The Heiress Effect (Brothers Sinister 2)

She’d gone too far. Twitting him was one thing; taunting another. She froze and looked up at the menace that had taken over his features. For all that the Johnson sisters were watching, there was nothing they could—quite possibly nothing they would—do to save her if he wanted to hurt her. She was effectively alone with the man, and he wished her ill. He wanted her to shut up.

It had never been one of her skills.

She smiled blindly at him, clinging to her pretense of ignorance. “I feel for you, Bradenton. Did you hear of me and imagine a poor, impressionable child, one who would be overwhelmed by your wit and charm? You must have been so disappointed. You imagined my dowry was yours, and then I laughed at you the first time you gave me a grandiose compliment.”

If anything, his eyes grew angrier. “You little bitch,” he whispered. “You’ve been doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what?” Jane held on to her smile as if it were the only thing shielding her from a dragon’s flames. “I haven’t been doing a thing except stating a few facts. Don’t you like facts, my lord?”

No. He didn’t. He took a final step toward her, and this time he raised his walking stick, clenched like a truncheon in his fist.

Her hands went cold. She really had gone too far.

She kept smiling. “You were going to show me a plant, my lord.”

He stopped, shook his head, as if remembering that they were in a greenhouse. That the walls were glass. That no matter what words had been exchanged, she was a lady—and if it got out that he’d struck her, his reputation would suffer.

He took a breath, and then another, and then yet another, until his countenance presented as smooth a lie as Jane’s.

“There.” He inverted his walking stick so that the curved head pointed to a clay pot filled with sand. “That is it.”

It was greenish-gray, an ugly mess of a plant. Fat snakes as thick as her thumb pointed up in a tangled knot, radiating sharp little needles.

“It reminds me of you, Miss Fairfield.” A trace of venom still carried on his voice.

No wonder.

“I quite like it,” Jane mused. “It seems a brave little thing in all that sand. Here, let’s find a plant for you, my lord. I know just the thing. I saw some sort of weed when first we came in.”

There had been a foul-smelling creeper of some kind back in the jungle-like hallway. She started to turn away.

She saw it out of the corner of her eye. He swung the head of his walking stick down hard. Little bits of that snaky, spiney cactus went flying.

Her stomach turned to ice. She had no way to bluff past that act of violence, no way to smile it off. She had only one choice—to pretend she didn’t see it. She kept on turning to the door and marched away, even though her hands were shaking.

“It’s here,” she said. “In the hallway. Let’s seek it out, shall we?”

He was breathing heavily. “No. Let’s just get back to the others.”

He hadn’t meant it as a threat, she told herself. She’d irritated him, that was all, and once he’d passed the point of frustration, he’d snapped. The little cactus had been an unfortunate casualty of his anger.

They walked in silence—Bradenton unwilling to speak, and Jane unable to say anything more. They went back through the humid central hallway, opened the door onto the path. Genevieve and Geraldine were waiting for them, turned to each other, speaking in low, urgent tones.

“You saw it,” Geraldine said. “You saw it, and—”

At the sound of the door, they stopped talking. They turned as one and broke into twin smiles.

“My lord,” Genevieve said.

“My dear Miss Fairfield.” Geraldine stepped forward, her hands outstretched for Jane. “So good to see you once more. Thank you for returning her to us.”

“Here you are,” Bradenton said. “Ladies, I give you back your friend.”

Jane’s head was still ringing. Her hands were shaking. She could scarcely pay attention as the twins murmured polite invitations to the marquess.

“I don’t suppose you would like to join us on our further ramblings?”

She wasn’t even sure who spoke. No, she was thinking. No. Go away. Go away.

“Sorry, ladies.” He gave them a cool smile, one that didn’t touch his lips. “I’ve already been out for far too long. It was a pleasure, to be sure. Miss Johnson. Miss Genevieve.” He stared at Jane. “Miss Fairfield.”

Jane’s heart was still beating in hard, heavy thumps.

Genevieve pouted. “If you must,” she said. The two of them stationed themselves between Jane and Bradenton, watching him retreat down the path away from the greenhouse. A few steps away, he stopped and turned—perhaps to look at Jane. The sisters stood shoulder to shoulder, though, and if Bradenton had any particular message he wanted to send—a frown or a scowl—his visage was blocked by the twins. Geraldine lifted her hand and gave him a little wave.

Never had Jane been so relieved by their incessant flirtation. Her breath was finally beginning to slow when the sisters turned back to her.

They weren’t smiling. In fact, they were looking at her with something that she might have thought was concern, had it been on anyone else’s face.

Geraldine took a step forward. “Miss Fairfield,” she said, her voice delicate and musical—everything that a lady’s should be. “Miss Fairfield, we were watching through the window. We couldn’t help but notice…”

“What was it he said?” Genevieve asked.

Jane’s throat closed up. She couldn’t talk about it—not with these two, not with anyone. She couldn’t care about their foolish, misplaced jealousies.

God. He’d killed her plant. He’d been on the verge of hurting her.

“Nothing,” Jane said. “It was nothing.” Pray that they couldn’t see her hands shaking.

“Tell me, Miss Fairfield.” Geraldine reached out and touched Jane’s wrist. “When we decided to…befriend you, we agreed with one another that we would…take care of you.”

“After a manner of speaking,” Genevieve added.

Jane shook her head. “It was nothing. He showed me a plant. He said it made him think of me. Isn’t that…” Sweet. She’d been going to say it was sweet, but even she could not get that word out of her mouth.

Geraldine’s mouth tightened. She turned to her sister. “You’re right,” she said. “We have to tell her.”