Free A Most Naked Solution by Anna Randol Page B

pushed away the paper he’d been working on and looked at her. “Have the roads dried?”
    “The storm cleared and the sun is shining. I imagine the roads are in much better condition.”
    “But are they dry?” From anyone else, the words would have seemed mocking, but she knew it was merely the way his brain functioned, carefully classifying information, clarifying any ambiguity.
    So she conceded. “I am not entirely sure, no.”
    “Then I shall send a groom to determine the condition of the road. After all, if our coaches are stranded side by side, there will be no end to the scandal.”
    Like the one she’d created by spending the night at his home.
    “I have requested my servants be discrete about last night,” he said, reading her face.
    Which was indeed kind of him. But she found herself strangely unconcerned. She was a widow. And while the gossip would fascinate Weltford for a few weeks, they’d eventually move on. Especially when there was no further gossip to fan the flames.
    And she had no reason at all to wish for more gossip.
    “Thank you, and thank you for your hospitality.”
    He shrugged and shuffled through his papers. “You’re most welcome. Thank you for your assistance last night.”
    Her stomach rumbled. Not in a dainty way that they could both pretend to ignore, but in a loud outraged bellow. She clapped her hands over her stomach but it was too late to take the embarrassing sound back. “I’ll go politely back to my room and ring for a tray.”
    Camden was grinning, a wide, full grin that revealed perfect white teeth and creases in his cheeks. He pointed to the plate on the desk. “This is my second one. I swear I haven’t touched it. You are welcome to it.”
    Oh, heavens. She had already barged into his house—she couldn’t steal his food, too. Although the bacon did look divine . . .
    “Come now, you filched my tarts last night. Why should breakfast be any different? We weren’t expecting you to be up for several more hours, so you know it will take them a good while to cook your meal. And you spent the night in my bed. The least you can do is share breakfast with me.”
    “In one of your beds. Otherwise you’d be far more exhausted this morning.” She primly sat in the chair facing the desk and pulled the plate closer to her, relishing the fierce pleasure in her chest. Apparently, all her wit hadn’t abandoned her this morning. She’d forgotten how much satisfaction she’d always gotten from besting her brothers. They’d often worn the same shocked expression. They thought her quiet and demure. She relished reminding them there was more to her than that.
    How could she have forgotten how good it felt? Ecstatic, like she’d found a trunk of jewels packed away in a musty attic.
    Which made her the musty attic, but she refused to dwell overly on it.
    She ate a few bites of eggs, content with his silence.
    “I find myself constantly surprised by you.” He sounded a bit wary, as if he wasn’t a man fond of surprises.
    “I have gone from suspect to houseguest to breakfast thief in a rather short amount of time.” She lifted her gaze from her plate to find his deep russet eyes serious.
    “Do not forget mathematical assistant.”
    No, how could she forget that, when it had been one of the most pleasant nights of her life?
    “I find myself vexed that I cannot tell if I truly think you are innocent or if I just wish it so.”
    He still suspected her then. She should have known, but his easy banter had banished those memories. “Why are you convinced I killed my husband?”
    He shook his head slightly. “I’m not, entirely.”
    Yet she was still being considered. She could sense it in his hesitation. “Do you have any reason to suspect me, other than the fact that I was married to him?”
    “That gives you motive. A strong one, from what I hear. Perhaps it even justification?”
    She pushed her plate away. “I will not lie to you. There were many times I wanted him