Gabriel D'Arcy. Ann Lethbridge

huffed out a breath. ‘I am not telling, mon ange. I am asking. Please.’

      He took a hesitant step towards the bed.

      ‘Leave Walter alone,’ Mooreshead said harshly from the doorway, his face as dark as a thundercloud. He had a dusty bottle tucked under his arm.

      Walter shrank back.

      ‘It’s all right, Walter,’ Mooreshead said, gentling his tone. ‘It is her I am angry at.’

      Walter glared at her. ‘Bad.’

      ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Stubborn.’

      He looked at her. ‘You are right, I cannot do this by myself. Yet, to be honest. I am loath to let you free and put a knife in your hand.’

      She smiled at him sweetly. ‘Quite the conundrum.’ Bah, she should not be rising to his bait. ‘Why did you bring me here, Mooreshead? What is it you want from me? If it is ransom, you are at outs. I have no one who cares enough to pay for my release.’

      ‘Don’t play games, Countess,’ he said setting his bottle down on the hearth. ‘Whoever you told about our assignation this morning had me shot.’

      The only possibility was Paul. She shook her head. ‘It makes no sense.’

      He gave her a hard look. ‘So you do not deny you told someone in addition to the members of your household. Who?’

      Her heart jolted at her mistake. ‘I told no one apart from Reggie and my companion, Mrs Featherstone, about our plan.’ She gave a shrug of indifference. ‘I thought nothing of it. I ride every day in Hyde Park.’ She glanced at the window that clearly showed it was full dark outside. ‘By now she and Reggie will be worried out of their wits. They will no doubt contact the authorities. Eventually someone will think to look here.’

      He regarded her for a long moment, then inhaled, his wide chest expanding, the frown between his brows deepening. Pain. She pretended not to notice.