Chapter 4.1.4. Double-edged Compliment

He knew? He couldn't possibly. Geordo and Henry had treated her social disgrace as if it were a War Office secret. Which was quite silly, actually, considering that half of London knew. And this man did not seem the sort who read the scandal sheets, but, still, he could have found out.

She dredged up the standard defense. "I was sent to the country to improve my stamina. I—I have a weak chest."

He arched his brow, looking her up and down in a leisurely fashion that brought a hot blush to the surface of her skin. "I do not detect a deficiency in that area of your anatomy, nor in any other part of you for that matter. You look in remarkable good health from where I'm sitting."

"Do I indeed?"

"Indeed," he said heartily, then added as a titillating afterthought, "of course, it is dark, and that robe conceals more than it reveals. I suppose I could light a candle and give you a more thorough inspection. Never let it be said I am one to form a hasty opinion."

"I hardly think we need to go that far," she sputtered.

"No? Pity. Well, you do look fine to me. In the dark, at least. In the rain, too, as I call."

It was the oddest, most double-edged compliment Charlotte had ever received, making her feel she was losing ground before she'd even gained her feet. Never had she encountered a man who poked so brazenly through the social curtain as this one did, except perhaps her own brothers.

"I happen to be prone to coughing spells," she said.

He examined a scratch on his wrist, murmuring, "And to kissing one's, I hear. Behind parked carriages. Tsk, tsk, Lady Charlotte."

"How—" Charlotte couldn't seem to find the breath to finish.

Benedic gave her a few seconds before he glanced up and studied her face. "Ah, good. Caught you out, did I? Well, your small social sins have nothing on my eventful past. So the young lady likes stolen kisses, does she? I shall have to remember that. For now, however, no female, even one fetching or as forward as you, will distract me from my purpose."

"Really," she said indignantly.

"It is my understanding you were exiled to Chistlebury for indecent conduct in the park." He fixed her with a stern look. "In the middle of the afternoon. What could you have been thinking?"

Charlotte was beyond outrage. She was quite impressed. First, by his devious means of gathering information. Second, that she'd ranked high enough in importance to rate an investigation. Unless, of course, he was criminally insane and would end up murdering her. The thought reawakened all her anxieties.

"How could you possibly—how could you have known about that incident?" she demanded. "I mean, why should my behavior matter in the least to a man I barely know?"

He traced his forefinger along the thin purple scar that crossed his chin. "I have made myself aware of every suspicious activity and person in this village, including you, during the course of my investigation to bring my killer to justice."

"You can't think I had anything to do with the attack on you?"

"Of course not," he conceded with a frown. "But you did arrive at roughly the same time."

"It was a coincidence!" she said feelingly.

"Yes. Apparently an unfortunate one for you."

He didn't need to remind her of the potential danger she faced. She had not drawn an easy breath from the moment she'd found him. She glanced at the door of the closet, then guarded back at him. Her mind began putting pieces together. How could she be standing here so calmly in conversation with a . . . corpse? Only her etiquette-obsessed sister would find a graceful escape in this situation. Charlotte's own impetuous tendencies were liable to make the whole the whole thing worse.

"The killer," she said, looking up at his shadowed face, "is that who you meant when you said someone chased you here?"

"Ah, so you are as curious as your brother. I shouldn't be surprised."

She twisted her hands her hands behind her back. Heaven knew she didn't want to set him off again, but . . . "You aren't going to stay here?"

"I'll stay only as long as is absolutely necessary. A day or two at most."

"And you aren't going to . . ."

He hesitated, as if realizing in amused horror exactly what she feared. "Take advantage of you? Tie your frail thrashing limbs to the bedposts and seduce you in secret while the rest of your household snores the night away?" He paused in apparent contemplation of the delicious absurdity of such a situation. "Hmm. It wasn't part of my original plan, but one learns to adapt. Do you think we ought to give it a try?"

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