“I did not mean to interrupt. I thought—”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded before he finished his sentence, sparing a glance at the open door and spotting her aunt far, far away from the drawing room, sitting on a chair with a book in hand. Aunt Sarah practically threw her sister Cassie and her husband together, and she knew her romantic aunt was attempting the same for her. Alas, she would be disappointed indeed to find out Blake’s only reason for being here was because he’d discovered her secret.
He handed his hat and gloves to the butler who promptly left them alone then took the seat her aunt had previously occupied, as though he owned the place, without waiting for her to sit.
The message was clear. You are not ridding yourself of me so easily.
Letting her shoulders drop, she joined him, choosing the seat farthest away from him. He took an already sliced piece of cake, set it on the plate and carved a generous chunk from it with a fork. “I do not know about you, but I am always starved after a night at Almack’s,” he said before shoving the cake into his mouth and allowing a few crumbs to fall onto his waistcoat.
She allowed herself a little smile. No wonder she loved him. He always did go out of his way to make people comfortable. Perhaps it was simply so he could ingratiate people toward him but she liked to think it was an innate part of him. Taking up her fork, she took a smaller piece of cake and chewed delicately. She stole a glance at him. If she let herself, she could imagine they were a married couple, enjoying a light supper together.
Ridiculous.
Setting down the fork with a clatter so hard that she heard Aunt Sarah release a startled sound, she placed her hands in her lap and sat rigid. She would not let herself get carried away with fantasies.
“What do you want, Blake?”
He set the fork gently down, fixed her with a direct look and said, “You.”
The world stood still. Her heart came to a shuddering halt and she couldn’t remember how to breathe.
“Pardon?” she managed to whisper.
“You,” he repeated and leaned in to take her hand.
Boneless and unable to resist, she let him.
“I want you, Demeter. I need you.” His cerulean gaze dug deep into hers. “And only you.”
***
Demeter’s lips parted then closed then parted again. She wiggled on her seat as crimson splashes reached her cheeks. Blake shouldn’t like it—this whole nervous, unkempt look. A couple of cake crumbs skipped down the bodice of her gown and one lingered on her decolletage. The desire to press a finger to her skin and scoop it up made a hot swirl of need rush through him. Or better yet, he’d press his tongue there, forgoing the need for a finger.
He could have any number of women, in far more fetching gowns than a simple cream day dress, who would look at him with sultry eyes and pouted lips instead of wide innocent eyes and a gaping mouth.
“You need me?” she whispered.
He nodded. “I desire...” You, he wanted to say so he clamped his mouth shut in an attempt to wrangle his brain into some sort of functioning organ.
Not once in his life had he seduced an innocent and he wasn’t going to start now. One did not bed ladies like Demeter. No. One married them. And he had zero desire to do such a thing. Absolutely none.
“Your skills,” he finally managed to say after an interminable silence.
Her brows knitted. “My skills?”
He nodded. This was better. All he had to do was focus on the real reason he was here and ignore that wretched crumb. “You may recall I asked about the comings and goings at the gaming hell.”
“Yes. I did wonder why.”
“My cousin...”
“The one who inherited instead of you.” She gave a tiny shrug. “The whole of Society is talking about it.”
“Yes,” he said tightly. He didn’t much care what others thought of him. He hadn’t since he’d become an adult, free from his father’s heavy-handed rule. Hell, he had enough savvy investments to keep him going until his father finally left this mortal realm and no need for his aunt’s money, as most people should know. But for some reason, her judgement of him stung. “My cousin is up to something.”
“He seems a pleasant chap, if a little excitable.”
“There’s is something wrong about this whole situation.” He pressed a finger to his abdomen. “I can feel it in my gut.”
“Are you certain it is not because you are now penniless?”
“I’m not damn well penniless. I do not know how that rumor started,” he muttered.
“It must have been upsetting to be cut from the will,” she said so softly and sympathetically that he almost wished to agree with her just so she could rub a soothing hand over his shoulders or perhaps press a little kiss to his cheek.
Blake scowled. What had happened to him? Was this what maturity looked like? Wishing for soft touches and little kisses? Dear Lord, he was practically readying himself for the grave.
“I was not upset,” he snapped. “I did not—do not need the money. However, I know my aunt did not intend for it all to go to one man, most especially one none of us even knew of.”
“It must have been a shock.”
“It was, but that’s beside the point.” He scowled. He hadn’t anticipated having to persuade her that his instincts were right about Foster. He knew it, deep within his soul. “There is something untoward about him. I have had a private investigator look into him and it seems he is known to consort with the owners of that gaming hell. That’s why I was there.”
“I see.” She pursed her lips. “He would not be the first man to spend time in a gaming hell nor the last.”
“Well, he met with them recently. He appears to be closely acquainted with the men there and it strikes me as odd. He is so keen to be accepted into society—why spend time with such men?”
“He owed them money perhaps?”
“And he will be meeting them again next week.”
“How do you know all this?”
“A woman told me.”
Her posture tightened. “A woman of a certain sort perhaps?”
