The Hellion (Wicked Wallflowers #1)(21)

Regardless of Cleopatra Killoran’s gender, she was the same rotted, ruthless bastard as her brother. After all, her selling her soul and moving into Ryker Black’s residence on the hope of acquiring a title was testament to that.

Penelope gave her head a sad shake. “You and your brothers,” she said softly. “You’re still so consumed by your past . . .”

He stiffened. “I suggest ya speak to your husband about the treatment of your guest.”

Sister-in-law or no, other than his siblings, Adair hadn’t shared a single part of his existence with another soul. And even his brothers and Helena had made it a point to studiously avoid all talk of what they’d each endured. One didn’t speak of one’s suffering—not even with family.

“Ah, yes,” Penelope said, waggling her eyebrows. “But you see, my husband wasn’t the one who wrestled the young lady to the floor and divested her of her weapon.”

His neck went hot. Of course she had heard of the scuffle he’d gotten into with Cleopatra yesterday afternoon. I’ll not feel guilty. I’ll not feel guilty. Searching a person, man or woman, who’d come to live with them—particularly a Killoran—was the height of wise. “She was armed,” he groused, shifting back and forth on his feet. He’d not be made out to be a man who went about assaulting women.

“You are all armed. We all are,” she corrected.

It was a mark of how Ryker’s wife, a lady of the ton, had been transformed that she, too, should carry a dagger about.

“But none of us would harm one another. Cleopatra Killoran . . .” Could gut them all in their sleep if they let their guards down. He’d spare Ryker’s wife those gruesome details.

“I was her,” Penelope pressed, like a dog with a bone where the Killoran woman was concerned.

Incredulity swept over him. “You were never Cleopatra Killoran.” That hellion had likely ended as many men and women as Adair himself.

His sister-in-law gripped his shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. “I was alone in a world away from my family . . . just like her. For what you think you might know about the lady, she is scared, and I’d have you at least treat her with kindness as long as she’s living with us.” Penelope sent another long, sad look to Cleopatra’s borrowed chambers. “I would wager she’s alone in there, worrying after her future, and hating every moment of being here.” Her lips twisted. “And who could blame the young lady? After all, you and your brothers have treated her as more prisoner than guest.”

“We haven’t treated her as a prisoner,” he said defensively.

They’d had countless patrons who’d harmed members of their club or hurt the girls employed by the Hell and Sin. Those men had been dealt with as the criminals they were. “I hardly believe opening your arms, allowing the hell . . .” At his sister’s look, he swiftly amended his word choice. “Allowing the girl rooms, food, and an entry to society merits the comparison to a prison.” Having himself entered Newgate to free his brother Calum years earlier, he could testify that rat-infested, dank hell bore no hint of a resemblance or comparison to a Grosvenor Square residence.

Adair tamped down a sigh. There would be no reasoning with Ryker’s innocent wife. “Unless she gives me reason, I’ll treat her with . . .” He grimaced. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Kindness,” Penelope supplied.

“Kindness,” he gritted out. Kindness for a woman who was, with her connections to Killoran and Diggory, an enemy in every way. The same woman who’d drawn a knife and, by the glitter in her eyes, would have gladly gutted him yesterday afternoon. And now his sister-in-law painted her as a wounded, scared young woman. It was laughable. It was inconceivable. It was . . .

Adair’s gaze involuntarily slid to that doorway down the hall. It was damned possible. How many times had he marched down these corridors and put questions to the guards stationed at the end of the hall? Not once did Cleopatra exit her chambers. In fact, if it weren’t for the meals she consistently ordered and the bath she’d called for, he’d have doubted the hellion was even in those rooms. But she was. And damn if he didn’t feel the unwanted sting of remorse. For Adair and his brothers had treated Cleopatra Killoran precisely as Penelope said—as more prisoner than guest.

With a frustrated sigh, he dragged his hands up and down over his face.

“I understand the need for caution,” Penelope said, speaking the way she might to a fractious mare. “But we needn’t treat the lady as though she is a criminal.” Cleopatra Killoran was undoubtedly a criminal. A person couldn’t survive in the streets without breaking society’s laws. “It is late. You needn’t stalk her chambers and dog her footsteps.”

“I can hardly dog her footsteps when she’s shut herself away,” he muttered.

A twinkle lit Penelope’s eyes. “That is because she is sleeping,” she said on an exaggerated whisper.

Life had given him too many reasons to be suspicious . . . particularly of the men and women who were part of Diggory’s crew. “But what if—”

“Adair,” his sister-in-law cut in, her earlier teasing gone and replaced with a military-like command. “It is late. Find your chambers, and we can try again with Cleopatra tomorrow.”

Did Penelope think this was truly about forging a relationship with the young woman? The only thing he’d try to do with Killoran’s sister was determine how to coordinate her exit out of this household.