Free Debra Mullins by Scandal of the Black Rose

perfectly well she’d been indulging her curiosity.
    She cleared her throat. “I’ve gotten a bit turned around,” she fibbed.
    “If you’ve come to call on Vin, I will be happy to escort you to the parlor.”
    “No!” She took a breath, willing her heart to stop its thundering. “That is, I was just leaving.”
    “The doorway to the street is not located in the library.”
    She blushed, caught. “I wanted to look more closely at this portrait. Who is he?”
    Rome cast a hard glance at the painting. “My father.”
    “You look very like him.”
    “Unfortunately, there is nothing to be done about that.” He took her arm and guided her away from the picture. “Vin hardly knew our father. Perhaps that is why she keeps his portrait when my mother demanded it be removed from her household.”
    The edge in his voice warned her not to trespass further.
    “I shouldn’t have intruded,” Anna apologized. “I was simply drawn by the resemblance.”
    “Don’t give it another thought. I find the situation much in my favor, as we did not have the opportunity to converse at Haverford’s dinner party.” He met her gaze for one, long, meaningful moment. “I thought we could renew our acquaintance beyond the masks of society.”
    Masks? Heaven help her, did he know ?
    Impossible. Shaken, she pulled her arm from his grasp. “I’m afraid I am late for an appointment. Some other time, perhaps.”
    “Surely you can spare me a moment. After all, we are practically family.”
    “I don’t know—” She glanced toward the open door.
    “Come now, Miss Rosewood,” he coaxed. “I assure you we will leave the door ajar.”
    “Very well.” Afraid that protesting further might arouse his suspicions, she ignored the instinct that urged her to flee and instead edged just out of touching range. “But only a moment, Mr. Devereaux. My mother expects me directly.”
    He gave a nod. “Message received, Miss Rosewood. I will do nothing to inconvenience your mama.”
    His persuasive smile shook her to her bones and spurred her to move immediately to the opposite side of the room, where two great leather chairs sat beneath the window overlooking the tiny garden. She smoothed one hand over the dark leather chair back and gazed out the window.
    It was all she could do to maintain a calm expression. Inside, her intuition demanded that she run. But she didn’t dare. If she left too quickly, it would only feed his suspicions. Yet if she lingered, she took the chance of betraying herself.
    Watching her, Rome struggled to sort out his tangled emotions. When he’d seen her alone in the library, he hadn’t been able to resist joining her. He told himself he just wanted to find out if she was toying with his family. That he needed to make certain she was not trying to play Marc for a fool. But her resemblance to the woman he had met at Vauxhall—and the possibility that they could be one and the same—stirred other, more disturbing feelings.
    Her lush mouth haunted him, and the husky timbre of her voice played along his nerve endings just like the one in his memories. His body stirred just at the remembrance of holding that sweet female body in his arms, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking a brief, frank appraisal of her physical charms.
    She turned an inquiring glance his way, and he stifled his passionate thoughts with the choke-hold of strong will.
    Marc’s intended. Forbidden.
    He lingered near Henry’s desk. Better to keep space between them, especially since his wits all but failed him in her presence. None of the usual social niceties came as easily to his normally glib tongue. He knew he wanted to find out the truth about her, but the delicate situation called for all his diplomatic skills.
    If he was right, he might very well save Marc from marrying the wrong woman. And if he was mistaken, he would have deeply offended a lady who would soon be a member of his family. That was an insult even Marc would not