The Sinister Spinster

by Joan Overfield

  "Elizabeth?" he stopped her, gazing down at her wan face in disapproval. "What are you doing here?" he asked, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Why aren't you in your room resting?"

  "There is too much to do," she replied, glancing at her list. "The guests still need to be fed and entertained, and I need to talk to her ladyship about the plans for the Birthday Ball. I hate the thought of canceling it, and yet I fear we must."

  "Because of Colburt, do you mean?" he asked, studying her face.

  "Of course," she replied, sounding surprised. "It would hardly be proper to make merry at such a time."

  "And it would hardly make him any less dead," Adam pointed out firmly. "Besides, the guests will need something to distract them from all of this, and a ball sounds like the perfect diversion."

  "There is that," she agreed, her soft blue eyes brightening. "I shall suggest it to Lady Derring. Thank you, my lord."

  He cast a quick glance about him and, satisfied they were alone, he took her elbow and guided her into the small study located off the wide hall. Once the door had closed behind them, he carefully drew her into his arms.

  "Adam," he reminded her, brushing the back of his fingers down the curve of her cheek and watching her through half-lowered lashes. "I would you call me Adam."

  Her flesh grew warm beneath his touch, and her eyes darkened with emotion. "I—it's not proper," she stammered, her voice sounding slightly breathless.

  The prim protest brought an amused smile to his lips. "A man is dead, you stand accused of theft, and the entire household is under house arrest," he reminded her, using his thumb to tip her face up to his. "I hardly think your calling me by my given name counts very much when compared to that. Do you?"

  "No," her cheeks grew even rosier. "I would suppose not, but that still doesn't mean—"

  "Elizabeth"—he watched her intently—"how do you think of me? As Lord Falconer or as Adam?"

  To his horror her eyes began filling with tears. "Don't ask that," she implored, raising her hand to cover his. "Please don't."

  Panic filled Adam, panic and an overwhelming sense of aching desire. As a gentleman he knew he should release her, let her walk away and never importune her again. He should, but he could not.

  "Why?" he demanded, slipping his hands down to gently cup her face. "I think of you as Elizabeth. My Elizabeth. My beautiful Elizabeth," and he covered her mouth with his own.

  Her lips were soft and warm beneath his, and he was helpless to resist their sweetness. Fighting the desire exploding inside of him, he drew her closer, savoring the feel of her pressed to his hungry body. It took every ounce of will he possessed to keep from taking more, but he cared for her too much to risk frightening her. Reining in his passion, he slowly raised his head, his heart pounding as he gazed down into her flushed face.

  "Adam." His name slipped breathlessly from her parted lips, and her eyes were slumberous as she lifted her heavy lashes.

  "Ah, my sweet, the things you do to a man's resolve," he murmured, tracing a finger along the bow of her mouth.

  Her cheeks grew rosy, but to his delight she made no move to end their embrace. "You also have a deleterious effect upon my good sense," she said, smiling sadly. "But this changes nothing."

  "You are wrong," he disagreed. "It changes everything."

  "Adam—"

  He silenced her with another kiss. This time she responded at once, her arms stealing up to circle his neck while she rose on tiptoe to press her warm body against him. The breath caught in his throat, and a feeling of wild exultation surged through him at her active participation. He subtly increased the pressure of his mouth over hers until her lips parted, and he slipped the tip of his tongue in to gently tease hers. When he heard her soft gasp he ended the kiss, lifting his head to smile down at her.

  "My apologies, my dear," he murmured, his arms remaining tight about her slender waist. "I know you will find this hard to believe, but I truly didn't drag you in here to steal a few kisses from you."

  "You didn't?" An expression of skepticism mixed with feminine disappointment flashed across her features.

  "No," he chuckled, lightly tapping her nose with his. "I did not I wanted your promise that you would call me Adam. Will you?"

  She studied his cravat for several seconds before shyly raising her gaze to his. "I suppose it would be all right," she murmured, "when we are private. You must know my reputation is already dangling by a thread; I'd as lief not lose it altogether."

