“Why…why…I just need to understand why, Daria.”
They looked at St. John’s office door together.
The predictable chap had moved on from suitable fury to impassioned grief. Curiosity—and it was only curiosity—compelled Argyll to return Eris back to the earlier information she’d dropped.
“Anyhow, a dark-haired chap with dark blue eyes. Am I to gather there’s been a certain gentleman whom—?”
“My sister favors?” She gave him a thorough once-over. Her final look said, despite their brief camaraderie, she still found Argyll wanting. “Or favored? Considering you are married?”
“Yes, we are married.” Argyll flashed his most charming smile.
Little Eris remained as implacable as her elder, bewitching sister.
His grin slipped. His pride was taking a solid caning this day. A resistance to Argyll’s charm must be a Kearsley-sister thing.
Argyll got back to the pressing point. “And yes, was there a certain chap you saw Daria with instead of myself? Since according to your own admission, I’m not the lady’s sort,” he said smoothly. “So maybe there is another fellow who might have been?”
Eviscerating, Eris’s tiny eyebrows curved downward.
Oh, hell.
Argyll didn’t realize he scrabbled with his cravat until he caught Eris staring. He abruptly stopped himself.
“Argyll, Daria is my sister. Do you actually believe I’ll spill her secrets toyou, a new husband whom I’ve only now met, and whom my brother, mother, and Aunt Sylvia disapprove of?”
Argyll took that in. “That is a fair point.” He looked at the lady who kept on skewering him with her eyes. “However, given Daria married me, she approves in some way.”
“She might not if I tell her you’re trying to have me spill her confidences.”
That shut him up quick.
God, she’d be the first female to step into Parliament. He’d wager ghastly sums on it at rival gaming hells, shut them down, and end the feud with one bet alone.
Eris tapped a contemplative finger against her chin. “Maybe it’s because you look like an angel and remind her of death.”
“A compliment?”
“A fact.” She snorted. “You’ve checked a mirror, certainly too many times. You don’t need me to tell you about your appearance.”
His lips twitched.
“I take it Daria has always been fascinated with the macabre?” Shocking.
“As long as I’ve known her.” She paused. “Which is my whole life.”
An image slipped in of Daria as a girl Eris’s age; her big, dark haunting eyes would’ve swallowed her small face, and she’d have taken everything in with them.
“And it is not the macabre.” Eris’s voice startled him from his egregious lapse into wistfulness. “It is death.”
“Isn’t that the same?”
Creases formed in her little brow. “Ofcoursenot.”
“I see.” He didn’t see at all.
From her aggrieved tone, one might think Argyll suggested the earth was flat.
Eris patted the top of his hand. “Daria will explain it to you.”
