Susan raised her hand. “Iknow.”
Evangeline closed her eyes. “Whodoesn’tknow?”
“I want to know why mystaffknows.” Mr. Lioncroft faced Milton. “Explain yourself.”
“It seems…She’s done witchery for a few servants, my lord. Missing items, and the like. News of such feats travels fast.”
“It’s not witchery,” Evangeline muttered. “I’m no witch.”
“You,” Mr. Lioncroft bit out, “are a…witch.”
But she got the distinct impression he’d been about to call her something even worse.
She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t going to—”
“Your ‘witchery,’” he said, “appears to be common household knowledge. I do not appreciate being the last to know.”
“You’re not,” Evangeline assured him. “That is, some of the staff may know—and I’m awoman,not a witch—but the only guests aware of my visions are those of us in this room and Lady Stanton.” At least, she hoped so. “I would much prefer to keep it that way.”
“You would, would you? Did it occur to you I would prefer not to bespiedupon every time you touch me?”
Before Evangeline could respond, Lady Stanton swept into the room.
“Well?” she demanded to Evangeline. “Yes or no?”
Mr. Lioncroft’s eyes narrowed. “‘Yes or no’ what? Has this something to do with her witchery? Let me guess: the sole purpose of your visit was to peer into my mind without my knowledge.”
Evangeline blushed, shook her head, motioned for Lady Stanton to speak no further.
Lady Stanton ignored her.
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “Miss Pemberton was to discover whether or not you will hang for Heatherbrook’s murder. And as I have just overheard you mention she touched you, I am now expecting confirmation one way or the other. Miss Pemberton?”
“Yes, Miss Pemberton.” The slow laziness in Mr. Lioncroft’s voice was unable to mask the hard edge of coiled danger beneath. “Seeing as how the only reason you suffer my presence is to pry my secrets straight from my flesh, I, too, am curious as to whether my neck will survive the fortnight. Care to apprise me of my future at the gallows?”
To be honest, Evangeline felt like vomiting.
If she lied and said, “No, you’ll escape punishment,” the expression on Lady Stanton’s face indicated she was more than ready to move forward with the ill-advised compromise, which meant in seconds Mr. Lioncroft would find himself saddled with both a new bride and a new scandal, and Evangeline would no doubt (rightfully) bear the brunt of his rage.
If she lied and said, “Yes, you’ll swing,” the Stantons would head out at first light and abandon her at the first roadside inn…if she survived that long and avoided being committed to an asylum for her witchery.
And if she confessed the truth with a murmured, “I have no idea and will never have any idea,” she would lose her usefulness to Lady Stanton altogether, giving the baroness no reason not to return her directly into her stepfather’s custody as threatened.
All the potential outcomes were less than desirable. No matter which path she chose, her future would take a quick turn for the worse.
Unable to conceive of a plan of action that would appease all parties and ensure her continued safety from her stepfather, Evangeline did the only thing she could think of to do.
She faked a swoon.
Chapter 21
Having witnessed Miss Pemberton topple over in a lifeless, graceless heap after her encounter with Heatherbrook’s corpse, Gavin suspected her sudden sigh, fluttering eyelashes, and slow sinking to the floor were all affectation.
But why? Had his touch shown her a vision of him stretched on a gibbet, and she found herself not wishing to admit it?
He had made more than his fair share of mistakes in the eight-and-twenty years of his life, but he had no interest in being put to death for another man’s crime. If he found out who was standing silent, content to let him swing in his place, he’d kill the son of a bitch with his bare hands.
Unless it was his sister, as Miss Pemberton seemed to believe. In which case…God, he didn’t know what he would do.
