“Why did you not reach out to me when your brother went missing?” Jackson asked. “I could have helped.”
“How was I to know if you would even read a letter should I send one?”
“I could have helped,” he reiterated.
“Butwouldyou have?”
Her questions took him aback. “Of course I would. Do you think so little of me?”
“I make it a point to not think of you at all.” The venom was back in her voice. “And what wereyoudoing at the Lyon’s Den, Duke? Donating to charity?”
He picked at the sudden stiffness of his collar. “There was a matter of a wager that didn’t go my way.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Perfect. The great Duke of Grandfellow matched to a locksmith’s daughter after a run of bad luck at the card tables.” Her curtsey was shallow and smug. “I am honored to be a symbol of your rubbish fortunes.”
There was a pinching pain between his eyes, like a nail driven directly through the bone. “Should anyone say such a thing within my earshot, I will string them up by their toes and flay them alive.”
“They’d string you up as well,” she threatened.
He didn’t hesitate. “It would be worth it.”
She frowned, her gaze losing some of its edge. “Tell me, is the Bow Street payroll now under the authority of Grandfellow for you to make such grand threats without shame? A title better than gold.”
Jackson opened his mouth... and hesitated. What could he say?As an agent under Home Secretary Sidmouth’s authority, I have connections in every corner of England.Hell, as a duke he had enough power from the upper echelon to crush most trouble with nothing but a short missive. But it was exactly his connection that made stayingoutof society’s view paramount.
Even with his lips sealed and hands tied, Jackson wasn’t without his wits. To keep Anna from learning of his involvement with the Home Office, he’d need wit, luck, and divine intervention. His eyes narrowed. “That’s why you made me promise you would not be parted from your brother.” Fat chance she hadn’t been caught in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s clutches looking into William’s last known locations. Jackson shook his head. “You’re investigating your brother’s disappearance.”
He could hardly blame her. He’d have done the same if it were Figaro missing.
“I won’t stop,” she said.
That defensive tone.
“Stop insulting me,” he got out, the easy comfort of their past ruined by prickly tempers of their present. “You used to condemn the judgements of others.”
She stepped around the desk, her lemon scent filling his nose as her sharp words dug the thorns deeper. “Stop bringing up the past. I’m not that person any longer.”
“Your bitterness has made thatperfectlyclear.”
She laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Is that supposed to be a slight?” Another step closer.
He but had to exhale and their chests would touch. Tantalizingly close, and yet oceans away.
“You’ve no idea what I’ve faced. What I’ve had to overcome,” she said, that coldness in her expression spreading to the lines around her mouth. “If surviving all that I have means I have matured from being the sweet, naïve girl you knew, all the better.”
I’m not here for you.
The underlying subtext was there. And itstung.
His hands shook at his sides with the need to rage, to fume, tosnatcheverything she held back. “And I am not the mild-mannered boy who had no grasp of his future any longer.”
She raised her chin, and the look in her eye was cruel. “Very well,Duke. I will do my utmost to keep from ruining what must be a grand future in your eyes.”
He hated the distance of her words. “That’s all?” They were to remain adversaries.
“What more did you expect?” she asked. “I am a lost wager, and you—”
“I am a means to clear your brother’s debt.”
