He hesitated a moment longer than he should have in answering the question, his thoughts drawn as ever to the woman who had been haunting his every second since they had parted in the night. Hunger for her, a need to possess, to protect, surged. He should have known better than to think fate could be ignored. His first warning had been in the afternoon when he’d spied her sketching in the salon, barefoot and beautiful.
“You did see something,” Tierney guessed shrewdly. “What was it?”
“Only someone who mistook me for another housebreaker,” he said swiftly, keeping his expression guarded, his tone even.
“Surely not Ridgely?”
“No.” Theo shook his head, not elaborating.
He didn’t want to think about Lady Deering. Didn’t want to linger over that fateful meeting. He’d do best to forget it had ever happened.
“One of the servants, then?” Tierney guessed next, apparently unwilling to allow the matter to go undissected.
Damn it, Tierney could go on guessing all afternoon. And that would only serve to prolong his suffering.
“His Grace’s sister,” Theo allowed, his voice curt.
He was being careful, so very careful, to keep any evidence of what had passed between them from his expression. Tierney wasn’t a man who was easily fooled, and he understood far more than most. He was inherently intelligent for someone who had lived much of his life in the brutish stews of the rookeries. But then, he would have had to be, to have risen as he had from the depths.
“Ah, the widowed Lady Deering,” Tierney said slowly, his look turning assessing.
It occurred to him that Tierney was on friendly terms with the Duke of Ridgely. There was every possibility that Tierney knew Lady Deering. Perhaps more than knew her.
A sudden possessive burst overwhelmed him.
“Are you acquainted with the marchioness?” he asked, far more sharply than he had intended.
Another raised brow, another contemplative puff on his cheroot. “No.” He flashed Theo the devil’s own grin. “But perhaps I ought to be.”
Theo’s fingers bit into the arms of the chair until his knuckles went white, and he clenched his jaw tight to stave off words he shouldn’t say. Words that laid claim to her when he had neither the right nor the true intention of doing either.
He inhaled slowly, thinking of how perfectly her lips had molded to his, as if they had been meant for him, and forced out different words instead. “As it pleases you.”
“Hmm.” Tierney stroked his jaw idly.
Theo held his gaze, refusing to give any more of himself away than he already had. Of all the men he’d come to know since finding his home in the bowels of London and being, effectively, born again, Theo trusted Tierney best. But there was nothing to tell.
He’d kissed a beautiful woman last night. Had allowed himself to become distracted by the long-dead memory of what it felt like to desire a woman when he’d been a whole man, a prince instead of a monster. It wouldn’t happen again.
“The rest of the men,” Tierney said at length. “Have they reported anything amiss?”
Of the half dozen men they had assigned to guard Hunt House, not one had reported even a hint of danger. But they would be prepared for it when, or if, it happened.
“Nothing,” he confirmed. “What of the investigation? Have you learned who the dead man is?”
In a rather unusual development, the would-be assassin who had attempted to attack the Duke of Ridgely in his sleep had been unknown to the duke. Which meant the man had been hired by someone.
“Not yet,” Tierney said enigmatically. “I’ll expect another report at the same time tomorrow. If anyone sees anything untoward, if there’s a bloody sneeze in the night, send word to me.”
Theo inclined his head, for he was being paid handsomely to do whatever Tierney asked of him. “If that is all, I should return.”
Although returning was the last thing he wanted to do. What he wanted—needed—was to be as far away from Lady Deering as possible.
“Just a moment, if you please,” Tierney said, granting him a momentary reprieve. “There’s someone who’s been making inquiries about you.”
“I’m afraid my services aren’t available at the moment,” he said wryly, for he had no notion of how long he would be needed at Hunt House, and he intended to fulfill his contract, even if it damn well killed him.
He had survived his uncle’s dungeon. He could survive a few more days or weeks without succumbing to the temptation to touch one widowed marchioness.
