Never Trust a Rogue by Olivia Drake

around toward him. With his arms acting as manacles, he locked her against the door panel. She must be a thief. He’d been right to sense something amiss. . . .
    One look at her face left him thunderstruck. Framed by the droopy white mobcap, she had the fine features of a lady—a lady he knew well. He was gazing down into the defiant blue eyes of Miss Lindsey Crompton.

    In short order, Lindsey found herself marched back into the library by Lord Mansfield. His fingers had a bruising grip on her upper arm, and his cold expression was etched in stone. There was absolutely no way to escape, trapped as she was by the oversized shoes and his superior strength.
    He righted a straight-backed chair that had been knocked over and then pushed her down onto it. “Sit.”
    Lindsey obeyed, although pride kept her chin high. He had every right to be furious, she reckoned. She had invaded his house, tricked his staff, and tried to deceive him, too. Once he calmed down, maybe she’d have a chance to talk her way out of this dilemma.
    Mrs. Yardley swooped after them. “I’m terrible sorry, m’lord. She said she was the girl from the agency.”
    “I said no such thing,” Lindsey objected. “You assumed it.”
    Mrs. Yardley shook her finger at Lindsey. “An’ listen to ye talk, all ’igh-an’-mighty. Ye came ’ere to steal ’Is Lordship blind, ye did. I thought there was somethin’ fishy about ye. I knew it fer sure when I went downstairs and the right girl came t’ the back door.”
    Now that was a contingency Lindsey hadn’t considered. She had been forced to make up the rules as she went along, rather than planning ahead, as she preferred to do. If only the earl hadn’t come into the library, she could have completed her search of his desk and then left the house before the woman’s return.
    “Go on back to your work,” Mansfield told Mrs. Yardley. “I’ll handle this matter.”
    “Best t’ check ’er pockets fer gold, m’lord. She belongs in Newgate, she does. I’ve a good mind t’ send a footman fer the Watch.”
    “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he said. “Now, go and await my instructions. And kindly close the door on your way out.”
    Mrs. Yardley gave Lindsey one final piqued glare, then dipped a curtsy to the earl. She flounced out of the library and pulled the door shut with a self-righteous click.
    Mansfield stood watching Lindsey. He placed his hands on his hips, pushing back his dark blue coat and making her uncomfortably aware of his powerful form. A shaft of morning sunlight illuminated his unsmiling face. The scar on his cheek would have lent him a sinister aspect except for the white spot of sticking plaster where he’d cut himself shaving.
    It made him look human.
    She would sooner believe him a fiend from Hell.
    Abruptly he stepped forward and thrust out his hand. “The key.”
    Denials would serve no purpose. Keeping a wary eye on him, Lindsey reached into the pocket of her apron, found the small iron key, and dropped it into his palm.
    “If you must know, I never looked in your desk,” she fibbed, not wanting him to know that she had seen the clipping. If only she’d had a chance to look at that notebook, too. . . . “You came in before I had the opportunity.”
    He dropped the key into an inner pocket of his coat. “If you think that absolves you of guilt, Miss Crompton, you’re sadly mistaken. You entered my house under false pretenses. You lied to Yardley. And you intended to steal something from me.” He paused. “I presume it was the IOU.”
    Lindsey swallowed. He mustn’t realize she was investigating Nelda’s disappearance, too. Mrs. Yardley had claimed Nelda had gone off somewhere with her lover, but what if the woman had been misled by Mansfield? If he was involved in Nelda’s mysterious vanishing, that in itself would be compelling evidence to prove he was the Serpentine Strangler. He may have disposed of her body in such a way that it had not yet been