He had always liked taking time to think things out. Preferred being methodical, deliberate, careful. None of his inventions would work properly if Stephen comported himself willy-nilly. His life had always been a constant, and he was unprepared for this new variable.
There. That was where he could start.
“Before I answer any more questions,” he said politely, “might I inquire whoyouare?”
“Elizabeth Wynchester,” she answered without hesitation.
“Oh, for the love of…” He winced and closed his eyes. “Anything but a Wynchester!”
The battle-axes scraped at his throat. By now, his poor cravat was in ribbons.
“How is being a member of my family possibly worse than whatever you thought was happening?” the berserker demanded. “What’s wrong with Wynchesters?”
“Rumor has it, you’re a pack of relentless madmen with no scruples about operating outside the law.” He opened his eyes and tilted his gaze toward the closest blade. “The gossip seems credible.”
“Take note: We’re the pack of lawless madmen you want working on your side, not against you. I will ask you one last time. If you’re not the Earl of Densmore, who are you?”
“Stephen Lenox,” he said with a sigh. “Scientist, mathematician, inventor… and first cousin to the earl.”
“Cousin as in…” She tilted her head, as if mentally scanningDebrett’s Peerage. “You’re heir presumptive to the earldom?”
“To my eternal consternation. Come to think of it, perhaps youshouldimpale me with your blades. I’d rather die an honorable death than present myself in the House of Lords.”
Miss Wynchester leaned forward and glared deep into Stephen’s eyes, as though determining the veracity of his introduction by staring into his soul. Her lips were almost close enough to kiss. Temptingly close.
With a sigh of frustration, she yanked the battle-axes down to her sides. “I no longer wish to impale you.”
Stephen’s inexplicably aroused body wouldn’t be opposed to having a thrust or two.
“Are we finished here, then?” he asked, instead of pursuing a flirtation. “I have a pot of tea I ought to get back to.”
“Good idea. I’ll take mine with brandy.” She passed both axes to one hand and curved the other about his arm. “Whilst you explain the whole tale from the beginning.”
9
Elizabeth had not sliced open the sleeves covering Mr. Lenox’s arms—a lack of forethought she was highly tempted to correct—but the taut bicep currently flexing beneath the curve of her fingers felt every bit as toned as the muscular chest and abdomen constantly winking at her in the gap between the cut edges of his clothing.
“One moment, if you please.” Mr. Lenox was exceedingly polite for a hostage. “I ought to bring along our bonnets.”
He stepped away from her… Leapt away from her… Did some strange, twisting dance, clearly meant to avoid placing his boot down on several specific stones in the floor, despite there being no difference between them to Elizabeth’s eye. She memorized each step anyway.
Mr. Lenox caught her gaze and gave her a winning smile. “Best to avoid the blanket of needles, wouldn’t you say?”
Blanket of needles. She now wished she had brought more supplies than her trusty battle-axes. She needed her chain mail and a proper helmet. One considerably hardier than the gear-and-monocle-adorned leather hat in Mr. Lenox’s hand.
He scooped up her soaking bonnet gingerly, then made his hopping, twisting way back to her side. “Shall we?”
Elizabeth realized she had no idea how they were going to go anywhere. The room was still devoid of exits, save for the exterior door through which she’d entered.
Mr. Lenox slid on his leather helmet and adjusted the pair of lenses before his eye.
“The spot to press is only visible when viewed through glass of a specific hue and polarity,” he explained, as though such an explanation made any sense at all.
He was flirting again, she was sure of it.
“Ah, here we are.” Mr. Lenox reached out and tapped lightly on a small section of uneven gray stone that looked exactly like all the other uneven gray stones. A rectangular section of the wall swiveled ninety degrees on a center hinge, leaving an opening on either side just big enough for someone Elizabeth’s size to squeeze through.
Mr. Lenox did not wait to see if she followed, but ducked through the doorway with the hurried air of a man hoping to find his teapot was still warm. Elizabeth placed each foot exactly where Mr. Lenox’s boots had fallen, turning to her side to slip through the opening after him.
