Blind Trust by Susannah Bamford Page B

didn’t jump. He looked up composedly.
    â€œMrs. Statton.”
    Silence hummed between them while Darcy slowly became aware that he was not about to explain to her why he had his hand in Ned Van Cormandt’s drawer. He was counting on the discretion bred in her bones to close the door and withdraw.
    â€œMr. Finn,” she said at last, “you are going through Mr. Van Cormandt’s desk.”
    â€œYes. Ned graciously offered me the use of the room to write my letters. I’m searching for a pen.”
    Darcy walked into the room. “I see. But there are two on top of the desk, there.”
    â€œSo there are,” Tavish replied genially. “Perhaps if you lend your help, we’ll find the ink.”
    He cocked his head and smiled at her, but Darcy responded with a frown. She was furious that he would think he could charm her out of this. And there was something else, a fury that felt so hot it must be personal. She felt betrayed; it wasn’t just her anxiety for Ned. “I think not,” she said icily. “I think I’d rather wait for Mr. Van Cormandt’s return to inform him of what his guest was doing in his absence.”
    â€œAh, Mrs. Statton, you leap to a conclusion which—”
    â€œI did not leap, sir. And well you know it.”
    They stood, facing each other, Darcy obdurate, Tavish seemingly at ease. The slight smile on his face infuriated her even more.
    â€œMrs. Statton, perhaps we should talk.” He skirted the desk and came toward her. He touched her arm.
    Darcy hesitated. She felt his fingers move against her wrist, insistence in the hard, callused tips despite the unhurried tone in his voice. She felt unable to move. He was looking down at her now, and his green eyes were grave.
    â€œI’m waiting,” she said, the breath leaving her so that the words came out softer than she’d wanted. And he continued to look at her, catching her glance, not allowing her to look away.
    Then, behind her, she heard the door open. Darcy turned, Tavish’s fingers still around her wrist, and her eyes met her husband’s. Claude stood in the doorway, tense and furious.
    The shock was so great for all three of them that no one spoke for a moment. Then Darcy moved forward.
    â€œHello, Claude. Mr. Finn and I were just discussing how empty the Van Cormandt house is with this new emphasis of Cora’s on outdoor sports. Why,” Darcy said, “if Mr. Finn didn’t run me down in here looking for a book, we wouldn’t have spoken to a soul all afternoon, and that truly would have made us disagreeable company this evening.”
    â€œI was desperately in need of company,” Tavish agreed lazily. “Poor Mrs. Statton was quite bewildered at my cries of joy upon finding her here.”
    â€œPerhaps you should have stuck to your original intention and slid down a slope with Miss Valentine,” Claude said. “Cries of joy would be more appropriate there, I believe.” His face was paler than Darcy had ever seen it, his full, pursed mouth now a line slashed across a forward-jutting chin. She’d so rarely seen Claude lose his temper, and never in public.
    He turned to her. “I think it’s time you retired to your room, Mrs. Statton,” he bit out.
    She almost did it—she almost bowed her head and retreated. But Darcy was filled with a new courage, and her chin lifted. With absolute, regal calmness, she said, “I’ve spent too much time in my room this afternoon. I believe I’ll stay here with Mr. Finn, for just a little while.”
    â€œYou will do as I say, madam!” The words were forced out of his mouth, tiny explosions of air.
    â€œI will do as I choose, Mr. Statton,” Darcy answered serenely, despite her trembling knees. “And I choose to remain.”
    Their gazes locked, her resolute gray one with his furious yellow one. Darcy willed herself not to surrender. She told herself