  The rueful words recalled him belatedly to the reason he'd sought her out. "That is why I wished to speak with you," he said gently, hating the knowledge he would cause her pain. "We need to talk about Mr. Colburt's death. I am afraid you are suspected."

  "I know."

  He blinked at the calm words. He'd braced himself for anything from tears to fury and wasn't certain what to make of her cool acceptance. "I beg your pardon?"

  The look she gave him could best be described as pitying. "They've already branded me a thief and a traitor. Why shouldn't they brand me a murderer as well?"

  Although Adam was grateful Elizabeth was taking things so well, he couldn't help but feel a trifle put out. It was hard to act the knight-errant, he thought, when the lady fair was already taking the dragon's measure. "And why should they think that?" he asked, choosing his words with studied care.

  "Because of the papers," she replied in the same calm manner. "Which reminds me; I am convinced Mr. Colburt, Mr. Carling, and that wretch, Mr. Derwent, took them."

  Adam's pique vanished in a flash of temper. "Explain that," he demanded, listening in mounting fury as she did just that.

  "A schoolboy's prank," he repeated, when she'd done speaking. "We've been in a lather of fear over a traitor, and it was nothing more than a schoolboy's prank." His hands balled into fists. "By God, we'll see how funny they think it when I am done with them!" He whirled around to leave, only to have Elizabeth grab his arm.

  "Adam, wait! You aren't thinking of confronting them?"

  "I damned well am!" he retorted coldly, his eyes flashing with rage. "And they'll be lucky if I don't kill the pair of them!"

  "A noble sentiment, and one I more than share," Elizabeth retorted, hanging on to his sleeve. "But we cannot permit it."

  "We? You and Bronyeskin?" he demanded, deciding he'd had enough of the imperious Russian's interference in Elizabeth's life. His highness might consider himself her brother, but that didn't give him the right to make a nuisance of himself.

  "Good heavens, no!" Elizabeth replied, her soft blue eyes wide in alarm. "I'd never tell Alexi what I suspect. He'd run them through in a heartbeat, and then where would we be?"

  "Considerably better off," Adam retorted, and then scowled. "If you didn't mean his highness, then who do you mean?"

  "Lady Elinore, Lady Barrington, and myself. We've discussed it, and decided not to say anything for the moment."

  Adam couldn't think at first. "You've decided," he repeated, wanting to make sure he'd heard aright.

  "Of course me," she replied, meeting his gaze with a sudden coolness. "As Lady Elinore pointed out, I am the one most likely to hang if the real villain isn't found. Do you expect me to sit meekly by and do nothing to defend myself?"

  Adam stared at her in stunned amazement, the conversation he'd meant to have with her regarding her father forgotten in a flash.

  "I expect you to leave it to me!" he snapped, appalled at the thought of her putting herself in any sort of danger. "This isn't a game for three silly chits to play at! Whoever killed Colburt has made that plain. You will stay out of this."

  Temper set her eyes to pure blue flame. "I will not stay out of this!" she said furiously. "This is my life, Adam, and I will do what I think is proper to save it. Good day to you, my lord!" She hurled his title at him like an epithet before storming out, leaving Adam feeling almost as frustrated as he was terrified.

  "This isn't a game for three silly chits to play at."

  The indign
ity of those imperious words rang in Elizabeth's ears as she slammed the door to her room. Of all the top-lofty, arrogant, male things to say! she fumed, pacing up and down the room. Leave it to him, indeed! Just who the devil did he think he was? He had no power over her. She'd told him that practically from the first moment she'd clapped eyes on him, and repeated it countless times since. She might have let him kiss her, but that didn't give him the right to dictate what she could and could not do. And if he thought it did, she would be more than happy to dissuade him of the notion.

  The memory of that kiss burst in her mind, and a dreamy smile replaced her scowl. The kiss; kisses, she amended, sighing as she relived the moments lost in his arms and the feel of his lips taking hers. It wasn't the first time a man had kissed her, but those boyish pecks faded in comparison to the burning sensuality of Adam's mouth pressing urgently against hers. It had been everything she dreamed a kiss could be, and she was aware of the shameless hope that she'd soon know its magic again.

