Seeing Danger (Sinclair and Raven #2)(3)

He'd never really noticed the color before, but realized now that it was golden blonde. Without her glasses, he saw soft feathered brows arched over a spectacular pair of lavender eyes that were framed by curling lashes.

Christ, she was actually beautiful.

Dev looked to her chin and saw the blood there, and felt his head swim. Inhaling, he pushed aside the sudden need to sit. He did not like blood, but it usually only had this effect on him when his siblings bled.

“Y-you are hurt,” he managed.

“’Tis nothing.” She wiped her chin with the back of her glove. “Now go home, Lord Sinclair, as I will give you no information about what transpired this night.”

She brushed past him with the man on her heels. Even her voice sounded different. The high-pitched grating tone had gone. Relieved that his breathing returned to normal now he could not see the blood, he followed.

“Why were you running after that man? And why did you, foolishly I must add, grab that boy while the carriage was moving?” Dev asked.

“Don't tax yourself, my lord. I assure you there is no need, as you will surely only harm yourself. Forget the events of this night and go home.”

She was dismissing him again. He couldn't believe it. The empty-headed Miss Braithwaite was dismissing him as if nothing had happened, and he had not just seen what had taken place.

She tried to outpace him, which was ridiculous given he was a head taller and his legs took one step to her two.

“You don't seriously expect me to do that, do you?”

“Yes.” She waved a hand at him as if he had asked her to dance. “You don't like me and I don't like you. Therefore, I see no need for you to involve yourself further in this matter.”

“Tell me about what just happened.”

“No, and here is my carriage, so I shall say good evening, Lord Sinclair.”

“What the hell is going on?” He grabbed her arm. “You are....” He struggled to find the right words. “Different.”

She turned to face him then, and suddenly there she was, the empty-headed Miss Braithwaite that he had always known. She gave him that blank look that he had seen a dozen times in as many ballrooms over the past two seasons. The one that suggested she could not hold a serious thought if her life depended on it.

“Why, whatever do you mean, Lord Sinclair? I assure you I have not changed. Indeed, just this morning I selected a simply stunning new dress to be made for the Merryvale ball. La, it will certainly set every man upon his heels.”

“What?”

“The Merryvale ball. Surely you are to attend? La, it will be quite something.” She gave that little trill of laughter that grated on his nerves.

“Miss Braithwaite, what the hell were you doing out here, chasing that man?” Dev attempted to get the answers he wanted.

“Lord Sinclair!” She stepped back, clasping her chest in horror. “How could you speak to me, a lady, in such insulting tones? Why, I feel quite faint.”

To strengthen her words, she stumbled to the carriage door, which was now open, and into it. Before he could stop her, the door had shut.

“Good evening to you, my lord.” Wilson then said.

He vaulted up beside the driver and then the carriage was moving, leaving Dev to watch it disappear into the London night.

“What the hell just happened?” Dev said to no one, as he too started moving. He had a terrible feeling that whatever it was, it was about to shake the foundations of his existence, and for the life of him he could not fathom why.





CHAPTER TWO


Two nights later, Dev was no clearer on what he had seen that evening, or why Miss Braithwaite had been there, doing what she had. He was now about to do what he had promised himself he would not: ask his siblings what they knew.

“Do you know much about Miss Braithwaite, Essie?”

“The same Miss Braithwaite you told us not to bother with, Dev, as a conversation with her is as riveting as watching grass grow?”

Had he said that? Lord, he was an idiot sometimes.

“The very same.” His tone was emotionless as he flicked a nonexistent fleck of lint from the sleeve of his evening jacket. Schooling his features, he tried to appear uninterested, as if he were simply passing the time with idle conversation.

Dev had thought of nothing else since the incident with Lilliana Braithwaite. His mind was whirling with thoughts and possibilities, chief among which was that he had sorely misjudged her, and that the persona she displayed in society was not in actual fact who she really was.

Why he thought that based on such a brief meeting, he was not entirely sure. But he could not seem to remove from his mind the image of her face when she had looked at him in that unguarded moment. He'd seen emotion, and that had shaken him.

Why would a woman he believed to be an empty-headed fool be in that street chasing after that man, who Dev believed was abducting that child? The fact that she had given no regard to her personal well-being and launched herself at the carriage told him the matter was a dire one indeed, and rescuing that boy meant a great deal to Miss Braithwaite.

“But, Dev, you expressly forbade Eden and me from talking to her, and as you know we always obey you.”

“I'm sure I never mentioned the word forbid, Essie,” Dev said. He hated it when his autocratic behavior came back and bit him in the backside.