“Refreshments…” She forgot what words came next as he stepped into the room. He looked down at her with such intensity, she wondered if he would kiss her then and there.
“Shall we sit?” A spark of amusement glimmered in his eyes.
Amuse him, did she? Well, she was acting like a ninny, so she couldn’t blame him. She nodded, moving to the couch. She lay the flowers on the table before her.
He didn’t take the other side of the coach, as she expected. Instead, he settled into the chair beside her, his knee brushing hers. “Thank you for letting me call.”
“Grace persuaded me I may have been rash in my judgement of you.”
“Grace is a good friend. I’m lucky you have her.”
He said it without a hint of reservation. Could he mean it? “She is very dear to me.”
“I can see why. It’s clear she has your best interests at heart.”
Lanora pressed her lips closed, resisting the urge to clench her hands. Why was she so nervous? She was the wronged party, not the one who needed to win him over. “You broke into Mr. Lethbridge’s office.”
“And found you there.” He was amused again.
Was he always so confident? “Why did you break in?”
“When you asked me, I’d already written to Darington, and heard back. He definitely requested the funds. So I investigated Mr. Finch, the foreman in charge of getting the building up. I didn’t find him to be overly suspicious, so I followed the trail of money back to Lethbridge.”
“You’d already written to Mr. Darington? Why not tell me so?”
“I wanted to find an answer for you first. I meant to impress you.”
She flushed. “Oh.” He’d broken into Mr. Lethbridge’s office for her? “Picking locks is an odd skill for a future marquess.”
“Is it?” He grinned, an infectious expression.
So, he didn’t deny he’d picked the lock. How could he seem so honest, yet seem as if he always hid the truth from her? “You wouldn’t have found anything. Well, maybe.” She recalled the locked box behind the painting. “But I looked through all his files. There was nothing about Darington’s home for women. Nothing from Darington at all, though I know him to be a client.”
“I saw fragments of one letter. Burned. In the grate.”
Lanora frowned. “How odd.”
“Is that why you were there? To look for clues about the home for women?”
If he was being honest, it behooved her to be as well. “No. I followed a man who was following you. He waited outside your mistress’s house. I…I wanted to confront you when you came out, but you never did, so I followed him, instead. That’s when I overheard Mr. Lethbridge talking about having taken Mr. Darington’s money.” Should she tell him about the heiress? It hardly seemed the time.
His expression became closed. “I see.”
Silence stretched between them, empty and harsh. William leaned back in his seat. Lanora’s gaze dropped to the flowers on the table.
“Is she pretty?” she finally asked, feeling forlorn.
“She is, but she is not my mistress. I believe I told you that.” He was guarded, his smile a memory.
“You did, but it seems very difficult to believe.” How could he look at her the way he did, proclaim love for her, and yet cling to his mistress? “I assume you were with her when you didn’t appear at the theater.”
William ran a hand through his tousled hair, his expression closed. Meeting her eyes, he leaned forward and captured her hand. “I swear to you, she is not my mistress.” His voice was low, as intense as his expression. “Who she is, that’s not my secret to tell. Someone is seeking her. If she’s found, she’ll be in danger for her life. I shouldn’t even admit to you she isn’t my mistress, but I don’t believe you will tell, or be believed if you did. That is all I can say of her. Please, don’t press me on this.”
Lanora blinked, sorting through his words. “Her life?” She hadn’t expected that.
He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Do you think anything less serious would make me keep this from you? Lanora, you must believe me.”
She wanted to. She longed to. Slowly, she nodded.
