Debra Mullins (9 page)

Who the devil was that? Alarmed, he stepped up his pace. He couldn’t see the fellow’s face, as the ladies’ companion had his back to him, but there was something familiar about that lean figure, something that sparked unease.

He reached the group and clapped the fellow on the shoulder—and found himself looking into the startled face of his brother-in-law. He quickly adjusted his hold so the warning grip he had intended became a quick squeeze of friendship. “Emberly, good to see you. I didn’t think you enjoyed the theater.”

“I don’t.” Henry Emberly gave them all a self-deprecating smile. “However, I accompanied Lord Wexley and his Russian guests. Apparently, Her Highness Princess Josefina is quite fond of the theater.”

“Henry was just saying he would like to introduce me to Her Highness.” Vin’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “However, I didn’t want to leave Anna alone.”

“The box is quite full,” Emberly said apologetically. “There is barely enough room for me and Lavinia.”

“But now that you are here,” Vin said, beaming at Rome, “you can escort Anna back to the box while I go with my husband to greet Russian royalty.”

“That would work famously.” Emberly turned his solemn dark eyes on Rome. “Can we count on your assistance, Devereaux?”

“Of course.” Rome gave Anna a taunting smile. “I will be more than happy to escort Miss Rosewood back to her seat.”

Anna suppressed a shiver at the tooth-baring grin he turned upon her. No doubt a tiger cast the same expression upon its prey minutes before devouring it. But as Lavinia happily went off on the arm of her husband, Anna found herself alone in the care of the very man she wanted to avoid.

“Shall we go back to the box? I’m certain Lord Haverford is looking for me.”

“Let’s do that.” He indicated that she should precede him. A little hesitant to have him lurking behind her, she nonetheless gathered her courage and began walking.

She kept her eyes fixed forward, every nerve aware of his lean strength only a step behind. Could she really feel the heat of his body? No, that was her imagination. He wasn’t that close. She glanced back just to be sure.

He was closer than she’d expected.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she faced forward again, cheeks warming, pulse skittering.

She marched along like a soldier to an invisible drum, her gaze fixed on her path. As soon as she reached the Haverford box, everything would be fine. Rome would retreat to his place in the shadows, and she would be safe from him, surrounded by her parents and husband-to-be.

They turned a corner. He took her elbow and firmly steered her in the opposite direction, down a deserted hallway.

“What—?”

He clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her back against him, arms pinned to her sides. She struggled in his grasp, but she was unable to loosen his firm grip. He staggered to a door and fumbled with the door latch, then managed to thrust it open. As she dug in her heels, he hauled her into the small, dusty broom closet and abruptly released her.

She stumbled forward, gasping for a decent breath. Behind her, she heard the door shut firmly.

“Now,” he said. “We have some things to talk about…
Rose
.”

“A
re you
mad
?” Anna clasped a hand over her bosom to calm her pounding heart. Rose. He’d called her Rose! “Open that door at once!”

He leaned back against it, nearly blocking the light coming from the cracks. “Not until I get some answers.”

She tried to reach past him for the latch, but he didn’t budge. “You know what will happen if anyone finds us alone like this!”

He captured her gaze. “I do know. And since we don’t have much time, let’s not pretend any longer.”

Her traitorous heart skipped a beat, but she let nothing of her inner turmoil show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you have something to discuss with me, why don’t you
call on me tomorrow so we can converse like civilized people?”

He leaned down so his mouth hovered near her ear. “Because I don’t feel very civilized when I’m around you…
Rose
.”

Fear drained the blood from her face, and her stomach dropped with a lurch. “Mr. Devereaux—”

“Please, don’t deny it,” he told her, cynicism twisting his lips. “And cease this false formality. Even if you could somehow explain away the resemblance, there’s this.” He scooped up her cameo, his fingers warm against the skin of her throat. “I remember this bauble. I remember
you
.”

Panic swept through her on an icy wave. “Please let me out.”

“Oh, no, not until we’ve untangled this mess.”

“A mess indeed if you will not open that door!” Her composure slipping, Anna tried to squeeze past him, but only managed to wedge her shoulder and arm behind him. She grabbed the door latch and tugged. Nothing happened.

“Not until you tell me the truth,” he said, his expression unyielding.

She jerked herself out of the snug cocoon between his body and the door and turned away, unsettled by even so brief a contact. A gentleman would have recognized the impropriety of her shoulder pressed so intimately against his back, of her hip nestled so casually against his…

Well, a gentleman would never have closed them in a closet!

She tried to put distance between them, but their cramped quarters only allowed her a single pace. She wrapped her arms around herself, ashamed at her lack of control.

“I’m not opening this door until you answer some questions.”

She glanced back at him. “Are you trying to trick me into an indiscretion?”

His expression hardened. “My dear Anna, don’t be foolish. If anyone has been tricked, it is I.”

