But she had thwarted his labors. It had required a Herculean effort on her part, but realization had settled in after her stomach had stopped heaving. She’d splashed cold water on her face and dressed in haste, vowing to never again drink another drop of port so long as she lived.
Also, to never trust the Duke of Arden.
“My carriage is this way, Miss Montgomery,” he announced in his crisp accent.
As fancy as his house, his china, his many-coursed dinners, and his chamber pot.
“Then you had best be finding it, Mr. Arden.” She raised a brow, still feeling as if she had drunk poison the night before, but doing her damnedest not to allow it to show. “If you will excuse me, I am attempting to hire transportation of my own.”
“That is unnecessary.” His expression was grim, almost as if he found what he was about to say distasteful. “As we are both going to the same location, and as your safety is now a part of my duties, you will ride with me. One never knows what manner of cab driver one will find.”
She was certain this was yet another ruse. Likely, he would lure her into his carriage, then attempt to throw her from it whilst it was in motion. “Was my safety your concern yesterday evening as well? Or this morning, for that matter?”
He stepped nearer to her, and though the jangling of tack and the busy sounds of the city surrounded them, she felt strangely as if they were alone. Arden absorbed all of her attention with his undeniable magnetism.
“I did warn you to pace yourself, did I not?” he asked, offering her his arm.
She ignored it. “My recollections suggest otherwise.”
“Your recollections are faulty, in that case.”
His gaze continued to burn into her, making her uncomfortable. She longed to squirm. Admittedly, her remembrance of the evening before was murky at best. She did not recall, for instance, how she had managed to undress herself, or even find her way to the bed. Fortunately, Bunton had dispelled her inner horror when she had reassured Hazel earliershehad been the one to aid her.
If the Duke of Arden had undressed her, Hazel would never had been able to look him in the eyes again.
But that was neither here nor there, for she was still standing opposite him, in the midst of a teeming city street, at a stalemate.
“Did you, or did you not, encourage me to drink enough port to drown a sailor?” she demanded.
“As I have never attempted to drown a sailor, I cannot help but think myself unqualified to answer that question.” He smirked.
And Lord help her, but if a frowning Duke of Arden was handsome, a smirking Arden was somehow even more beautiful. Of course, she knew she was not meant to notice he was a man. It had been her policy ever since working amongst them for the last decade. Romance did not mingle well with detective work, and she had learned that bitter lesson long ago in the most brutal manner.
Still, she could not seem to ignore Arden’s undeniable good looks, despite her determination to think of him in the same fashion she had all the other detectives she had worked with over the years. Despite his arrogance and his condescension. Despite his attempt to undermine her by filling her glass with port.
All of which just served to heighten her irritation with him.
“You knew I was going to be ill this morning,” she countered.
The smirk deepened. “Youwerelooking rather green by the time I escorted you to your chamber. But you seemed perfectly hale and hearty in the dining room. How was I to know you were an unseasoned novice when it comes to port consumption?”
Her eyes narrowed. The scoundrel was enjoying this, taking pleasure in her discomfort. “You knew.”
“I suspected.” He lowered his head toward her, getting closer still. “Just as I suspected you were lying about the Home Office wishing for you to stay at my home.”
She truly had underestimated Arden, even more so than she had initially supposed. “I am leaving for my hotel upon my return. You have no need to worry I will impose upon your hospitality a moment longer.”
“No, you will not,” he said simply, as though his pronouncement was a predetermined conclusion. “You will be staying at Lark House for your tenure here, however long it lasts.”
However long it lasts.
Ah, so that was Arden’s game. He intended to chase her off, to send her running scared back to New York City. She had faced murderers and never once turned tail. But he would discover her mettle soon enough.
“I will not be staying at Lark House, Mr. Arden,” she informed him coolly. After all, she need not give him further opportunities to do damage to her. “Now, if you will excuse me, I truly must get about the business of procuring my ride back to Lark House.”
“You misunderstand me, Miss Montgomery,” he said, still offering his arm as if he were a suitor. “After I relayed my concern for the criminal activities at your hotel to Winchelsea, he agreed with me that it is best if you stay at my home. He is concerned that your anonymity be preserved. Remaining at Lark House suits that purpose nicely.”
It also suited Arden’s purposes, she was sure. For the proof was there, in every word he had just uttered. Arden had routed her once more, using her prevarication about the hotel against her, appealing to Winchelsea after she had fled the office and making certain she would be required to remain beneath the same roof as him.
