Hellfire!
The truth hit him squarely on the jaw, and he mentally reeled. Yes, the copper-haired beauty in the captivating green dress was the only woman he wanted. Until now, he’d been able to ignore the cravings, ignore the internal ache, ignore the intense longing that sometimes woke him in the dead of night.
Not anymore.
He didn’t want to be cruel—although Larissa had no problem shedding her skin and starting anew. “I don’t want you, Larissa. I cannot lie to myself anymore.”
Larissa laughed. “Of course you don’t. You’ve got someone else in mind.” She placed her hands on his chest, fiddled with the gold buttons on his waistcoat. “Although I guarantee she lacks my experience and stamina in the bedchamber.”
Lucius snatched the widow’s hands, for he found her touch repulsive. But then his senses alerted him to movement at the end of the hall. Numerous people milled about, but he knew Miss Atwood’s energy the moment it came within twenty feet of his own.
For a brief second their gazes locked, though Miss Atwood looked away as quickly as he did. The guilt rising like acid in his gullet must have been evident on his face. He knew how it looked—like a rake stealing an intimate moment with his mistress.
What the devil was she doing upstairs?
Knowing Miss Atwood’s curious mind, she had come to spy on Lord Newberry. So much for the Cavanaghs playing chaperone.
Lucius was aware of her quickly trying the office door before moving to the library and stealing inside. In a bid to distract Larissa’s attention, he backed her into the doorway of the room she had just vacated.
“You’re not interested in me, Larissa.” Lucius reached behind her, turned the doorknob and forced her back into the room. “You cannot abide the fact I’m not fawning over you.”
Fawning was not his style.
“Oh, poor darling. Newberry told me who’s taken your fancy.” Larissa gestured to the arrogant lord standing in the corner of the dim bedchamber, tucking his shirt into his black satin breeches. So that’s where the devil was hiding. “You want the clever little virgin with the large breasts.”
Anger flared.
When tasked with protecting Miss Atwood, this was precisely the problem he wished to avoid. He should have left her at Bronygarth. But it was easier to rescue a ruined reputation than save her from an unforeseen attack.
“Perhaps you need to assess your skill between the sheets, Newberry,” Lucius said, desperate to change the subject. “It’s been five minutes since your passionate encounter, and Larissa is already seeking satisfaction elsewhere.”
Larissa sniggered. “Newberry did spend more time asking questions about some stuffy journals than he did pleasuring me.” She turned to the handsome lord. “Didn’t you, darling?”
Lucius imagined grabbing the lord and throttling an explanation from his devious lips. But removing Miss Atwood from the library was his pressing priority. If the lady had any sense, she’d have snuck back to the ballroom.
“A woman hates feeling exploited, Newberry,” he said, keen to start a row between the pair. “Larissa can’t be happy that you used her to gain information about me.”
Newberry scowled.
“I knew you had an ulterior motive.” Larissa turned on the devil. “You said you were hunting for a mistress. That we might suit.”
“Newberry wants answers, not a mistress,” Lucius countered. “He wants to know if I’ve spoken about the contents of Atticus Atwood’s journals.” Perhaps it was time to add a pinch of spice to the cooking pot. “And he wants to know if Lord Talbot told you about his investments in Wigan.”
Newberry
’s mumbled curse punctuated the tense atmosphere. “What the devil are you talking about, Daventry?” In a panic, he crossed the room and captured Larissa’s hands. “Can’t you see he is trying to cause an argument, sweeting?”
Larissa glared at the lord. “But you did ask questions about Talbot.”
Newberry huffed. “I asked if he was a good lover, not about his personal investments.”
“And you asked if I had ever stayed in Brook Street, if I’d ever seen those old tomes.”
While the conversation might prove useful in the investigation to find Atticus’ murderer, saving Miss Atwood’s fall from grace was his primary concern. And so Lucius backed out of the room and left the couple to their heated discussion.
In the drawing room, the sycophants were still gathered around Lady Crampton, laughing and nodding and hanging on her every word as if she were the next Messiah.
Lucius crept past, opened the library door, slipped inside and eased it closed with both hands. The moment he entered the dark room, he knew Sybil Atwood was still inside. The sweet scent of her rose perfume hung in the air. His heart hammered against his chest as every nerve in his body sprang to life.