died five, maybe six years before him. Unlike her husband, she was not overly sociable. She was always a very religious person but became a zealot after the deaths of her sons. One in some sort of stable accident, and the younger one to illness not long after. The grande dames of society couldn’t get away from her fast enough.”
The hate and horror slithered out again, thick and noxious, an icy perspiration pricking King’s temples. Before tonight, he had thought that he was immune to such memories. Yet in the space of a single evening, the mere mention of what had transpired that day reduced him to that terrified, helpless eleven-year-old, cradling Evan’s bloodied body and betrayed on all sides by those who were supposed to believe him.
“The new baron has been back in London for barely a sennight,” Lady Angelique said. “Apparently it took the estate lawyers a while to track him to Virginia. But I’m afraid that that is the extent of my knowledge.”
“Do not trouble yourself,” Adrestia said. “This was productive. Thank you.”
“And we should be going.” King didn’t care if he sounded desperate, and the air seemed to have become stifling, and the space seemed to have shrunk. He needed to get away from here. He signaled a footman and within a minute Adrestia’s cloak had been delivered. “It was lovely to see you again, my lady.” King offered Angelique a brief bow. “My regards to your husband.”
“I’ll pass them along.” The gaming hell owner was watching him thoughtfully. “You can find your own way out?”
“We’ll use the back.”
“Certainly.”
King offered Adrestia his arm, and she took it without hesitation, her hand steady. As before, it suddenly became easier to breathe. Unlike before, he was now very aware of the feel of her body as it pressed against his. And maybe this night, with all its emotion and revelations, had exhausted him more than he had wanted to admit, because he leaned into her, drawing strength from her presence.
She squeezed his arm but didn’t look at him. Instead she only paused, turning back to speak to Lady Angelique.
“When you speak to your modiste, spend the money on a quality leather lining,” Adrestia said, gesturing at her skirts. “Otherwise your blade will cut you to ribbons.”
Lady Angelique smiled, though she was still considering King. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Chapter 8
The ride back to Helmsdale was completed in utter silence. Though Adrestia said nothing, King was keenly aware of the weight of her gaze from across the confined space. She watched him steadily, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression unreadable. King gazed back, doing everything in his power to appear unaffected by her scrutiny. He looked away only when the carriage creaked to a stop in front of Helmsdale.
They disembarked and, in continued silence, King led Adrestia up the wide stone steps and into his now-deserted hall, dimly lit by the subdued fire in the hearth. He should be relieved to be home and anxious to retreat to his rooms, his private sanctuary away from this woman who had already seen far too much. But with every step, he became more aware of the heat trapped beneath Adrestia’s hand where it rested on his arm, the soft rustle of her skirts where they brushed against his leg, and the scent of jasmine that swirled around him.
He stopped at the base of the stairs and put a hand on the banister, strangely reluctant to ascend. “I selected rooms for you upstairs and had them prepared,” he said stiffly. Rooms not far from his own. Another inexplicable, impulsive decision from that evening.
The very few times he tolerated a guest, voluntary or otherwise, they resided in the small cottage near the stable. Close enough that his men might observe their presence and control comings and goings, and far enough away that they did not threaten King’s privacy.
Adeline Archambault threatened far more than his privacy. He had no idea what he had been thinking, other than that he hadn’t been. But to change his mind now and send her to a dark, freezing cottage would not only be callous, it would make him look like a fool.
“You should find the rooms comfortable,” he continued, as if he had beautiful, bewitching women stay in his home regularly. “If you—”
“Was that you?” she asked, the first words she had spoken since they had left Lavoie’s.
“Was what me?”
“Marstowe’s missing fortune. Did you do that?”
“No.”
“Mmm. I didn’t think so. The timing