She was in a very bad way.
With one hand, he indicated the upper floor. “I’ve been with your brothers.” Reaching the bottom stair, he stepped down, walked closer.
With every step he took, she could feel her awareness come to life, feel her consciousness expand, reaching for him.
He stopped directly in front of her. His eyes met hers, their expression quizzical, faintly amused. Then, before she could stop him, he bent his head and kissed her.
Gently, warmly.
He raised his head, met her gaze. “I need to speak with you privately.” He glanced around, then gestured. “Shall we use the drawing room?”
She looked at the closed door. Her lips still tingled; it was an effort to bludgeon her wits into working order. “Yes. If…” Had her brothers said something they shouldn’t?
That thought and the incipient panic it evoked helped get her mind functioning. Turning, she crossed the hall by Torrington’s side, her protective instincts abruptly on full alert. No matter what she felt for him, she shouldn’t forget that if he learned the truth, he could pose as big a threat to her and her family as Ruskin had.
Indeed, the threat he could pose was even greater.
Tony opened the door, waited for her to enter, then followed her into the elegantly appointed room. His gaze went first to the windows—two long panes looking onto the street. Shutting the door, he glanced around, but there was nothing of her or her family there, on the mantelpiece or the occasional tables set between the two chaises and the well-padded armchairs.
She stopped in the middle of the richly colored Turkish rug; head up, spine straight, hands clasped before her, she faced him.
“You don’t have enough menservants.” He had no idea what she’d expected him to say, but it assuredly wasn’t that. She blinked, then frowned as her mind shifted to the domestic arena. If he told her he’d discovered a certain delight in throwing her off-balance, in confusing her, she most certainly wouldn’t approve, yet such moments revealed an underlying vulnerability, one she didn’t normally show, but which he treasured seeing and knew he responded to. As he presently was.
“Menservants?” Her frown was definite. “We have Jenkins, of course.”
“One man for a house of this size, with a family of this size?”
Her chin rose as he closed the distance between them. “We’ve never seen the need for a large staff. We’re quite comfortable as we are.”
Halting before her, he caught her gaze. “I’m concerned.”
She searched his eyes. “About what?”
“About the direction my investigation is taking, and the fact someone started rumors about you. Specifically you—the widow Ruskin was blackmailing.”
She hesitated, then said, “Adriana and I are always careful.”
“Be that as it may, this house is large… and you have three young brothers.”
He didn’t need to say more; he watched alarm flare in her eyes, only to be replaced by consideration, then consternation. He picked his moment to murmur, “I have a very large house with a very large staff, most of whom have very little to do given I’m the only member of the family in residence.” Her gaze lifted to his; he held it. “I would feel much happier, less concerned, if you would allow me to lend you a footman, at least until my investigation is successfully concluded.”
She returned his regard steadily. A minute ticked by, then she said, “This footman…?”
“I have one in mind who would suit admirably— Maggs. He’s been with me for years. He’s well trained, and I can assure you he’ll know how to deal with your brothers and the rest of the household, Jenkins especially.”
Her eyes narrowed; her look stated that she understood his tactics, that she recognized he’d left her little room to maneuver, no real excuse to refuse. “Just for the duration of your investigation?”
“You may have him for as long as you wish, but I’d urge you to allow him to stay at least until we have Ruskin’s murderer by the heels.”
She pressed her lips together, then nodded. “Very well. I’ll warn Jenkins.”
They were standing close; he sensed her impulse to step back, away. Instead, she fixed him with a direct look. “It may interest you to know that at the Waverleys’ ball last night and in the park this morning, Adriana and I met with, not just a gratifying degree of acceptance, but a quite astonishing level of support.”
He raised his brows. “Indeed?”
“Indeed.” She held his gaze. “You arranged it, didn’t you?”
His face remained impassive, unreadable; his eyes, he knew, gave nothing away while he debated his answer. Eventually, he said, “Although she no longer resides in the capital, my mother has a large circle of friends among the grandes dames of the haut ton. I used to find their existence a trial. Now… I’m prepared to admit they do have their uses.”