He followed the little gray-haired lady down the hallway and into the elegant drawing room he’d been shown into at his last visit. A tray of refreshments waited on a table, a cheerful fire was roaring in the grate, and Lady Clifford’s stout little pug was snoring contentedly on a rug beside it. It was all very comfortable and proper, a glossy veneer of respectability concealing a multitude of sins.
“I’m Mrs. Browning, Lord Gray. I’m Lady Clifford’s housekeeper. If you require anything, please don’t hesitate to ring the bell.” Mrs. Browning punctuated this polite speech with a nod and left the drawing room, closing the door behind her.
Tristan didn’t spare her another glance. His gaze was fixed on Sophia Monmouth, who was waiting for him in front of the fireplace, as still as a marble statue, with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “Good morning, Lord Gray.”
She was wearing a dark green gown today. The muted color shouldn’t have suited her, but every color seemed to flatter Miss Monmouth, even the dull, somber ones. This gown emphasized the unusual color of her eyes, turning them a soft, mossy green.
Tristan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Howdid you do it?”
Her expression didn’t change, but her shoulders stiffened. “Dowhat, my lord?”
“Don’t,” Tristan grated. He stalked across the room to stand before her, so close a deep breath bathed him in the seductive scent of honeysuckle. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m referring to. It demeans both of us.”
She lifted one slender shoulder in a shrug. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”
“I think you do, Miss Monmouth. I think you understand me perfectly.” Tristan edged even closer to her, studying her face for the faintest hint of guilt, the merest twitch of consciousness, but there was nothing. “Very well, if that’s how you wish to proceed. I’m speaking of Jeremy Ives’s miraculous escapefrom Newgate.”
“Escape?” Her smooth brow furrowed. “Jeremy Ives is dead, Lord Gray. His death was announced in theTimesthis morning. Surely you saw it?”
“I saw it, yes,” Tristan bit out. “Saw it, and knew it at once forthe lie it is.”
Her chest rose and fell as her breathing quickened, but otherwise she showed no signs of agitation. “Lie? I don’t knowwhat you mean.”
Tristan’s lips twisted, but it was a cold mockery of a smile. “Come now, Miss Monmouth. Of course, you do. Tell me, was the coffin your idea? I don’t deny it was an ingenious one. Jeremy Ives was in no condition to rise to his feet on his own. You sidestepped that problemneatly enough.”
She said nothing, just stared over his shoulder, her green eyes blank.
All at once, Tristan couldn’t bear her silence, her icy composure a moment longer. “If you’re going to lie to me, you’ll do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye, Miss Monmouth.” He caught her chin in his hand and turned her face toward his. He wasn’t rough, but he wouldn’t let her look away from him, either. “You owe me your gratitude. Aren’t you going to thank me for my part in Jeremy’s escape?”
“Your part?I don’t under—”
“You don’t understand? Curious, that a clever, clever young lady like yourself should be at such a loss this morning. I gave you Hogg, Miss Monmouth. If it weren’t for me, you never would have known which guard to bribe.”
“Mr. Hogg? You mean the guard from yesterday? Has someone bribed him?” She took care to keep her voice flat, but her green eyes dartedaway from his.
“No. Don’t look away from me.” He tightened his fingers on her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’ve implicated me in this debacle. Have you forgotten I brought you to Newgate, and called Hogg to your notice? Should news of our visit to Ives reach the magistrate, they may choose to conduct an investigation. Don’t suppose they won’t discover we were there, andspoke to Ives.”
Her chin rose. “There will be no investigation, my lord, and even if there was, you didn’t commit any crime. According to your own words, you have nothing to fear from the law if you’re innocent.”
“What would you know about innocence?” He swept a hard gaze over her, lingering on the pulse fluttering under the smooth skin of her throat. “You seem nervous, Miss Monmouth. Committing a crime does tend to agitate people, but then this isn’t your firstcrime, is it?”
“It’s curious, Lord Gray. I recall you telling me just the other day Peter Sharpe hadn’t been convicted of a crime, and therefore was an innocent man.” She spread her hands wide. “I haven’t been convicted of any crime. Am I not to be allowed the same courtesyas Mr. Sharpe?”
Tristan tipped her chin higher, and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “You look innocent, with that delicate face and those wide green eyes, but you’renot, are you?”
The eyes in question flashed with temper. “Do you truly believeyouknow anything about guilt and innocence, Lord Gray? YouknowJeremy isn’t guilty of any crime, yet even knowing that, you still believe the courtroom the best arbiter of justice.”
“You’re right, Miss Monmouth. Idobelieve it. How else do you propose to judge guilt and innocence? With your intuition?” He released her chin, but he didn’t step back, and she refused to back away, either. Her body was nearly flush against his, so close he could sense her trembling, feel the warmth of her through his clothing.
“It truly is that simple for you, isn’t it, Lord Gray? I envy you. How comfortable it must be, to live in a worldof absolutes.”
“Is that how you see it? How strange.” He dragged his finger over the hollow of her throat, fighting the urge to close his eyes at the sensation of her warm, soft skin under his rough fingertip. “I would have thought it was far more comfortable to determine guilt and innocence according to whim, as you do.”
Her lips parted at his touch, and God, he was so furious with her, yet at the same time he was desperate to kiss her, to sink his hands into her thick dark hair and still her for his mouth. A low moan of lust and despair threatened to burst from his lips. He shouldn’t want her like this, but he could no longer deny hedidwant her. That pert, pink mouth drove him to such madness he didn’t know whether to arrest her,or devour her.
Whatever this strange pull was between them, she felt it, too. He knew it by the way the color flooded her cheeks, the flash in her eyes, the wild throb of her pulse under his finger.
She raised balled fists to his chest, but she didn’t push him away. “Did it ever occur to you,my lord, that the laws work best for those who wrote them and enforce them? Do you suppose they work for the men and women in Seven Dials? For the ragged street urchins? The debtors lockedup in Newgate?”
