The Spring Duke (A Duke for All Seasons)
Page 10
“Before dawn?” Owen watched her as a hawk watched a mouse, his penetrative gaze never leaving her slender body. Not liking his tone or his unwavering stare, Scarlett stopped in front of a large window that looked out over the side lawn.
“I am not always privy to my husband’s schedule.” It was still raining, the sky a gloomy, depressing gray. She watched as droplets of water trickled down the outside of the window. They pooled along the sill before spilling over and cascading across the glass in tiny streams that randomly intersected before splitting off again. Not unlike Owen and I, she thought with a bitter twist of her mouth. Fate – or more accurately Rodger’s death – may have brought them into the same room again, but they were still very much apart.
The way Owen was speaking to her... she almost would have preferred he yelled. Anything would have been better than cold indifference, especially when it was tainted with a hint of accusation.
“Why are you asking me so many questions?” She peered at him over her right shoulder, arched brows pulled in close together. “Are you implying that my husband’s death was not an accident?”
“I don’t know, Lady Sherwood.” His head canted to one side as he stretched his arm out and rested his hand on the edge of the mantle, fingers tapping absently against the stone. “Was it?”
“Of course it was.” She did not like the way he was looking at her. Almost as if he were a predator... and she was his prey. “If Rodger fell from his horse as you claim, how could it be anything but an accident?”
“I am not certain.” And yet he still continued to watch her, his glacial stare causing the downy hairs on the back of her neck to rise.
“Surely you do not think I had anything to do with it?”
“Until the investigation has been completed I cannot rule anything – or anyone – out.”
Scarlett whirled to face Owen in a swirl of green muslin. “That is preposterous!”
“Is it?” he countered softly.
“Yes. It is no secret that Rodger likes...” She paused, her tongue twisting as she forced herself to speak in the past tense. “Liked to drink too much. He was probably foxed and his horse stumbled and he fell. A horrible accident, but an accident nevertheless.”
Owen’s hand dropped from the mantle and slid into the pocket of his breeches. “Where were you last night?”
“Here. I was here all night.”
“Alone?”
“Not that it is any of your business but yes, I was.”
He rubbed his chin. “Now I find that rather curious.”
“Do you?” she said coolly.
“Yes. You see, I asked around a bit before I came here. If I am not mistaken, there was a ball last night. A ball you were expected to attend.”
Scarlett bristled. She did not like what Owen was saying. More than that, she didn’t like what he was not saying. “If I attended every dinner party and ball I was invited to I would never have time for anything else. Unless enjoying a quiet evening at home is a crime, I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Just asking a few routine questions, Lady Sherwood,” he drawled. “There’s no need to get upset.”
“I am not upset. And you do not need to call me that.” Once Owen had known her better than anyone else. Even better than she knew herself. And it hurt more than she could possibly put into words to have him treat her as if she were a stranger.
“What should I call you?”
“My name.”
A humorless smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I thought I was.”
Very well, she thought silently. If that is how you want it...
“If there is nothing else, Captain Steel, I shall have Graves escort you out.”
Owen began to slowly button his coat. “Your husband’s body will be delivered by the end of the day so you can begin funeral arrangements. Oh, and one more thing. You don’t happen to have any green velvet hair ribbons by chance, do you?”
Scarlett blinked. “Green velvet hair ribbons? I suppose I might. I’m not entirely certain. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Simple curiosity, Lady Sherwood.” He walked past her to the door. “By the way, I am sorry for your loss.”
“Yes.” Scarlett’s smile was so brittle it was a wonder her mouth did not crack into a thousand pieces. “I am sure you are.”
The Bow Street Brides
A Dangerous Seduction
A Dangerous Proposal
A Dangerous Affair
A Dangerous Passion (novella)
A Dangerous Temptation – June 2019!
www.jillianeaton.com
About the Author
Jillian Eaton grew up in Maine and now lives in Pennsylvania on a five-acre farmette with her husband, their three boys (a toddler and 7-month-old twins!), rescue cattle dog, draft mule, and miniature donkey.
She self-published her first book, A Brooding Beauty, in 2012 and has since written over thirty-five historical romances, several of which have made it to #1 in Regency on Amazon. She loves writing strong, dynamic heroines and complicated heroes.
When she isn’t working on her next novel or doing endless piles of laundry, Jillian enjoys gardening, hiking, and taking pictures of her family.
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