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Authors: Victoria Hanlen
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attractive man be ‘underfoot,’ she would have to worry about them being
discovered
. They could easily become the topic of rumors and gossip and… oh, dear, what would her brother say?
Though her father died nearly a year before, memories of his unrelenting discipline and rants meant that at nearly thirty her first thought was still for her and her family’s reputation. Even beyond the grave, his rigid rules of decorum held sway.
“The most probable place for the plans would be in my home,” she intoned carefully. “With all the servants and workmen marching about, it would be difficult for you to go unnoticed. Should you become too familiar about my home, it is likely we would be called lovers. I cannot risk my own or my family’s reputation.”
“You do make remarkably quick leaps of logic, my lady. Quite left me in the dust for a moment.” He pulled at his collar and quirked up one side of his mouth. “I can understand your fear of tittle-tattle, but I must ask you to consider which would be the worse gossip – your arrest for murdering your husband or being the secret lover of Dame… uh, Mr Cornelius Ravenhill?”
Sarah straightened in her seat. Even though the inspector frightened her, the logical part of her latched on to what Mr Ravenhill had said earlier. The inspector was an incompetent. He’d nearly accused her of hiring someone to set blasts in her husband’s laboratory, a total untruth and fabrication.
The professor and plans could be another of his groundless allegations. Edward was not shy about discussing his successes. He would have told her if he’d made a unique engine.
“At the very least,” Mr Ravenhill continued, “I suggest you stop work on your renovation and secure the premises. Hire top blasting specialists of your own to examine the suspicious fuses and where they were found. Inspector Hooker is devious and not to be underestimated. To be on the safe side, I’d even contact friends and acquaintances who have influence with top police and judicial offices. If Hooker makes any more allegations, no matter how outlandish, be sure to have your own experts investigate to counter his claims.”
Sarah took a moment to consider his recommendations. They certainly seemed logical, if perhaps a little excessive. The commanding way he spoke had a stern authority she’d not expected from such a charming rogue.
What a puzzling man.
It could be said she was a little starry-eyed. Mr Ravenhill, more than any gentleman she’d ever met, certainly drew her. There was nothing medium about him. Additionally, he was intelligent, well spoken, mannered, the son of a viscount and he seemed to like her.
On the other hand, she’d only met him three times. He’d recently returned from abroad, giving minimal accounting of his years away. His story of traveling the world as a merchant of curiosities didn’t jibe with his debonair mien and the occasional shadow of aloofness and command.
For certain, she needed to find Edward’s plans and prove her innocence. But her ingrained propriety and memories of her father’s tirades about ‘loose women’ made her quail at the prospect of prurient gossip.
She clasped her hands in her lap, resigned to the only decision she could make. “While it appears we both have need of my husband’s mysterious plans, for the time being, I’m sure I can search my home myself. If and when I find plans that resemble your description, I will be sure to keep you informed.”
CHAPTER 7
“Lord Strathford’s widow is not cooperating and I need her help,” Damen confessed to Cory the next day as if he would open his eyes, give him a crooked smile, and tell him he was still a ham-fisted bungler when it came to women.
The drapery had been pulled to filter the morning sunlight into the dark-paneled bedchamber. Damen gazed about the purple bruises circling his brother’s closed eyes. “I’m doing everything I can to find the villains who did this to you, but I’ve
discovered
. They could easily become the topic of rumors and gossip and… oh, dear, what would her brother say?
Though her father died nearly a year before, memories of his unrelenting discipline and rants meant that at nearly thirty her first thought was still for her and her family’s reputation. Even beyond the grave, his rigid rules of decorum held sway.
“The most probable place for the plans would be in my home,” she intoned carefully. “With all the servants and workmen marching about, it would be difficult for you to go unnoticed. Should you become too familiar about my home, it is likely we would be called lovers. I cannot risk my own or my family’s reputation.”
“You do make remarkably quick leaps of logic, my lady. Quite left me in the dust for a moment.” He pulled at his collar and quirked up one side of his mouth. “I can understand your fear of tittle-tattle, but I must ask you to consider which would be the worse gossip – your arrest for murdering your husband or being the secret lover of Dame… uh, Mr Cornelius Ravenhill?”
Sarah straightened in her seat. Even though the inspector frightened her, the logical part of her latched on to what Mr Ravenhill had said earlier. The inspector was an incompetent. He’d nearly accused her of hiring someone to set blasts in her husband’s laboratory, a total untruth and fabrication.
The professor and plans could be another of his groundless allegations. Edward was not shy about discussing his successes. He would have told her if he’d made a unique engine.
“At the very least,” Mr Ravenhill continued, “I suggest you stop work on your renovation and secure the premises. Hire top blasting specialists of your own to examine the suspicious fuses and where they were found. Inspector Hooker is devious and not to be underestimated. To be on the safe side, I’d even contact friends and acquaintances who have influence with top police and judicial offices. If Hooker makes any more allegations, no matter how outlandish, be sure to have your own experts investigate to counter his claims.”
Sarah took a moment to consider his recommendations. They certainly seemed logical, if perhaps a little excessive. The commanding way he spoke had a stern authority she’d not expected from such a charming rogue.
What a puzzling man.
It could be said she was a little starry-eyed. Mr Ravenhill, more than any gentleman she’d ever met, certainly drew her. There was nothing medium about him. Additionally, he was intelligent, well spoken, mannered, the son of a viscount and he seemed to like her.
On the other hand, she’d only met him three times. He’d recently returned from abroad, giving minimal accounting of his years away. His story of traveling the world as a merchant of curiosities didn’t jibe with his debonair mien and the occasional shadow of aloofness and command.
For certain, she needed to find Edward’s plans and prove her innocence. But her ingrained propriety and memories of her father’s tirades about ‘loose women’ made her quail at the prospect of prurient gossip.
She clasped her hands in her lap, resigned to the only decision she could make. “While it appears we both have need of my husband’s mysterious plans, for the time being, I’m sure I can search my home myself. If and when I find plans that resemble your description, I will be sure to keep you informed.”
CHAPTER 7
“Lord Strathford’s widow is not cooperating and I need her help,” Damen confessed to Cory the next day as if he would open his eyes, give him a crooked smile, and tell him he was still a ham-fisted bungler when it came to women.
The drapery had been pulled to filter the morning sunlight into the dark-paneled bedchamber. Damen gazed about the purple bruises circling his brother’s closed eyes. “I’m doing everything I can to find the villains who did this to you, but I’ve
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