and more hollow, and suddenly it’s a piccolo.” She scowled at nothing in particular. “That’s jarring as well.”
“I imagine so.” He smiled at her suddenly. “Life must seem like one long theatrical production.”
She laughed and shook her head. “The music is neither that consistent, nor that loud. It’s not as if I’ve an entire orchestra playing in my ear.” She shrugged. “Lizzy says everyone has music in their head from time to time. I don’t think what I hear is all that different except I hear it more often, and it’s a bit more detailed, I suppose. And I do have some control over it,” she added, lest he think she was completely at the whim of her gift, or believed the music she put to paper came without hard work. “Usually, when I concentrate, I can hear whatever I like, change whatever I like. It’s how I compose. But when I’m not concentrating, well…”
He nodded in understanding. “And what do you hear right now?”
“My mother lecturing me for breaking the vase,” she said grimly, though it was actually still the child’s tune. “I shouldn’t put it off any longer.”
He placed a hand on her back and gently urged her toward the door. “Your mother needn’t hear of it.”
“I won’t lie to her, or to Lord Brentworth.”
“Yes, you will.” He unlocked the door. “I’m ordering you to.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I believe I just did.” He checked the hall to be certain it was free of guests before ushering her out of the room and closing the door behind them.
“I never promised to follow your every order,” Kate laughed. “I only promised to follow orders as they pertained to the investigation.”
“This does.”
“How?”
She looked up to find his eyes dancing with merriment. “I’m ordering you not to ask.”
Hunter left Kate laughing, and with the promise that he would handle the matter of the vase. The moment he turned the first corner in the hallway, he stopped, leaned against the wall and took two long, deep breaths.
You’re a good man.
Bloody hell, what had he been thinking to tell her of his bargain with William? He snorted and dragged a hand down his face. Clearly, he hadn’t been thinking of dazzling her with his charm. Nor had he been thinking of that last night, when he’d gone off issuing unreasonable orders. But that, at least, had come from somewhere, and led to something. He’d been furious with her for going anywhere near Smuggler’s Beach and he wanted to be certain she never, ever, put herself in that sort of danger again. Granted, once his temper had settled he’d been able to admit the danger had been fairly limited…and his reaction fairly asinine. But asinine or not, there had been a point.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out where the desire to suddenly share a piece of his sordid past had originated or what he had thought to gain from it. It had come from nowhere, this overpowering urge to give her some inkling of the kind of man he was, the kind of man she was getting involved with—which was perfectly stupid as he didn’t intend to give her much of a choice in the matter, and then he’d been on the edge of his seat waiting to discover what she thought of that man—which was equally stupid as he had no intention of changing who he was for her or anyone else—and then, finally, she had called him a good man. Which had elated, baffled, and irritated him all at once.
He wasn’t a good man. He was wicked. Usually, he was rather good at being wicked.
He’d been nothing short of ineffectual for the last eighteen hours.
That would stop, immediately. He knew how to be effective. He knew how to be damn near everything. He had been damn near everything over the course of his life—wily street urchin, elusive thief, cutthroat businessman, charming gentleman. He’d managed that last well enough after his bizarre little confession.
He certainly knew how best to go about getting what he wanted. And, despite his bizarre little confession, what he wanted bloody well wasn’t for Kate to absolve him of his sins.
He liked being wicked, damn it, and he wasn’t the least bit sorry for it.
He pushed away from the wall and resumed his walk to the billiards room where he knew both Lord Brentworth and Whit could be found. The former he intended to offer an unholy amount of money to keep quiet the matter of the