Free Dangerous to Know by TASHA ALEXANDER

and shook my body to its core. I don’t know when Sebastian appeared. I never heard his footsteps nor felt his hand on my shoulder when he knelt beside me. At some point, however, I became aware I was holding a dry handkerchief and realized he’d handed it to me. His eyes were the bright sapphire blue I remembered them to be, and they were looking at me not with concern, but mischief.
    â€œYou’re as bad as I am, Mrs . Hargreaves. Although I gather I’m not to call you that. It’s Lady Emily now, isn’t it? Correct address is so important.”
    â€œDon’t torment me,” I said.
    â€œI’m merely applauding your performance. It was worthy of the Divine Sarah.”
    â€œYou don’t consider her a skilled actress?” I asked, wiping the rest of my tears.
    â€œThe finest. I saw her play Cleopatra not two years ago.”
    â€œThen you should not compare her to me,” I said. “What you see before you is not acting.”
    â€œCome, now, you can’t expect me—”
    â€œSometimes, Mr. Capet, all a lady has left is the truth.” He was still resting his hand on my shoulder. I removed it and rose to my feet. “I feel a certain responsibility to you—I know not why, particularly as it seems you’ve abandoned your charge.”
    Sebastian had promised to look after Edward White, a young boy whom we had both encountered during Sebastian’s quest for objects owned by Marie Antoinette. Only a handful of people knew the child’s true identity—that he was the direct descendent of the last dauphin of France. The Capet family had protected Marie Antoinette’s son, Louis Joseph, after his secret escape from the clutches of cruel guards during the revolution, and it was Sebastian’s legacy to continue the tradition by looking after Edward. It was a role against which he’d rebelled, but eventually, after learning the boy had nearly been killed by a person with a vested interest in protecting the claims of a pretender to the French throne, he agreed to do his duty.
    â€œI’ve done nothing of the sort!” he said. “He and his mother are on holiday at the seaside. They’re perfectly safe.”
    â€œI’m not in a humor to argue with you.”
    â€œWhat’s troubling you, my darling Kallista?”
    â€œDon’t call me that.”
    â€œYou have no idea how you wound me.” He sidled closer to me.
    â€œYou have to stop this, Mr. Capet.”
    â€œDarling, I know you call me Sebastian to everyone else. Why cling to formality when we’re alone?”
    â€œWe shouldn’t be alone. It’s inappropriate. I want you to come back to the house with me.”
    â€œAbsolutely not!” He brushed dust from his yellow waistcoat.
    â€œWhy must you make everything difficult?” I asked, tears pooling in my eyes. “I cannot take much more.”
    â€œDarling, please.” He held out a hand; I pushed it away. “Gossip told me of your injuries, but I see that you’re well recovered if you’re able to ride. Although emotionally perhaps not quite so well as physically. What is troubling you?”
    â€œMore things than I care to recount. And if you’ve any of the qualities of a gentleman you won’t press me.”
    â€œI shan’t press you.” His voice, low and gentle, had a rhythmic quality to it, almost musical. “Though it wounds me to think you believe I’ve any of the qualities of a gentleman.”
    â€œMy husband feels strongly that you need to present yourself to the police and give an alibi for Edith Prier’s murder.”
    â€œYou don’t think I killed her?”
    â€œWhat is your alibi?”
    He heaved a sigh. “When was she murdered?” he asked. “Surely you don’t expect me to keep a catalog of morbid events in my head?”
    â€œSebastian!”
    â€œFirst name. That’s much