“I am here to protect you,” he said.
The words filled the air and hit her ears, but it took a heartbeat for them to register. When they did, she burst out in a laugh that startled her nearly as much as him. “Protect me?” she echoed, an alarming note of hysteria lacing her words. “From what? An intruder? A stranger in a dark room, perhaps?”
She heard his exhale again as she moved toward the door. Other than shoving her into the room, this man hadn’t touched her and she’d let that fact make her feel safe.
Safer than it ought.
One of his arms came around her waist and pulled her back away from the door like she weighed nothing.
Then, only then, did she finally think about screaming. In earnest, not just threatening to do it. The hand with the candle hovered before her, temporarily blinding her. She could feel his chest against her back, his breath against her temple as he muttered a curse she’d never heard before.
She should scream. She really ought to scream. “Just what do you think you are doing?”
It was not a scream. It wasn’t even as indignant as it ought to have been. It sounded like a prim and proper debutante asking about the weather.
She licked her lips and tried again. “Unhand me at once.”
There. Now she’d sounded like the princess he’d accused her of being before.
His husky chuckle sent a thrill down her spine. No, not a thrill. A chill. A chill of horror, obviously. There was no other explanation for it.
The silence that followed was amplified by the thudding of her heart. All she could hear was his breath, her heart, and very distantly—as though from another lifetime—the sound of music and laughter as the guests celebrated her engagement.
To a man she’d met once.
And she didn’t quite remember it, to be honest.
“There are things you need to know about the man you mean to marry,” he said.
“Oh yes?” It came out as a breath. How could she breathe properly when this strange man still had an arm wrapped firmly about her waist? “And what is that?”
“He is not what he seems,” the man murmured.
Lord Evil. The nickname rang in her ears and she scowled. Silly Louisa. It was her fault she harbored even the tiniest of doubts about his character. He’d never done anything really wrong, of that she was certain. For if he had he would not be celebrated by all the ton at this particular moment, now would he? The thought heartened her.
“You do not know him,” he said. “Lord Everley is—”
“Pardon me, but this is the man I am to marry.” Her tone conveyed nothing but disdain. “There is nothing you can say that will make a difference to me,” she said, her nose tilting upward as it was wont to do when she was lying.
He likely did know things about her betrothed. A good many things. Things she might not wish to hear…
But what good would that do her? Everley was the man she was to marry. Hearing rumors about his foul deeds wouldn’t change that. This was precisely why she’d been avoiding Louisa and Addie.
Prudence too, but mostly because Pru would ask her questions she did not wish to answer.
But the other two—they would wish to tell her things. False things. Hypothetical things.
She tugged against the arm that held her, but she might as well have been battling a stone wall. She grunted in irritation as her brief struggle only succeeded in making his grip tighten to the point that she could not easily breathe.
She’d been struggling to breathe all night, but this had less to do with crippling fear and tight stays, and everything to do with the forearm that was now lodged firmly beneath her ribs. “I need air,” she said.
Instantly his grip loosened, and if she’d been quicker—if she’d been afraid the way she ought to be—she would have used that opportunity to fight her way out of his embrace.
As it was, she found herself resting against his chest as she took a deep, calming breath.
His chest was so broad, so firm, so secure, so…sculpted—she might have been resting on her own personal throne.
“Better?”
She could feel his chest vibrate against her with that word.
She nodded.
She was better, oddly enough. While reason dictated that she should be afraid for her very life, she found that she was rather content just now. His embrace was warm and strong and…comforting.
It was also highly improper.
“Do you know, if anyone were to walk in and find us like this, you’ll be in just as much trouble as me,” she mused.
His laugh was quiet and…nice. “I had considered that, yes.”
4
Rupert hadn’t just considered this fact. It had been on his mind from the moment he’d dragged her unceremoniously into this room.
If he got caught in Everley’s office, it would mean trouble. But if he got caught with Everley’s bride-to-be…?
What am I doing? The question echoed in his mind like a gong.
What on earth was he doing?
His mission tonight had been simple. Slip inside this opulent ball and search Everley’s office. Everley was too smart to leave incriminating evidence lying about, but he might have found some clue, something to point him in the right direction. A sliver of a clue that might help him pick up his old investigation, which had grown cold and fruitless years ago.
But things were different now.
Everley had grown comfortable. He’d even gone and gotten himself engaged, for heaven’s sake. Surely that was a sign that Everley’s heightened state of paranoia and careful precision were faltering. After all, he was letting this little minx into his life.
Into his house…
The little minx in question shifted against him. “You must surely understand that it would be best for both of us if you let me go at once.”
He stared down at the top of her head. From this point of view, all he could make out was dark curls and the pale glow of a high cheekbone but he’d seen enough earlier in the glow of the candlelight.
The girl was a beauty. A diamond of the first water. She could have had her pick of husbands, so how had she ended up with a cruel soul like Everley?
