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Truth be told, neither did she. Her revelation about the moonlight did not do much apart from potentially persuade Roman his aunt was not entirely mad. Whoever she had seen, he had looked like her late husband, at least to her eyes. Clem put both hands to her cheeks and sighed.

Investigating was harder than it appeared, and she had not asked nearly enough questions of Mary, it seemed. Even the written advice from her cousins had not prepared her for just how confusing this whole business was.

It did not help that she had to work with Roman, though. His looming presence would disturb even the primmest of debutantes. Unable to resist skimming her gaze over the length of him, she withheld a sigh.

She might loathe the man, but no one could deny he was the very image of perfection. Physically, that was. His uptight personality left a lot to be desired. She did wonder quite what had happened over the past years to take him from the sort of person who would encourage her young brother to strip himself of his clothes…to this.

Roman waved at her. “Am I to stay like this forever?”

Clem jolted into action, pressing his shoulder back so that he stood at more of an angle. Less pondering and more investigating. Who cared about the inner workings of Roman’s mind? Not her, to be certain. She had not read about the empowerment of women for nothing. Mrs. Wollstonecraft would be rolling in her grave if she saw Clem so distracted by broad shoulders and muscled thighs.

This time she allowed herself a sigh. They really were admirable thighs, though.

“I should question your aunt further.” She prodded his other shoulder then moved his arm. “Like this, I think.”

A brow lifted. “You think the intruder stood exactly like this.”

Taking a step back, she smothered a laugh with the back of her hand. “Perhaps not.”

He relaxed his posture. “Is this really going to achieve anything?”

“Remove your jacket.”

“Pardon?”

Folding her arms, she stared him down. “You heard me.”

Jaw clenched, Roman removed his jacket slowly, maintaining eye contact with her. He surely could not know of the impact he had when he slowly drew his arm out of each sleeve then folded the jacket over the back of the chair, allowing her a chance to admire the flex of muscles against his shirt fabric.

If the heat in her cheeks was anything to go by, he’d know soon enough, though. Clem concentrated on gulping down cooling breaths and forced her attention to the oval embroidered wall hanging just behind him. No need to think of muscles and skin. Just look at the pretty little thistle someone had made. So pretty and—

“What next?”

The heat returned the moment she looked at him. She had Lord Rochdale alone and at her mercy. She could do anything with him.

Dear Lord, when had she turned so wanton? It was not like she’d know what to do with him anyway. Her one trifling experience had been just that—trifling—and there was only so much one could learn from the naughty books in her father’s library, on the shelf he thought none of his daughters knew about. It was time to put her attention where it needed to be.

“If his shirt got caught, I have to assume he removed his jacket,” she said. “Would you wear your jacket if climbing into windows?”

“Likely not, I suppose.”

“Now stand by the table and pretend to try to get into it.” She turned and retreated to the bed, lying down and lacing her fingers over her stomach. “The curtains must have been at least ajar after the intruder slipped in so it might have been bright in here, but I cannot see much of your face from this angle.” She pressed up onto her elbows. “There is a chance your aunt could have been mistaken, I suppose.”

“I told you.”

“Now pretend to escape.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

Roman hastened over to the window and pretended to open it. “If you want me to climb out of the window again, it’s not happening.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She dropped her head back against the pillow and flung and arm over her eyes. “None of this is helping.”

Footsteps approached and the floorboards creaked. “Don’t give up now, Musgrave.”

She slowly removed her arm. “You did not even want me to investigate this!”


Tags: Samantha Holt Historical