She was sosmall. She could never have overpowered him, even with the force of her madness. That only made her seem more insane. Why would she choose a fight with someone so much larger than herself? Surely she should have run or hidden, or at least approached him with an apology on her lips?
James caught her by the wrists a moment before she could strike and held her at arm's length. "What the dickens is this?" he demanded.
"Release me!"
He looked her up and down, wondering whether she was some sort of homeless hag who had broken in—but her clothing was far too fine for that. It was strange to see a madwoman dressed in the clothes of a lady. His mind struggled to make sense of it.
She was pretty, he realized. Her auburn hair was well tended, though it fell loose around her shoulders. Her green eyes sparked with anger.
"Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"
The pieces fell into place. "You're the duchess," he said.
"And who else would I be? This is my house!"
"I'm afraid I have to correct you," James said. "This ismyhouse."
"I've never seen you before in my life," the duchess spat. "Who do you think you are?"
"My name is James Wentworth."
The duchess paused. "I've heard that name before."
"No doubt your solicitor mentioned it to you after your husband's death. I suppose you thought you would be able to keep his home forever."
"Itismine," she said. "I was married to him. I live here. I am the Duchess of Stormwell."
"And I am the Duke of Stormwell," James explained. "I inherited the title, along with this house and the land, after my cousin's death. I'm sure your solicitor told you that at the time."
"How am I supposed to believe you? A strange man enters my house in the middle of the night and tells me it's his, and you think I should simply take you at your word? I would be mad. I should summon the authorities."
James shrugged. "Do that, if you'd like," he said indifferently. "The authorities will confirm that I am who I say I am. Or we could save some time and effort. I have papers confirming my identity."
He produced them, reflecting that while this was a bit roundabout and not the way he had hoped for things to begin when he'd arrived here, he couldn't really blame her for wanting to see some proof of his identity. After all, what she had said was true—she was a lady, and the idea of a strange man bursting in on her in the evening was not one to take lightly, even if James did have every right to be there.
She scanned the papers he had handed her. "These do seem to be in order," she confessed, handing them back to him. "I suppose you are who you say you are, then."
"Yes, I am," James agreed. "And I'm certainly no danger toyou."
"To me? What does that mean?"
"I've heard about you," he said. "I know what people say—that you might have had a hand in my cousin's death."
The duchess scoffed. "I didn't lay a hand on the duke," she said. "I was young and frightened when he brought me here. Those rumors are just preposterous. To think that I even would have been capable of doing something like that is a laugh. I couldn't manage to dress myself that night, I was so shocked and terrified by the marriage I had just suffered."
"That sounds like a plausible motive for committing murder to me," James said.
"You think I could have come up with a scheme? That I could have overpowered a man twice my age? The staff will confirm that I was nowhere near him when he died," the duchess said icily.
"The staff that works for you," James commented. "The staff that depends upon you for their livelihood. I wonder if they'll tell a different story once I take over the house and begin putting my own money in their pockets."
"Did you come here to accuse me of a crime I didn't commit?" The duchess asked him. "Because you're probably in the wrong place if that's your aim. I don't really care what you think I did. If you want to speak to someone who cares about that, you should go to a local tavern or gentlemen's club. You'll find someone there who's interested in all this, I'm sure. People do love to gossip when they have no idea what the truth is."
"I don't care about gossip," James told her. "In fact, these rumors have become a bit of a problem for me. I'm sure you can imagine. When my cousin died, he left me the title of Duke of Stormwell, and people know that. I'm asked often what I think about you, you know. Whether I believe you to be guilty or innocent. Whether I worry you'll come for me next."
She stared at him. "Why on Earth would I come for you? Even if all the rumors were true—which they aren't, obviously—what would be the benefit in my doing anything to you? You said yourself that my motive for harming my late husband would have been my fear of him."
"Perhaps," James said. "But we can't ignore how much you benefitted from his death. This house has been yours for the past two years because you married him the very night he died. That's an astonishing coincidence."