“She was right about the first meeting,” he pointed out.
“And I presume you paid her for this information?”
“Naturally.”
“So she could simply be lying to you to gain your coin.”
“I am not so easily lied to.”
She snorted. “Put an attractive woman in front of a man and their wits are usually addled to blancmange.”
“My wits are entirely stable, believe me.”
“I am simply saying, she might be trying to make something out of nothing.” She shrugged. “You would not be the only one who has paid for false information.”
She said this as though she had knowledge of the same sort of exchange he’d partaken in with the whore, but he could not fathom how a woman like Demeter would be involved in any such situation. No, he was seeing too much into this. He had to concentrate.
“I witnessed the meeting. No money exchanged hands so I cannot see that it was him paying back his debts. Nor did they threaten him.” He shook his head. Following his cousin to the meeting place by the docks had been frustrating to say the least. He’d been unable to hear anything said or figure anything out from what he’d witnessed.
“I’m still not certain what you want with me.”
“I want you to come to the next meeting with me and read his lips.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “Read his lips?”
“My instincts say he is up to something and I want to know what.”
“Could you not just ask him?” She cocked her head. “In my experience, most people do not really wish to keep secrets. Perhaps he is in some sort of trouble and could do with a friendly ear.”
But of course she would not see anything sinister about the whole matter. Demeter was an innocent.
Though, not entirely innocent. He had discovered her at Pidgeon’s after all.
“No. He is up to something.”
“So you want me to go to some secret meeting, read the lips of a likely innocent man and report back to you? All because your instinct says something is wrong?”
“You won’t report back to me. And my instinct is always right.”
“I won’t?”
“No. I’ll be with you.”
“You’ll be with me?” she repeated.
“Is that so hard to comprehend?”
“Alone?”
“You will be perfectly safe.”
She let out a light laugh. “Of course I will be.”
Blake didn’t understand what she meant by that and didn’t want to ask. “You owe me, Demeter. Do not forget that.”
She ran a finger over the lace trim of the tablecloth, following the swirls over and over. He held his breath and waited, not quite able to believe how much he needed her to say yes.
Eventually, she looked up at him. “I suppose I do not have much choice.”
“You do not,” he agreed.
“Very well then. I am all yours.” She gestured widely. “Use me how you see fit.”
He bit back a groan. Blast his roguish imagination.
Chapter Eight
Yesterday’s rain left the grass a little damp underfoot but it did not dissuade swathes of the population of London from descending upon Hyde Park. Gentle puffs of clouds dotted the skies, promising not to hinder the bright and sunny day. Demeter was grateful for the clear weather. She needed her daily walk and that had proved impossible with the intermittent drizzle these past few days. Every time she put on her pelisse, the heavens opened up.
Clusters of people were dotted about the park, some bringing chairs and blankets to sit leisurely by the river whilst others walked slowly along the winding paths. Children giggled and the clop of horse hooves and the rattle of carriage wheels forced her and her sisters to raise their voices on occasion when they went by.
Their group had already grown from the family gathering of her brother Anton and his wife Eliza, her sisters, their husbands and Aunt Sarah. Several mamas were keen for their young daughters to make connections with the duke’s daughters, and some old friends had gathered too. There were almost twenty of them today. Conversation flowed about her—a lot of it directed at Chastity and her upcoming confinement.
Demeter suppressed a shudder. Sometimes, she rather felt as though she had been confined herself for much of her life. Her manner of speech left her unwilling to speak in large crowds and she wasn’t certain she cared for the chatter anyway. Demeter would rather walk than gossip or catch up. Her feet twitched in her sturdy boots.
“I can come with you if you wish,” Chastity said with a knowing smile.
“You should be sitting down,” her husband muttered. “Let me fetch you a chair.”
Chastity waved a hand. “I shall be doing plenty of that before long. Let me appreciate standing for just a while longer.” Her expression softened at the concern furrowing Valentine’s brow. “I shall not be silly, I promise.” She rose on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
The furrows vanished instantly and the stern-looking man’s eyes lit with love. The Earl of Kendall was not the man Demeter would have immediately chosen for her sister but he was an utter gentleman and loved her sister beyond distraction. Somehow, they worked perfectly together.
“I shall walk with Aunt Sarah in just a moment,” Demeter explained. “There is no need for you to accompany me.”
Chastity sighed and rubbed a hand over her stomach. “I suppose I will not be able to keep up. You always keep such a fast pace.”
“Exercise is important.” She’d never let herself sicken again, not like when she was a child.
“So is time with your sisters.” Chastity flicked a finger over Demeter’s nose.
“We shall have all the time in the world soon enough,” she reminded her. “When you are in confinement.”
Her sister groaned aloud. “I know. What rotten timing it should fall in line with the Season. I shall go mad with boredom.”
“I shall visit daily,” Demeter vowed.
“As will I,” put in Eleanor and Cassie nodded.
“I can bring Simon,” suggested Aunt Sarah. “He’s most excellent company. He does seem to be shedding somewhat with the warmer weather but you do not mind a little cat fluff do you, Chastity?”
