The implied intimacy of his words sent her pulse racing. They were on dangerous ground. The surrounding air vibrated with a passion she had sensed only once in her life. Whenever Phineas and Clara Bennett entered a room, the atmosphere thrummed intensely. Not that this was the same. How could it be?
“You mean I am not a vulture out to peck every last morsel of meat from your bones?” she said with a light laugh.
“I mean I feel connected to you in a way I have never felt with another.”
Heavens, he was as skilled at being direct as he was most things. Should she say she held him in the same high regard? “At present, you look as if you wish to ravish me, my lord. I imagine this is not the first time you’ve been possessed with lustful desires.” To preserve one’s heart, it was often better to tease than confess.
He bent his head, sending a waft of spicy cologne to her nostrils. “It’s the first time my mind is as aroused as my body, Miss Bennett.”
Blessed Mary!
“This is hardly a conversation to have in the drawing room,” she said, fighting the urge to touch him. “Are we not here to solve a mystery just as puzzling as our unexpected attraction?”
“Perhaps we’re here to solve both conundrums.”
Lara glanced at the mantel clock—practically hidden behind the evergreen boughs—as it struck six. Soon, a third problem would present itself. One set to test the countess’ nerves as much as Mr Bellham’s murder.
Lady Denham had taken to ignoring the conversation of those ladies on the sofa and had fixed her curious gaze upon them.
“Then let us begin by trying to establish a motive for murder,” Lara whispered, “and leave any personal exploration for a more appropriate time.”
“This year the mistletoe has an abundance of berries.” The earl motioned to the large sprig of glossy green leaves fastened with a red ribbon and hanging near the doorway. “A man might claim a kiss for each one.”
Lara laughed. “Do you honestly think Miss Harper will let you escape without claiming a handful herself?”
The earl’s smile faded. “Then pray for rain, Miss Bennett, so they might all leave. I despise entertaining guests. Present company excepted.”
She didn’t have the heart to warn him he might expect another guest soon. And Miss Harper had taken to the pianoforte to display her only commendable skill as a woman. Indeed, she played extremely well and knew it. Whenever she looked up from her sheet music, her arrogant gaze grabbed the earl in a possessive clinch and didn’t let go.
When the lady finished her recital, everyone clapped. Miss Harper rose from the stool like a queen from her throne. After accepting a compliment from Lord Flanders, she sauntered over to the earl.
“You play well, Miss Harper,” the earl said with cool indifference.
The lady smiled in the inflated way of one obsessed with their own superiority. “I had the very best tutor, my lord, Augustine Mendoza. You must have heard of him. Of course, I have a natural ability to interpret music, one he’d rarely encountered in a student.”
“Augustine Mendoza,” the earl mused as Miss Pardue strolled over to join them. “No, I cannot say that I have. But then music is not considered a sensible pursuit for men who sit in the House of Lords.”
“And law is not considered a sensible pursuit for ladies whose responsibility it is to birth future generations,” Miss Pardue mocked.
“Your tutor is highly acclaimed across Europe, Miss Harper,” Lara said, aware of the maestro’s talent. “My parents once dined with the British ambassador to Naples, and Augustine Mendoza sat next to my mother. She loved music and spoke about it for months afterwards.”
The corners of Miss Harper’s mouth twitched. “Do you play, Miss Bennett?” The question carried a hint of disdain.
“A little.”
Miss Harper’s green eyes flashed with mischief. “Then I’m sure Lord Denham is keen to hear your offering.”
Miss Pardue huffed. “Perhaps Miss Bennett does not wish to act like a performing monkey. Perhaps she wishes for a pursuit where everyone might take part, regardless of gender.”
“If Miss Bennett cannot play, she only has to say so,” Miss Harper countered.
Lara had nothing to prove to any of these people. She glanced at Lord Denham, whose eyes spoke of sadness while his firm jaw conveyed a volatile emotion.
“A man is dead,” he said with an element of despair. “Must we bicker over trivial matters? Should we not embrace every second instead of wasting energy on spiteful snipes?”
An awkward silence ensued.
Lara’s heart ached to offer words of comfort, but she was helpless to give the earl the reassuring embrace he needed.