Her eyes flew open, and she jumped back as if he was on fire and couldn’t stand to be so near.
“Are you accusing me of something, sir?”
“You are not whom you pretend to be, Maxey. I may not know your secret, but what I do know makes me suspicious.”
“And what is it that you think you know about me?”
“You are not Maxey Harring, a noblewoman, as you have proclaimed, but Miss Maxey Littleton, a servant.”
Her face lost color. Just as he had suspected, she was lying to him. He wasn’t the only one playing a charade tonight. Disappointment washed over him. He had hoped he was wrong about her.
She shook her head and, in an apparent attempt to regain her composure, smoothed her palms down her gown as she took a breath.
“Once again, Nash, I think you are talking nonsense. What have I done to make you doubt me?”
He lifted himself off the sofa, strode to the liquor tray, and poured a drink. “Gossip spreads quickly through the operetta.” He faced her with a drink in his hand. “From what I have heard from my informant, it seems a pretty little governess has been asking questions about me, seeking answers even my closest friends from the opera do not know. A few days ago, one of my friends, Peter, discovered something interesting about you, and since then, I have been suspicious of your persistent actions.”
After taking a sip of his drink and setting it on the counter, he walked to the sofa and stood in front of her. Bending, he took a lock of her blondish-brown hair and twisted the loose ringlet around his finger tenderly.
Her body stiffened, and her lips narrowed into a thin, taut line. Nash puffed his chest in victory and straightened to full height.
“Now,” he said, staring down at her. “Are you going to tell me the truth before I embarrass you further by releasing more information about your falsehood?”
Despite her square shoulders, she wore a strained smile. “Nash, I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Very well. I shall proceed.” Nash cleared his throat. “You were born and raised in Devonshire, even though you told me your cousins lived there.” She gaped at him, and he chuckled. “I have to admit, you are a good performer, better than most of the women I work with.”
She sat still, keeping her mouth pursed.
“Peter followed you one day, and he listened to your conversation with your friend, Sally, while you were sipping tea in a café. Apparently, both of you work for Lord and Lady Wentworth. However, that doesn’t tell me why you found me in the Lake District and why you are asking me such personal questions about my life. All I can assume is that my brother sent you to find me, which doesn’t make sense, because he doesn’t want anything to do with me and has enough money to hire a real investigator.”
He knelt beside her, taking her stiff hand in his. “Now, the question running through my head is, why would a governess and a maid want to search for an outcast like me?”
Trailing his finger down her arm, he kept his attention on her face, waiting for a verbal response, but still, she remained quiet. A quiver danced across her skin, but other than that, she was certainly out of character.
“Have I slept with your sister? Perhaps I insulted Sally’s brother and he wants to challenge me to a duel. Maybe your mother is in love with me and sent you to track me down.” Her lips tipped up at the corners from his humor. “Or maybe my singing is legendary in Wales, and someone you know is a jealous opera singer and accuses me of stealing his part.”
Her smile stretched, but she didn’t speak.
“Tell me, Maxey. Why are you so curious about me?”
Rolling her eyes, she pushed him back so hard he wobbled on his heels before falling back on his bottom.
She stood and, through narrowed eyes, challenged his stare. “Nash, your imagination has run away, and I fear it has left you addled.” She maintained her fake noble decorum. “I assure you, I am who I say.”
Legs splayed across the floor, he looked up at her from his humiliating position, trying his best to remain in control of the conversation. “And I assure you, Miss Maxey, that you are not.”
“You would believe your servant over a noblewoman?”
He chuckled and scrambled to stand. “I have known my manservant for many years. I befriended him in the military, and he saved my life several times.” He paused, reflecting briefly on the past. “I trust Peter with my life, and when he tells me something about a woman who is hunting me, yes, I believe him.”
“He must have been misinformed, because what possible reason would I have to pursue you, especially if you think I’m a mere governess?”
He gently massaged her shoulders, letting his hands travel down the length of her arms. When he imprisoned her wrists in a viselike grip, she let out a soft cry.
Enough of her stories! It was time for the truth. Sweet-talking her obviously wasn’t working, so he must change tactics.
He pulled her resistant body up against his. “I grow weary of dancing around the subject, Maxey. You have five minutes to confess to me, or I assure you, you will not be happy with the consequences.”