“What?” She spun back toward him, unable to hide her astonishment. “You’ve locked us in this closet, knowing full well that your cousin will come seeking me, and you dare claim to be the victim?”

“Spare me the indignation of the innocent.” He folded his arms and regarded her with unconcealed disgust. “What’s your game, Anna?”

“I have no game!”

“Then why were you at Vauxhall Gardens that night, calling yourself Rose? Why did you allow me to think you a doxy?”

“This is outrageous!”

“Oh, come now.” He advanced on her, forcing her backwards up against the closet wall. “You never denied my assumptions. You let me believe you a lightskirt, and I treated you accordingly.”

Caught between the wall and his lean body, she couldn’t escape the heat of him, the scent. One whiff of his cologne transported her back to that
dark niche at Vauxhall, when he’d touched her so scandalously.

So deliciously.

She forced the feelings back and looked up into his eyes, unable to maintain her pretense of denial. “And what of you, sir? Do you make a habit of associating with that set?”

“What I was doing there makes no difference. I wasn’t breaking every rule of society.” He cast a searing glance over her body. “
I
am not promised to anyone.”

Her pulse raced. She was trapped by the only other person in the world who knew her secret. Would he expose her? Would he confess his sins to Haverford, claiming ignorance as his petition for forgiveness?

“It was a private party. Only members of a certain organization were supposed to be present.” She cocked her head to the side. “Are you a member?”

“A guest of one, actually.” He leaned closer. “Now what were
you
doing there?”

“That’s none of your affair.”

“You made it my affair, Anna, when you allowed me to put my hands on you.”

She closed her eyes on a wave of shame, remembering all too vividly how he’d made her feel. How wickedly wonderful…

“Would you have believed me if I’d told you the truth?” she whispered, looking at him again.

He studied her face. “I knew something was different about you.”

“But would you have let me go? Or would you have continued to try and convince me to lie with you that night?”

“All I could think about was becoming your lover.” He let out a deep breath. “God help me, I still think about it.”

“Stop.” She shook her head, fighting the sinful urges rising within her. “We can’t. You know that.”

“You should have told me the truth at Vauxhall,” he murmured near her ear. “Before I knew how you feel in my arms.”

“That night was a mistake, one I can’t afford to make again.” She touched his shoulder, drawing his gaze to hers. “Open the door, Rome.”

“God.” He sucked in a harsh breath and took a step back from her. “Just my name on your lips is enough to make me forget myself.”

“I belong to Lord Haverford.”

“And always have.” His expression grew stony. “So why would you pass yourself off as a whore in Vauxhall Gardens, at a dinner party for a bunch of drunken young bloods?”

“My reasons are somewhat complicated.”

“Simplify it for me. Why would you take such a chance with your future? What if one of those fools had forced you?”

“I tried to leave. You stopped me.”

“Why, Anna?”

“I—”

“
Why
?” he demanded harshly. “I deserve the truth. Is someone paying you?”

“What?” Completely confused, she could only stare at him.

“Is someone paying you to ruin my family?” He took her by the shoulders. “Tell me who it is, damn it!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

He dragged her to her tiptoes. “You tricked me into betraying my cousin, Anna.
I will know why
.”

“I didn’t—”

“If Marc finds out, we are all of us ruined.” His hot breath swept the sensitive flesh of her ear, surprising a shiver from her. “If no one paid you, why did you do it? What was a sweet little virgin like you doing in a place like that?”

“I was looking for someone,” she whispered, her body humming with a wild hunger that she couldn’t control. The heat of his hands made her flesh prickle even through the silk of her dress. His scent surrounded her, and the maleness of him overwhelmed her in the tiny space. Her mouth watered to kiss him again.

“Who? A lover?”

“No.” She shook her head wildly, dislodging a hairpin in the process.

“Who then?” he demanded.

She stared straight into his eyes, her lips an inch from his. “The man who killed my brother.”

Of all the possibilities, here was one he had never entertained.

Rome straightened, ignoring the temptation of her mouth. “What do you mean? I thought your brother was killed by footpads.”

“Everyone thinks that.” She gave a mocking little smile. “Except me. I will find the true murderer, and I will prove that Anthony’s death was no random act.” Her eyes glittered with fervor, and a flush swept her cheeks. Her passionate loyalty touched him, and it was all he could do not to pull her back into his arms.

“You cannot continue to put yourself and your reputation in danger,” Rome said.

“You’re right. Open the door.”

“In a moment. Anna, be reasonable. You’re a woman. You can’t investigate something like this.”

“I can, and I have been.” She tilted her chin in challenge.

“Don’t forget what happened at Vauxhall. Had I been less a gentleman, you would have lost more than your locket.”

“Which is why you have imprisoned us both in this closet. Because you’re such a gentleman,” she taunted.

He shoved her away. “Little fool. You have no idea the depth of my will.”

