by Deb Marlowe
Stephen merely nodded.
‘Yes,’ the other man answered for him, blinking rapidly. He appeared to be having difficulty focusing. ‘Manning is a brick.’ He frowned. ‘He brought me along.’
‘And we haven’t had a moment to talk since.’ Stephen’s annoyance rang clear.
Landry’s wandering gaze hit upon the sapphire pendant at her breast—and sharpened immediately. An overly long beat of time passed. Still he didn’t look up.
‘Landry.’ Stephen’s frustrations appeared endless tonight. Served him right.
Looking closer, Mae noticed the viscount’s flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. The man was foxed. A happy little flutter beat in her chest. So much the better. ‘Will you make the introductions, Stephen?’
Thunder collected across his brow. Short and curt, he performed the niceties. ‘And now, if you ladies will excuse us,’ he said even as he finished. ‘Lord Landry and I were interrupted in the midst of a crucial conversation.’
But something had hung the viscount up. ‘Wait,’ he ordered again. ‘Halford? Halford’s daughter?’ He squinted at her. ‘But you’re a pretty thing!’ He turned it into an accusation.
Mae laughed. ‘I’d apologise if I hadn’t worked so hard at it.’
Now his accusation was for Stephen. ‘Holding out on me, Manning?’ His face drooped. ‘And after all of our years of drinking together? I’d expected better of you.’
Mae nudged Addy.
‘Oomph!’
Mae glared.
‘Yes!’ Addy said, too loud. ‘Lord Stephen, it sounds as if the viscount has monopolised you long enough. You must come with me. We promised one of the ladies that we would introduce you.’
‘Perhaps later.’ Glares were de rigueur in this corner of the room and the one Stephen directed at Mae was a winner. ‘I have important matters to discuss with Landry.’
‘You have not the slightest cause for worry, then.’ Mae wrapped her arm about the viscount’s—the better to support him should he stumble. ‘When matters are important, they are best left to a woman.’
‘Mae.’ Dire warning lived in that one word.
She stiffened. ‘You run along with Addy. And I shall take the viscount along to greet our hostess.’ She tugged on Landry’s arm. ‘Come along, my lord.’
‘Just a second—’
Addy led a protesting Stephen away. Mae smiled at Lord Landry.
‘You’re a pretty thing,’ he said once more.
‘Thank you. Are you enjoying Newmarket, Lord Landry?’
‘Wasn’t. Was having a devil of a time. Things picked up, though.’ He leered at her sapphire again. ‘And now I’m having a wonderful time.’
‘You flatter me.’ Tilting her head just a bit, she looked up at him through her lashes, just as Josette had schooled her.
He straightened, tried to rally. ‘You’ve been away from England, have you not? Travelling?’ He swayed alarmingly on his feet, but appeared not to notice. She doubted she had much time before he passed out on his feet.
‘Yes, indeed. I love to travel, but I admit, after so long, I’m glad to be home. I’m looking forward to seeing London again soon.’
‘London?’ Horror creased his face—and it appeared to be too heavy an emotion to handle. He tilted towards her. She braced herself, but at the last second he got his feet back under him.
‘Yes.’ She ran a considering eye over him and shifted her strategy. She’d better get this done quickly. ‘Perhaps it is not very English of me, but while I was in Paris I developed a taste for strong, black coffee. Would you care to join me in a cup?’
‘Happy to.’ He came along compliantly as she started off, not willing to relinquish his hold on her arm. Or her steadying influence.
‘Oh, dear, it appears that Lady Toswick is busy arranging the buffet supper.’ Shyly, she glanced askance at him. ‘Would you mind if we took our coffee in a more … private setting? I confess I could use a moment of quiet.’
‘A brilliant suggestion,’ he said fervently. ‘Where shall we go?’ He’d discovered her matching sapphire earrings. His gaze was now fixed firmly on her left ear. ‘Does the family have a sitting room upstairs, perhaps?’
