He’s gone, the temptress lurking inside whispered.
“Who are you? No—” Lily hurriedly amended. “No names, please. Do you know who I am?”
There was a moment of tension. “No.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Truly?”
“Yes.” His voice rang with sincerity.
“Do you wish to know?” Not that she would ever tell him, but she was beyond curious as to his presence.
“Only if you wish to tell me more. I know you’re a widow.”
“I beg your pardon?” How could he know such a thing? Did he suspect her identity and only toy with her? Anger at the notion seared Lily, and anxiety burned inside her.
“There are no young ladies present in the manor who would dare to be so bold to tour these dark hallways. That would be quite extraordinary, wouldn’t you say?” There was an odd vein of amusement in his tone.
“What else do you know?” The question was harsh.
“Relax,” he urged. “I know you’re a lady, without a doubt one of Lady Ambrose’s guests. But which one?”
Some of the tension leaked from her. She wasn’t a lady, and if he thought it so, it would be much harder to decipher her identity.
“I will not insist on more until you are ready to tell me.”
Which she would never be. “You are in no position to insist on anything.” An untrue statement, for he had all the power in this exchange. He could easily overpower her and drag her to the library.
“I will cajole politely, then.”
There was that hint of provoking amusement again.
She thought about that for several seconds. “What do you want?”
There was a low chuckle of anticipation that made her shiver. Good heavens.
What does he want?
Her heart jerked. Could it be that he wanted to spy on the earl as well? Shameful heat scorched her body, and she was absurdly grateful for the cool darkness. “Why are you here?”
“I read your di
ary.”
For precious seconds, she couldn’t breathe. “I beg your pardon?”
The very air around them went remarkably still.
“I found your diary…and read it. That’s how I knew where to find you.” His voice was as dark as she imagined sin would be incarnate.
Her heart was a tattoo against her breastbone, and she could only stare in the direction of his voice at a complete loss. Then fury rushed through her. “Those were private thoughts! You, sir, are no gentleman,” she snapped, being very careful to keep her voice low and disguised.
“Ah.”
There was a wealth of meaning in that single word.
“I regret the discomfort I’ve caused you, but I do not believe I can proffer an apology, for without reading your diary, I would never have found you. I had the thought that perhaps there was a woman with whom I could experience the things I’ve long wanted to do with a lady.”
She bit into the softness of her lips, desperately wanting to ask what things. She should be running from this situation, even if there was a risk of revealing her identity when she spilled from the secret chamber into the lighted library.