Raven (Gentlemen of the Order 2)

lips curled into a smile that wrapped around his heart. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to have you here. I’ve coped so well all these years, but the last two months have been a strain.”

One question burned in his mind. “I understand your motives for hiding Jessica here. What I fail to understand is why you leave her alone at Blackborne for long periods.”

Sophia stared at him, disappointment marring her brow. She moved to the sofa and sat down. When she spoke, she looked him keenly in the eyes. “I sleep here most nights and only return to town to attend key functions, so my presence will not be missed. Since William’s death, I cannot afford to rouse my stepson’s suspicions.”

“Your stepson?” Finlay gave a contemptuous snort. “How you can call him that when you’re only five years older than the fop?”

“You might mock, might think it a ridiculous situation,” she said with a steeliness to her tone, “but one does what one must in a time of crisis. Had I known you were alive, I would have waited. So please, don’t play the pompous ass. It doesn’t suit you.”

Ah, there she was—not the frightened mouse or the arrogant society lady—the woman with a fiery spirit, the woman who sent his temperature soaring, who made him want to satisfy every carnal appetite.

“What role would you like me to play, Sophia?” The need to tease her took hold. “Should I be the dangerous devil most men fear? Should I be the intrepid enquiry agent eager to come to your aid? The raven who keeps your secrets?”

Or the consummate lover who would pleasure her as if no barriers existed?

“Be yourself.”

“And who is that?” He could hardly remember. The man with hopes and aspirations died long ago. And yet he suspected his love for this woman thumped just as wildly in his chest.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the sudden slam of a door stole her attention. “Jessica!” she gasped, jumping to her feet. “Now you will see what we must contend with.”

Finlay followed Sophia out into the draughty depths of the great hall. A faint sliver of moonlight shone through the high leaded windows, drawing attention to the display of gruesome trophy heads on the wall. But he was more interested in the cloaked figure moving stealthily through the passageway.

Sophia saw the devil, too. She sucked in a breath and grabbed Finlay’s forearm. Instinct had him covering her hand. Thankfully, he didn’t have time to dwell on how it felt to touch her again.

“Jessica?” he called, though a quick assessment of the person’s limping gait made him correct his assessment. “Mrs Friswell!”

The housekeeper came to an abrupt halt. She paused before approaching them and lowering her hood. “Forgive me, my lady, sir.” She was breathless despite being a slender woman of robust constitution. “I didn’t wish to cause a disturbance.”

“Where have you been at this time of night?” Finlay spoke in the stern voice he often used when consumed with suspicion. “We’re miles from the nearest house or inn.”

“To church, sir.” Arrogance tainted the housekeeper’s tone, an arrogance unbefitting a servant.

“To do what exactly?” It seemed a ridiculous question, but to detect lies and untruths he needed to engage her in conversation.

“To pray.”

Finlay studied the middle-aged woman whose complexion was as pale as a cadaver. Perhaps the heavy shadows beneath her piercing green eyes stemmed from sleepless nights tending to Jessica. And yet it was Anne—the maid with a constant case of the fidgets—who slept in Jessica’s chamber.

“Pray for whom?”

“Miss Draper. I visit the church every night, to pray she has a restful sleep.”

A benevolent gesture. So why did he note animosity?

“What is that smell?”

They all sniffed and inhaled deeply.

“I can smell nothing but herbs,” Sophia offered.

It was an earthy scent, similar to mint but not as potent.

“We were collecting herbs from the garden,” Mrs Friswell replied. “Thyme and sage.”

“Sage is what I can smell,” he said, bringing the matter to a close. Yet he knew this woman kept a secret. “That is all, unless your mistress has further need of you.”

“No, you may retire, Mrs Friswell.” Sophia’s smile held no hint of mistrust. “And I thank you for your continued prayers. Let’s hope we have a peaceful night.”