“Hmmm.” Finn fought not to glare at this man who could so easily dismiss a person who had been so good and decent. “Well, perhaps I place my own feelings on the matter. I find I struggle with his death even now. It was such a sudden, unexplained illness that seemed to come from nowhere.”
Francis lifted his gaze from his drink and looked at Finn, holding his stare evenly now. There was a flicker to his look, an edge that put Finn on edge in return. “Yes.”
“He was never one to get ill.”
“And yet he did,” Francis said with a shrug. “I suppose he should have been more careful.”
“Careful?” Finn repeated and felt his brow wrinkle. “How could he have avoided such a fate?”
There was a shadow of a smile that moved over Francis’s face, but he didn’t answer the question. “Is that why you brought me here then? To whinge about my late uncle?”
“It is an undeniable tragedy,” Finn said, ignoring the nastiness to the other man’s tone. “And then it was followed by the sudden disappearance of your cousin. What was her name?”
“Charlotte,” Francis said, and his gaze now held Finn’s firmly. “Did you know her, to be so impacted by her disappearance?”
“No. My sister mentioned her tonight when you entered the hall. I’d all but forgotten about her, to be honest. I saw her father mostly at his club or at my own home here.”
“Oh yes, Fitzhugh’s,” Francis said with a scoffing laugh. “My uncle certainly never gave a damn about appearances.”
Finn set his jaw. “You seem to have disdain for the man.”
“How could I not? He was a weak-hearted fool, always wasting his time and money trying to fix broken wings.” Francis had finished another glass of whisky and poured again. His words were becoming slurred now, but he kept on. “And the way he spoiled that little bitch of a daughter of his.”
Finn gripped the arms of his chair harder. He wanted so badly to come out of it and slam a fist into this man, but that would do him no good. “But you must have concerns about her whereabouts,” he pressed.
Francis shrugged. “Why? The little hellcat probably ran off to fuck every man on the continent. I could care less if she’s alive or dead.”
The rage was building now, burning in Finn’s throat. He might have done something about it. Might have moved on this piece of utter shite, but there was a soft sound from the hallway that drew his attention. A little gasp.
He jerked his head toward the door and saw it was farther open than it had been when they entered. He thought he saw a flash of movement there. Francis, of course, wasn’t paying enough attention to notice, which was good because Finn had a sneaking suspicion he knew who had been lurking there.
He pushed to his feet. “You know, I ought to return to my guests. But I would love to finish this conversation another time.”
The other man looked him up and down. “Certainly a friendship between our two houses could be very powerful. If you’d wish to continue that, I’m amenable.”
Finn swallowed back bile and motioned to the door. “I’ll let you find your way back to the ballroom while I take care of a small matter before I rejoin the party. I’ll send my man with an invitation later in the week.”
“Very good.” Francis started up the hallway toward the ballroom and when he was out of sight, Finn pivoted toward the parlor that was next to his study.
He pushed into the room and looked around. The fire in here was cold and the curtains were drawn. It appeared empty, but as the light from the hallway hit the room, he thought he saw the slightest motion behind the curtains.
He closed the door behind himself and crossed the room in a few long steps. He yanked the curtains apart to find Esme standing in the moonlight, her fist cocked back. He only just lifted his arm for a block as she swung.
Esme hit the muscle of Finn’s forearm rather than his cheek as she swung with her full might. She was just as pleased. She’d only swung because she wasn’t certain it was him who’d come into the room rather than her cousin.
He caught her arms and tugged them down at her sides, holding her there with his superior strength as he pushed her back into the well of the window.
“I said no,” he growled, his face close to hers.
She panted as she stared up at him, his expression positively feral in the shimmering moonlight. That was what was under the sleek façade of an earl. She’d felt it when he made love to her. She saw it now in his anger toward her. Both made her shiver with arousal she shouldn’t feel.
“You have no right to say anything,” she said back, pushing at his arms.
He refused to release her. “Don’t I? I am trying tohelpyou, Esme!”
Now she pushed harder and broke his hold, pivoting on her back foot and spinning away from him into the main area of the room where she’d have more space to maneuver. “Are you? I stood in that hallway and watched as you didnothingwhile he disparaged my father.”
He threw up his hands. “In order to build some trust with the bastard. It took all the control I could muster not to rip the man apart piece by piece when he spoke so harshly about your father and about you.”
