A Most Naked Solution Read Free Page A

brows too harsh. A generous woman, or a confused young girl, might call his face striking. His body, as well, was too strong, too broad, too hard to ever be called as paltry a word as beautiful .
    The forgotten pleasure of a girlhood infatuation fluttered through her. He’d come to her home for a few months after her brother Darton had fallen ill with inflammation of the lungs and had to be sent home from Oxford. Mr. Grey had been a fellow student trying to earn enough money to continue his schooling.
    Sophia had hidden in the corridor so she could listen to the low rumble of his voice, catch a glimpse of the shape of his lips from the shadows. Eventually, even the mathematics he spoke of fascinated her.
    He’d never said more than good morning to her, but her young girlish heart had liked to think he knew she lingered outside the door, and spoke extra loudly so she could hear the lessons.
    And one time when she’d been feeling particularly daring, she’d placed her completed version of an assignment he’d given her brother on his desk. She’d found the corrected paper placed in her usual spot in the corridor the next day.
    As Lord Grey turned away from the window, the memory faded, a deeper, more feminine appreciation taking root. She’d thought such emotions had been crushed beyond redemption by Richard. Perhaps she’d been mistaken.
    Yet there was a coldness in Lord Grey that kept her from examining the sensation too closely. New lines about his eyes that she didn’t remember. A cynical twist of his mouth. As much as she’d swooned over the more youthful version of the man in front of her, she knew nothing of him now.
    “Can I help you?” She kept her voice soft and musical, her gaze submissive. If there was one thing she’d learned from Richard, it was how to appease a man.
    “Lady Harding.” As he bowed, his gaze swept her. Her heart hammered as he studied her like she’d always wished he would.
    Except now she didn’t want his scrutiny.
    “Who wanted your husband dead?”
    His bluntness surprised her. Although it shouldn’t have. “I am well. Thank you.”
    Lord Grey’s lips tightened as his breech of etiquette was pointed out. “This is not a social call.”
    “No, I learned long ago that you only give attention when it suits you.” A blush heated her cheeks. She thought she’d gotten over never receiving a response to the letter she’d sent him as a girl. Apparently not entirely.
    Lord Grey folded his arms across his chest. “Did you kill him?”
    She wished for a moment that her brother Bennett hadn’t returned to Constantinople. His hulking presence behind her would have been nice, but she banished that thought. Allowing others to take care of her problems had tangled her in this mess in the first place.
    “No. And I do not know who did.” She should offer him a seat, pour him a drink, but her sudden spurt of defiance kept her silent. It felt so fragile—so seductive—that she let him stand. She’d analyzed every part of her soul over the past few months, trying to decide which bits to keep and which parts she could no longer tolerate.
    This defiance she’d definitely keep.
    His lips thinned. “Did your husband have enemies?”
    Sophia opened her mouth to tell him the truth about the kind of man her husband had been. “No, he was quite well liked.”
    Curse it all. Why did her rebellion fail her now? But the lie was rooted too deep to be pulled out with a single effort.
    And if she told Lord Grey what type of man her husband had been, then he’d wonder what type of weakling allowed herself to remain with such a man. Of all the things he could think of her, she refused to let Lord Grey think her weak.
    He stalked toward her. “Did you like your husband, Lady Harding?”
    Sophia lifted her chin. He couldn’t expect her to answer that. “Why are you here, Lord Grey? My husband has been dead for more than three months. Surely, the time to investigate has passed.”
    “You’ve