She lost her footing for only an instant, then rallied. One curl had dislodged itself and curved along her cheek and neck. He wanted to twirl that
lock of hair around his finger, inhale her sweet scent as her body moved beneath his…

“All I know,” she whispered, watching him warily, “is that the next act will be starting, and I am here in a closet with you instead of sitting beside the earl.”

The mention of Haverford helped him clamp down on his hunger. “I have no wish to give the gossips anything to chew.”

“Then open the door, and we forget anything that has passed between us.”

“Can you forget?”

Silence trembled between them. Finally, she said, “We must.”

“I shall remember you warm and wanting in my arms until my last breath.” He closed his eyes, struggling for discipline. Her scent seduced him in the close quarters, like some ancient enchantment. He knew what she felt like in his arms, how she kissed, the soft sounds she made as she found her pleasure. His body clamored to finish what they’d started that night at Vauxhall.

“Rome.” Her whisper wrapped around him like an embrace. “I wasn’t playing a game. I wasn’t trying to hurt your family, but merely seeking the truth.”

“I believe you.”

“I’m just trying to find out who killed my brother.” She touched his arm, and he opened his eyes to meet her earnest gaze. “Perhaps we can help each other.”

His body surged to life at the soft words, and his primal urges strained the leash of his will. “What are you talking about?”

“My investigation. You can help me. You can go places I cannot, and you have a friend within the society.”

“No. I will not help you put yourself in danger.”

Her mouth thinned. “Then I will continue alone.”

“I can’t allow that.”

She lifted her gaze, showing him the determination in her eyes. “You can’t stop it.”

A gauntlet, boldly thrown between them.

He hauled her into his arms and kissed her. He hadn’t meant to. Knew it was wrong. But dear God, the taste of her…

She stood on her tiptoes and responded to his kiss, opening her mouth and pressing herself against him with an eagerness that stunned him. He caressed her cheek, her throat. His fingers brushed the chain of her locket, warm from her skin.

What was he doing
?

He broke the kiss and stepped back so quickly that she swayed, off-balance. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

“Oh, my God.” Grasping his arm, she reached up and touched her lips with a trembling hand. Distress widened her eyes as she stared at him. “Why did you do that?”

“I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

She took another breath, then noticed her hand still on his arm. She snatched it away. “Forget what I said. I think it’s best we try to avoid each other.”

He folded his arms, amused despite the grimness of the situation. “How do you propose we do that? Haverford is my cousin, and besides, we need to continue our conversation about your brother’s killer.”

“That conversation is over.”

“No, it isn’t.” He’d seen the determination in her eyes. She would continue to search for her brother’s killer, no matter what it cost her.

He couldn’t allow that. Better to keep her close…and safe.

“I’ve decided your idea about becoming partners has merit,” he said.

“Partners? For all I know, you’re involved. Why else would you be at that dinner party?”

“If I were involved, you’d likely be dead by now.” He ignored her look of stunned horror. “Oh, come now. I was there for the same reason you were.”

“So you say.” She tried to appear indifferent, but he caught her furtive glance at his hand, bare of any jewelry.

“I am not a member,” he confirmed as she raised her gaze back to his.

She didn’t even try to pretend. “Then what were you doing there?”

“Investigating.” He arched his brows. “So many
questions. Are you certain you don’t want to join forces?”

“I cannot trust you, sir.” Blushing, she glanced away.

He sobered. “In this matter, you can. If you change your mind, send word through Lavinia. We can meet at her house to exchange information.” He opened the door and extended his arm. “Now allow me to see you back to your seat.”

“Insufferable man.” She placed her hand on his arm with obvious reluctance.

He reached past her to close the door behind them and seized the moment to whisper in her ear, “You suffer me quite well, actually.”

A glare was her only response.

Anna was shaking as they made their way back toward Haverford’s box. Rome had made the connection between her and Rose. He’d claimed he was investigating the society as she was, that he wasn’t a member and therefore wasn’t party to Anthony’s death. Dared she believe him? She wanted to.

But was the desire to trust him rooted in sound logic or the wild emotion spawned by his kiss?

And partners? Even if he was innocent as he claimed, this attraction to Rome could only lead to disaster. Yes, she had convinced her parents to bring her to London so she could investigate her
brother’s death, but she also wanted to be a dutiful daughter and marry Lord Haverford. Every moment she spent alone with Rome endangered that future.

She wished the earl would ask her to wed him and be done with it. Once she had his ring on her finger, she would surely be able to resist the lure of Roman Devereaux.

Which begged the question—why was Haverford hesitating?

“We’re later than I thought,” Rome said, bringing her back to the present.

She glanced around and realized he was right— many of the theatergoers had returned to their seats. “Dear Lord, we’ll be missed!”

They stepped up their pace, rounding a corner near Haverford’s box, then slowed, seeing the earl waiting for them. He was not alone; Dennis Fellhopper and his sister Charlotte were conversing with him. As alike as two peas, the fair-haired, blue-eyed duo had recently returned to London after several Seasons in the country.