“I’m not sure.” His eyebrows rose but she pressed on. “I’m a woman alone. You might do anything to me. You seemed fit to wring my neck last night.”
Added to which, she didn’t even own a chair on which to offer him a seat. This room was by far the best lodging she’d had since she ceased sharing with Captain, but she couldn’t help seeing the place as Harcastle would probably see it; bed taking up most of the space, faded curtains, rag rug, chipped plaster, and peeling paint. Even the colorful scarves Mags had hung to brighten up the place would seem quaint and shabby to him.
She smothered the spark of shame. After all, why should she care what he thought? Who was he to her? A threat, that was all. And he demonstrated how much of a threat he was by stepping past her into the room. For a duke, it was simple. He wanted to enter and so he did.
Apparently, he also wanted to sit on her bed.
A duke on her saggy, second-hand mattress, the superfine wool of his black coat, the silk and velvet of his waistcoat, and the impossible whiteness of his shirt all a stark contrast to the faded cotton of her poor bedspread. The incongruity of the sight almost startled a laugh from her. Good Lord, had this room always been so small? With him inside, the walls seemed to close in.
Oh, she’d known she would see him again soon, but not here. Never here.
“Do sit down,” he said. “I’m not going to devour you.”
She left the door wide open and stood on the threshold, as far as possible from her unwanted guest.
“You left precipitously last night, sir. Did you wish to discuss the messages we received from the spirits?”
“No, Miss Jones, we can’t begin that way. There must be no lies between us. You are a fraud, a fact we both know to be true. I must insist, at least when we are alone together, you refrain from speaking to me as if this weren’t so.”
A fine speech and spoken in the masterful tone of a man accustomed to obedience from the likes of her. It woke a devil within her.
“Your skepticism is notorious,” she said sweetly.
“Does Miss Carmichael often aid and abet you?” he asked. “I came here looking for her, not you.” Then he smiled, if such a knowing smirk could rightly be called a smile. I’m here to play, it said.
Evie couldn’t afford to indulge him. The stakes were too high.
“Leave her alone.” She spoke from pure instinct, the urge to protect Mags momentarily overriding her common sense. He smiled again. Why not? She had revealed a weakness. “Miss Carmichael only booked the room. She has nothing whatever to do with my…business. If you harm her—”
“Harm her? Come, Miss Jones, I don’t harm people. That’s your talent, not mine.”
Oh, she didn’t believe that for a minute. He was enjoying himself too much, like a cat playing with a canary. Except that she resembled a crow more than a canary and he was something more like a tiger. Was all this because she’d raised his father’s ghost? Or did he toy with all the mediums he investigated?
“I don’t hurt people,” she said. At least she tried not to.
With his head on one side, he considered her words. “Are you really so deluded?”
“Who have you seen me hurt? Not the Lennoxes, that’s for certain. My spirits float tables and bring people flowers. When someone comes to me looking for a lost loved one, I talk about eternal rest. What harm is there in that?”
“Lies are always harmful.”
The words stung, perhaps because there was truth in them. “Such integrity. You’re fortunate your wealth and privilege shield you from ever needing to compromise your scruples.”
“Wealth and privilege have nothing to do with this.”
Now it was her turn to smile. For an intelligent man, he was being remarkably obtuse. How very typical of his class. Sudden anger revived her flagging courage. “Let’s cut to the heart of things, shall we? You’ve made serious allegations against me, but do you have any evidence to support them?”
A shrug. “None whatsoever.”
“I see.” With effort, she managed to suppress a sigh of relief. “Well, you’re welcome to search for it.” Just not at one of my séances. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
She stood aside and gestured to the open door.
He didn’t move. “Am I?”
“Are you what?”
“Welcome to look.” He rose and stepped closer. “You seemed so confident a moment ago. Do you really think I won’t succeed?”
His dark-eyed gaze burned into her and too late she realized her mistake. As she’d noted, he was used to people complying with his demands. Paltry though her resistance today had been, to him it held all the appeal of novelty.
He took another step forward. “A week. That’s all I’d need.”
Too close. His breath ghosted across her cheek, and she shivered in response. Stupid body. Didn’t it realize the threat he posed? Wait, wait, she wanted to protest, you’ve got it all wrong. I don’t feel confident in the least. If she said the words aloud, would he lose interest?
“One week in your company,” he went on, “and I’ll have unearthed all your secrets.”
Slow and deliberate, his gaze traveled the length of her body, lingering at her breasts. Such a crude perusal would appall the God-fearing spiritualist she pretended to be, so she tried to manufacture a modicum of disgust, but something in him called to her. The haughty stare, the icy contempt, even the way he challenged and threatened her. In short, the attributes that should have sent her running stirred her deeply. Perhaps her years at Miss Rose’s had turned her depraved.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. “Why can’t I read your expression? What are you hiding? Who are you really?”
“Why are you so interested?”
“One week,” he repeated. “For one week, I go where you go. If I haven’t obtained any evidence by then, I’ll leave you be.”
His expression, so intent in its scrutiny a moment ago, cleared abruptly. Had he realized how mad he sounded? But perhaps not mad at all. He must guess she’d never willingly perform another séance in his presence, unless he offered inducement. And she was tempted. One week and she’d never have to see him again. It might be safer in the short-term to refuse to sit with him, but what about her public displays? She could hardly bar him from those. At least this put a time limit on his investigation.
“Why would you do that?” she asked.
“Perhaps I enjoy a wager.”
“And what if you win? What then?”