Too Wicked To Kiss Part 31

"Gavin?" Lady Hetherington emerged from the next intersection and gasped when she saw the milieu. "Gavin. Unhand Edmund at once!"

"Precisely what I'm talking about," Mr. Teasdale agreed as he gestured toward Mr. Lioncroft with his cane. "Yet another perfect example of impropriety."

A beat of silence pa.s.sed before Mr. Lioncroft stepped backward.

Edmund fell to the floor clutching his neck. No sooner did he land than he sprang back up, swiping at his backside. "My whiskey! You spilled my whiskey!"

Mr. Lioncroft shrugged. "It's no doubt my my whiskey." whiskey."

"But over a chit? You would spill good whiskey over a chit?"

"I would spill your blood if it wouldn't stain my carpets."

"Gavin," came Lady Hetherington's strangled voice. "Please don't speak like that. What happened?"

"Nothing. Except this pup was about to give Miss Pemberton an apology."

"For what?" Edmund burst out. "Admitting I find her attractive? You're the one about to ruin her by dangling after her every chance you get."

Mr. Lioncroft's arms crossed. "I won't ruin her."

Edmund snorted and bent to retrieve his empty flask. "Whether you touch her or not, she's already marked. No female reputation can withstand being linked to yours. The maiden and the murderer? If we were in London, the scandal sheets would have a field day."

Mr. Lioncroft's eyebrows lifted. "In case you haven't noticed, we're not in London."

"Nonetheless," Mr. Teasdale put in, "I for one offer to withhold any whisper of untoward familiarity between Miss Pemberton and Lioncroft." He turned his wrinkled face toward Evangeline. "I'll not discuss his reprehensible behavior toward you, my dear, if you discontinue making a spectacle of yourself by encouraging a killer's affections."

Evangeline's shoulders straightened. "He's not a killer."

Mr. Lioncroft stepped to her side, the back of his hand caressing the back of hers before he crossed his arms over his wide chest and glared at Mr. Teasdale.

Neither action escaped Mr. Teasdale's notice. "How do you know he's no killer?"

"How do I know it's not you?"

"Me?" Mr. Teasdale gaped at her. "Haven't we already agreed I could not have snuck up and clobbered him on the head?"

Edmund tipped back his flask to swallow the last few drops. "That may be, but despite your advanced age, I'm sure you're capable of lifting a feather pillow."

Mr. Teasdale harrumphed. "I thought you didn't believe she spoke to G.o.d."

"I-" Edmund paused, capped his empty flask, stowed it back in his pocket. "I believe we'll never know what did or didn't happen."

"We might," Evangeline said. "If everyone is honest."

Mr. Teasdale leaned forward on his cane. "It's honesty you want, is it? Very well, then. I'll clear my name right here and now. And since you asked for honesty, don't get angry with me for speaking my piece."

All eyes were on him in less than a second.

"I didn't go straight to my room that night. I'll admit it. I wanted to have a word with Hetherington about his daughter. I knew she was young, but I hadn't realized she was practically a child. And not the least bit interested in me, I might add. I thought to discuss my concerns with Hetherington before signing any contracts. He said love was of even lesser importance than her age. That she fancied herself in love with a French tutor, that the rumors of the two of them being caught kissing were true, that she needed to marry straightaway, and what more did an old man like me want than a pretty young chit like Nancy Rutherford? Well, I'll tell you. Not to take a French tutor's leavings, that's what. I refused to sign the contract."

Lady Hetherington swayed as if suddenly nauseous. "My daughter is, as you intimated, young and impressionable. She was not happy when we sent Monsieur Lefebvre away. But all that you have proven is that you had more motivation to harm my husband than any of us could have supposed."

"I haven't finished." He tightened his grip on his cane. "As I quit the office where I found your husband, who should I glimpse prowling the halls but Lioncroft? Upset as I was, I didn't wish to make small talk with anyone, so I stayed in the shadows. He entered the same office I'd just left."

"Is that true?" Evangeline murmured to Mr. Lioncroft under her breath. A heartbeat pa.s.sed before he nodded tightly. Evangeline tried not to think what that might mean.

