Seducing a Stranger (Victorian Rebels #7) - Kerrigan Byrne Page 0,39

as the Knight of Shadows?”

“Among other things.” His features locked down and everything about him became as hard as granite, including his voice. “You do realize if you utter a word about the so-called Knight of Shadows, the house of cards I’ve managed to build around you will collapse entirely. Any notions of ruining me will only lead to your own damnation.”

Perhaps this was why he’d been so cold. So distant. He thought she might reveal his secrets to the world, thereby ruining his life. He hadn’t cause to know otherwise, it wasn’t as though they’d a relationship built on trust.

“I’d never,” Pru vowed. “You have my word.”

She tried not to let it hurt her feelings that her word didn’t seem to allay him in the slightest. “Very good.” He gave her a stiff nod that might have been a bow, and his weight shifted to take a step away.

“Wait!” she called, evoking the brackets of a deepening frown.

“What else is it, Miss Goode? I did not lie when I said I had duties to attend.”

The irritation in his voice stung her sinuses with the threat of overwhelming emotion. She turned from him, grateful to have a reason. He’d called her Miss Goode, as if he’d forgotten that she’d taken his name.

“My buttons,” she croaked huskily. “They’re in the back and if I haven’t a lady’s maid… I can’t reach them.”

She waited in the silence with bated breath until, finally, the creak of the floorboards announced his approach.

Prudence tightened her fists in her skirts and forced herself to be still as his fingers found the top button of her plaid, high-necked gown and released it. Gooseflesh poured over her and a little tremor spilled down her spine as he was unable to avoid brushing the upswept hair at the nape of her neck.

She closed her eyes again, swamped with an overwhelming longing. Gods, she wanted him to hold her.

No, not exactly. Not him. Not this wary creature of starchy reticence and wary silence. But him. The Knight of Shadows. She’d never felt as safe and marvelous as she had in his arms. Clutched to him. Pinned beneath him. Clenched around him.

Was he gone from her forever?

Had he ever truly existed at all?

She listened for his breath, and realized he held it.

The buttons gave way beneath his deft motions and she couldn’t seem to summon words until he’d made it below her shoulder blade. Then everything she was thinking burst out of her like a sneeze.

“It’s only that I have so many questions and so many fears that I feel I will die if I don’t know something. Can’t you understand how that feels? Is my life in London over? My reputation ruined? Does everyone think me capable of murder? What about George’s funeral, I’ll be expected to attend, won’t I? Unless everyone thinks I killed him, then… Oh God. And what about you? Everyone will think—”

“People will think what I tell them to think,” he said in a voice only a fraction less even and measured than his hands upon her buttons. “Only a trusted few know of your arrest last night and even fewer your release. The reverend has been silenced. Honoria and William have been sent away. Your fiancé had blessed little in the way of family, and his earldom is passed to some distant Scottish cousin who is happy not to ask too many questions. As for my part, I’m investigating the matter thoroughly, though Argent is officially handling the murder inquest for the sake of records, and a more secretive man you’ve never met.”

She’d have to take his word on that. “What about the press? An Earl dying at his own wedding is an enormous story. All the people in attendance…someone will figure out where I am and what we’ve done.”

His sigh was a warm tickle on her neck. “For now, they’re chasing Honoria and William across the continent, thinking you are absconded to Italy to grieve and escape the horror of it.”

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “Even still…there’s bound to be a scandal. The truth will come out eventually.”

“What troubles you the most?” he asked disapprovingly, having undone enough of her buttons to make the bodice of her dress sag. “Scandal? Or the truth?”

“I fear the consequences of what we’ve done,” she said, holding her bodice to her chest before turning to look at him. “I don’t want to raise a child under such a shadow.”

The brow he notched was a few

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