Michael chuckled as he leaned over the billiard table to take a nearly impossible shot that naturally sailed gracefully into the pocket. He always knew. True innocence was impossible to feign if the person searching for it did not desire to find it. Personally, he never desired to find it. It was a hindrance for him, as innocents required promises he was unwilling to make. Charming and willing company could be found that was of a far more temporary nature.
"Your charming wife jaded you, Rhys. Miss Walters, in carnal matters at least, is as pure as the driven snow."
Rhys didn't question Michael's assessment of her virtue. If Michael said she was innocent, then innocent she was. His knowledge of the fairer sex bordered on unnatural. Michael was also privy to more gossip, as women were far more inclined to converse with a rogue than a possible murderer.
"Other matters are more concerning to me. Her supposed carnal ignorance aside, Michael, what else do you know of her?"
Michael took another shot, this one sinking as gracefully and beautifully as the last. He rose to his full height and met Rhys’ stare with a challenging one of his own. “Do you really want to exchange on dits about a green girl? We have brandy, cigars and billiards and yet you wish to talk about a woman neither of us can touch without getting leg-shackled to?"
Michael was being deliberately obtuse. It was a ploy that Rhys recognized well.
"I'd like to know if I should confiscate mother's jewelry for safe keeping. Miss Walters is a charlatan, of course, but I have yet to ascertain how it benefits her. Money, attention, a bit of notoriety?"
Michael snorted. Lady Phyllis was unlikely to hand over her jewelry to anyone, and with Lady Eleanor about, acting as her guard dog, he doubted the crown jewels themselves could be any safer.
"You needn't worry about Phyllis’ jewelry, old friend. It would take a far stealthier villain than your Miss Walters to part her from her sparklers. And as for what the lovely mystic wants, I do not believe it's money, attention or notoriety.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I watched her for a bit. She's very easy to watch, you know? There are other women present, whom it would be quite a chore to stare at, but she is lovely, understated—a diamond in the rough. She has several very alluring qualities. I can think of two immediately."
Rhys knew he was being baited, but he rose to the occasion regardless. “Enough! Discounting what I might suspect of her, she is still a guest here. She is an innocent young woman, as you yourself stated. You are many things, Ellersleigh, but crass has never been one of them."
Michael chuckled. So that was the way of it, he thought. He hadn't seen Rhys so torn up over a female in, well, ever he thought. Smiling, he said, “Very well. I promise not to speak of her with anything but the utmost respect. But even you have to admit that she is quite lovely; try as she might to disguise it."
At Rhys’ reluctant nod, Michael grinned at him before continuing, “She's a bit on the shy side, and obviously feels out of place. Since she arrived everyone has been after her to do parlor tricks like she's some sort of trained monkey. Personally, I think she'd rather be holed up in the library with a copy of the Bard. That is how I found her this afternoon during that blasted game of charades we were all hiding from."
Michael missed his next shot. Rhys eyed him dubiously. Michael never missed a shot. He'd done so purposely to provide a chance for Rhys to actually play in the game, or perhaps it was a simple diversionary tactic, considering the information he'd just lobbed at him like a bloody cannon ball. Ignoring his friend's attempt to discreetly forfeit the game, he selected a cue and made a quick study of the table.
"You found her in the library and didn't think to mention it?"
Michael's response was a Gallic shrug, a gesture that had served him well during their years in France. “I didn't know you were so bloody curious."
Rhys lined up his shot with care and watched it sink into the pocket. “She's an enigma. I want to know what her intentions are. Find out what you can."
Michael rolled his eyes heavenward and took a healthy swallow of his brandy. “By any means necessary?"
Rhys’ shot went wide, which prompted Michael to raise his eyebrows. “I think you're curious about more than her motives, my friend."
Rhys didn't deny it as he watched Michael clear the table.
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Chapter Two
The following morning, Emme was seated at her dressing table trying desperately to untangle the rat's nest that was her hair when Gussy entered, bearing a tray. Emme had awoken earlier from fitful dreams where the mysterious duke had kissed her. The dreams had been a bit vague, but having never been kissed, so was Emme's knowledge.