Damn.
Hell.
Devil nodded once, his gaze never straying from Dom’s. “Fair enough. I owe you. I’ll do what I must.”
Dom nodded. “Thank you, brother.”
He bowed and fled the fancy drawing room—dripping in gilt and polished mahogany—as Lady Evangeline sent up a fresh round of protests.
Evie wanted tokick something.
Or shout.
Pound her fist into a wall? No, that would hurt.
She wanted to snatch up something dear and hurl it to the floor, watching as it shattered into myriad pieces. Irreparable.
Just as her reputation would be by the time this farce had come to an end. They may as well find the villain who had been attempting to murder her and have him shoot her now.
“Sixteen.”
The mocking voice of Devil Winter reached her then. A rough, growling rumble. Why had he spoken? She was doing her utmost to pretend he was not standing in the corner of this unfamiliar library, watching her pace.
The library was large.
The book selection was excellent.
Under ordinary circumstances, she would have been well-pleased. But this was decidedlynotordinary circumstances. This was, instead, Bedlamite, ridiculous, untenable, unacceptable circumstances. And she was furious.
Ignoring the massive oaf in the room, she spun on her slipper-clad heel and stalked back down the Aubusson.
“Seventeen.”
His voice was amused. The low, intimate tone of it trilled down her spine. Made her belly tighten and her skin feel flushed. Was that his scent on the air? Spice and bay and leather?
Curse the man.
Mayhap if she ignored him, he would go away. His presence in this chamber was not just unwanted but bewilderingly improper. Her lady’s maid, who was to act as chaperone, was upstairs, seeing to the unpacking of Evie’s trunks. The lumbering brute who watched her now was supposed to be elsewhere.
Not plaguing her with his handsome presence.
Handsome? For shame, Evie. What would Lord Denton say?
She shook that unsettling question from her mind. Lord Denton had been sent a letter, carefully written by Evie herself before she had been surreptitiously swept from her sister and brother-in-law’s townhome. Five carriages had set off at once lest any unseen foes had been watching and anticipating their movement. And Evie had been inside the only one which had also containedhim.
“Eighteen.”
His mocking voice reached her once more.
She halted in her pacing and turned toward him, irritation surpassing all else. “Shall I applaud you, Mr. Nothing? You can count. I am astounded a man of your background is capable of such a rudimentary skill.”
If her tone was biting, and if her words were horrid, it could hardly be helped. She was feeling unsettled, terrified, and cruel, all at once.
Devil Winter remained stoic, his expression never shifting from sardonic amusement. His face was, as ever, a source of astonishment. He was the sort of gentleman one looked upon with an involuntary inhalation of breath at the power of his rugged, masculine beauty.
However, upon closer inspection, she detected a subtle change in his bearing. A stiffening of his posture. Her words had hit their mark, though he was doing his utmost to feign indifference. The realization gave Evie no joy. Instead, shame swamped her. He said nothing, simply watched her, impassive.
This new silence somehow mocked her more than his counting had. She was furious with him for capitulating and agreeing to this madcap scheme of Adele and Mr. Winter’s. Being trapped inside a strange house with no one for company save servants and Devil Winter was akin to torture.
