“No.”
He said nothing. Instead, he turned his head to watch the dancers as they whirled by. He didn’t look like he was seeing the dancing; he looked like he was thinking hard about something.
“What’s wrong?” she felt compelled to ask.
He glanced at her with a frown. Then he appeared to come to a decision, reaching out to grasp her elbow. “I would like you to come with me, Miss Donovan.”
“Come with you? Where? Why?”
“’To end this farce.” His hand tightened briefly when she resisted him trying to maneuver her toward the door. After a moment, he dropped his hand and presented her with his arm. To all outward appearances, it would seem like a courtly gesture. But she knew it was a challenge.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded. Her heart was thrumming uncomfortably.
“Come with me and you shall find out.”
Still, she hesitated.
“Don’t be a coward, Miss Donovan.”
Kendra shot him an angry glance. Although she suspected he was trying to goad her, she laid her hand on his arm, aware of the contrast of his coat’s soft velvet and the hard muscles beneath her fingertips. As they walked to the open doors, Kendra realized they probably looked like any other couple strolling around the ballroom, the tension between them hidden beneath the ballroom’s gaiety. Only the footmen seemed to be aware of it when they left the ballroom. Kendra could feel their curious eyes on them as they walked out in the hall.
Alec didn’t speak, and Kendra found that she couldn’t, her throat closing almost painfully. The music and murmur of conversation, punctuated with laughter, faded as they continued down the hall. Soon, the only sound was the whisper of silk from the evening gown she wore, their footsteps muffled on the carpeting and their own light breathing.
“Where are we going?” She forced herself to ask the question, needing to break the oppressive silence between them.
Alec didn’t answer, ushering her around another corner. Kendra began to withdraw her hand from his arm, ready to have it out right here in the hall, but their journey came to an end in front of a pair of wide double doors. Alec opened them, and stepped into the shadowy room.
Like any animal scenting danger, Kendra kept to the threshold. Alec found some flint and lit nearby candles. Kendra didn’t need the minuscule light to reveal the bookshelves and enormous paintings above. She hadn’t spent any time here, but she knew this was the library.
“Please come in, Miss Donovan.” Alec wasn’t looking at her. He’d taken a candle and was now perusing the bookshelves on the right.
Shivering—the room was drafty, although Kendra wasn’t entirely sure that was the cause of her goose bumps—she took three steps into the room. The nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach intensified. She was still holding her champagne glass, and now downed the remaining contents with one swallow. “Why’d you bring me here?”
He ignored her, continuing his search.
Her mind raced, and she tried to think what she’d said to provoke this reaction. Something about Jane Austen obviously. Jane Austen existed in this time line, and she’d written the books that remained popular in Kendra’s own era. What could be wrong?
“Ah.” Alec let out a sigh of satisfaction as he pulled a book out of the shelf. “I was certain it was here.” He turned and came toward Kendra. “Now I have a question,” he said softly. “Who the devil are you, Kendra Donovan?”
37
“I don’t understand.” Mouth dry, Kendra stared at the book in his hand like it was a ticking time bomb.
“’Tis a simple question.” He kept his gaze fixed on hers, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. “Shall we begin with this: Where were you employed before you arrived at the castle last week?”
She stared at him.
His mouth tightened. “Shall we take this from another angle, then? You told the Duke that you arrived in London in the month of May 1812. Yet your name does not appear on any ship manifest during that month.”
“How do you—?” She remembered the suspicious look Sam had given her earlier. “Mr. Kelly. You had him investigate me when he was in London.”
“Actually, it was the Duke who had the Runner send his men around to check on your tale.”
“He never said anything.” She turned away to set the empty champagne flute down on a nearby table. Her hand, she noticed, wasn’t quite steady.
“My uncle is a most unusual man. He admires your intelligence, Miss Donovan. He has affection for you. He was hoping you’d come to him, trust him enough to tell him the truth.”
She felt sick. “This has nothing to do with trust.”
Alec lifted a brow. “Then what does it have to do with, pray tell?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Not unless you confide in me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why the devil not?”
“Because you wouldn’t believe me.”