“I do,” Valentine muttered.
“Aunt Sarah, w-will you walk with me?” Demeter forced herself to ask before the conversation continued. At this rate, she would never get her walk done and if she did not, she would feel dull and sedentary.
Not to mention jittery.
It was silly to feel this way—as though every fiber of her being had sparked to life—merely because Blake wanted her help. Merely because she had vowed to help him. She hadn’t seen him for two days anyway and he had likely forgotten all about the promise he had dragged from her.
She blew out a breath. It hadn’t been much of a fight, if she was honest with herself. How could she turn him down? She couldn’t let him reveal her antics—the family had barely survived some made up scandal last year—she could not bring such gossip down upon the family this Season too.
However, she didn’t want to stop her secret activities either. The thought of another Season dragging out in front of her made her shudder. If she did not do something other than cling to walls and bury her head in books or whatever else she could find to distract, she might go madder than a confined Chastity.
Aunt Sarah looped her arm through Demeter’s. “Come then. Let us get your exercise done, then I can sit and eat.” She glanced sadly at the table the servants had set up, laden with fresh fruits and delicate shortbread biscuits.
Aunt Sarah had quite the weakness for biscuits though Demeter preferred hearty food—anything to keep her healthy. She’d already suffered the ravages of a severe illness once; she had no desire to suffer so again.
Her need for a walk was twofold anyway. She needed Aunt Sarah’s counsel. Often, her aunt’s guidance was no more than a lengthy tale of something scandalous. How Aunt Sarah was still accepted into Society, Demeter did not know, but perhaps the stories were embellished. One could never quite tell. Nevertheless, she had to talk to someone.
Demeter set the pace, ensuring they walked briskly enough that her heart rate began to pick up. The thick skirts about her ankles hindered her a little, as did the tightly cut pelisse and parasol. In the country, she would wear a simpler gown and forgo any accessories but she had to at least keep up appearances in London. Even her bonnet pinched her head, the pins pressed in so aggressively that they jabbed her scalp every now and then.
“So,” Aunt Sarah said, “tell me all about your conversation with that delectable Mr. Blake.”
Demeter eased out a breath and spied her aunt’s sly grin.
“That interesting, was it?” She tugged Demeter closer. “Tell me all.”
***
“Who are you and what have you done with Blake?”
Blake glanced up from the letter in front of him to spy Ashford taking up the entire doorway of the drawing room. Ridiculously tall, the fair-haired man commanded almost more attention than Blake. Not that he ever minded that fact. Together they drew women like flies to jam.
“I do not see the problem.” Blake shoved aside the letter, set the quill down and cracked his knuckles. No amount of poring over the investigations into his cousin or penning letters demanding more information helped. His cousin’s lineage wasn’t in doubt. Which meant Blake’s instinct could be wrong.
No.
Never.
Ashford strolled over, set his hat on the large, leather-topped desk, and gestured to the stack of letters, some sealed with wax, others open and crumpled from the amount of times Blake had read and re-read them. “You. Writing letters. At noon.”
“Believe it or not, Ash, I have been known to pen a letter or two.”
“Not in the second week of the Season, and no
t when we had planned to attend Hyde Park together and see what lovely delights are on offer.” Ash leaned against the desk and folded his arms. “And there is the small matter of you absconding with a duke’s daughter at Almack’s the other night.” He spread out a hand and glanced at his nails which were, as usual, impeccably groomed. He buffed one set against his dark green wool jacket, then met Blake’s glare. “It was noted. By many.”
“I hardly did anything wrong. We were in sight of the building at all times. Come, Ash, you know me better than that.”
“You are right. I do.” He pushed away from the desk. “And usually you would have found yourself a comely widow by now. Now, I know I have been trying to persuade you to refine your tastes a little but a duke’s daughter and a spinster one at that? That’s just begging for trouble.”
“I did not seduce the woman,” Blake snapped, shoving his chair back, his hands to the desk. “We merely had a conversation.”
“Is that what they are calling it these days?”
“Good God, Ashford. Do you really think so little of me?”
Ashford smirked, his blue eyes twinkling. They’d known each other prior to their college years and Blake should recognize well when Ashford was teasing. However, their conversations had changed tone of late. As though Ashford was...worried about him? First his mother trying to look after him and his friend. What the devil was the world coming to?
“Look, Lady Demeter Fallon is a sweet girl. Everyone knows it. If you were to trifle with her, her brother would have to call you out and I have little desire to play your second. You are a terrible shot.”
“I am a far better shot than you,” he snapped back.
“All I am saying is, be cautious. I saw how you looked at her.”
Blake scowled. “How did I look at her?”
Ashford lifted both shoulders. “It’s hard to say. But I have never seen you look at a woman thusly before.”
“Probably because I wasn’t actually intending to seduce her.” Blake rose from his seat and motioned to the footman who scurried off to retrieve his hat and gloves. “We were merely having a conversation.”
Wagers of a Duke's Daughter (The Duchess's Investigative Society Book 3) Page 5