Free Not Wicked Enough by Carolyn Jewel Page A

and that included noblemen of any rank. “Shall I do that?”
     
    “No,” the duke said in a pleasant voice that nevertheless frosted her ears. “You shall not. I meant, Wellstone, where is the phosphorus?”
     
    “On the table.” She pointed. His eyes darted that direction, and she knew instantly what he intended. She took a step back and to the side, placing herself in front of the table and between the duke and her phosphorus, arms outspread. “It’s mine, sir. I purchased it at the apothecary earlier today. I’m afraid I cannot allow you to take my property.”
     
    “Mountjoy—” his brother said.
     
    “And I”—the duke spoke with deceptive calmness—“cannot permit anyone to continue in possession of a substance capable of burning down my home.”
     
    Lord Nigel spoke up again, loudly. “See here, Mountjoy. You’ve no call to address her like that.”
     
    The duke could glower all he liked. She would march to her doom willingly and alone. Brave to the very end.
     
    “You and I will speak later,” Mountjoy said to Lord Nigel.
     
    Lily looked at Lord Nigel and then at Ginny and Miss Kirk. Lord Nigel was still pale, but his eyes were fiery. He’d taken a step toward Jane, and Lily silently applauded his instinct to protect the young woman and his sister. Ginny stood with her hands to her mouth and was blinking rapidly. Jane, very sensibly, sat quite still, but she was not holding up well either. There would be tears any moment, and Lily would not stand for that.
     
    “If there is blame to apportion, it belongs to me alone,” Lily said. “I proposed the experiment. I convinced the others. And I acquired all the necessary materials.” She picked up the container of phosphorus. “Might we discuss this in private, your grace?”
     
    “No.”
     
    She fixed him with a glower she hoped was every bit as intimidating as his. “But, your grace,” she said. There wasn’t enough sugar in the world to match her sweetness. “I require a word in private with you.” She walked to him and put her arm through his free arm—he still had his coat in a choke hold in the other—and headed for the door. “Ginny, I’ll meet you and Miss Kirk in the Oldenburg salon in a quarter of an hour. Twenty minutes, at the most.” She glanced at the duke and amended her estimate. “Perhaps half an hour. And you, as well, Lord Nigel. I expect tea will be as lovely as always.”
     
    She tightened her fingers on Mountjoy’s arm and said in a voice pitched low, “Do come along.”
     
    Mountjoy did. She wasn’t surprised. She’d found over theyears that men responded to decisive action, perhaps especially from a woman. Nursemaids trained them to obedience from an early age.
     
    Lily strolled out of the room with Mountjoy at her side. “Which way?”
     
    “Left.”
     
    “Thank you.” She marched down the hall only to have him refuse to follow.
     
    He drawled, “The other left, Miss Wellstone.”
     
    “Never mind then.” She opened the nearest door. “This room will do.”
     
    Mountjoy reached around her in time to hold the door for her. When she’d swept in, he followed, holding out a hand after they ended up facing each other. He continued strangling his coat with the other.
     
    “The phosphorus, Wellstone.”
     
    “I told you, it’s mine.” She crossed her arms, but she was distracted by the breadth of his coatless shoulders. He wasn’t a huge man, but there was substance to his frame and none of it to spare. “You’ll think me bold and impertinent, your grace, and you will be right.”
     
    “I always am.” His voice was steel and smoke, but there was something else there, too. Something hungry that sent a frisson of anticipation racing down her spine.
     
    “Do please put on your coat,” she said. “I don’t think I can bear to look at your waistcoat another minute.”
     
    The duke drew in a long, slow breath. “Forgive me.”
     
    “Again?”
     
    He put on his coat and