her leg as she set about pulling on the stocking, but she couldn’t forget how wonderful it had been when he’d removed them in the garden’s shadows. Her throat tightened. Baring bodies proved to be so much easier than baring secrets and souls.

She pulled up her skirt to tie off the stocking around her thigh, and her fingers shook beneath his stare. But she steered the conversation back to topic. “We can’t be certain of Hartsham’s involvement one way or the other. I think we should try to pry more information from Beatrice. I’m certain she knows more than she’s sharing.”

She switched feet and slipped on the second stocking. She’d never imagined that a man’s stare could be so inviting. Or so torturous.

“So I’ll approach her again.” She tied off the stocking. Being so fully dressed in front of him now felt odd, especially since he wore only his trousers, his chest remaining deliciously bare. “I’ll question her again on who else Elise might have been working with…innkeepers, pub owners, other men like Porter—”