Free Uncertain Magic by Laura Kinsale Page B

keep the secret to myself. He holds a sensitive government post, you see, and has five more unmarried daughters, unfortunate man. I believe they have put it about that Jane has died of smallpox."
    The painful grip of his fingers on her arm belied his conversational tone of voice. She could almost feel bruises forming beneath her jacket and blouse.
    "A representative example of a scheme which I've found to be successful over the years," he added. "I shall not bore you with particulars. Suffice it to say that I've ruined no fewer than eight innocent maids and sent them all to walk the streets of London while I pocket their parents' hush money."
    His stranglehold on her arm had begun to cut off her circulation. She twisted one hand about the other, trying to ease the tingling. He showed no sign of noticing her discomfort, but forced her along with him on his slow and terrible stroll. "Yes," he said casually, "I quite excel at extortion. I'm also in the habit of manufacturing false evidence concerning the many indiscreet young bucks who frequent certain houses in the City. It's shockingly easy, I fear, to bribe servants into the wildest of tales—stories which could ruin a man's good name for life. Occasionally the game becomes more challenging, for a few of these young men are quite courageous. Even rash. They have the effrontery to face me down in a public place and accuse me of blackmail. They challenge me to meet them, and naturally I accept—how could a man of honor do less, my love? And you have called me a man of honor, have you not?"
    She opened her mouth to put an end to the bitter words, but he quickly cut her off. "I don't care for duels myself," he said, in a careless way. "But I assure you I am an excellent shot. I always aim to kill on the field of honor, my dear. A clever way of discouraging the practice, don't you think? I fancy I would have faced challenges without number had I been so foolish as to go lightly on my adversaries. I'm proud to say I've dispatched three young men of promise and valor and still escaped the displeasure of the law, although I believe my feats are common knowledge in the highest circles. Alas, there is no proof." He made a sound of disgust. "Otherwise, I make no doubt, I wouldn't be in a position to offer you my hand—as a man of
honor
." His hold on her loosened, so suddenly that she took an unbalanced step away from him. He let her go, with a sardonic, sideways glance; "Frightened, little girl?"
    "No." Roddy stood rubbing her tingling hand. "I think you would like me to be."
    He raised his dark brows. "You don't believe what I've told you?"
    "I—I hardly know what to believe, my lord." She was floundering, and missing her talent painfully. What had seemed like freedom a few moments before now felt like a prison with blank, unbreachable walls. "I cannot think you have killed men for nothing."
    His smile was sour and hard. "It's always for nothing that men are killed, my sweet child."
    "I don't believe you've shot any young men over trifles," Roddy said resolutely. "You wouldn't even race your horse when I told you he might die."
    His blue eyes narrowed. He inclined his head in a slight, chilly bow. "Ask Cashel," he said. "He has acted second for me. He may also tell you that an accusation of blackmail is no trifle."
    She stiffened at the steel in his voice. "I will." She was glad to hear that her own words only quivered a tiny bit.
    "Geoffrey will tell me the truths even if you won't. Have you more tales to frighten schoolroom misses?"
    His face became a mask. "Many," he said curtly. "I think the most celebrated of them must be the rumor that I murdered my father when I was ten years old."
    If Roddy had never perceived the same word flitting through Geoffrey's mind, she might have stopped herself from instinctive recoil. But self-discipline came too late. The earl saw her start, and a smile of acid satisfaction twisted his mouth. He lifted her chin with one finger. "My lovely