The answer was obvious, of course. Her father had arranged it. Either the old curmudgeon didn’t know the extent of Everley’s cruel nature or he didn’t care. Knowing the two gentlemen involved, he knew without a doubt that this was a business arrangement. Somehow they were both profiting from the merger.
But how?
And at whose expense?
He dipped his head slightly and caught another tantalizing whiff of the scent that had been driving him crazy from the moment he’d first held her close. She smelled of citrus and honey, with a hint of vanilla. A heady blend of sweet and tart that seemed to have entered his system and demand that he take more.
A man could grow addicted to this scent…to the feel of her in his arms…
Oh yes, Everley had found himself a most enticing bride. She would be the perfect addition to this world he was building for himself. The pretty princess on his arm. The smiling, perfect little doll to be pulled out for societal functions and placed back on her shelf when no longer needed.
Poor girl. Did this regal little thing have any idea of what life held in store for her?
He guessed not. Despite her air of confidence and her haughty, imperious tone…he sensed a vulnerability there that she could not quite hide. Not from him. Not when he held her close like this. Not when he could feel her heart beating wildly against its cage.
Her voice grew cold and hard. “I am waiting.”
Rupert grinned. He couldn’t help it. Despite this precarious position, or maybe because of it—he found himself delightfully amused. How long had it been since someone had amused him so?
After so many years working to uncover the secrets of the elite, he’d spent more tedious evenings than he could count with members of the ton. He’d spent even more with lowlifes and the downtrodden of societ
y as he unearthed secrets and ferreted out the truth.
But in all that time, he was rarely shocked. Not by people, at least. Their secrets might differ, their circumstances might change, but people tended to be utterly predictable.
This girl?
She was anything but.
He’d expected her to scream, to faint, to burst into hysterics. Instead, she’d been the epitome of arrogance and disdain—on the surface, at least. Beyond that, he suspected, though he could not be certain…
He thought perhaps she was enjoying herself.
Not entirely, clearly, but she wasn’t afraid, either. And that was so baffling it made him wish to know her better. To figure out what made her angry, what made her scared…
What made her passionate.
“You are not afraid?” He cursed himself for the words as soon as they were out. Of all the things they ought to discuss, and he chose this moment to cater to his curiosity.
She scoffed.
The girl scoffed. She was being held against her will by a person she did not know, and she scoffed in disdain at the implication that she might be frightened.
“It is hardly as though we are in some back alley, and you are clearly no ruffian,” she said. “Why should I be afraid?”
He pulled his head back to try and see her better, marveling a bit at her curious mix of confidence and naiveté. “Do you really believe that bad things can only happen in back alleys?” His voice lowered gruffly as the urge to protect her sweet innocence had him pulling her back against him once more. “Do you think villains cannot be found in high society? Have you not yet learned that men of means and power can make the most fearsome foe?”
She stilled in his arms and he thought perhaps he’d finally gotten through to her the serious nature of his business here. When she moved, it was not to pull away, but to turn in his arms so she was facing him. The candle hovered between them and this close—he was certain she had a full view of his face just as he could see hers.
Beautiful.
She was so much more beautiful than he’d realized. This close he could see her perfection. She was indeed like a doll—all porcelain skin and sharp angles. Her dark hair, brows, and eyes highlighted her fairness and her lips looked rosy and pink even in this light.
But that was where the doll comparison came to an end.
This girl was life.
Her eyes glinted with it, and it made her whole body vibrate. Her skin fairly crackled with her energy, her vivacity…her passion.
And she was to be wed to Everley.
A rage like he’d never known had him gripping her tightly. Too tightly. With her turned the way she was, she was now pressed against him in an embrace that was so highly inappropriate, it did not bear mentioning.
“Your future husband is just that,” he said, his gaze never wavering from her steady glare. “He is a villain of the worst order.”
It was there and gone so fast he nearly missed it. A flicker of alarm. She covered it quickly with pursed lips and a haughty sniff. “And I suppose you have some evidence to support this claim?”
Her tone was full of derision, but he knew better. He knew her better, though he could never explain how. She was digging for information.
He opened his mouth and shut it, trying to weigh his options. A big part of him wanted to spill all his secrets, to tell her of his past and his suspicions…
When he didn’t immediately respond, her lips pressed together in a look of annoyance, that might have been intimidating were she not being held his captive. As it were, it was rather…adorable.
His prisoner was put out, and that made him want to laugh all over again.
“I suppose that is why you are here,” she said, her gaze darting to the right and left pointedly. “You are trying to prove whatever claims you have against my…my fiancé.”
It was the second time she’d stumbled over the word. He wondered if she knew it.
He wondered if she hated the word as much as he did.
“You are correct,” he admitted. “I am here in the hopes of proving my suspicions.”
She tugged back, and this time he let her go. Mostly. He kept his arm around her loosely just in case she got the idea to run.
He had no time to battle this girl and whomever came running.
“I knew it,” she said, her chin tilting up so her nose was in the air. She looked like a spoiled child, and yet he knew…he knew without a doubt that she was covering up her own fears.
