Admittedly, Sebastian had let everyone else believe Ennis was already dead when he’d reached him, but being Drake’s surrogate, he would have done that regardless. Such a pretense wouldn’t protect him from a nervous killer.
Should anything occur to delay me…
Her eyes narrowed. Sebastian had suggested that the magistrate might detain him, but how likely was that? As he’d already demonstrated, he’d had no difficulty winning Sir Humphrey to his cause.
No—he’d foreseen the possibility that the killer might come for him, and that was why he’d extracted that promise from her.
Fierce determination rose within her—a compulsion powered by potent and forceful emotions. The feeling was so startlingly strong, it took her several moments to identify it. Protectiveness, but of a strain she’d never before experienced.
Now she’d finally come to her senses and fully appreciated what Sebastian was to her—and it appeared he’d finally focused on her, too—she was not going to allow any killer to get in the way of what she already considered their joint future.
Of course, that future was still undecided and might not come to be, but if so, it would be at their determination; she was not of a mind to allow any killer to interfere, much less dictate.
She lay staring up at the ceiling as possibilities and options revolved in her mind.
As it happened, the best way forward was relatively easy to define.
She would stick like glue to Sebastian’s side through whatever investigative forays he made; that, she felt certain, as her lids fell and she slid toward slumber, was the only viable way of ensuring that the killer in their midst had no chance to derail the future she was now determined to explore.
Chapter 6
The following morning, feeling decidedly grim, Sebastian walked along the gallery and started down the stairs. He’d spent far too many hours over the past night thinking—of Antonia and that fraught moment in her room.
If he had the time again, he was almost certain he would react differently—that he would give in to the urgent compulsion that had gripped him, if only to see where it led.
Anything would be better—less aggravating—than all the hours he’d spent tossing in his bed.
Yet despite the lust that hovered like a combustible cloud between them—a cloud he knew very well would grow only more dense, more intense, the longer they refrained from igniting it and letting it burn—despite the fact the scales had now fallen from his eyes regarding her, and if he was any judge, had fallen from her eyes regarding him as well, now was not the time to pursue such a connection. Not with a murderer under the same roof, and God alone knew what danger hovering.
Gunpowder. Here.
Ennis’s words haunted him, constantly replaying in his mind.
Duty and Drake’s mission came first. Antonia and whatever might come of their new level of interaction could safely wait until later.
That said, he’d already realized that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the mission, on figuring out which ‘here’ Ennis had meant, if he—the less civilized male inside him—wasn’t assured of Antonia’s safety.
With a murderer in the company, the only way to ensure she was safe was to keep her with him.
Given her typical feminine curiosity and her predilection for involving herself in whatever was going on, he felt confident keeping her by his side wouldn’t require any great effort.
Thus resolved, he stepped onto the tiles of the front hall, turned left, and entered the breakfast room.
Somewhat to his surprise, he discovered he was the last of the company to approach the sideboard. Knowing that due to the distance from London, the inspector—and therefore Sir Humphrey—wasn’t likely to arrive at the house until after nine o’clock, he’d slept late. He’d thought others would have, too, but one glance at the faces around the table suggested few had found any true rest; most looked strained, but were endeavoring to rise above it.
He was less surprised to find Cecilia at the table, nibbling a slice of toast and sipping tea. She’d never been a social hypocrite, and although she’d cared for Ennis, her feelings for him hadn’t run deep enough to excuse any histrionics. She had endeavored to find a black gown; the color made her blond paleness appear even more wan.
After filling his plate from the silver serving dishes arranged along the sideboard, he carried the plate to the empty chair between Antonia and Filbury. Antonia welcomed him with a small smile, Filbury with a nod.
As Sebastian sat, Antonia returned her attention to what he realized was a watchful examination of the others at the table.
On his other side, Filbury leaned nearer and murmured, “Dashed awkward, if you ask me. I hope this inspector knows his place and allows us to leave. Seems pointless to keep us all here when it’s plain as a pikestaff that some blighter climbed into the study, thinking to steal things, Ennis surprised him, and the blighter did for him. Wouldn’t surprise me if there were gypsies camped nearby.”