  In the next moment she was angrily shaking her head. Of course she didn't want that insolent beast kissing her, she told herself, resuming her pacing. Her life was in utter chaos and she couldn't afford the luxury of foolishness. Even if she managed to clear her name, anything approaching an intimate relationship between her and Adam was impossible. It was certain to end in heartbreak and ruin, and she had no intention of escaping one disaster only to rush headlong into another.

  Once she'd composed herself, she changed into her evening dress of gray sarcenet and went down for dinner. Lady Derring was still keeping to her rooms, and it fell to her to care for the rest of the guests as best she could. Lord Derring was keeping at his wife's side, passing word through Adam that by order of the Magistrate, the guests would regrettably be further detained until the investigation into Mr. Colburt's death was concluded. The idea one of them was possibly a killer occupied most of the guests' conversations, and the antipathy she'd encountered yesterday was much subdued. She was considering the change when Lady Elinore sat beside her.

  "Being thought a murderess would seem to have its advantages," she observed, her eyes dancing as she smiled at Elizabeth. "They might still suspect you of treason, but they are too frightened to show it lest you take offense and kill them."

  Elizabeth's lips twitched, although she was careful to keep her amusement hidden. "A tempting thought," she drawled, her gaze going to Miss Clarvale, who was watching her with a wary eye.

  Lady Elinore gave an appreciative chuckle. "You show excellent taste, my dear. Constance has always been singularly unpleasant, but one cannot kill a person for that, I suppose."

  "Indeed, my lady," Elizabeth replied, thinking she could come to like the cool beauty.

  "Speaking of unpleasant," Lady Elinore continued, "have you had a chance to tell Lord Falconer of your suspicions?"

  The question had Elizabeth hiding another smile. "Yes, my lady," she murmured. "I did."

  "And?" Lady Elinore arched a golden eyebrow inquiringly.

  "And he said it wasn't a game for three silly chits to play at, and I was to leave it to him."

  "He said what?" Lady Elinore's response was precisely what Elizabeth thought it would be. "Oh, of all the arrogance!" she fumed, snapping open her fan and fanning herself furiously. "The man is an impossible tyrant! I cannot tell you how relieved I am to have had the good sense to refuse him. I shouldn't have him now if he were the last man left in England!"

  The incautious remark jolted Elizabeth. She'd forgotten that Adam had once offered for the duke's daughter; an offer he must have reissued if the lady was now reconsidering it.

  "Your forgiveness, my lady," she said, studying the other woman cautiously, "but I thought your father said you'd come to Derring Hall to reconsider his lordship's offer?"

  Lady Elinore gave a guilty start, her cheeks pinking with embarrassed color. "I have reconsidered," she said, her slender fingers toying with her fan. "And I've decided I was right to refuse him from the start. Falconer would make the worst possible sort of husband for any lady with an ounce of intelligence, and I pity the poor female he marries.

  "Although," she added, casting Elizabeth a worried look, "that is something I should prefer you keep private. Papa wanted me to give the matter all due consideration, and he'd be quite displeased if he thought I hadn't at least made the effort."

  "Of course, my lady," Elizabeth assured her, ignoring the undeniable sense of relief washing through her. She genuinely liked the other woman, and her feelings for Adam were too tangled to examine closely. The thought that she might have betrayed one with the other was too painful to bear.

  The conversation turned awkwardly to other matters, and while they were discussing whether to allow card playing after dinner, Adam and Alexi walked into the drawing room.

  "Speak of the devil," Lady Elinore muttered, her eyes narrowing. "And he has that impossible Russian with him. I know he is your dear friend, Miss Mattingale, but I find him wearying. That much charm is not to be trusted."

  Alexi had spied them and was making his way toward them, a grim-faced Adam following in his wake.

  "Lady Elinore, Elizabeth," he greeted them with a low bow, kissing each of their hands in turn. "How it pleases me to see you. You are recovered, yes, from this morning's unpleasantness?"

  Lady Elinore's eyes grew frosty. "I believe a murder qualifies as something more than unpleasantness, your highness."

  Alexi regarded her with regal hauteur. "And so it is, dama," he agreed coolly. "Which makes it an unsuitable topic for ladies to discuss. We will not speak of this again."

