He felt murderous.
“What is it, Miss Woodmore?” he asked. It was clear that the eldest of his new charges wasn’t going to allow him to pass to his study unless she spoke to him. And, from the looks of her stubborn expression, at great length.
She had obviously found the time to change from last night’s appalling Hatshepsut costume, and, presumably, to rest a bit. At least, that was what her maid had reported, via Dimitri’s valet. Once assured that Angelica was not only safe, but would be returning to Blackmont Hall later that morning, Miss Woodmore had felt able to take a bit of repose. Perhaps even a bath, if the spicy floral scent emanating from her hair was any indication.
But Dimitri had spent the last hours of the night and well into the day (for it was now several hours past noon) attending to everything from Belial and his footpads—and their vain attempt to breach Blackmont Hall—to ensuring that the real story of what happened at the masquerade ball was obscured and stifled. A few hints dropped about a bit of playacting at the masquerade gone awry, a few twists of facts into something believable along with the altering of a number of stubborn memories, and several visits to men’s clubs to blank out more memories—and all was taken care of.
And now here stood Miss Woodmore, fresh-faced and accusing.
“It’s nearly four o’clock, Corvindale. I would like you to tell me precisely where Angelica is,” she told him. “And when she is going to arrive here. But most of all, I require assurance that she is safe.”
How could this slip of a woman who smelled like spicy flowers manage to fill the entire corridor? He hadn’t a prayer of brushing past and ignoring her insulting insinuations.
No, Miss Woodmore would not be ignored.
“Your sister will arrive here at Blackmont Hall when I am convinced it is safe for her to do so,” he told Miss Woodmore. And when he located the chit and her abductor.
He steeled himself against the rush of anger. He had a variety of reasons for disliking and mistrusting Voss. But now he had reason to kill the man.
Lucifer be damned.
The irony of that thought was not lost on him, but Dimitri had no inclination toward amusement at the moment. He had too many distractions to which he must attend, not to mention that he expected Giordan Cale to arrive at any moment.
“Is that all?” he asked, managing to keep the hope from his voice.
She lifted her pointed little chin and gave him a definite glare. “No, it is not. In fact, I wished to speak with you in regard to your conduct last evening.” He realized with a start that she was taller than he’d realized, her head nearly reaching to his chin.
“My conduct?” Dimitri was fully aware that the tone of his voice was such that a less insistent individual would turn tail and run. His head had begun to pound and, on top of that, he noticed a shaft of sunlight pouring into the corridor beyond. Someone had uncovered the windows, blast it.
“Not only was it abhorrent and crude, but you didn’t even take the moment to explain or apologize before shoving Mirabella and myself into a carriage and sending us off.”
“Indeed.”
“There was simply no reason for you to put your hands on me—” her voice dipped a bit as if she were infuriated or overcome “—and toss me out onto the balcony like some sort of—”
Dimitri matched her glare with his own. “In fact, I had sufficient reason for doing so. The least of which was the fact that you would not have obeyed me.”
“If you had simply explained—”
“There was no time for explanations, even if I had believed you might have heeded them, Miss Woodmore. You would have ignored them just as you have everything else since arriving here, including keeping the windows in this house shrouded, my library in order, and my preference not to be bothered.”
She didn’t step back, despite the fact that his voice had risen to a near-bellow. “If you had simply explained that we were in danger and there was no time for discussion, I would have heeded your warning.”
Dimitri didn’t bother to hide his irritation and considered simply walking away, pushing past her and finding sanctuary. But before he could respond, she drew in a deep breath and continued, unfortunately along a vein in which he would have preferred to avoid.
“In addition to an apology, I believe it isn’t asking overly much to request an explanation for what happened last evening. I understand that Angelica and I were in danger, but I would like to know why and from whom or what. And how it happened that you arrived in time to prevent whatever the outcome might have been…regardless of the clumsy manner in which you executed it.”
Dimitri relaxed slightly. Then she hadn’t realized he’d been there all along. He’d taken pains not to be noticed, of course, except for that one foolish indulgence on the dance floor…and after. “Clumsy manner?” he repeated, aggravation superseding his relief.
She made an exasperated sound and an elegant feminine gesture with her gloved hand. She had a very delicate wrist. “You pushed me out onto the balcony, wrapped up in curtains. Can you not give me the courtesy of telling me why?”
“Because there were some very bad men who want to take you away,” Dimitri told her without moving his jaw. “That is why your blasted brother snared me into being your guardian. Because he knew there was no one else who could keep you safe.”
“Please, my lord, you sound like a character in one of those Gothic novels by Mrs. Radcliffe, making all sorts of Byzantine comments and cryptic warnings. If you would cease these ambiguous statements and simply tell me what is happening—”
“What then? You would accept my explanations and my orders without question?”
For a moment he thought her lips quivered—either from humor or, Fate forbid it, from some other emotion. “Certainly not. But at least you wouldn’t feel the necessity to wrap me up and throw me onto the balcony.”
Would the chit never stop screeching about it?
Dimitri crossed his arms over his sagging, stained waistcoat and glared down at her. “The truth is, Miss Woodmore, your brother has gotten himself into serious danger with a society of ruthless men. By disappearing with the sister of one of them, he has not only put himself in a most injurious position, but also you and your sisters—for they would like nothing better than to use one or any of you to get to Chas.”
“Then they are after us as hostages? Ransom?” Her dark blue eyes narrowed as if in thought. “But then that must mean Chas is still alive and hidden somewhere if they are trying to abduct us.” Relief washed over her face and for a moment, Dimitri was struck by the beauty and intelligence in that stubborn countenance. “He must still be alive. And safe.”