She cautiously shifted up on the pillows, just enough so she was not lying flat on her back. “You know something.”
“Now is not the time to discuss…”
“Dammit, Edmond, tell me.”
“I suspect that it was an accident.”
She clicked her tongue. “You think I am stupid enough to believe that someone was just randomly shooting at Lady Montgomery’s balcony?”
“No, I do not think for a moment that it was random.”
She shivered at the low, feral edge in his voice. For goodness sakes, he claimed it was an accident and yet, was certain it was not random….
“Oh.” Her eyes widened as realization struck. “You believe that it was an accident that I was the one who was hit by the bullet. You think they were shooting at you.”
It was only because he still held her tightly against him that she felt his muscles tense.
“That is one possibility,” he hedged.
“Why? Why would someone shoot at you?”
His lips twisted in a wry smile. “Surely you, of all people, cannot be surprised that someone might wish me dead?”
No, she would not be surprised. He was, after all, the sort of arrogant, ruthless bastard who would collect enemies with the same ease that some men collected snuffboxes. Not to mention the fact that he was a renowned rakehell who had no doubt seduced his way through all of England and most of Russia.
The only wonder was that he hadn’t already been shot.
The blow to her head, however, hadn’t completely scattered her wits.
“But no one in London knows that it is you. Everyone assumes that you are the Duke of Huntley,” she pointed out, suspiciously. “This has something to do with you pretending to be Stefan, does it not?”
His lips thinned. “It is late, Brianna. You should be resting.”
“No.” She made a move to sit up, only to be halted as his arms tightened around her. “I deserve to have the truth, Edmond.”
He arched a dark brow. “You deserve the truth?”
“I was the one shot.”
There was a brooding silence as he studied her stubborn expression. Brianna knew that he wanted to ignore her demands for an explanation. He was a man who gave orders and expected them to be obeyed without question. As his gaze lingered on the plaster stuck on her forehead, his beautiful features hardened with a hint of resignation.
“I suppose that is true enough,” he grudgingly conceded.
“Please.” She touched a hand to his cheek, the prickle of his whiskers that darkened the line of his jaw pressing into her palm with an oddly pleasurable sensation. “Why are you in London posing as the Duke of Huntley? What secrets are you hiding?”
His eyes darkened at her soft touch before his features tightened and he pulled back to regard her with a hard gaze.
“I am here because I suspect that someone is attempting to murder my brother.”
An icy disbelief jolted through her body. She was uncertain what she had expected, but certainly not that.
“No. I cannot believe it.”
His lips twisted as he gently touched the plaster covering her injury.
“You have the wounds to make you believe.”
“But…Stefan.” She shook her head, feeling oddly numb as she struggled to accept the shocking notion that anyone could wish harm upon the Duke of Huntley. “You must be mistaken. He is so kind and good. Everyone loves him.”