“I hate the scars on your back,” she said softly.
His gut clenched and tightened. He’d kept them from everyone except her-and Frannie, who’d tended them. “I know they’re hideous.”
“No. No, they’re not.” She rose up on her elbows and held his gaze. “They’re a testament to your…ability to survive. You could have ended up like your father-hanged.”
He didn’t think his gut could clench any tighter. He was wrong. “If we’re not going to talk about your past, I’d rather not talk about mine.”
With a nod of acquiescence, she laid her head in the center of his chest. “I can hear your heart beat. I like the sound of it.”
“It always beats faster when you’re near.”
She dug her chin into his breastbone.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t feed me false flattery, Mr. Swindler.”
“I never would, Miss Watkins.”
She reached up and nipped his chin. He liked this playful side of her. Her character possessed so many different facets that he thought he needed a lifetime to study them all.
“Your rooms surprised me,” she said. “Especially your bedchamber. I was expecting something a bit more…decadent from a self-professed scoundrel.”
“What did you have in mind? Perhaps I can accommodate.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. Something a bit more…red.”
“Brown suits me.”
“It doesn’t stand out.”
“I’m not one for wanting to stand out. Besides, I have the one thing in my bedchamber that every disreputable scoundrel must have.”
Her brow furrowed in concentration, she glanced around the room: at the bureau, at the chair, at the pile of clothes. “I can’t imagine what it might be.”
He gave her a teasing grin. “A lovely woman he can’t keep his hands off of.”
She released a tiny screech as he rolled her over until she was beneath him.
“Besides, Miss Watkins, what I have in my bedchamber isn’t nearly as important as what I do in it.”
Then he proceeded to take them both to paradise.
The sun was only just beginning to chase away the fog when he slipped her out of his lodgings. Thankfully, the carriage was still waiting for them. How wonderful it was that he had friends with the means to demand of their servants inconvenience.
As he assisted her inside and she settled on the bench, she fought not to have regrets. When his arm came around her, she buried her face in the nook of his shoulder, inhaling the wondrous fragrance that was him. And then she remembered his gift.
“Oh, I forgot the necklace. Will you help me remove it?”
“Take it. It’s yours.”
She jerked around to face him. “But you said it was on loan.”
“I lied. I didn’t think you would accept it otherwise.”
“It’s too grand a gift. It would be improper.”
“Eleanor, we’ve just spent the entire night being improper. Don’t be a hypocrite.”
She fought not to show how the harshness in his voice had hurt her, but he must have guessed because his face gentled and he tucked his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I have no one in my life for whom I can purchase gifts, and money means nothing to me. Please accept them as a token of my esteem.”
She shouldn’t, she knew she shouldn’t, but the truth was that she loved them. Touching her fingers to them, she said as graciously as possible, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
They said not another word, but then the journey was short. A few streets over. It wasn’t until he was standing before her at the door, his ungloved hand cradling her cheek, that he spoke again. “I want to call on you this evening.”
She smiled at him and nodded.
“I know you have concerns,” he said quietly, “because your sister came to London and fell into disgrace, but that will not be the way of it between us. I promise you that, Eleanor. We have known each other only a short while, but what I feel for you cannot be measured.”
The hot tears burned her eyes.
He leaned down and kissed the corner of each eye. “Until tonight.”
Taking her key, he opened the door and ushered her inside. He didn’t follow her in. Simply closed the door. She leaned against it, listening to the clatter of hooves and the whirring of wheels taking him farther and farther away from her.
Swindler decided to take advantage of having Claybourne’s carriage. He’d send it back later. For now he had matters that needed his attention. He returned to his lodgings, where he took care in preparing himself to meet with Sir David. He didn’t want to give any evidence of what his night had entailed. However, in the early hours of the morning while Eleanor had lain in his arms, he’d decided it was time to put this nonsense to rest.
When he walked into Sir David’s office, he didn’t give the man the opportunity to say anything other than “Swindler” before he began explaining where he thought matters needed to go.
“I’m quite convinced that Miss Eleanor Watkins is no threat to Rockberry. If anything, the man, himself, is the culprit. I intend to confront him this morning and ask him exactly why he believes Miss Watkins would want him dead, I intend to interrogate him thoroughly in order to determine precisely what he did to Miss Watkins’s sister. There, sir, is where I believe the crime resides, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”
Sir David leaned back in his chair, his face an uncompromising mask. “That might be a bit difficult, Swindler, since Rockberry was murdered last night.”
Chapter 10
Staring at his superior, Swindler felt as though Sir David had delivered a blow to his midsection. Swindler had been charged with protecting the lord, and he’d apparently failed miserably. “Murdered? Are you sure?”
“I’m quite familiar with what a dead man looks like.”
“No, sir, I wasn’t questioning that he was dead, but perhaps his heart simply gave out.”
“It did. After the dagger sliced into it. Your Miss Watkins has just been brought in.”
“It can’t have been her.”
“I’m afraid it was. Rockberry’s brother had apparently returned to the residence after a late night at the pleasure gardens, and he spied Miss Watkins going into the library. Sometime later, when he was in want of some brandy, he went to the library and found his brother soaking in his own blood, Miss Watkins nowhere to be seen.”
The anger surged through Swindler. His father had been hanged for a crime he didn’t commit. He would be damned before he allowed the same to happen to Eleanor. “He’s lying. Miss Watkins was with me-until dawn.”
Sir David’s dark eyebrows shot up.
“I have little doubt Rockberry’s brother killed him in order to inherit and is trying to place the blame on Miss Watkins,” Swindler said. “He no doubt knew she’d been following Lord Rockberry, was probably aware that we’d been so informed. He sought to use the knowledge to his advantage.”
“God, I do hope you’re wrong about that. Her majesty is not going to be pleased to learn that her nobles are behaving badly.”
“It’s quite possible there is another explanation, but I assure you, Miss Watkins is not involved. From the moment I arrived at her lodgings to escort her to the Duchess of Greystone’s ball, she never left my sight.”
“You’ll stake your reputation on that?”
“My life, sir.”
As she sat at a table in the dismal room, she’d never been so terrified in her entire life. Two men had been waiting in the parlor for her. They’d emerged mere seconds after she heard the carriage depart. They’d had a warrant for her arrest, accusing her of murdering Rockberry.
While she’d proclaimed her innocence, they revealed not even a hint of believing her. Of course, she hadn’t provided them with an alibi either, had refused to reveal where she’d been all night and why she was arriving with the dawn. She wasn’t certain it was her place to do so, and considering the harsh glares they’d given her, she wasn’t convinced they would have believed her anyway. They were stern-faced and harsh. They’d not even allowed her an opportunity to change out of her gown before whisking her away.