Project Duchess - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,66

probably a servant from the hall, come to fetch her for some reason, but still . . .

“Open this door!” demanded a voice she recognized only too well.

Him.

She hesitated a moment longer. Grey sounded angry. And given how they’d parted, perhaps he had a right to be. She’d as much as admitted he had good reason for his suspicions, even though she wasn’t sure of that herself.

Still, she knew him too well to think he would just go away and leave. And when he cried, “Wolfe, damn it, I want to speak to you now!” she ignored the butterflies in her belly, strode to the door, and swung it open.

“What do you want, Your Grace?” she asked, fighting to sound unafraid. It was hard not to be afraid when he was looking so ducal in his evening attire.

He seemed startled to see her standing there in her nightdress and wrapper. Then he collected himself. His gaze took in the empty room behind her. “Where’s your brother?”

“I believe we had this discussion before,” she said tartly. “The appropriate greeting—”

Temper flared in his face. “I don’t give a damn about social rules just now. I want to speak to Wolfe!”

“He’s not here.” She started to close the door. “Go away and come back tomorrow.”

Grey stuck his foot in the door to prevent her from shutting it. “Not until I get some answers. Where is he?”

Grey wasn’t just angry—he was well and truly furious.

She shuddered. “Joshua is in Leicester. He was supposed to go this morning, but he put his business off for our outing. Why are you asking? What has happened?”

“Your brother has left you, a woman, alone at night?” He ran his gaze down her, obviously taking in the flimsiness of her attire.

“Our maid-of-all-work generally stays with me if he’s gone, but her babe is sick, so I told her to go home. It’s safe enough on the estate.” And she kept a loaded pistol on the console table near the door, though she didn’t have the best aim. “Joshua will be back tomorrow.”

He leveled a hard gaze on her. “Are you sure he’s coming back?”

What an odd question. “Of course he’s coming back. When he goes to Leicester on business, he’s rarely gone more than one night. Now please go and leave me to my supper.”

Instead, he shoved open the door and entered. “Then I will talk to you in his stead.”

As he shut the door behind him, she swallowed hard. “This is most inappropriate.”

“I don’t care.” He tossed his hat onto the console table and caught sight of her pistol. “You shoot?”

“Not very well, no,” she admitted, then realized perhaps she should have kept that detail to herself. Though honestly, she couldn’t see herself shooting a duke. Particularly this one. “I keep it there for protection.”

“From whom?”

“People like you who barge into my home without an invitation,” she bit out.

A faint smile crossed his face before he squelched it. He picked up the pistol and turned the handle toward her. “Then go ahead—feel free. Though it won’t help you or your brother advance your aims in the same way that pushing someone off a bridge might have.”

She felt all at sea as she took the pistol and carefully set it back on the table. “Advance our aims? What do you mean?” Then it hit her. “Uncle Maurice? Now you suspect my brother of murdering him, too?”

“Your brother,” he said coldly. “Or you.”

“Me!” She burst into laughter. The idea of her killing anyone was ludicrous.

But Grey’s grim expression showed that he didn’t find it so, and at once her amusement vanished.

She stared him down. “Why in God’s name would I murder Uncle Maurice? I liked him!”

“He was planning to sell this house out from under you and your brother.” Grey cast her a triumphant look as if he’d finally unveiled all her secrets.

“Yes, and so was Uncle Armie.”

The triumph in his face vanished. “You’re not denying that you knew about it.”

“Why would I?” This conversation got stranger by the moment. “Everyone in the whole blasted town of Sanforth knew. I daresay half of London knew. Even if I hadn’t heard about it from several people eons ago, I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn of it. Since this parcel of the estate isn’t entailed, selling it was one of the few ways left to my uncles to shore up a failing dukedom. Indeed, I assumed that the reason for my come-out lessons was that Sheridan was planning something of the

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