“I have a plan,” she announced, and he instantly grew warier. “For the last several months, I have been working at Kent and Associates, and I’ve learned something of the trade.”
What the devil?
He stared at her. “You have been employed... as aninvestigator?”
She cleared her throat. “Not exactly. I was assisting my brother in more of, er, an organizational capacity. I have, however, learned the ins and outs of detection work. In fact, I recently solved a case on my own.”
The chit was unbelievable. Cracked. Possibly unhinged.
“As a female investigator,” she went on in a determined manner, “I may be uniquely positioned to assist you.”
Specific positions in which she could assist him flitted through his head.
Scowling, he said, “That is the most demented thing I’ve ever heard. What special female talents do you bring to bear, Miss Kent? Your skill wielding a reticule as a weapon? Or perhaps your remarkable ability to jump to the wrong conclusions?”
“I already apologized for my mistake and have rectified it with the magistrates.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you always this difficult when someone tries to help you?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had the experience,” he said shortly.
He didn’t trust it either. The only one who’d ever tried to do anything for him was the dowager duchess, and he didn’t know which had been more stifling, his illness or Aunt Patrice’s overbearing anxiety.
“That can’t be true,” Miss Kent said with a frown. “Everyone has relied upon another at some point. What about your mama?”
“She died when I was young,” he said curtly.
“Your papa then—”
“I do not discuss my family.”
She looked as if she might argue... and apparently thought better of it. “Well,Iam trying to help you,” she said, “and I’ve been thinking: according to the papers, Lady Clara was poisoned. Poison is oft said to be a woman’s weapon. Given that the victim was a woman as well, it seems that a female perspective is warranted in this case, don’t you agree?”
He couldn’t resist bursting her little bubble. “The poison wasn’t intended for Clara. It was in my whiskey. She had the misfortune of drinking with me.”
She blinked. “Youwere poisoned too? But you’re... not dead.”
“Disappointed?” he said acidly.
“The papers never mentioned—”
“The fewer who know the better. I don’t want the integrity of the investigation tainted.”
Miss Kent’s gaze widened, firelight dancing in the faceted depths. Most brown eyes he’d encountered gave the impression of opacity, but not hers: they were as clear and dark as the finest tea, reflecting her rippling emotions.
“This changeseverything,” she said.
“It changesnothingwhere you’re concerned,” he said with emphasis. “You’re not to get involved. In fact, I want you as uninvolved in my life as possible.”
Keeping her away from him, he concluded, was the only way to preserve his sanity. Emma Kent possessed an uncanny talent for pushing him to his limits. Her willfulness was infuriating—and bloody arousing. He wanted to shake some sense into her. He wanted to yank her into his arms, taste her honeyed surrender again...
She leapt to her feet, which obliged him to rise as well. He suppressed a grimace as his stiffening cock butted against his trousers. Praise God his shirt covered the bulge.
“But you could still be in danger!” She bit her lip, pacing in front of the divan. “This is my fault. I misled the magistrates into focusing on you instead of the true killer.”
Her concern was... befuddling. In his extensive experience with the fair sex, he couldn’t recall a single instance where a woman had been answerable for her actions. Where a female had shown a sense of honor and fair play. As he recalled Laura’s tears and denials, her baseless accusations, his jaw tautened.
“Actions have been taken,” he said abruptly. “I’ve hired investigators.”
“You’ve spoken to Mr. McLeod and my brother?”
