The Edge of Desire by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page A

doing here?”
    Her greeting was in no way encouraging, but he smiled nevertheless. The smile of a man who knew her well—well enough to know her temper was largely spent.
    “I came to ask for information with which to pursue your errant brother, and”—his gaze switched to Hermione—“to again ask your sister what she knows.”
    She swung to face Hermione in time to see her sister fight to banish consciousness from her expression. “Whatever you know, please tell us.”
    When Hermione met her gaze, anxiety and even a touch of fear in her eyes, she urged, “We’re trying to help Justin—we can’t do that effectively without, as Dearne put it, reconstructing the crime. If you know something, anything relevant, we need to know.”
    Hermione hesitated, then pressed her lips tight and shook her head.
    Letitia sighed. “You’re not helping, dearheart. You must tell us—”
    “I can’t! ” Hermione’s response was almost a wail. Letitia got the impression she wanted to stamp her foot, but then her eyes filled with tears. “I…I don’t know anything .”
    Spinning about, Hermione ran back through the archway.
    An instant later they heard the parlor door shut.
    Letitia closed her eyes and sighed again, this time feeling the accumulated tension and energy flowing away, leaving her drained.
    Eyes closed, she stood there, before the hearth in Randall’s forgotten library, and tried to relocate her mental feet.
    She sensed Christian draw near. She hadn’t heard him move, but her nerves ruffled as only he had ever made them do.
    “She obviously knows something.” His voice, low and deep, came from beside her.
    “Obviously.” She didn’t open her eyes.
    “Why do you think she isn’t telling us—not even you?”
    His quiet tone, his patient voice, led her mind where she didn’t want it to go. But she refused to back away from the truth. Her belief in her brother’s innocence was absolute; nothing could shake it. Opening her eyes, she moistened her lips, half turned to face him. “She won’t tell us because what she knows makes Justin appear guilty.”
    Christian’s gray eyes held hers. “Yes.” A moment passed, then he asked, “Can you accept that he might be?”
    She forced herself to think, to consider it—rationally rather than emotionally—but emotion in this instance was too strong. “No.” She shook her head. “He didn’t kill Randall. Justin might be popularly known as a rake and a gamester, as a profligate hellion, but he’s no murderer.”
    Calmly she met Christian’s steady gray gaze. “You know that as well as I.”
    After a moment he nodded. “Unfortunately, the ton doesn’t share our opinion.” He moved back a little, giving her space to breathe. “What did Hermione do?”
    She told him.
    “How much damage did she cause?”
    She glanced at the archway, but Hermione hadn’t returned. “Considerable, unfortunately. Some of the most avid gossips, finding that I wasn’t about to feed the scandal, had passed from me to her. She largely undid what I’d done, and then went further.”
    She frowned, imagining the outcome and how she might deal with it.
    “What are you planning?”
    She glanced up, met his eyes. “I’ll have to appear rather more than I would like, but it has to be done.” Raising a hand, she brushed back a loosened lock from her temple, noted that his eyes followed her hand. She turned away. “As I told Hermione, I need to seed doubt—and now I need to do it in far more minds. If the ton grow convinced beyond shaking that Justin is guilty, proving him innocent won’t be enough to clear his name. Even if he’s officially exonerated he’ll never recover his standing. I can’t let that happen. Oneday he’ll be the Earl of Nunchance and head of the House of Vaux.”
    When Christian didn’t reply, she glanced at him. Hands on his hips, he was staring at the floor, a frown marring his handsome face. She grasped the moment to study it, felt as always a