Her smile was a thing of beauty all its own, stealing his breath, holding him rapt.
“Were you colluding with the Fenians?” she asked.
He ground his teeth. This too was another thing that would require time for him to grow accustomed to—all the world knowing who and what he was. Under the auspices of the Duke of Carlisle, the Special League had been a shadowy branch of the Home Office, nonexistent to the general public.
But the magnitude of the Fenian arrests made following Carlisle’s killing of John Mahoney—one of the most dangerous conspirators they had unearthed to date—had left the League exposed.The Timeshad caught wind of their involvement, and extensive articles had been published. The League was no longer a secret.
And overnight, Griffin had become a traitor.
And now, he was here, in a chamber that was not his, in the home of the Duke of Arden, facing that man’s sister, of all people.
Andhe had kissed her, for Chrissake.
She watched him expectantly, awaiting his response.
“Of course I wasn’t colluding with the Fenians,” he snapped. “I told your brother the same.”
She considered him for far longer than necessary, her gaze thorough, sweeping, contemplative. “I believe you,” she announced at last.
“I am relieved.” He could not keep the sarcasm from his tone. Lady Violet West was a temptation he did not need. An irritant he had no use for. She somehow managed to burrow her way beneath his skin, precisely where he did not want her.
And had managed to bluster her way into his chamber, also where he did not want her.
“You needn’t be rude, you know.”
What was it about her?
She quite set his teeth on edge. She also stirred his prick. A most inconvenient combination, and more so for his peculiar predicament.
He frowned. “This dialogue is at an end, Lady Violet. Go now before you do your reputation more harm than you have already done.”
If anything, his words seemed to render the minx even more determined, for she did not bat a lash or move an inch.
Her expression became mulish. “I am not leaving until you accept my assistance.”
But she would find she was not the only one with tenacity.
“Do not take umbrage, madam, but I would sooner swallow arsenic than accept the dubious aid of the sister of the man who is hell-bent upon ruining my life and my reputation.”
The hoyden actually dared to laugh at him then. “Do cease being so melodramatic, Strathmore. No one is trying to ruin you, and there is no need to drink poison.”
Irritation seared him. “Is this because I kissed you? A boring noddy like Lord Flowerpot is probably too busy mucking about in the dirt to kiss you properly, and now that you’ve realized what you’re missing, you cannot live without the promise of my lips upon yours.”
To his extreme vexation, she only laughed harder.
Laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks.
Laughed until she doubled over, burying the hilarity in her purple silken skirts.
He wondered if she dressed to complement her name each day, or if this afternoon was an aberration. And then he wondered why the devil he cared.
Griffin waited for her to collect herself, but his patience was growing thin. Christ, it was already gone, and he could admit as much to himself. This business with Arden had worn him down to the bone.
“I said I wished to help,” she said at last, dabbing gingerly at her eyes with a scrap of lace that had materialized from some hidden place on her person. “You may keep your kisses, Duke. I have no need of them.”
He would argue otherwise. She had been quite responsive to his kisses earlier, and not in the fashion of a woman who was regularly and thoroughly kissed, but in the manner of a lady who had just realized kissing could be a wondrous, deliciously wicked act.
“Are you certain?” he could not keep himself from asking, stalking closer in spite of his best intentions. “It seems to me perhaps that is the real reason you have trespassed in my chamber, Lady Violet. Surely you know how wrong it is for you to be here alone with me.”
