“Will you be leaving before we return to Lord Copperpot’s house?” she finally asked.
“Probably. Or at least soon after.” He might as well tell her that much. He fully intended to find the Bidassoa traitor before this house party ended, distraction or no.
She frowned. “You don’t know?”
“Not yet.”
“That’s a strange thing to say.”
“Here we are again. Doyouwant to tell me who you are, and why you’re not using your real name?”
“Does it matter?” she replied, leaning back against the pillows and pressing her forearm to the top of her head.
“Will you tell me why you’re here at least?” he asked.
“Will you tell me why you’re here?” she countered. She gave him a sidelong glance.
They stared at each other again, neither making a move to concede.
“I will tell you if you tell me,” she finally offered.
His gaze remained skeptical as he said, “You promise?”
She nodded. “I promise.”
“Very well.” He lifted her hand from the blanket to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I promise, too. I know it’s hard to trust, but I will if you will. But we must also promise to ask each other no more questions.”
Marianne took a deep breath. “Very well. You go first.”
He chuckled at that. “Fine.” He searched for the right words for a few moments before saying. “I’m here to catch a criminal.”
She nodded quietly. “I am too. My brother’s murderer.”
It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room for a moment. They both stared at each other as if they’d never seen each other before. Finally, Beau found his voice first. “Why would your brother’s murderer be here? You said he died in the war.”
“He did—and I thoughtyousaid we wouldn’t ask any more questions.”
“Yes, but damn it, now I want to know.”
“Are you going to tell me which criminal you’re looking for?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not going to tell you what happened to my brother. I think I’ve said enough.”
Beau’s frown intensified. “How can you find your brother’s murderer at a house party?”
“The same way you can find whatever criminal you’re looking for here, I suppose.”
He glared at her. Why was this woman so stubborn? He’d never met anyone as stubborn as he was. Normally when he was charming, and certainly when he was seductive, he could get most women to tell him whatever he wanted them to. But Marianne was different. She wasn’t about to tell him more. He could tell by the set of her jaw. She was done talking.
“Fine,” he shot back, pulling his arm from her and plumping the pillow angrily behind his head. “I suppose we’ll have to go to our graves not knowing each other surnames.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t thinking about my grave quite yet. I’m not entirely certain what will happen tomorrow at this point.”
He couldn’t help himself. “Do you really think your brother’s killer is here? In this house?”
She glanced down at the sheets and traced her finger in a small circle. “I don’t know,” she allowed.
