It is not fitting that I do most of the things I have done since the day I married. She almost said it, but the way he wiped her palm distracted her. So did the sensation of his own fingers pressing the back of her hand. Not gentle or careful. More commanding and efficient. She still found that touch, and her toleration of it, fascinating.

He dropped her hand, then lifted the other. “You are not here to earn some coin. You are watching the family. You hope to find a way to blame one of them.”

Another arch response entered her head, but what he was doing to her hand garnered more attention. He had a firm hold on her, but she did not feel threatened. The time he took in removing the unsuitable soot charmed her, despite her dislike of him.

The soot gone and the handkerchief ruined, he did not release her right away. She looked up to see him gazing down at her palm and fingers.

She pulled her hand away. “You still consider me a likely object of accusation, if you assume I am looking to place the blame elsewhere.”

“If it is determined he did not fall accidentally, everyone is a possible object of accusation. You are no more likely than any of the others. You do not need to devise a way to accuse someone else.”

She would be much more likely to find fingers pointing at herself. Fortunately, he did not know that. Yet.

“I do not seek a way to accuse anyone. However, my fate for good or bad is now bound to this family’s. I am naturally curious, as I said.”

“Yes. As you said.”

He had become irritating again. She moved aside, so she could step around him. “I must leave. I am expected to help in the kitchen after dinner.”

She reached the door. His hand rose high on it, holding it closed. “If you, in your duties, should learn something of interest, you should inform me.”

“They are your relatives. If I find something of interest, you will probably bury it.”

He let her go then. She paused once she was away from the chamber, and pressed her back against the hard wall. She looked down at her hands. Some soot still showed around her fingernails. She felt again the gentle wipes on her palm, and the strong hand holding hers.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Chase let himself into Nicholas’s apartment. He found the new duke in his dressing room, preparing for dinner.

“You think to attend like that?” Nicholas raised his chin while his valet tied his crisp cravat. “Johnson, give my cousin a fresh neck linen.”

Johnson, a middle-aged, small man with pale hair, finished the tie, then took another linen from a neatly ironed stack. He approached Chase, set down the linen, and reached up to untie Chase’s neckpiece.