Mr. Teasdale's shaky voice went on. "I would have continued on to my chamber, had their voices not risen to a crescendo. The subject of their conversation, my lady, was you. Hetherington stated, and here I am quoting the precise words used, 'Whatever you do to me, Lioncroft, I can do to Rose.'"

Mr. Lioncroft's muscles tensed.

"Re-e-e-ally," Edmund drawled. "And how did our host respond to that?"

"With his usual charm." Mr. Teasdale's gnarled hands pulled his cane against his chest. "Lioncroft said, 'Not if I kill you first.' And then I heard a crash."

"Gavin," Lady Hetherington begged, her expression horrified. "Please tell me you didn't..."

Evangeline stayed silent, though she felt much the same way.

"Tell you I didn't what? Didn't order him never to strike you again? I can't make that claim. Nor did he agree to follow my command. A man like that doesn't deserve to live. But I didn't kill him."

Edmund snorted. "Teasdale heard you threaten Hetherington with just that."

A muscle twitched near Gavin's temple. "So I did. But that doesn't mean I killed him."

"It sure doesn't mean you invited him out back for a round or two of pall-mall," Edmund scoffed. "Sounds like we've wrapped up the case to me."

"I did not kill him," Gavin repeated.

"That right? I'll believe that when you prove it." Edmund turned and tossed a suggestive smirk toward Evangeline. "Maybe your bit of fluff can ask G.o.d for help with that trick, too."

Evangeline managed to grab the back of Mr. Lioncroft's jacket before he launched himself at Edmund a second time.

"I don't need to," she said softly. All four of them turned to stare at her. "Mr. Teasdale said he overheard them arguing in Mr. Lioncroft's office, that he overheard a crash. An office is not a bedchamber. And pillows do not crash."

Mr. Teasdale gaped at her. "You're defending the honor of a violent man who fully admits to having threatened the life of a man who subsequently turned up dead?"

Evangeline nodded. "I am. There were no pillows in that office for Mr. Lioncroft to smother Lord Hetherington with. And even if there were, he would've had to carry his body down one wing, up the stairs, through the guest quarters, all the way to the Hetherington bedchamber without being seen by anyone. Pardon me if I find that scenario unlikely."

"Unlikely," Edmund scoffed, "but not impossible. How do you know whether or not there were pillows in Lioncroft's office that night?"

"I-"

"Miss Pemberton," Mr. Lioncroft interrupted, latching his long fingers around her elbow. "May I speak to you alone for a moment?"

"No." Mr. Teasdale shook his cane at them. "Of course you may not. This is exactly the sort of inappropriate behavior I mentioned earlier. You expect us to just continue walking to supper while you slip into an unchaperoned room with Miss Pemberton to have a little 'discussion'?"

Mr. Lioncroft kept his hand tight around Evangeline's arm. "Yes."

"I am going to have to put my foot down at that nonsense." Mr. Teasdale slammed his cane against the floor. "I am going to have to-"

"Go," Lady Hetherington interrupted softly. "You and Edmund go on to dinner. I'll stay with them. Nothing untoward shall occur if I am at my brother's side, do you agree?"

Although Mr. Teasdale's expression indicated he felt equally as reluctant to leave Mr. Lioncroft alone with two women as with one, he had no choice but to continue walking to the dining room with Edmund.

Mr. Lioncroft led Evangeline and his sister into the closest room with lit candles, which turned out to be the library. He motioned them into seats while he closed the door behind him.

Lady Hetherington perched hesitantly on the edge of a wingback chair. Evangeline settled on one side of a sofa. Mr. Lioncroft joined her. Not on the opposite side, as would've been proper, but right next to her, so his hip pressed against her hip, his thigh warmed her thigh, his knee brushed her knee.

"Gavin," Lady Hetherington managed. "Honestly."

He ignored her.

"What were you going to do?" he murmured urgently to Evangeline. "Confess you spent a portion of the evening alone with me in my office?"

"I did, didn't I?" she murmured back.

"Much as I hate to admit it, Edmund's right. Attention from me hasn't done your reputation any favors. If you go home ruined because I spent extra time with you in public, how much worse would it be if people knew I spent extra time with you in private?"

"I'm not going home, remember? I'm leaving. I'll never see any of them again, so what does it matter? Besides, I was never part of Society anyway. What do I care about their views of my so-called reputation?"