The proud girl would sniff and look down her nose even if a pistol were aimed at her head. He knew this like he knew his own name.
“Aren’t you curious?” he asked. “Don’t you wish to know what crimes I suspect your betrothed of committing?”
She pursed her lips as she seemed to consider that. “I suppose you wish to tell me.”
He felt his lips quirking up against his will. Stubborn little minx. She wouldn’t admit to it, but he could see the curiosity in her. “I suspect that he murdered my cousin.”
Her eyes widened at his blunt words.
“M-murder? Y-your…what?”
He leaned in closer, needing her to hear. To understand. “I don’t mean to scare you, Miss Clemmons, but—”
“Well, you’re not doing a good job then, are you?” she snapped. Her brows had drawn together and he saw her chest rise and fall as her breathing grew ragged. “You cannot just throw out words like murder. It is just not done.”
He growled as he drew her closer, setting the candle on the table so he could use that hand to cup her face in his palm. It was improper, it was intimate—but he was running out of time and patience, and like it or not, he needed this woman to understand what she was getting herself into.
“I don’t have the evidence to prove it,” he said. “But I know what happened. What’s more, I’ve been watching Everley for years. I’ve seen the trail of victims he’s left in his wake to make him the wealthy, powerful gentleman he is today.”
She blinked up at him, her gaze trying to search his in this dark, shadowy room. “If that is true, then why have you done nothing.”
“I have never been able to prove my suspicions—”
“So why now?” Her voice was rising, imperious even when upset. His gaze shot to the door. If she kept talking loudly, someone could hear. Aside from that, he knew for a fact that Everley often conducted business in his office during his parties. He was known for using his social gatherings to do his dirty work—extortion, blackmail, and yes—murder.
“Why are you here now?” she continued. “At my engagement party, no less.”
“Keep your voice down,” he murmured. “Unless you wish us to be caught and your reputation to be ruined.”
She narrowed her eyes and made a noise he’d call a growl if it had come from a man. As it was it was a little more high-pitched, and entirely too enticing. “Don’t you threaten me at my own party, and in my own home.” She blinked rapidly and gave her head a little shake. “It will be my home,” she continued, but now he wasn’t entirely certain if she were reminding him or herself.
“I didn’t come here to scare you,” he said. “I came here to save you.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her lips parting with surprise.
His gaze dropped to those lips.
He wanted to kiss her.
The realization struck him upside the head and left him reeling. He was a professional. He never got distracted whilst on a mission, and most certainly not while in the midst of rifling through the office of his arch nemesis. And yet, here he was. Staring at those lush lips and imagining what it might be like to press his lips to hers. What sort of sound she would make, how heatedly she would respond…
“You…are here to save me.” Her voice hitched in the middle and he couldn’t tell if she were fighting a sob or a laugh.
“You…you…” She let out a choked laugh. “You are here to save me.” She gave her head a little shake and seemed to remember herself, pushin
g against his chest hard to take a step away. Her shoulders pushed back and her head went high. “I have no need of saving, Mister…” She arched a brow.
“Calloway,” he finished. A twinge of guilt flickered in his gut, but he pushed it aside. He owed this girl nothing, certainly not the whole unvarnished truth. And besides, it wasn’t a lie. Mr. Rupert Calloway was the name he’d been using for years now, having eschewed the honorary title that was his right. Titles were all well and good, and having one certainly served its purpose from time to time, but in his line of work, being a Mr. Nobody-in-Particular seemed best.
Her lips curved into a sneer. “Mr. Calloway,” she repeated, as though engraving it to her memory. “You seem to forget that I am the one that belongs here. And if my future husband is as ruthless as you claim, surely it is you who needs saving.” She took her time before adding, “By me.”
He nearly laughed at her arrogant confidence. He might have if he wasn’t so worried for her safety. He’d been concerned for her when she was just a name, an acquaintance of an old friend. But now he feared for her. Because she was…
Well, because she was her.
A weak woman might be able to exist at Everley’s side. A woman less stubborn, less determined, less strong-willed, less…
Perfect.
No, not perfect. A woman less infuriating. That was the word he’d been looking for. A woman less infuriating might be able to turn a blind eye to her husband’s wicked ways, and perhaps survive being wedded to Everley in some sort of ignorant bliss.
But someone like Delilah… She was not simple, she was not easy, and she would definitely be a thorn in Everley’s side.
And Everley would have no problem getting rid of her if she were problematic. That thought left Rupert shaking with rage. “Listen to me, Delilah—” His use of her given name had her eyes widening in surprise but he ignored it. “You need to take this seriously.”
“Oh, I do,” she cut in.
He could practically see the walls she was constructing around her, protecting herself, withdrawing into the picture of feminine grace and charm.
Shutting him out, in the process.
The Miseducation of Miss Delilah: A Sweet Regency Romance (School of Charm Book 3) Page 3
