“What a fine job he is on the continent then.” Clementine’s expression turned smug. “Besides, do you really think Basil would haul his own sister over his shoulder?”
Lady Violet eyed Roman for a minute. It took a moment for him to realize why her gaze skirted over his shoulders and down his arms.
He put his hands up. “I’m not hauling her over my shoulder.”
Her posture slumped. “I do not suppose it would make a good impression.”
The last thing he needed was for the scandal sheets to be writing of Lord Rochdale carrying a Musgrave over his shoulder to goodness knows where. They’d have him eloping with her in moments or something worse. Every fear his father had had would come true in mere moments.
“Youneed to keep my sister safe,” Lady Violet ordered, that ink-stain coming back into his view. “If anything happens to her, I will kill you myself.”
He peered past the finger to meet a gaze that was deadly serious. He wasn’t certain how this slender woman would harm him, but still, he believed her.
“I will keep her safe,” he vowed. Because if he didn’t, it wasn’t her sister he had to worry about. He’d never forgive himself, either.
Chapter Fifteen
“Did you not say you should not be moved?”
Clem huffed. Did Roman have to be so wretchedly rigid? Whoever had helped her younger brother get exceedingly drunk all those years ago had long vanished. A man with a stick for a spine and the rule book up each sleeve had replaced him, surely? Or perhaps he was the sort of man who thrived on having others break the rules where he refused to. That might explain the whole, encouraging her brother to strip naked and climb a statue incident.
She wrinkled her nose. No, that did not seem right. If that were true, he would have no issues with her hopping about his aunt’s house.
“Have you never lied to your family?”
He paused.
“Sometimes one must tell little falsehoods to keep them happy, mustn’t one?”
He cleared his throat. “I do not lie to my family.”
No, he probably didn’t, though she heard a little hidden addition there. Something like ‘not anymore at least.’ What had he lied about before? He had her curious indeed.
But she could not get distracted. She flexed her fingers and reached out toward him. He remained by the door to the drawing room and shrank back even farther into the threshold as though she were a hideous beast extending her tentacles.
“I need your help to get up that is all.”
“I already promised your sister you would be safe.”
“A little hop to the library is hardly going to kill me now, is it? And I cannot sit here all day. The intruder was in the library, so we must search it.”
“You make the assumption the intruder knows more about the letter than we do.” Roman folded his arms. “Thus far, this person has been flailing around more than we have.”
Flailing? If one called nearly kissing a man she disliked flailing then she would be inclined to agree.
“My cousin tells me this is all part of investigating.”
His brows lifted. “Your cousin?”
“Chastity. The Countess of Kendall. She says investigating is about tugging at each little thread until something gives way.”
“What exactly does your cousin have to do with this?”
Well, she was not going to explain the Duchess’s Investigative Society to him now. He would probably laugh at the idea, and she did not need him to distract her further. The blasted man proved enough of a distraction as it was with all the raw strength buried under a ruby red waistcoat. Could he not exude something else for a change? Something dull enough to match his rigid rules?
“Cease trying to distract me.” She reached out again and made a grabbing motion.
“I’m distracting you?”