  Lady Elinore's lips thinned in temper, but before they came to blows dinner was announced. Lady Galbraith, one of the countess's oldest friends, held sway at the head of the table, doing her best to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Conversation was sporadic and subdued, with the other guests concentrating mostly on their food. Lady Barrington made some attempts to enliven the evening with an amusing description of a party she had attended at Carlton House, but when her witty remarks met with uncomfortable silence she soon abandoned her efforts. Elizabeth wasn't in the least surprised when most of the guests announced their intention to retire to their rooms once dinner was finished.

  One thing that did surprise her was Mr. Carling and Mr. Derwent putting in an appearance toward the end of the meal. They both looked decidedly the worse for wear, their faces pale and haggard. There was also a decided strain between them, and they scarce spoke to one another after taking their places at the table. Mr. Derwent seemed especially brittle, drinking more than was customary, even for him. Mr. Carling was also imbibing rather freely, although without the defiant abandon Mr. Derwent was exhibiting.

  She wasn't the only one to notice their behavior, and more than once she caught Adam studying them with narrow-eyed speculation. Finally the meal was ended, and the guests rose to their feet.

  "Going off to sleep, eh?" Mr. Derwent sneered, wine sloshing over the rim of his glass as he raised it in a mocking salute. " 'And in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.' I wonder what Charles dreams of, poor, stupid sot." And he downed the dregs of his glass.

  Lady Galbraith gave him a look of icy disdain. "I think you have had rather too much to drink, sir," she announced in her loftiest accents. "You will oblige me by retiring to your rooms before you make an even bigger fool of yourself."

  He blinked up at the older woman in drunken indignation. "What? Didn't I get the quotation right? Dashed odd. I've always had a bit of a hand with the old boy's words." He tipped his head back, blond curls spilling over his collar as he smiled spitefully at the scandalized guests.

  " 'Treachery, seek it out,' an excellent bit of advice, eh?" He gave another drunken laugh. "Perhaps that's what got poor Charles killed. 'Virtue is its own punishment.' " He frowned thoughtfully. "Who said that, I wonder?"

  Mr. Carling rose hastily to his feet, a look of horror on his face. "Come, Geoffrey, that ain't the way," he
implored, taking the empty glass from his friend's hand and helping him to his feet. "Up to bed with you, now. You mustn't say anything else."

  Mr. Derwent staggered as he freed himself. "Why shouldn't I?" he demanded belligerently. "Charles kept quiet, and look where it got him! And you know, Wills, don't you? You know!"

  Mr. Carling looked as if he would swoon. He cast a terrified glance about the room and turned back to his friend.

  "Geoffrey, please," he said, getting a better hold on the other man's arm. "You're jug-bit. You don't know what you're saying!"

  Mr. Derwent's face twisted in bitter fury, but before he could say anything else, Adam rose to confront him.

  "Derwent, you are upsetting the ladies," he informed the other man coldly. "Leave the room. Now."

  Oddly, the words had a sobering effect on the younger man. He straightened, and his face, which had been mottled with fury, turned pale instead. Accepting Mr. Carling's assistance, he left the room without uttering another word.

  "Fool." Adam glared after him, shaking his head. "Damned fool."

  Ten

  After some discussion it was decided Mr. Colburt would be laid to rest in the Derrings' family graveyard. He had no family, and as he'd met his fate while under their roof, the earl decided burying the fellow was the least they might do. The day after the discovery of the body Lady Derring emerged from her rooms, and she wasn't long in making Elizabeth's position clear.

  "Until this matter is resolved in your favor and I can dismiss you, you will be expected to carry on as you have always done," she told Elizabeth coldly. "Is that understood?"

  "Yes, my lady," Elizabeth replied, refraining from pointing out that if the matter was resolved in her favor, it would mean she was innocent. She had no desire to spend one moment longer at Derring Hall than she had to.

  "Naturally you will refrain from associating with our guests above that which is absolutely necessary to perform your duties," the countess added, her dark eyes spiteful. "I am sure you take my meaning, Miss Mattingale."