the door. There was no point in pretending he hadn’t been eavesdropping, or in making a run for the stairs. In a few seconds she would step out and see him. Hayden crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall to wait.
She showed only moderate surprise when she stepped outside the room and saw him. The softness went out of her eyes and they became the hard green jewels he’d seen last night. “I thought you were told to wait downstairs.” Her tone was harsh, no gentle soothing tones for him. But perhaps she knew what he’d seen and was already on the defensive. Suddenly, what he’d seen at the mill mattered less than the context of it. He wouldn’t get any information from her if he argued with her.
Hayden gave a nod in the direction of the door. “Will he? Be fine?” Coughs in winter could be deadly things and from her own indications yesterday this one had already outstayed its welcome.
“Yes.” She said without equivocation, her eyes daring him to challenge her response. She stepped in front of him and began the trip back downstairs with brisk purpose. He understood the desire to lead him away from that room, but he could not assume the motivation. Was she leading him away from her father out of desire to protect him in his illness from unnecessary stress or to protect herself? Perhaps she didn’t want news of what he might have seen at the mill to trickle to her father.
Hayden filed that bit of information away. Whatever else she was, Jenna Priess was a protector not unlike a lioness or mother bear looking after their young. While that sounded noble in theory, Hayden knew very well that protecting often extended to lying or other extreme measures. Whether she meant to be or not, Jenna Priess was dangerous. The sway of those hips as they marched downstairs was potent temptation — he was obligated to consider she might move like that on purpose. Would she stoop to seducing him in exchange for his silence? It was an interesting prospect and a tantalizing proposition even when he was supposed to maintain professional objectivity.
In the sitting room, a tea tray waited for them and Jenna took a seat on the dark blue sofa to pour. She might have been posed for a portrait, so well matched was the blue and green plaid of her wool afternoon gown to the décor of the room, and the neatness with which her hair was pulled into a chignon at the nape of her neck. Her chestnut hair shined with a healthy, well-kept sheen and she presented the womanly ideal of domestic tranquility as she presided over tea. Unfortunately for her, an investigator saw those efforts rather differently.
Perhaps she’d dressed purposefully for this interview knowing precisely the visual effect she would have on him — a feminine effect that would soften her conversational opener and perhaps derail any cynical thoughts he might be entertaining. Her ploys might have worked too except for the fact that he’d already been betrayed by a woman and had a certain level of awareness if not immunity. Today had proven Logan was right. He was susceptible to pretty faces; a pretty face was one of life’s little joys, but perhaps this time he would be wiser sooner to what might lie behind one.
Jenna gestured to the decanters on the sideboard and Hayden felt the stirrings of a thorough arousal. “There is brandy if you’d like something stronger with your tea than sugar and cream.” What man didn’t dream of a woman who anticipated even the slightest of his needs? And here one sat, looking like a domestic angel if one discounted those eyes and that mouth. Her eyes were too alive, too assessing and that mouth was too sensual with its full lower lip as proven. No, angel wasn’t quite the word to describe Jenna Priess.
She finished assembling her tea and waited for him to be seated after a trip to the decanters before she took a sip and fixed him with a stare over her cup. “How was your visit with the foreman?” If she knew what he would see and how it would affect him, she pulled the question off beautifully without any tell-tale signs of feigned nonchalance.
Hayden matched his response to hers, tamping down the initial surge of anger that had fueled him on the way over. “I did not speak with him.”
She set her cup down on the table and gave him a hard stare. “Why ever not?” It was said as more of a challenge than a question, as if she thought he’d might not have been resourceful enough to manage an unannounced visit.
Hayden met her stare with one of his own, both of them having forgotten their tea. “It turns out you were not entirely forthcoming with me and I felt any conversation I might have with the foreman would not be as beneficial in light of that oversight.”
Her stare became a glare. The implication that she might be a liar had hit its target. “That’s a very convoluted sentence, Mr. Islington. What exactly are you dressing up with your fancy language?”
Hayden leveled the full force of his gaze at her. “I am saying that I believe I solved your mystery. Your worker wasn’t spirited away by nefarious-minded kidnappers. He merely slipped away in the night because he lacked any incentive to stay.” He paused, studying her face, watching her brow knit before he delivered his final blow. “In blunt terms, Miss Priess, the men and boys working for you are treated as slaves, not free workers. I saw a man beaten with a club, a boy whipped for what appeared to be the slightest of infractions.” He held up a hand to stall the protest emerging on those lips. “I’m not saying that doesn’t happen in other mills, but you’d led me to believe your working conditions were different.” Hayden spread his hands on his thighs. “If you’ve hired me under false pretenses of concern to do nothing more than drag an unwilling worker back to his post, I will not do it.”
Her face had paled and her hands clenched in her lap but her gaze was even as she said the words. “I have no idea what you are talking about. My father is known for his humane working conditions.”
“So you told me. Your father is an honest man, you said. That may be but your father wasn’t there today nor has he been for several months.” Hayden cocked an eyebrow. “It seems those standards have slipped somewhat in his absence.”
Her eyes narrowed at the indictment. “Are you suggesting I have condoned such a standard?” There was heat growing beneath the cool façade she’d expertly cultivated. He could feel her temper rising. He was getting to her, and that meant he was getting to a place where truth might discovered in unguarded moments; when temper overrode good sense, when someone might say too much.
“You are the one who oversees the mill by your own admission. What else am I supposed to assume?” He resented having to push the proverbial blade further in the wound. She did look thoroughly aghast at his accusation. The paleness of her face could not be feigned no matter how great the actress. He’d insulted not only her father but herself as well.
She took refuge in the only ground available. “I don’t believe you,” came the staunch reply. But that wasn’t quite true. He could see the glimmer of doubt in her eyes, the fear of betrayal in the way her gaze moved downward for the briefest of seconds. She couldn’t know it but that doubt was the saving of her, the validation that she had not lied to him to the best of her knowledge.
“Yes you do. You believe at least the possibility of it.” Hayden rose and held out a hand to her. “Come and see it with your own eyes.” In those moments, his anger found a new outlet. Heaven help the foreman if he’d been bastard enough to betray her trust. And, whispered his cynical conscience, heaven help Jenna Priess if she was playing a double game with him. It happened once before. Pretty face or not, he would be damned if it happened again. He would know shortly exactly what he was up against. Her reaction at the mill would confirm all.
It had finally happened. She had failed in her vigilance. Jenna’s stomach was one
