Free The Love Affair of an English Lord by Jillian Hunter

his hands, and his killer on the loose.
    â€œWhy couldn’t you have fainted at my feet when you opened the closet door?” he asked her. “It would have spared us both a load of grief.”
    She motioned him to silence with a wave of her hand. “Be quiet a moment.”
    â€œWhat?” he said in astonishment.
    â€œI cannot hear a word Justin is saying with you muttering away. I think he might be asking to marry me.”
    Dominic stopped in his tracks, astonished at her sense of self-importance. Obviously she did not take his threat to her very seriously, which he suspected might have something to do with that kiss in the rain. He stared at her appealing figure, feeling an unwelcome flush of heat at her flirtatious voice.
    Chloe leaned out farther, laughing as she whispered, “A reward? Hmm. What did you have in mind? And, no, of course I haven’t forgotten you. What are you doing here?”
    â€œIsn’t it obvious?” Dominic muttered in disgust. “A clumsy seduction is under way. Let us all throw dirt at a maiden’s window to win her heart. What? No dirt available? Then try duck eggs. Or billiard balls.”
    Chloe glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Would you
please
be quiet?”
    â€œMe?” Dominic said, his hand lifting to his chest. “Why don’t you ask Romeo to do the same? He’s the one making all the racket.”
    â€œWhat are you saying, Chloe?” Justin called up in confusion. “I can’t understand you at all. Why don’t you come down in the garden so we can talk properly? I made up a poem in your honor.”
    â€œA poem,” Dominic said, throwing up his hands. His head was spinning. His shoulder was bleeding. And he had to stand by and listen to the local moron spout poetry?
    â€œI like poetry,” Chloe said under her breath.
    â€œI don’t,” Dominic snapped.
    â€œThen leave,” she whispered as she braced her elbows on the sill. “Perhaps you had better come back in the morning, Justin.”
    â€œThe morning?” Justin echoed in disappointment. “Don’t tell me I have to wait that long to see you again? I do not believe I can bear this, Chloe.”
    â€œWell, that makes two of us,” Dominic said darkly.
    Chloe tapped her fingernails on the windowsill. “Three.” Then, “Oh, Justin, bring your poem after breakfast. I shall be in a better mood.”
    Dominic scowled in the dark void behind her, his arms folded disapprovingly over his chest. Wasn’t this a lovely situation? He could hardly help noticing the wistful catch in Chloe’s voice. Nor, for that matter, could even a “dead” man such as himself overlook the suggestive draping of her body as she half dangled out the window to exchange whispers with her admirer.
    Which brought him back to wondering about that corset on the bed again. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that her brothers had sent her into social exile. Although a castle turret in the Italian Alps would probably not have provided enough isolation to keep this young lady out of mischief. She was too high-spirited and infused with Boscastle passion for her own good.
    The mere fact that she had already attracted the interest of Justin, Lord St. John, Chistlebury’s most eligible bachelor now that Dominic himself was dead, proved his point. Anyway, wasn’t Justin supposed to be engaged to the Seymour heiress, a rather insipid twit who had trouble putting together a coherent thought? What the devil was the boy doing, luring the lovely exile Chloe down into the dark?
    â€œI came all the way here to see you, Chloe.” Justin’s voice was beguiling in the mist. “Can’t you at least sneak outside for a few moments to talk to me?”
    â€œDon’t you dare agree to such an indecent demand,” Dominic said over her shoulder.
    â€œWhy shouldn’t I?” She sounded indignant at his