Page 29 of The Countess Caper

They met up with the others in the foyer. Summer was already drinking a cup of tea. “All clear.”

Rue scowled at Roarke. “What’s he doing here?”

“Evicting an owl,” Tessa replied. “I think whoever was here has long gone.”

“And we don’t know what he took or who he saw,” Rue said grimly.

“No,” Tessa agreed. “We don’t.”

Roarke was known to be a calm, unbothered sort of man, if unlikely to tolerate mutiny.

Tessa was composed entirely of mutiny.

He had never felt less calm than when confronted with the thought of an intruder inside her house. Where she slept. Worse, that she was hunting him with an old sword as calmly as if she were looking for mice in the larder. As if this was a daily occurrence. And considering there was already a plan in motion to deal with such events, it might very well be a daily threat.

No part of him was going to let that stand.

No matter what her answer might be to his proposal.

An answer he meant to get today. Right now.

But he could do without the audience. He’d never cared for one, and like hell was he going to let his cousin meddle any further. She’d gotten him here. It was enough. It was everything, truth be told. But if Tessa said yes, they would have to find their own way. Marriage was difficult enough when you did what everyone expected of you. But this would be different.

Something inside of him rebelled at the thought already, even though he knew it was the right decision. The only decision.

He became aware that the ladies had stopped sending each other meaningful, secret glances in a language he clearly did not speak, and were now instead staring at him. Except for Tessa, who was very pointedly looking everywhere else. She finally heaved a great sigh, mostly because Summer stepped on her foot. Hard. “Oh, very well,” she muttered. “Come along, Dartmoor.”

She marched into the dilapidated parlor with the painted birds as if confronting an army. Her head was held high, her spine practically a weapon. But he caught a glimpse of her face and could see the vulnerability she has trying to master, to hide away. She was a complicated little whirlwind, this woman. He’d known her to be an angel in Mayfair, but she was definitely a devil at heart.

He found he preferred it.

She started pacing the moment the door closed behind him. He leaned against it, waiting. The light caught her red hair and made it glow. It was as if she carried sunlight inside of her.

“I have questions.”

“I am quite sure you do.”

She stared at him as if trying to decide if he was mocking her. “You have all of the power.”

He frowned. Not quite what he’d expected.

Foolish of him, really. He was the Beast of Dartmoor, after all.

“You’re afraid of me,” he said bluntly. Disappointment leached through his system. He pushed it back, along with Lara’s pale face when she’d met him at the altar.

Tessa frowned back. “I’m not afraid of you,” she scoffed.

No one scoffed at him. No one had dared for a long time. “Perhaps you should be.” What was he doing? He was meant to be putting her at ease, not warning her off. But he wouldn’t be able to stand it if her cheeks paled when she looked at him.

She did not pale. Instead, she rolled her eyes. He could only blink at her for a long moment, a giant of a man who barely fit into fancy frock coats, blinking.

“I’m not afraid that you’re going to hurt me.”

“Then what?”

“I’m… afraid you’re going to steal my house.”

He grunted. “I don’t want your house, Tessa. It’s probably haunted.”