good of you.”
She snorted. “Good had nothing to do with it. If she hadn’t done it, I’d still be wondering if I’d killed Lord Felix.” Her bluntness took him back a bit, even though it amused him.
“I suppose something good came out of all of this, then. How are your burns?” He hated the idea of her putting herself in harm’s way to help him. Since the death of his parents, few people had come to his aid so selflessly and they all lived under this roof.
She raised a hand—but not the one still beneath his on the sofa—to the back of her neck. “Almost gone. Emily gave me some ointment for them, and it seems that my father’s work also gave me the ability to heal rapidly.”
“Not to mention the ability to lift twelve stone with little effort,” he reminded her with a teasing grin.
“Twelve?” Her eyebrows shot up. “A bit more than that soaking wet—and fully clothed.” A flush crept up her cheeks to her hairline and Griffin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling at her expense. He didn’t have to have Cordelia’s abilities to know that her own remark had then turned her thoughts to him without clothes.
“I did ask you to put me down, if you remember correctly,” he reminded her, steering the conversation in a less embarrassing—for her—direction. He turned serious. “I’m going to find out all I can about Lord Felix’s murder.”
Finley’s finely arched brows lowered into a frown. “Why? We know I didn’t do it.”
“Scotland Yard doesn’t know that. If I can give them evidence to lead them elsewhere, I’ll feel much better knowing you’re permanently off their suspect list.”
Her gaze locked with his. “Thank you. For everything.”
No one had ever looked at him as though he were the answer to all their prayers. It was humbling. It was startling. It was…attractive. He leaned closer, dangerously close to giving in to the temptation that had provoked him since the first time he saw her.
He was going to kiss Finley Jayne. Wouldn’t that complicate things?
Fortunately, Finley didn’t notice his sudden nearness, or if she did, she misinterpreted it. She leaned her head against the back of the sofa and turned her gaze toward him.
“Is it awful of me to be relieved that he’s dead?”
The question was like a bucket of cold water in the face. The shock wore off immediately, leaving Griff feeling slightly guilty. The poor girl. She must have put herself through hell thinking she’d killed that waste of breath Lord Felix and now she felt guilty for not mourning him.
“No,” he told her honestly. “It’s not wrong. I wager you’re not alone in your feeling.”
Her lips twisted wryly. “No, I reckon not. He hurt a lot of people.” Her gaze met his again. “I know it’s awful to be glad that someone is dead, but I think of what might have happened if he was allowed to go on…”
“How many other people he might have gone on to hurt,” Griffin offered softly. Gads, how he wished he had August-Raynes at hand so that he could knock the bounder’s teeth loose.
Finley nodded. “I don’t blame him for what he did to me. Well, I did for a bit, but he wasn’t himself. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
A burst of harsh, humorless laughter escaped Griffin. “You are too forgiving.”
“Am I?” She sounded dubious at best. “When it was that vile drink responsible?”
“I admire you for looking for good in the man, but the fact remains that he was a good-for-nothing wastrel who indulged in drink and took delight in hurting people he believed weaker than himself.”
Her gaze was wide and…angry as it locked with his. “Surely you don’t mean to imply that he was that much of a villain?”
He didn’t understand her vehemence. “I certainly do. I’ve heard accounts the length of my arm that testify to just how much of a scoundrel he was. You are the last person I would expect to defend him.”
“How can I condemn a man I didn’t even know?” She looked as though she might cry. “A man my mother thought of with such high regard and love? Dear God, I might be glad he is gone and his suffering over, but I could never despise him!”
Griffin blinked. “Wait a moment. About whom are we talking?”
Finley froze. Slowly, her mouth opened. “My father?”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or swear. “I referred to Lord Felix. Damn my eyes, Finley, I would