How could he possibly know what was written in my notebook? I slammed it shut. "I am most sympathetic to Mrs. Francis's situation."
"That's no reason to be muddling about in her husband's affairs."
I raised an eyebrow. "His affairs?"
"Some things are best left forgotten. You'd be wise to let the dead rest."
"I'm curious to know why you're so concerned with Mr. Francis."
"Some gentlemen might be amused by your insistence on being viewed as a thinking woman. I am not one of them."
"A fact, Mr. Berry, that does not disappoint me in the least."
He put his hands firmly on my shoulders, too near my neck. "Yet I cannot help being drawn to you. I wonder if a king could tame you."
Much though I would have liked to throttle him for this comment, I managed to restrain myself, determined to pry something worthwhile from this otherwise useless man. "For someone who claims not to have known Mr. Francis, you're awfully concerned about him now that he's dead. Why the sudden interest? Does it pertain to the objects you say he wanted to sell you?"
"I don't even know what they were." His hands were still pressing down on my shoulders. I wrenched myself away, stood up, and turned to face him, glad to have the bench between us.
"He didn't mention the letters?" I smiled fetchingly. "What a surprise!"
"What letters?"
"Oh, I shouldn't fret about them. I've read them and they're deadly dull."
"Which letters are these?"
I thought for a moment before answering. "Léonard's, of course."
A cold pallor overtook the ordinary ruddiness of his face, and his features turned unnaturally hard. "Léonard's letters?"
"What letters did you think I meant?"
"He didn't say he had —"
"So, you did talk to him?" I closed my parasol and leveled it towards him. "I'm tired of your lies, Mr. Berry."
"I don't like people interfering in my business. This is none of your concern."
"So you admit to having been involved with Mr. Francis?"
"I knew he possessed things that by right should be legacies of my family. That's not the same as being involved with him."
"Did you discuss the letters with him?" I asked.
"You despise me." His narrow eyes met mine. "And you have no right to. I won't continue this conversation." He stalked away, turning to leer at me after he had gone some distance. If only Cécile was still in London! I longed to rush home to report the fascinating details of this conversation, even if it meant sacrificing the trim on my skirt to Caesar and Brutus. Without having consciously decided to do so, I found myself walking towards Park Lane, and a few minutes later was waiting for Colin in his library.
This was a room that was used, not meant for show. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, and tall ladders ensured that none of them was out of reach. Every surface had at least one book on it. One table was covered with atlases and travel books, another held three of Shakespeare's plays, each binding well worn, no crispness left in the pages. In front of an enormous marble mantelpiece stood a table that held a chess set carved from some sort of exotic wood, the pieces representing figures from Arthurian legend. Next to the game board was John Thursby's Seventy-Five Chess Problems, held open with a book weight.
"White's to mate in three moves," Colin said, entering the room. "I'm afraid I haven't got beyond setting up the board." His lips brushed my hand. "How do you like the room? I finally realized that if I'm to have any hope of marrying you, I'd have to show you my library first."
"It's magnificent."
"My collection of ancient texts is no rival to your own, but you'll find I've a better selection of fiction." As he said this, I considered something that had not before occurred to me. The books to which he referred weren't mine at all; they belonged to the Ashton family. Nothing in my house, save my clothing, personal items, and the handful of antiquities I had purchased since Philip's death, was truly mine. Someday the new viscount would want to take possession of his house. Because the boy was barely four years old, it was unlikely this would happen for some time, but the fact remained that I did not have a home of my own. "Is something wrong?"
"No, not precisely." I forced a smile. "I'll simply have to expand my own fiction holdings."
"Have you already heard from Cécile?"
"Am I not allowed to call on you except in an official capacity?"
"I am, of course, delighted to see you, but I fear for the health of my butler. Poor Hoskins is not accustomed to unescorted young ladies calling."
"I'd be distressed if he were. It would call into question your very character." I sat in a large, extremely comfortable leather chair. "I've just seen Charles Berry. He was so abominable I longed for a friendly face." Colin frowned as I told him about my encounter with the dreadful man in the park.
"He's not foolish enough to hurt you, but I do not like this, Emily."
"Have you any idea of how he was involved with Mr. Francis?"
"I don't, but when I see him tonight, I shall find out what I can."
"Are you going to Lady Elinor's ball?"
"Yes. You?"
"She's the one person aside from Ivy who still considers me worthy of her guest list."
"Will you waltz with me?"
"We could waltz now," I said, meeting his steady gaze.
"Too dangerous. From experience I'm keenly aware of the ruinous effect dancing with you in private has on my self-control."
"Lovely though it is to contemplate you losing your self-control, I shan't tempt you further, though I reserve the right to do so in the future. But I've more to tell you. When we left the British Museum the other day, my friend followed us. He left me a note hidden in some half-dead flowers the next day."
"I was careful to check that no one was tailing us, and I didn't see anyone. He must be very good at this game." He ran his hand through his hair, stood up, and leaned against the mantel, his elbow resting on the marble top. "Do you feel threatened by this man?"
"I don't think he's dangerous," I said, hesitating slightly.
"I'll be perfectly frank with you, my dear. There's nothing I would like better than to lock you up somewhere, preferably at my country house, while I uncover this...person...and determine whether he means you harm. He's a criminal, not an ordinary admirer. We've no idea the lengths to which he would be willing to go to reach you." His eyes met mine, his expression all seriousness. "But I shall not undermine you by trying to rescue you. Know, Emily, that if you truly need me, I am here."
I think had he the presence of mind to propose at that moment, I would have accepted. The combination of hearing him speak in such an enlightened manner and the perfect setting of his library would have been too much to resist.
"Colin, I —"
He knelt in front of me and took my hands in his, squeezing them. "My dear, dear girl. I could not go on if something were to happen to you. I have enough trust in your abilities to know that you'll be able to find out who he is. But promise me that you will not put yourself in danger. Do not take risks. You have a tendency to — "
"That's quite enough." How I wished he would take me in his arms. "I shall be careful."
"I would not love you so well if you were less headstrong. Please do not make me regret it."
"Regret loving me or regret that I am headstrong?"
"I shall never regret loving you, Emily. Not even if, once you've unmasked this admirer of yours, you decide to run off with him and pursue a life of crime."
"You're not the first to suggest such an outcome. Are my morals really so questionable?"
"It's not your morals; it's your attraction to adventure."
"Well, I shall have to work at controlling myself. Perhaps one day I'll be able to match your strength." I placed two fingers on his lips but knew better than to hope he would kiss me. "Though I will confess that I've no desire to have such self-restraint when it comes to you."