Roman struggled to find humor in the moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose when a dull ache started up by his eyes. This letter was becoming the sole source of all his headaches. Well, if one did not count the woman before him. If this mysterious intruder somehow got their hands on that letter, who knew what it could be used for?
No matter what Clementine said, the potential information in there could be used against his family name. No doubt many newspapers would pay a hefty sum for it, or perhaps the person intended to use it for blackmail. Roman hated the idea of paying a criminal to keep quiet but he could not say for certain what he would do if it did get into the hands of another.
Clementine put a hand to his arm then withdrew it quickly when he met her gaze. “All will be, uh, well. After all, you have hired men here now. I’m certain no one shall get into the house again.”
He pressed his lips together. “Whoever this is, they know the house. How else could they know about this hidden compartment?”
“That will not make it easy for them to gain access, though.” Creases formed between her brows. “It is odd, though. How many people would know of the existence of such a thing?” She gestured to the open wall. “Any more secrets lurking in your family? Like forgotten relatives?”
With a shake of his head, he pressed shut the compartment. “No more secrets.”
“And only you and your aunt know of the letter?”
“And my late-uncle,” he concurred.
“Maybe it really is your uncle. Maybe he was outrunning some debts and faked his death and now he’s run out of resources and—”
Roman held up a hand. “My uncle was a good man and there were no debts to his name when he died. Believe me, I am extremely versed in his financial situation. My blasted stepcousins have made certain of that, and Duke would have informed me.”
“He could have paid Duke off?”
He fixed her with a firm look.
“Very well, he’s definitely still dead.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “Come with me, will you?”
Before he could agree, she looped her hand around his wrist. She tugged him out into the hallway, and he did not miss the bemused look from a passing maid. He’d be amused too if he saw them—this small redhead dragging him along and giving him no say in what he did next. If it was not for the soft fingers touching his skin, he might appreciate it, too. It made rather a change not to oversee absolutely everything. Part of him wanted to sit back and enjoy the brief moment that Clementine Musgrave had total say over his physical being.
His breath caught in his throat when images assailed him—images of him lying back whilst she touched far more than his wrist and dictated more than where he went. How would that red hair look against bare shoulders? What would those lips look like parted? Would she blush when he kissed her body? What sort of noises did she make in the bedchamber?
“Roman?”
He blinked. Wonderful. Now he was imagining his name on her lips too. Bloody hell.
She gave his wrist another pull. “You have to move your feet to walk, Roman.”
He glanced at his polished boots and took a step forward. Apparently, being in her company stopped his body from recalling even the most basic of skills. In addition, it turned him into an utter deviant. Musgrave or not, Clementine was an unwed, innocent woman. He had no business thinking such thoughts.
When she led him into his aunt’s bedroom, he almost groaned aloud. The last place he needed to be with her was in a room with a bed.
Get a grip, Roman.He was not some base man with no control. He’d spent the past decade being exceedingly careful, never putting a foot wrong for fear of tarnishing the good name of the Marquis of Rochdale. He wasn’t going to trip up now simply because some redhead kept ordering him about.
He glanced around the delicately feminine room. Nothing had changed since their last visit apart from the bedding, which was now all gold and heavily embroidered. “What are we doing here?”
“Remember I said it was a full moon?”
He nodded.
“Well, I want to see how much your aunt might have seen.”
“I hasten to point out the flaws in your plan, of which there are many, but in case you had not noticed, it’s daytime, and there is most certainly no full moon.”
She shooed away his protest with a flap of her hands. “If we can figure out how much your aunt saw, we can at least decide if it really was your uncle.”
“It was not,” he insisted.
With a grunt, Clementine shoved open the window. “Climb out.” She gestured to the window then stared at him expectantly.
“No,” he said after a few moments when he realized she was deadly serious.