But instead, she found a fur blanket draped over one of the armchairs flanking the fire and returned to his side, spreading it over him with care. She was about to make good on her escape when he shifted, his hand shooting out to grasp her wrist in an almost punishing grip.
“Virtue?” He sat up, scowling, and released her hand. “What the devil are you doing in here? I thought for a moment… Christ, I could have hurt you. Ididn’thurt you, did I?”
He looked tired, dark half circles beneath his eyes from a lack of sleep, marring the otherwise flawless perfection of his countenance.
“You didn’t hurt me,” she said quietly. “There’s a chill in the air. I was merely trying to keep you warm.”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you certain you weren’t trying to smother me in my sleep?”
“Of course not,” she said, frowning down at him, startled that he would make a joke about such a serious matter so soon after he had been attacked. “I may not like you, Ridgely, but I do not wish any harm upon you. Perhaps a well-timed splatter of bird offal upon your favorite hat, or a misstep in horse dung with your favorite boots, or too much salt in your soup, or a sudden fit of sneezing…” Her words trailed off as she realized she was chattering inanely and also revealing rather too much about the fantasies his smug treatment had inspired. She cleared her throat nervously. “Well. As you can see, nothing so fiendish as plotting your murder.”
But someone else was. She bit her lip and wished she could recall her words, their gazes colliding.
“I’m vastly relieved by your munificence,” he said wryly, sweeping back the fur she had spread over him and rising to his full height. “Such a caring, tenderhearted ward I have.”
She winced. “I am sorry, Ridgely.”
He raised a brow. “What are you sorry for, infant? Trespassing in my library?”
Well, er, yes. There was that. He had told her she was barred from entering, had he not?
“For what happened to you,” she elaborated. “The man who attempted to murder you in the midst of the night. You must have been terrified.”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, his scowl deepening. “You weren’t meant to be told about that. Who informed you?”
“All the household knows,” she answered indirectly, not wishing to cause harm to any of the domestics who had shared their confidence with her that morning. “It’s hardly a secret.”
He sighed heavily. “Very well. Someone wants me dead. Since I’ve never seen the fellow who met his end on the stairs last night, I can only surmise he was a hired assassin.”
Which meant that whomever it was who had made the attempt on Ridgely’s life was still out there somewhere in London, with a deadly vendetta against him. A cold spike of fear burrowed itself deep in her heart.
“An assassin?”
“Yes, and not a terribly successful one, thankfully.” He flashed her a grim smile. “And one who is now happily out of commission.”
“You shouldn’t jest about such a serious matter, Ridgely.” She frowned at him. “You could be in grave danger.”
He gave a bitter little laugh. “You needn’t fear for me, infant. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in danger, and nor, I haven’t a doubt, shall it be the last.”
He was speaking of his past, she suspected. Ridgely had been a member of a secretive group known as the Guild before she had come to stay with him. She knew his work had been perilous. But then, her gaze caught on the lingering bruise on his forehead, partially covered by a wave of dark hair.
She gasped. “The footpad, you mean. Are you suggesting he was more than a thief?”
Ridgely inclined his head. “It would seem so, given my nocturnal visitor.”
“Do you think it was the same man who attacked you before?”
The duke shrugged. “I’m ashamed to admit I wasn’t paying attention. I was ambushed from the shadows and my only recollection is a staggering blow to the head. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve had rather enough of your questions. I’ve one for you instead. What are you doing in my library?”
Ah, he hadn’t forgotten his edict, it would seem.
She folded her hands together at her waist, attempting to look demure and innocent. “I heard a snore as I walked past in the hall, and I came to investigate. When I found you sleeping, I thought only of your comfort. I intended to leave forthwith, but you stayed me.”
With that firm grip. She’d startled him, but given what he’d endured the night before, it was understandable.
“Let me see your wrists,” he said, extending his hands, palm up.
“I’m perfectly fine,” she returned, not wanting him to touch her or lure her nearer for fear of the effect both would have upon her. “I’m not delicate.”
