* * *
Imogen was curled up on the settee in Oscar’s library with a book she had been trying to read for over an hour. Only she couldn’t concentrate. Every time she started to lose herself in the tale, she would think of Oscar. She would think of Aurora. She would think of that poor dead woman whose murder had changed her life forever. She’d been searching the papers for days, trying to find some indication her body had been found. Mourning her even if no one else did.
She threw the book aside and got to her feet just as the door to the library opened and Oscar stepped in. She took a step toward him, about to welcome him home with a kiss, when she noticed the circle of a bruise around his left eye.
She rushed forward. “Your face!”
He flinched and lifted a hand to it. “I knew it looked bad when Donovan’s eyes went that wide.”
“What happened?” she asked as she caught his hand and drew him to the settee. He allowed her to force him into a seated position and didn’t argue when she tilted his head to the side to see the injury better in the lamplight.
“I could tell you I walked into a post,” he suggested.
She scowled at him. “For weeks you grumble around here like an ogre guarding his bridge andnowyou have jokes?”
He pursed his lips. “I’m not an ogre and I don’t even own a bridge.”
She pulled away and shot him what she hoped was a withering look. “Oscar!”
He bent his head and the way his gaze moved away from hers made her stomach plummet.
“Oscar?” she repeated, this time on nothing more than a breath.
“I went to see the Earl of Roddenbury,” he said, and got to his feet to pace away.
Her mouth dropped open, and for a moment she was struck mute with shock. He didn’t fill the silence, and so the only sound was the crackling of the wood on the fire until she managed to find some words.Anywords.
“Please tell me this is a nightmare,” she said as she got to her feet and followed him across the room. She caught his elbow and forced him to turn back toward her. “Please tell me what you just said to me is a lie or a bad joke.”
“It’s neither,” he said.
“Why would you do that?” she asked. “Especially after lecturing me about reaching out to Aurora! Why would you immediately leave our bed and march off to find a man who wants me dead?”
“Because I hoped to get some information out of him,” he growled, and yanked away from her. “I hoped that we might come to some kind of understanding that could help you.”
“But he punched you,” she said.
“He cheated at cards,” he explained, but there was something in his eyes that let her know it was more.
“Oscar,” she snapped.
He glared at her. “You can’t manage me, you know.”
“Youneedto be managed, apparently.” She shook her head. “Whydid he punch you?”
“Good Lord, you are unstoppable.” He shook his head, but he didn’t sound angry at that fact. “In my attempt to wheedle the truth out of him, I have…likely only raised his suspicions about me. I let emotion take over and I revealed too much of my hand, my strategy. I…lost control.”
She wrinkled her brow at that idea. This man didn’t lose control. He didn’t get swept away by emotion. He was careful not to do either of those things.
“What do you think he’ll do?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Perhaps nothing. Perhaps he’ll decide to do more than punch me in the face. Either way we’ll have to make some contingency plans. He might start watching me after today, which means I’ll make arrangements for you to be moved somewhere safer. Perhaps out to the country, after we see your friend in a few days. I’ll have Will take over the club until this dies down.”
“I suppose I understand that,” she whispered.
He nodded. “We’ll do what must be done.”
“What I don’t understand is why would you risk yourself in this way? Why would you run after a man we already know is violent and vile? One who could ruin you or worse?”
