Chapter 5 #2
‘I can’t imagine your friend wants a stranger in her house when they are grieving their murdered brother.
And I couldn’t possibly leave Sir Robin for two weeks.
He wouldn’t know what to do without me.’ More importantly, Clio wouldn’t know what to do without the comfort of her familiar, but she wasn’t about to admit that.
The woman waved away Clio’s very valid points. ‘Don’t be silly. Lady Langley never liked her brother, though she is devoted to her niece. I’d bet all my pin money she is already chafing at the constraints of mourning. Company will thrill her, and she’ll love your darling Sir Robin.’
The raven in question fluffed his feathers at such praise and softly cooed at Cynthia.
Marvellous. My familiar is flirting with Lieutenant General Grey’s sister.
Cynthia ran a gloved finger over Sir Robin’s head as he preened. ‘My husband abhors the country, but I doubt he’ll care if I am gone for a week or two. This will be such a lark!’
Investigating a peer’s murder was hardly what Clio would call a lark. But this did mean she would get to speak with Beachley’s daughter. Sometimes, sacrifices had to be made. Aunt Rowan wasn’t going to be happy, but it couldn’t be helped.
Standing from the table, her tea still steaming, the marchioness effectively ended the discussion before Clio or Lieutenant General Grey could convince her to alter course. It was a skilful strategy that Clio planned to steal.
‘I can’t simply abscond to the country for a fortnight, Cynthia.’ Lieutenant General Grey rose, no doubt his manners forcing him to stand as his sister prepared to depart.
Clio followed suit, regretfully abandoning her hot chocolate. She could hardly stay alone with Lieutenant General Grey after his sister left.
‘Why? What pressing social events must you attend in London?’ Lady Burrows’ scathing comment filled Clio with even greater admiration for the woman.
The glare Lieutenant General Grey sent his sister would wither most, but she just nodded her head at him. ‘I thought so. I shall send the letter today and let you know as soon as I hear word from the duchess. Miss Blair, how can I reach you?’
Clio rattled off her address without thinking. She didn’t miss the raised brow of Lieutenant General Grey.
Yes, I live in Mayfair, Mr I’m-so-much-better-than-you. One doesn’t need a title to have an esteemed address.
But that thought was quickly followed by another.
Blast. I should have told her to contact me through All Things Bright and Beautiful.
An invisible string running from the back of Clio’s neck down her spine tightened. Lieutenant General Grey now knew where she lived. Not that it mattered. He was hardly going to pay her any visits.
‘I’m so looking forward to knowing you better, Miss Blair. By the by, shouldn’t we dispense with such formalities? If you’re pretending to be our cousin, we’re practically family. Please call me Cynthia. And I shall call you Clio.’
Heat washed over Clio, colouring her cheeks pink. Family was a sacred thing. Hers was a close-knit group that only included her aunt, sister, cousin, and Uncle Lachlan. She couldn’t fathom so easily incorporating a stranger into their tight circle. ‘I, um. Yes. Well.’
‘She is hardly family. We don’t even know her.’ Clio was amazed Lieutenant General Grey could enunciate so clearly with his teeth clenched together tighter than a clam holding onto its pearl.
‘We’d better get to know her if we plan on convincing Her Grace of this little ruse, Thomas.
’ Cynthia might have been pointing out that butter was meant to be applied to toast. She deftly wound through the crowd, out the door, and paused on the street as she looked expectantly for her carriage.
‘You must come for supper this week, Clio. We’ll sort out our false history.
And of course, you can’t keep referring to my brother as Lieutenant General Grey.
Thomas might be too intimate, but certainly Grey should do. ’
Oh my.
‘Cynthia, you go too far.’ Fire was Clio’s element, but it was Lieutenant General Grey who looked ready to combust.
Lady Burrows’ landau pulled up to the kerb. A footman in dark-green livery jumped down to set the step.
‘Oh, Thomas. I’ve only just started.’ She pulled Clio in for another hug. Sir Robin bobbed his head happily as Cynthia pressed a kiss against Clio’s cheek. ‘I’ll send an invitation for dinner. Until then, dear cousin, farewell.’ She turned to her brother. ‘Shall I give you a ride home?’
‘I’ll hail a cab.’
‘Suit yourself.’ And with that, Cynthia alighted and waved gaily out of the window as the carriage lurched into London traffic.
Thomas was quite certain he was in a nightmare.
Miss Blair was standing on the crowded street, her raven composed and regal on her shoulder, her amber gaze both steady and disconcerting.
If he woke up from this dark dream, she would disappear, and he wouldn’t be able to finish the argument they’d started in the carriage.
It smouldered between them like a coal. He very much wished to blow on that ember and watch it burn.
Almost as much as he wanted to watch her finish her cup of hot chocolate. So he didn’t pinch himself awake.
Seeing her savour that drink was the most erotic thing Thomas had ever witnessed. And he had seen a great many erotic things. It was a disconcerting thought he refused to entertain. No matter how easily Miss Blair sparked his desire.
My only desire is to be rid of her.
Yet instead of walking away, he stayed. ‘You will not call me Grey. Nor will I call you Cousin Clio, no matter what my sister thinks.’ He snapped each syllable like crystallised caramel between his teeth.
She blinked slowly. Something bright and hot flashed in his periphery as the streetlamp next to him flared to life.
‘I can think of several names far more worthy of you.’ Her voice was soft, but her words were harder than steel. ‘Blackguard for one. Arrogant prig for another.’
The nerve of this woman!
Stepping closer, he leaned down to better hold her fiery gaze. ‘Careful, madame. I am a gentleman, but I can still be pushed past my limits.’
Sharp laughter scratched down his spine like a nail, tightening his skin and sparking heat along his nerves. ‘What would you do if I gave you one hard shove over that line, Grey?’ She drew out his name like a curse. Perhaps that explained why it was suddenly hard to breathe.
Miss Blair’s carriage rolled up, and the footman hopped out, holding the reins for her.
Thomas moved into her path, blocking her escape. The raven cawed a warning, but she had stoked something within him too hot to control.
‘Don’t play with fire, Miss Blair. It will singe you.’
She narrowed her gaze, her thick lashes framing golden eyes. ‘Fire doesn’t frighten me, Grey. Neither do you.’
Lightning cracked, the sky split open, and heavy raindrops fell like a curtain.
‘Arrogance and courage are not the same thing. If you come with us on this debacle of a house party, there won’t be anywhere to hide.’
She swallowed. ‘I have nothing to hide.’
She was lying.
The rain increased in intensity as he sought for her shield’s weakness. And then he realised, they were both completely dry.
Looking up, he saw the rain evaporating into steam a foot above their heads. They could be standing in the centre of a bonfire whose heat turned the water into vapour.
Fear, unfamiliar and shocking, thrilled through him.
‘What the bloody hell?’
Miss Blair stiffened her spine. Whatever had been protecting them dissolved, the deluge quickly drenching Thomas and dripping down his neck. He hissed air between his teeth at the shockingly cold water.
Stepping past him before he could reach out and catch her arm, Miss Blair took the ribbons from her footman and disappeared into her carriage so swiftly, her raven fluttered his wings to keep his perch.
Thomas was left standing in the frigid rain, watching Miss Blair’s carriage as it disappeared into traffic.
‘What the bloody hell?’ he repeated, but no answer came to him from the bustling crowd scurrying to find shelter from the storm.
He needed to pay a visit to Superintendent MacDougal. Not all was as it seemed with Miss Blair.
Hailing a hack, he gave the directions to Scotland Yard.