And yet it seemed that they could.
A moment later Branson was hustled from the room, and Richard was escorting Tina back to her room. They walked in silence, hers angry and sullen, and his . . . well, she no longer knew him well enough to guess what he was thinking.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you in there,” he said at last, not looking at her. “We needed that name. I needed that name if I’m to protect you.”
“I’d prefer someone else protect me if it’s really necessary.”
He shot her a glance that was more frustration than anger. “Your life is in danger, Tina. This man is a murderer. He killed—”
“Horace is innocent, Mr. Eversham. He would never hurt anyone.”
“Perhaps you should marry him then.”
She glared at him. “I was intending to, remember?”
She thought she heard him sigh, but a moment later they reached her room, and he said, “Stay here,” in a voice that did not invite argument. “I am going to lock the door. I’ll send your maid to you.”
“Richard, please, just listen to me!”
But he wouldn’t meet her eyes. He was angry with her, she could feel it, see it in his face. She’d made him break his promise, and he hated her for it.
With a sinking heart she heard the lock turn, and a moment later he walked away.
Richard was angry. Very angry. But he wasn’t angry at Tina, he was angry with himself. What on earth had possessed them all to think it was a good idea to combine a social weekend with their hunt for the elusive Captain? Certainly it had been Sir Henry’s plan, but he might have persuaded him otherwise had he been thinking with his brain instead of his cock. Now Tina was at risk, and if anything happened to her, he could never forgive himself.
And she was out of sorts with him, and he was yet to learn why.
Was it because of what had happened in the folly—despite her being a willing participant—or was it because of his belief in Gilfoyle’s guilt? But she’d been angry before Branson gave up her friend. And the way she’d snatched her hand from his had nothing to do with modesty or fear of their relationship’s being discovered.
Her green eyes had been glittering with emotion.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. No time now to worry about Tina and what the future might hold, he had to concentrate on his job. Gilfoyle would be brought to Sir Henry’s study and questioned, and if Sutton, the man Tina was so frightened of, could not be found, then he would have to protect her until he was.
No matter how repellent she found that prospect.
When he reached the study he could hear loud voices from within, mostly Horace’s aristocratic tones. The man was furious, and if he was guilty of being the Captain, then he was putting on a good show of outraged innocence, but then Richard had always suspected Horace of being a fine actor.
Gilfoyle turned to face him when he opened the door, and his face darkened, blue eyes narrowing. In that moment he seemed to be blaming everything that was happening to him on Richard, and his words confirmed it.
“Eversham! I might have known it. What the bloody blazes do you think you’re doing? I am Lord Horace Gilfoyle and I will not be treated like this. I have friends in the House of Lords, and they will see you thrashed.”
Sir Henry cleared his throat. “We do not answer to the House of Lords, Lord Horace. We are a select group with complete autonomy. In other words, we act as we think fit.”
Horace looked as if he might fly at them and attack them, but a moment later he regained control of himself. He sat down and glared at Richard, still choosing to blame him. His tone was scathing.
“What is this ridiculous rubbish you’re spouting? I know nothing about any Captain, and I’m certainly not he. You know who I am. Ask Miss Smythe. We’ve been friends for years and . . . well, I am hoping to marry her.”
Richard gave a snort of laughter, which didn’t help the situation.
“Stop it the both of you!” Sir Henry roared. “Now,” he went on, when all was quiet and everyone paying attention, “we have a reliable witness who has identified you as the Captain, Lord Horace. I won’t listen to any more of your lies. Give yourself up, and it will be the better for you.”
Gilfoyle sat sullenly, his chin on his chest, his arms folded, rather like a naughty schoolboy, thought Richard. He leaned over the chair, into the other man’s face, and said, “Give yourself up, Gilfoyle. My brother died at your hands, and I’m not going to let you get away without punishment. I’ve spent the last two years pursuing you, and here you are. I’m going to enjoy watching you hang.”
Gilfoyle’s chin jerked up, and he stared back at him, reading the hard truth in Richard’s eyes. “You’re insane,” he spat. “Completely and utterly insane. And to think I was contemplating using your services to win Tina over. By God, what a narrow escape!”
Richard straightened in amazement. “Using my services to marry Tina? She wouldn’t marry you, Gilfoyle! A woman would have to be desperate to even consider it, and she’d still say no.”
Gilfoyle launched himself up out of the chair, and they grappled furiously. Richard managed to get a glancing blow to Gilfoyle’s nose, while Gilfoyle struck him in the eye. Sir Henry roared again, “Enough, I say!” and Will forced them apart. Richard stepped back, panting, wishing he’d landed another good punch on that smug mouth, but there’d been satisfaction in making his nose bleed. Gilfoyle shook himself free of Will and sat back into his chair, snatching the handkerchief the other man offered and dabbing gingerly at his nose.