“Yes.” All laughter fled her, her green eyes going wide. “My only intent is to offer my aid. Nothing more.”
“Mm.” He stopped before her, testing her by daring to run his fingertips over her jaw, then down her throat. He slid his hand all the way to her nape, where her skin was hot and silken, and cupped the base of her skull. “Have you ever shot a pistol?”
“No.” She was breathless as she answered.
“Wielded a knife?”
“No.”
He lowered his head, bringing their lips painfully near. “Have you ever defused a bomb?”
“No.” Her pupils had gone round and full, the color of inky midnight amidst verdant opulence.
“Could you kill a man?”
“For the right reasons,” she said.
Her response, offered without pause, shocked him. Indeed, it gave him so much pause, he could not readily pose his next question. He simply stared at her, trying to understand the enigma before him, a woman who knitted—Christ,crocheted—seed pouches for her boring betrothed and yet said she would kill a man without the slightest hesitation.
“How would you do it?” he asked.
“A pistol, if I knew how to shoot one.” Her response was quick. “But if he was horrible and truly deserved it, poison instead. I concede the usefulness of your allusion.”
Jesus, she was vengeful. He liked the way she thought.
“What are the right reasons for killing?” he asked next.
“If someone were to hurt a person I love,” she answered, once more without pause. “Or if I needed to protect someone I love. Also, if someone were to hurt children or animals. I cannot abide by cruelty to the helpless.”
Damn it.
He was not meant to like this woman so bloody much, but like her he did. In spite of her being the sister of his nemesis. Perhaps more so, because she was. A wicked, altogether wrong thought occurred to him just then.
What if he ruined her to spite Arden?
No, he could not.
Yes, whispered the devil’s own voice inside himself.You can.
More than that, he ought to.
When had anyone ever been presented with a more perfect opportunity? How rich would it be to serve the mighty Arden his comeuppance?
Lady Violet could indeed aid him in his quest, he decided. Just not in the capacity she proposed.
“Very well,” he capitulated before he could think better of it. “You may assist me. But for the love of all that is holy, remove yourself from my chamber at once. I have no wish to be forced into a marriage with the sister of the Duke of Arden, and I am equally certain you have no wish to marry me instead of your Lord Flowerpot.”
There.
He needed time to consider his plan of attack, if indeed he found himself in such dearth of conscience that he could ruin her without guilt or shame. Since he had existed on rage and lust alone for the last decade, he was certain he would.
“Lord Almsley,” she corrected with a small smile before dipping into a hasty, unnecessary curtsy and turning to flee. “And of course I wish to marry Charles. He is everything a gentleman should be.”
Her glowing praises still hovering in the air, she swept from his chamber. He watched the last flash of purple silk disappearing over the threshold before crumpling the bloody seed pouch in his fist.
Of course the Earl of Cocklessness was everything a gentleman should be.
But Griffin would take great pleasure in showing Lady Violet a scoundrel was infinitely more pleasurable than a gentleman. And in so doing, maybe, just maybe, he could bring the Duke of Arden to his arrogant knees.