‘I think the yellow salon across the hall will do nicely.’ She called over a servant and gave several quiet instructions. ‘Come, Lord Landry, let’s find you a comfortable seat.’ On the way across the room, she also stopped to whisper a word in her mother’s ear.
The salon was only steps away, but the viscount sighed in relief as he eased onto the jonquil sofa. ‘Don’t do it, Miss Halford. Don’t go to London. Town is crowded and dull.’ He laid his hand over hers. ‘You should stay here in Newmarket.’ He did his best to summon a charming smile, but it came out lopsided. ‘With me.’
‘Do you reside full time in Newmarket, my lord?’ This surprised her.
‘For now.’ The crafty crinkle about his eyes disappeared as they closed in a yawn.
Servants bustled in with the coffee. Mae perched on the edge of the sofa to pour. She handed the viscount a cup, but judged it had come too late. He was having difficulty keeping his eyes open.
‘I heard you discussing the Earl of Ryeton with Lord Stephen. Is the earl a friend of yours?’ she asked innocently.
‘Good Lord, no.’ He blinked rapidly at her. Trying to keep awake. ‘The man’s a rotter.’
She rescued his cup as he lost the battle and laid his head on the back of the sofa. After a long moment’s silence he let out a giggle. ‘Rotter,’ he repeated with delight.
Mae judged her moment to have arrived. She leaned in and asked her question low in his ear. ‘Did you steal Pratchett, Lord Landry?’
That woke him up. He pulled his head back up in a hurry. ‘Damn and blast—did that devil Ryeton tell you that? Hell, no. He stole that horse from me!’
‘He stole Pratchett from you?’ She made her eyes wide.
‘Next thing to it.’ His eyes pleaded for her understanding. ‘A while back, I owed him some money. A pittance, really, but he wouldn’t wait for me to come up with the blunt. He wished to take Pratchett as payment instead.’
She sat back. ‘Well, that showed significant foresight, didn’t it?’
‘Horse was young then. Promising, but no significant races to his credit.’ His head nodded again. ‘Funny. Horses don’t have credit, do they?’ He sighed. ‘Neither do I.’
‘And then Pratchett began to win.’ Mae was all sympathy. ‘You must have wanted him back.’
‘That horse has made Ryeton rich several times over. All I wanted was the money I could have got for him if I’d sold him instead of turning him over outright.’ His drunken indignation was fading.
‘It seems only fair.’
‘Ryeton wouldn’t even hear me out.’ His eyes closed and he laid his head back again. ‘It’ll be Marshalsea for me, before long.’
His eagerness to get her alone became clear. ‘Unless you marry?’ she asked sourly.
‘Marry,’ he agreed with a yawn. ‘Halford’s daughter.’ He smiled with his eyes still closed. ‘Who knew she was such a pretty thing?’
Mae had outmaneuvered him.
She’d charmed Matthew Grange. The man was half-besotted, singing her praises in Stephen’s ear until he wished to plant his friend a facer.
‘Just wait until you know her better,’ Stephen had told Matthew.
She’d flirted shamelessly with his friend; he’d witnessed it himself. She’d snatched Landry away, too, preventing Stephen from discovering information vital to their mission, and then she’d disappeared with the man.
She’d better not be breathing at him.
She was off alone with the most flagrant fortune hunter in the ton and he was stuck here, caught in a choppy confluence of emotion. Some of it held a definite flavour of familiarity; he’d swum through waters of irritation and exasperation often enough when dealing with Mae. His old weaknesses were flaring tonight, too. He was not used to being ignored, could scarcely abide it, but nev
er had his shameful need to be noticed blazed so painfully as tonight, when Mae had so blatantly disregarded him and his wishes.
But what was this burning madness that had seized him as he watched her slink off, alone with Landry? He refused to believe it was jealousy. It was concern, naturally. Although even that was an overreaction. What was Landry going to do? Ravish the girl? Of course not. He was more likely to grab that dare-you-not-to-look sapphire between her breasts and hie off to the nearest fence.
