“No,” she replied, her tone half surprised, half incredulous.
“Then I’m afraid you cannot leave.” He flicked an invisible piece of lint from his coat. “You see, I have a goal and I will see it through.”
“And I’m part of this, how?” she asked, growing more frustrated, less cautious, and feeling an edge of fear leak through her mind.
“That’s a very good question.”
Grace turned toward the path just out of view, her heart pinching with a desperate hope that, rationally, she knew had to be impossible. Yet she would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Ah, just in time.” Lord Westhouse turned to greet Lord Sterling, an expectant expression on his face.
“I rather think I’m quite late, actually,” he remarked, closing the distance with a relaxed air about him, but his gaze was acutely aware, in strict contrast to his stride. “Are you well, Grace?” he asked, not glancing to her, but keeping his gaze trained on Lord Westhouse.
“Ah, a first name acquaintance, is she? I rather thought it might be that way,” Lord Westhouse replied in a jovial manner.
“Yes, annoyed but well,” Grace answered, curious as to why Lord Westhouse looked so bloody pleased with the situation.
Ramsey paused about a half yard from Lord Westhouse, who turned to meet him. Grace watched as the gentlemen faced off, their expressions calculating. Ramsey was much taller than Lord Westhouse, and equally as broad, but there was an edge to Lord Westhouse’s stance that implied that he wasn’t one to back down from a fight. Good Lord, she hoped it wouldn’t come to blows.Thatwould certainly lead to a disaster.
“I learned something interesting tonight,” Lord Sterling started, easing his posture from the rigid stance he had a moment before and taking a step toward Lord Westhouse, but slightly to the side.
Lord Westhouse frowned, but listened.
“I wait with bated breath,” Lord Westhouse remarked, then moved to stand between Lord Sterling and herself, blocking Lord Sterling’s path.
“I suspect it’s something you’ve known for a while,” Ramsey remarked.
“I suspect I know a great many things that you do not. Take your pick,” Lord Westhouse said rather testily.
Ramsey chuckled; the sound wasn’t the warm one she expected. No, it was cold, hard, and had an edge. She couldn’t see his face—Lord Westhouse’s back blocked the view—but she could hear his voice, and it was silk over a sword, smooth and deadly. For the first time, she suspected that Lord Ramsey was a dangerous man to cross.
When provoked enough.
And apparently, she was enough.
The knowledge comforted her.
But she wasn’t simply going to be a damsel in distress; she could save herself too, thank you very much.
She noted the way that Lord Westhouse had all but given her his back, and she slowly edged away, her focus on just moving around him enough to make it to the path and run inside. If she were to get inside, she could send out the viscount and Lord Heightfield to assist Ramsey. There was something going on, and as much as it seemed to involve her, she suspected that the root went much deeper.
Ramsey’s gaze never left Lord Westhouse’s, and she suspected it was on purpose. If he shifted his gaze, Lord Westhouse would follow it, and see her moving slowly along the edge of the path.
“You know, my father never had a problem disparaging the other gentry around our estate,” Ramsey continued.
Grace took another step.
“Why do I not find that surprising?” Lord Westhouse asked in a bored tone, but his posture was rigid as if expecting some verbal blow.
“But he never mentioned your family.”
It was almost imperceptible, but Grace was watching Lord Westhouse so closely that she noticed how his shoulders froze, and his fists clenched.
“Never?” he asked, as if surprised and caught off guard.
“Never,” Ramsey remarked, a slight edge of triumph in his tone. “Which was curious, and helped me confirm some news.”
“What is that?” Westhouse barked.
Grace was only a few feet from being able to run to freedom, but it was the most visible part. If Lord Westhouse wasn’t completely distracted, he could easily see her, seize her, and then she’d be back to square one. She breathed out slowly, and waited.
“That after years of wishing for a younger brother, I discovered I had an older one.”
Grace nearly gasped, but caught herself, and sprung forward the last steps and then ran.
To her surprise, she made it to the garden door, and was down the hall before she realized that Lord Westhouse hadn’t even tried to pursue her.
And all of a sudden, she had the chilling thought that maybe she wasn’t whom he was after.
Maybe she had just been the bait.
