Page 21 of As the Devil Dares

Without pausing in her long list of preparations, his mother slowly rose to her feet and gently led Mariah to hers. Which forced Robert to his. Yet it also meant that tea was over and that the aggravating minx was leaving. Good. After today, he hoped never to have to deal directly with her again.

“Thank you so much for a wonderful afternoon, Your Grace—I mean, Elizabeth.” Mariah smiled warmly at the duchess. Then she turned to him and coldly bobbed a half-hearted attempt at a disdainful curtsy as she muttered, “Lord Robert.”

His lips tightened. Only Mariah Winslow could turn his name into an accusation. “Miss Winslow.” He inclined his head. “Good day.” And good riddance.

She turned to leave, assuring his mother that she could see herself out.

But just as she reached the doorway, she stopped. Then she turned slowly to look back. Not at him or his mother, but to let her gaze drift curiously around the room. The grand space was garishly decorated in a riot of gold gilding, with naked cherubs frolicking across the painted ceiling, and he didn’t blame her for being a bit stunned by it.

“Hmm.” She tilted her head and mumbled contemplatively, “I’m beginning to think that all those stories I’ve heard about Park Place must be apocryphal.”

“Oh?” his mother asked, perplexed. “Why is that?”

With a smile aimed directly at Robert and the intent to cause as much trouble for him as possible, she announced, “I simply don’t think it’s possible that an elephant could have fit into the gardens!”

Then she slipped out the door.

His mother slid her imperious gaze sideways at him. “Robert Spenser Carlisle, what does she mean?”

His patience snapped. Biting back a curse, he charged after her.

* * *

Laughing to herself, Mariah bounced down the hallway toward the front door. Oh, the look on Carlisle’s face—priceless. Whitby was right, she could hardly believe it. An elephant! She would have admired Carlisle for his audacity if she didn’t dislike him so—

A strong hand closed over her elbow and propelled her into a side room before she could protest. The door slammed shut with a bang.

Robert Carlisle stepped her back against the wall and pressed his hands against the paneling at her shoulders, trapping her with his broad body. Raw anger pulsated from him.

As she stared at him, her heart lodged in her throat even as it lurched into a furious tattoo.

“Quite the little show you put on back there,” he drawled, his deep voice even more terrifying for all of its control.

“You’re the one who declared war, Carlisle,” she countered, the fight rising in her. She refused to be cowed. Certainly not by him! “I’m merely playing by your rules of—”

He placed a fingertip to her lips. She fell silent, more from the furious flicker in his eyes than the resistance of his finger. “Our war,” he said, surprisingly icily given the hot anger that radiated from him, “does not involve my mother. Understand?”

She glared at him through eyes narrowed to slits, but nodded. When he pulled his finger away, she resisted the urge to bite it.

“I would never dream of upsetting your mother.” How dare he suggest such a thing! Indignantly, she threw back, “I like the duchess. She’s a lovely woman with a caring heart.”

Which was the truth. Mariah had expected a pinch-faced, boring matron as pompous as her son and was prepared to hate the woman on sight. Instead, she found herself liking Elizabeth Carlisle a great deal. Everything Whitby had told her about the woman—her elegance, her graciousness, her generosity—had proven true.

So had the arrogance and wicked reputation of her son, who stood far too close for comfort. Close enough that she could smell the faint bergamot scent of his shaving soap still clinging to his skin.

“And that bit about the orphans?” His jaw tightened. “How were you trying to manipulate my mother with that?”

“I wasn’t. I am a patroness of the Gatewell School.” Something pricked shamefully inside her that he’d think her so evil as to use orphans to her advantage. His low opinion of her bothered her more than she wanted to acknowledge.

“And that parting shot about the elephant?” he pressed.

She flashed him a saccharine smile and purred, “Pure spite.”

He leaned toward her to bring his flashing eyes level with hers. His mouth was so close that the warmth of his breath tickled against her lips. “Did it ever occur to you, Mariah, that I’m on your side?”

Ha! Did he truly think her so simple as to believe that? She arched a brow. “By driving a wedge between me and my father?”

“You don’t need me for that.” A dark light glinted knowingly in his eyes. “You’ve done a fine job of turning your father against you yourself.”