“Is this another of your taunting tricks?” she demanded. “I see nothing.”
“It’s a tiny fragment of fabric.”
“Grasping at threads, Lord Davenport?”
His bark of laughter held no amusement. “You are exceedingly clever with words, Miss Sloane. So let’s play a little game with language, beginning with the words ‘why’ and ‘how.’”
Her heart began to thud against her ribcage. “Unlike you, sir, I have no passion for sport.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“I don’t really care what you think. I—” Her throat seized as he took a stride toward her. A panther-like stride, all sleek muscle and bristling strength.
“Nonetheless, you would do well to listen to what I have to say.” His eyes blazed, though whether in fury or some other inner fire was impossible to say. Whatever the spark, his usual air of bored detachment had, in that instant, gone up in smoke.
To her dismay, Anna could not keep from falling back a step. No hawk, however fierce, could stand up to such overwhelming power.
“Go on,” she whispered.
In answer, Devlin dangled the thread closer to her face. “An unusual shade of blue, don’t you think? Rather like a late afternoon sky which has been darkened by stormclouds.”
“You a have a very poetic soul, sir,” she replied, trying desperately to deflect his interrogation. “I never would have guessed that.”
“Don’t try to distract me.” They were now nose to nose. She could see the faint stubbling of dark whiskers on his jaw, the tension radiating from his pores. “What were you doing in my rooms?”
Anna thought about denying it. A thread was awfully slender evidence. But then, her own ire suddenly ignited. “Don’t ring a Holier-Than-Thou peal over my head, sir. I saw you sneaking around the castle the other night, and then when the comtesse’s ring went missing, I couldn’t help but be suspicious.”
“I had a feeling that was you skulking behind the suit of armor,” growled Devlin. “What were you doing out wandering the corridors at that hour?”
“I—I couldn’t sleep, so I was going down to the library to fetch a book when I heard noises.” She drew in a ragged gulp of air. It wasn’t precisely a lie, just a slight stretch of the truth. “It’s well known you are desperate for money. So after putting two and two together, I decided to have a look around your quarters.”
“And what would you have done if you had found the ring?”
“I…” Anna swallowed hard. “I…hadn’t thought that far.”
He swore under his breath. “Of all the buffle-headed, bird-witted actions. Had it not occurred to you that walking into the lair of a criminal might have been bloody dangerous?”
“I had ascertained that you were out,” she replied tersely.
A tiny muscle of his jaw twitched. “And if I had returned?”
She lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed by his scowl. “I suppose I could have shot you with that fancy pistol. By the by, does it fire golden bullets?”
“That,” he said softly, “is not funny, Miss Sloane.”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” she answered. “Gold, silver, pearls, diamonds, special enameling—that’s quite an expensive, not to speak of unusual, firearm you are crafting. What’s it for?”
“It has nothing—nothing—to do with the subject we are discussing.”
Sensing a note of defensiveness in his voice, she pressed on. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. Perhaps we should allow Lord and Lady Dunbar to decide what is and isn’t important in the search for Lady De Blois’s missing ring.”
“That would not be a wise move, Miss Sloane.”
“You are aware that it hasn’t been found, aren’t you?” she replied.
“Assuming it exists,” countered Devlin through gritted teeth.
“I suppose that’s true. But for the moment, I see no reason not to take the comtesse at her word. While you—you appear to be hiding a dark secret.”