A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

“Everyone tells me how clever you are.” Lady Hillbrook sat beside Genevieve. “I was rather daunted to meet you.”

Genevieve smiled at the lovely dark-haired woman. “That can’t be true.”

“Believe me, it is.” Compared to Lady Hillbrook’s stylishness, Genevieve felt a dowd in her cream satin at least four seasons old. Even fresh from the village seamstress, it hadn’t been the first stare. “When Jonas returned to Barstowe Hall yesterday and told me about Little Derrick’s female prodigy, I was intrigued. Intimidated but intrigued.”

“I’m not that frightening,” Genevieve responded with a laugh.

The viscountess tipped her chin toward where Christopher chatted with Genevieve’s aunt. “That gentleman appears ill at ease in your company.”

Genevieve made herself look at Christopher again, although it hurt less to pretend he wasn’t there. As if sensing her attention, he turned his head until his dark blue eyes stared into hers. Ridiculous, but she felt as though he crossed the room and hauled her into his arms and kissed her. Heat flooded her.

She scowled at him and he glanced away, but not before she caught a flash of what looked like pain. As if she could make that false wretch experience any real compunction.

“Mr. Evans?” She prayed that her airy tone sounded more convincing to Lady Hillbrook than to her.

The woman’s gaze was unaccountably intent. “Is that his name? I missed it in the introductions.”

Genevieve frowned. “I thought you knew him.”

The viscountess appeared discomfited, before she lifted her glass to hide her expression. “Why would you t

hink that?”

“He mentioned that old friends were staying at Leighton Court. I must be mistaken.” Although Christopher’s familiarity with Lord Hillbrook indicated long acquaintance.

“My husband has many business contacts.”

That must be the explanation. If Christopher and his lordship were friends at all. Bother the man. He made her suspicious of everyone. “For some inexplicable reason, he’s boarding with my father to brush up on medieval history.”

The lady looked startled. “I thought you were an enthusiast.”

Genevieve smiled wryly. “I am. But I’ve never fathomed why such a man should eschew the social whirl for scholarship.”

It was perfectly clear, seeing Christopher in this aristocratic setting, that he was at home in the highest echelons. Genevieve struggled not to remember how at ease he’d been with Mrs. Garson and George and everyone in the village. She’d always known that he and Sedgemoor were friends. Which still struck her as odd. If Christopher was a sneak thief, how had he inveigled his way into the circle surrounding England’s most powerful nobleman? If he pursued some scheme against Sedgemoor, he took massive risks. Sedgemoor would make a dangerous enemy.

“Perhaps there’s more to him than you credit.”

“I doubt it.” She flushed, realizing she betrayed herself to a stranger. “Have you been to this part of the country before?”

Lady Hillbrook shook her head, gracefully accepting the abrupt change of subject. “No. But Jonas and His Grace are such friends, we simply had to call when we were nearby in Wiltshire. I hope my daughter Consuela settles and we can see something of the area.”

Thank goodness, the mention of Consuela saved Genevieve from further discussion of Christopher. But as she listened to a devoted mother’s anecdotes, the back of her neck prickled. Sharply she turned to catch Christopher out. And found Lord Neville glowering at her.

Despite the warm night and the fact that she was as safe in the duke’s drawing room as in the Tower of London, she shivered. She turned back to Lady Hillbrook, while unease soured the champagne on her lips.

To Genevieve’s disgust, Christopher was placed beside her at dinner, with Lord Hillbrook on her right. At the foot of the gleaming mahogany table, Lady Hillbrook played hostess.

Genevieve awaited some expression of triumph at his successful maneuvering, but Christopher’s expression was truculent as he slid into his chair. She didn’t trust it. She didn’t trust him.

“Now you’ll have to talk to me,” he murmured, swirling the hock in his glass.

“I could concentrate on my food,” she hissed back. “It can’t be nearly as tasteless as you are.”

Christopher’s lips compressed. His voice reverted to the lazy drawl that she hated. “Rest easy, dear lady. Sedgemoor supplies an excellent table. Why, even the humble pie is delicious.”

“Very funny,” she said flatly.

“I’m accounted a deuced witty fellow. You’ll be in stitches before the night’s out.”