A Scandalous Bargain (The Pretenders #2) - Darcy Burke Page 0,26

the urge to laugh. He adored her enthusiasm. “Do you wish to hear about it, or would you rather I answer that question first?”

“Both.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Tell me about the inquiry.”

“The other question is simpler. I didn’t mention it because I haven’t seen you. Furthermore, there isn’t much to share. Two constables came to interview me and the entire household on Friday.”

Her hazel eyes rounded. “The entire household? You didn’t let them speak to Regan?”

That she had the same reaction he’d had and with apparently the same affront made him want to kiss her.

It did?

Many things made him want to kiss her.

“Of course not. They wanted to speak to her nurse, but she was too busy with Regan and I refused to let them speak to her when Regan was present.”

Beatrix flattened her palms on her lap and leaned slightly toward him. “What did they ask you?”

Distracted by her spicy floral scent, he had to think about her question. “Ask me? Ah, they asked what happened that night.” Dammit, he didn’t want to talk about that. He wanted to ask her about Almack’s.

She narrowed her eyes at him briefly. “You seem rather unconcerned.”

He put his arm along the back of the settee. “Sheffield said it was a formality.”

“Harry was one of the constables who came?”

“Yes. He accompanied the lead investigator—a young man called Dearborn.”

“I don’t know him, but I’ll find out what I can.”

“There’s no need. As I said, the inquiry is a formality. My mother-in-law is causing trouble, that’s all.” His hand was close to her head. Her hair was still dressed as it had been for the ball, though the ribbon and flowers were gone. He could almost touch her curls. Or her cheek. Or the slope of her neck. His fingers twitched with want.

“Why would she do that?”

Thomas was having a hard time keeping his focus on the conversation. He didn’t want to talk about his mother-in-law—ex-mother-in-law—or his deceased wife. “Because she’s upset that her daughter died, and she dislikes me.”

“So she wants to blame you for her death? That’s awful.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

She studied him, her gaze inquisitive. “Such as what?”

Hell. He hadn’t meant to open up that line of discussion. “Her daughter. I promise you, living with Thea was much, much worse.”

Beatrix’s features softened. “I hate hearing that.” She reached over and touched the hand that rested on his thigh.

The contact jolted through him—and perhaps through her as well. Her gaze lifted to his and that connection was just as potent.

“She’s gone now,” he managed to say.

“Yes. It must be a…relief.”

He expended great effort to not twine his fingers with hers. “I shouldn’t say so, but it is.”

“Anything you tell me will be kept secret. We have a bargain, remember?” Her fingers moved across the back of his hand, sending sparks of heat up his arm and into his chest. They spread lower, stoking a long-buried desire. He should get up and put some distance between them. Instead, he let his hand glide a bit lower on the back of the settee toward her neck.

“And anything you tell me will be treated the same,” he said. “Why did you find Almack’s boring?”

“Haven’t you been before?”

“I have, but that was several years ago. There’s no need to go after you’re wed.”

“But some people do.”

“Then I suppose they must like being bored. And gossip.”

She laughed, her dimples creasing half-moons into her cheeks. Her eyes lit with mirth. “You’ve already said you don’t like gossip, and since you stopped going once it became unnecessary, I must assume you also found it boring.”

He cocked his head to the side and nodded slightly. “Just so.”

She swatted at his upper arm and put her hand back on his, as if they sat in this intimate fashion all the time. How lovely that sounded. “Why didn’t you tell me it was tedious? I could have avoided it entirely.”

Now he laughed. “You wanted to go! Who was I to dissuade you? Besides, weren’t you hoping to see your father?”

“Yes, but he wasn’t there. Instead, I had to suffer the attentions of my half brother.” She shuddered in horror.

Attentions? A visceral need to protect—or perhaps claim—her shot through him. “What did he do?”

“He asked me to dance, and I think he was flirting.” She made a face. “I wanted to tell him to stop, but I didn’t. Instead, I stepped on his feet a number of times and tried to behave in a manner that would deter him from finding