Her eyes went wide. He hadn’t stopped by to see her. “Why?”
His lips curved into a smile. “To recommend I blame the theater gossip on him, and that I admit it to Hughes first thing.”
“Did you?” That would explain the anger.
He nodded. “Lane’s a smart man. I’m still alive.”
Laughter tickled. Slight and low, but it brought much-needed relief to her chest. “He has instincts like none other. And I am glad they were right.”
“Me too.” He took a step back. “I wanted to make sure our stories agree. He convinced us both to go and then introduced me as your friend.”
Apparently he hadn’t assumed she would opt for the truthful explanation. Or perhaps that she hadn’t the sense to end it there and let Dev think the gossips had overdone the reports of them being there together.
Would that they had.
Her throat felt tight and dry as she forced a swallow. Relaxing her arms, she squared her shoulders and stepped away from the wooden stairs. “I might as well get this over with. If you’ll excuse me, Slade.”
Rather than step aside as she moved past him, he fell in beside her. “I’ll see you in.”
“Not necessary.”
“It is.” He stayed a step away from her, kept his eyes straight ahead. “We both know he’s a violent man.”
And so, like the day she brought Barbara home, Slade would hover outside the room, ready to rush to her aid? She shook her head. “I can handle Dev.”
Still he didn’t so much as glance at her. “Humor me.”
He wasn’t leaving her much choice, but it grated. If she meant nothing to him, if his feelings were only “wanting,” why did he have to concern himself? “I really don’t think he would hurt me. He loves me.”
Slade snorted and finally glanced her way. For all of a quarter second. “Yeah. That’s what my sister says about her husband. While sporting a black eye.”
She couldn’t help but wince. “I didn’t realize you had a sister.”
“I do. So humor me.”
Marietta tucked her hands under the wide bells of her sleeves. Her fingerless gloves were more for style than warmth. “What’s her name?”
“Jane.”
Jane. Watching her step to be sure she avoided all the mud from Saturday’s rain, she searched her mind. “You’ve never mentioned her.”
This time his snort was a laugh. “Ross was her favorite.”
She would have liked to probe deeper, but she couldn’t be sure he would answer even were they alone, much less when they were three steps from the entrance she had aimed them at. So she bit her tongue and kept her face neutral as she brushed by him to get through the door he held open.
Mother Hughes’s voice came from the drawing room, Dev’s baritone joining it, though the words were indistinct. She took a silent step to the side. The allure of getting this reunion over with evaporated. Maybe she could slip by without being noticed to steal a few minutes in her room.
A fine thought until Slade let the door slam shut, thereby announcing her presence to the entire house. She spun, her eyes wide, expecting to find him looking sheepish and blaming it on the draft.
But no. He was grinning. He even winked at her before his face moved back into its usual lines, eyes going cold and hard. Winked.
And gracious, why did she feel like a schoolgirl around him lately, always at sixes and sevens? Desperate to get hold of herself before Dev emerged, she drew in a deep breath and let her own countenance empty of all but the old Marietta and her mask. The one that could dangle keys before Slade’s nose with a flirtatious tilt to her lips.
The one who had the man striding from the drawing room with fury in his eyes wrapped around her little finger.
Perhaps she didn’t feel it, but her mouth knew the right smile to put on, and her fingers just how to curl as she held out a hand to him and rushed forward. At least, having an audience as they did, he wouldn’t expect too warm a welcome.
Slade’s plan? She was indebted to him for it.
“Darling! Oh, how I missed you.” She stopped a few inches too close as he took her hand and raised it to his lips, a glance over her shoulder at Slade to prove why she didn’t do more than rest a hand on his arm. “I didn’t expect you until later this afternoon.”
“I was eager to be home.” He let go her hand and clapped his fingers around her arm like a cuff. The second time he had made such a move in a fortnight, and it infuriated her as much now as it had the first time. He looked over her head to Slade. “Where did you find her?”
“Excuse me?” She pulled her arm free. “Did you sic your bloodhound on me, Devereaux?”
Slade, she hoped, would be amused and not insulted, though she couldn’t tell by the quiet huff that could have been either laughter or indignation.