Ten Ways to Ruin

“At your service, Miss Drake.” He bent down and picked up the fork. His lips turned up into a smirk. “Shall I put it back from where it fell?”

Kingsley couldn’t possibly know that it dropped from under her skirt. But she couldn’t walk away from him without the other fork tumbling to the floor. “I shall take it. Thank you, Mr. Kingsley.”

A black brow rose in question as she snatched the fork from his hand. “Do let me escort you back to the butler’s pantry, Miss Drake. I should hate to hear your name linked with the theft of silver from Lady Huntley’s home.”

“I am perfectly able to return a fork to the pantry, Mr. Kingsley.” Blast it all! She had all but admitted to pilfering the silver.

“Still,” he said, clasping her elbow. “You know how rumors start and then grow until the truth doesn’t even matter.”

He led her toward the small room. She tightened her leg muscles, walking in odd jerking movements, praying that would keep the other fork from slipping. Just as they arrived at the door, a second fork hit the wood floor. She moved slightly in hopes that her skirts would hide the pilfered silver.

“Get in there,” he said roughly before picking up the second fork.

Emma backed herself up again the cabinets at the far end of the room. That still only put him a few paces away from her. Even from there, she could feel the heat of his anger as he closed them both in the room.

The click of the door handle echoed in the room as the flame of the candle flickered erratically. Kingsley remained facing the door. He inhaled and then released the air quickly.

There had to be a logical reason a lady of her station was stealing from her mother’s dearest friend. Yet Emma could not come up with one.

“Why?” he demanded, still staring at the door as if praying for patience.

“Why what?” she whispered. “And please keep your voice down. Anyone might walk by this room and discover us.”

Her fear permeated the small space, but she had to keep her guard up. She’d heard of Kingsley’s reputation as a rake, defiler, scoundrel. And those were the names her sister called him.

A low sarcastic chuckle erupted from Kingsley’s chest. “No, we wouldn’t want someone to discover we were together in the butler’s pantry stealing Lady Huntley’s silver.”

“I most certainly was not pocketing Lady Huntley’s silver.”

“Indeed?” His hands fisted in frustration as Harry’s always did. “So, that fork just fell into your skirts?”

She glanced away from his unfathomable gaze. “It must have been caught up in my skirts, not that it is your concern, Mr. Kingsley.”

“I thought it fell from your hand?”

The air rushed out of her as her cheeks heated again.

He took a step closer. “And no, none of this is my business. Still, I would hate to see your sister hurt when she discovers that you were pinching someone’s silver.”

“I do wonder why you seem overly concerned about my sister’s feeling. Or should I say your sister-in-law’s feelings?”

He closed the d

istance between them and stared down at her. His breath scorched her, but she couldn’t look away from his hard, blue eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I care about her? She is a lovely person and has never said an unkind word to me.”

“Oh? She told me to stay away from you because you are a rake and scoundrel.”

“She would be completely correct in her assessment. Which doesn’t make me a bad person, only dangerous to innocents like you.”

She swallowed. Kingsley’s gaze followed her neck down to the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. Please don’t look there, she thought frantically.

“You are standing far too close, sir,” she whispered primly.

“Yes, I am, but I am a rake, so it is only natural for me.”

“Please stand aside so I may leave.” She raised her chin.