When he touched her, she burned so hot, he forgot she was still innocent in so many ways. He let his hand slip from under her skirt, and he sucked her sweetness from his finger. The flare of arousal in her eyes nearly undid him. He wanted nothing more than to bury his mouth between her thighs and feast. But he wouldn’t be able to stop at just his mouth on her slick flesh. He wanted more. He wanted everything. And he wasn’t sure Clio was ready to give him her maidenhead. Certainly not in a dusty schoolroom, bent over a child’s desk. Not when there was still so much to say between them. Not until he was certain she understood what he could give her, and more importantly, what he could not. He stood and took three large, painful steps away from her. ‘We must talk.’
She looked from his chest to his eyes. ‘Later.’
A smile curled his lips. So stubborn. So confident in her desires. She was a wonder. ‘Now. Will you come to my room?’
Clio huffed out a breath. Sir Robin, who had settled on a chair near the chalkboard, cawed. Clio resettled her skirts and patted her shoulder for the bird to resume his perch. ‘No.’
Hope, bright and fragile, cracked in his chest, cutting his heart with its sharp edges.
Clio’s smile was so earnest, so beautiful, even in the midst of hispain, he couldn’t breathe. ‘First, we must search Berty’s room. Then I shall come to your room, and we can talk. I have things to say to you too, Thomas Grey.’
Clio and Thomas learned several things about Berty. He kept a deck of cards with crudely drawn naked women next to his bed. His clothing had all been newly purchased, no doubt when he received an influx of wealth from his inheritance. And he had a penchant for peppermint drops. He kept bags of them everywhere. But they could not find any evidence pointing to the fact he murdered his cousin.
As bad luck would have it, the shivering picnickers arrived back at the manor just as Clio and Thomas were exiting Berty’s room. Not far behind them were the gentlemen, who had been unlucky in their hunt and were far more interested in warming their outsides by the fireplace and their insides with whisky and port than staying in the winter weather.
Lady Langley declared the entire day a disaster that could only be remedied with parlour games for the ladies and billiards for the men as angry sleet turned to soft snow falling in delicate flurries.
Seeing no polite way to excuse herself, Clio accepted she would have to wait until the guests were dressing for dinner to sneak into Thomas’ room. He seemed equally frustrated and gave her a smouldering look before following the duke, Berty, and the rest of the gentlemen into the billiards room. Perhaps he would get a chance to speak with Berty. The man might inadvertently reveal something that could help their investigation, though Clio hated that she couldn’t lead the conversation herself.
Her bad luck continued when, after the games had concluded and the guests were returning to their rooms to prepare for dinner,Lady Langley caught her arm and insisted she join Cynthia and herself in the duchess’ suite.
‘My lady’s maid is so talented with hair. I can’t wait to see what she will do with all of yours!’
Drat! Now our conversation must wait until after dinner.
As it turned out, Lady Langley wasn’t wrong. Clio sat and watched in fascination as the clever young woman with fingers as nimble as a nymph sculpted her long, black tresses into a masterpiece.
‘I told you, Penelope is so clever. Now, tell me, Clio, have you set your cap for any of the gentlemen here? I know my cousin isn’t as young and handsome as your own, but he certainly comes with a large fortune and would make a profitable match, if not an altogether pleasant one. He really is a dreary man. Poor Arthur is probably rolling in his grave knowing his title and fortunes have gone to the one person he despised above all others.’ Lady Langley sipped from a goblet of wine that a maid had been keeping full since they arrived in the duchess’ room. Clio would guess the poor girl had been given strict instructions by Lady Langley to ensure her glass never emptied. But if that loosened the duchess’ already lax lips, who was Clio to argue?
Cynthia gave Clio a look in the glass as her own maid brushed out her mahogany locks until they shone.
‘I wonder why your brother had such a dislike for the man.’ Clio tried to keep her tone careless and light.
The duchess looked at Clio and tapped the side of her nose with a gloved finger. ‘It’s hardly done to speak ill of the dead.’
She held her breath, waiting. Because clearly, Lady Langley was eager to do just that.
‘Arthur came to me, not long before his… untimely demise. We had all gathered for a Yuletide feast. Here, as I recall. One of those dreadful family affairs so regrettably unavoidable at Christmas. Berty was here as well. He came slinking into my room, wanting money of all things.’ Lady Langley shook her head as her cheeks flushed from either wine or indignation at being asked for such a gauche favour.
Cynthia turned her head sharply. ‘Berty asked you for money?’
Lady Langley threw back her head and laughed. ‘No, not Berty, silly. Arthur. I told him in no uncertain terms, any financial decisions were made by my husband, the duke, and he would have to go to him.’
‘Did he?’ Clio watched the duchess carefully in the looking glass, not wanting to miss any slight tell.
Lady Langley lifted her chin. ‘I wouldn’t know. The duke and I do not speak of such things.’
I doubt you speak of anything with the poor man.
Deflated, Clio would have slumped back in her seat, but the maid tugged insistently on her hair, so Clio stiffened her spine.
A small, haughty smile tilted the duchess’ wine-stained lips. ‘But Berty isn’t quite so reserved. You might have seen how he can be when he’s in his cups. Lush of a man.’ As she said this, she gestured with her wine glass, slopping crimson over the cushion of her chair.
The maid in charge of keeping her cup full rushed forward to dab at the stain. Lady Langley waved her away.
‘He was livid that night. Drank far too much whisky and nearly came to fisticuffs with Arthur. The viscountess packed up her things, and she and Anna left that very night. She said she wouldn’t subject her child to such violence.’ Lady Langley sniffed. ‘She was never a pleasant woman, but she was devoted to poor Anna. I was shocked they came at all, as the dear girl was so sick. But then, I’m sure my brother insisted. The viscountess spent nearly the entire time in the nursery with Anna. I told her she should come down and enjoy herself, let the poor little lamb rest, but she wouldn’t hearof it. That’s how I know she is no longer with us. Nothing would keep her away from that girl except the Devil himself.’ Lady Langley blinked a few times, then turned to Clio, her eyes bright. ‘Your hair is divine. I shan’t get any attention tonight.’ Her face soured as if realising the flaw in her plan. ‘We shall sit you at the end of the table.’ She brightened once more. ‘Come, ladies.’
Clio’s head was spinning with the information Lady Langley sloshed around as easily as her wine. She needed to speak with Thomas about more than just their relationship, or what she hoped might become a relationship.
