arms, steadied her, and stepped back. Her eyes were wide with surprise.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a voice that was more curt than he’d meant it to be.
She smoothed her hands down her skirts and lifted her chin. “I…I…wanted ta talk ta ye.”
“About what?” His arms were crossed in front of him and his bare foot tapped on the wooden floorboards.
“Are ye…angry?” she began, carefully searching his features.
“Perhaps I am. What did you want to speak to me about, Marianne?” He emphasized her name as if to mock it.
She turned toward the door. “I think I’ll jest go. It was a mistake ta come here.”
He clenched his jaw. “I’m in no mood for games tonight.”
“Games?” She turned back toward him and furrowed her brow. “What are ye talkin’ about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. And you can stop with that accent, at least in front of me.”
She swiveled and yanked open the door. His hand slammed against it, closing it again. “Tell the truth for once,” he growled in her ear.
Still facing the door, her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. “What do you want from me, Nicholas?”
There. At least she’d spoken in her true accent at last. Her words were carefully cultured. If he didn’t know better, he might even believe she was of the Quality. “You came to my room,” he barked. “The question is, what do you want from me?”
“You’re speaking in riddles.” She turned her face to the side, away from him.
“Fine then.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear again. “Let me be clear. What if I told you that I’ve learned there is no such person as a ‘Miss Marianne Notley’ from Brighton?”
He felt her body freeze. Then she took a deep breath, turned, and met his gaze. There was a steely resolve in her bright blue eyes and a determination that matched his own. “If you told me that,” she replied simply, her eyes flashing blue fire, “then I’d have to ask you, who is ‘Bell,’ and why are you ‘playacting’ at being a valet in Lord Clayton’s home?”
Chapter Fourteen
Marianne hadn’t come to Nicholas’s door to threaten him, but the minute he’d brought up her assumed name, she’d known she had no other choice. She’d been in the hallway earlier when Lord Clayton came up. She had pressed her back to the wall and refused to breathe for the few moments it took for him to knock on Nicholas’s door and gain entry. She’d been astonished when she heard Clayton call him ‘Bell’ and ask him if he was still ‘playacting.’
She’d quickly returned to her room and peeked out her door, waiting until Lord Clayton left the floor. Then she’d quietly made her way down here. She hadn’t been entirely certain what she’d say to Nicholas. But after clearly being angry with her for some unknown reason, he’d given her the perfect opening.
The anger immediately drained from his handsome face. “You overheard?” He dropped his gaze to the floor, cursing under his breath.
She pressed her back against the door and crossed her arms over her chest. It was her turn to be angry. “Yes, and I must say that was quite a convincing job of being the aggrieved party instead of a hypocrite.”
“Hypocrite?” he echoed.
“Aren’t you accusing me of lying about my identity when you’re clearly lying about yours?”
A slight smile spread across his lips. He braced his right hand against the door at the side of her neck and stepped forward. He used his left forefinger to trace the soft skin along the side of her eye, her cheekbone, the side of her lips. “Who are you?” he whispered, in a voice that Marianne was convinced had been the downfall of a number of unsuspecting women.
She shuddered and let her eyes close for a moment. Oh, God. If he was going to try to seduce her, he just might succeed. She had to keep reminding herself that she didn’t know this man. He could be anyone. He could be dangerous. She already knew he could be dangerous to her heart.
When she opened her eyes again, she forced herself to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. He towered over her. Leaning down, he moved his right arm to brace against the door above her head. His index finger had made its way to her jaw, and then her neck, and was presently making tiny hot circles against her skin directly above the neckline of her gown.
“You tell me