"I care about your reputation. I want to help you, not ruin your life. I want-" care about your reputation. I want to help you, not ruin your life. I want-"

"That's enough whispering," Lady Hetherington called out nervously. "Scoot to your side of the sofa, Gavin."

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking her advice. He lounged against the opposite corner, one arm on the armrest and the other along the back, legs relaxed, knees spread wide.

"I was just informing Miss Pemberton," he said at a normal volume, "that I'd prefer not to ruin her life."

"Oh." Lady Hetherington paused. "That seems a worthy goal."

Evangeline glared at him. "You're not going to ruin my life."

He raised a brow. "Trust me, I've had plenty of practice at ruining lives. Ask my sister."

Evangeline cut her glance to Lady Hetherington, who blanched.

"You didn't ruin my life," she protested weakly. "I thought Papa did at first when he forced me to the altar at seventeen, but I've been blessed with four beautiful children I wouldn't trade for the world."

"Score one for Father, then." Mr. Lioncroft paused, as if waiting for his sister to continue speaking. When she did not, his tone turned sardonic. "Are you saying I've never ruined lives?"

Lady Hetherington exhaled a long, slow sigh. "No," she admitted. "You have."

"There you go. My sister confirms it." Mr. Lioncroft refocused his gaze on Evangeline. "I am not a good person. I never have been. But I am trying to do right by you, and by my family. Which means I refrained from killing my sister's rotter of a husband, much as I might've liked to do so, and which also means I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself for me. I will attempt not to make a cake of myself over you in public."

Evangeline tried to lighten the awkward atmosphere. "Just in public?"

His lips curved in a slow, secret smile. "I reserve the right to make a cake of myself over you in private."

Lady Hetherington cleared her throat. "Please do not discuss right in front of me what you may or may not do with Miss Pemberton in private."

"Would you care to leave, dear sister?"

"No. I thought you were trying not to ruin her."

"Oh. Right." He inclined his head toward Evangeline. "See how quickly I forget? Being considerate is a wholly new endeavor for me. For over the past decade I have lived by myself, but for a couple years before that..." His eyes shadowed. "I left a trail of bruised pride and broken promises in my wake."

"More like bruised limbs and broken hearts." Lady Hetherington gave a short, wry laugh. "Anyone you couldn't beat in a carriage race, you beat with your fists. And captured the fancy of most of their ladies in the process."

"Yes. Well. I never claimed to be a good person."

Evangeline stared at him. "I can't imagine that behavior endeared you to your friends."

"I never had any friends."

She blinked. "Never?"

He shrugged one shoulder and glanced away.

"You had me," Lady Hetherington said softly.

His smile was humorless. "Not when it mattered."

Lady Hetherington flinched. "That was your own fault."

"I know."

An uncomfortable silence leached the warmth from the room.

Evangeline gazed at the man on the other side of the sofa. He appeared to be trying desperately to appear as casual and unaffected as ever, but the tightness of his muscles belied the posed carelessness in the splay of his long limbs.

Hard to believe a man like Mr. Lioncroft was more like her than unlike her. He'd grown up friendless. So had she. He had one family member he could count on. So had she. That family member had left him alone and hurting. So had she.

But her mother was gone now, forever. And Lady Hetherington was sitting right there across from them, her cheeks pale, her eyes moist, her hands twisting in her lap. She would not be doing so if she truly thought her brother a reprobate beyond all redemption. If he would just go to her, speak to her, surely she would forgive him for whatever he had done.

Why was he still sitting there, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, staring at an invisible spot on the ceiling with enough force to burn holes in the plaster? Did he truly believe himself so wholly bad as to be unlikable, unlovable, unforgivable? And why was Lady Hetherington not speaking up on his behalf? Because she believed those things, too?

A distant chime shattered the silence.

Lady Hetherington twisted her skirts nervously. "Time for supper. Should we join the others?"

Mr. Lioncroft started, as if he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. The dark expression in his eyes was fierce, wounded, raw.

Deciding she cared more about him than his sister's chaperonage, Evangeline reached out, gently, hesitantly, and touched his arm with her fingertips. "Gavin-"

He leapt to his feet. "I'm sorry. You'll have to dine without me."

In seconds, he was across the room, out the door, and gone.