The image kicked him hard in the gut. Landry’s hands. Mae’s breasts.
Without a word he abandoned Matthew and went in search of them.
The parlour door, standing half-closed, flew the rest of the way open with a bang.
‘Shh,’ Mae admonished Stephen. ‘You’ll wake him.’
He blew into the room, a thundering storm looming over the questionable shelter of the sofa. Mae kept her gaze fixed steadily with his. This was no time to back down.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ he demanded.
‘Practising my wiles,’ she answered, leaning away from the viscount and rising up to meet Stephen. She had the feeling she’d want to be steady on her feet for this.
‘Practising …’ His words fell away. Clearly this was not the response he’d been expecting.
‘Yes—and putting them to good use, too.’ She gazed down at Landry with regret. ‘Unfortunately our mystery is not going to be solved so easily. The viscount did not steal Pratchett away.’
That dissipated some of his blustering. ‘No?’
She shook her head.
‘Damnation. He accused Ryeton of stealing the horse from him, so I’d hoped …’ He stared at the sleeping man in disappointment.
‘No.’ Mae explained what the viscount had said. ‘So,’ she concluded, ‘Ryeton took Pratchett to cover a trifling debt and made a fortune off him. Landry’s been trying to weasel a share of it.’
Stephen heaved a sigh. ‘I suppose it would have been too easy, had it turned out to be him.’
‘Easy would have made for a nice change.’ Mae sighed right along with him. ‘But there is good news. We’re not left completely without leads.’ She outlined all that she’d learned at tea this afternoon.
He’d lost his words again, but his glare was back. ‘You think Ryeton’s wife—or perhaps his mistress—might have orchestrated this? Out of spite?’
She shrugged a shoulder. ‘He is miserable, by all accounts. And it would appear that they both have reason to make him so.’
‘But they wouldn’t …’ He sounded aghast.
‘Why not? Because they are women? Do you judge them incapable of such a thing because of their sex?’ She raised a brow at him.
‘Point taken.’ His shoulders slumped. ‘But I don’t relish the idea of investigating the man’s wife. Or his …’ He paused. ‘Oh, Lord, I shouldn’t even be speaking of these matters with you.’
‘Don’t be missish, Stephen.’ She rolled her eyes at him. ‘By the way, Josette’s ruled out Pratchett’s groom being involved.’
‘What? How?’
‘I sent her into town this afternoon. She asked around, found his favourite tavern and spent several hours with him. She said he’s distraught with worry over the horse. And the cat.’
‘Cat?’
‘Yes, apparently Pratchett has a cat as a constant companion in his stall. Like the Goldolphin Arabian and his faithful Grimalkin.’
‘Damn the cat.’ Stephen exhaled mightily and began to pace. ‘Damn it, Mae! I’m proud of you—look at all that you’ve accomplished in such a short time. But I can’t condone your methods!’
‘What have I done that is so terrible?’
‘I brought Landry along, but you shut me out!’
She straightened in indignation. ‘You shut me out first!’
He speared her with his glower. ‘You should never have come in here alone with him.’
She crossed her arms. ‘Why not?’
‘Why not?’ He spun away, pacing again. ‘Why not, she asks! What goes on in those European salons, I have to wonder?’ He turned back to her. ‘You shouldn’t have done it because it’s not seemly!’
His attitude was a flame setting her anger to simmer. ‘You asked for my help. You don’t get to dictate the manner in which I give it.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘You’re after a husband. I understand.’
‘Yes! We have a bargain in that regard,’ she snapped. ‘I hope you have not forgotten!’
‘I have not.’ He’d descended into condescension now. ‘But you asked not just for my help, but for my opinion. You should have given me a chance to express it before you went traipsing off alone with a jug-bitten fortune hunter like Landry! The man is at his limits and he’s growing desperate. Who knows what he’s capable of? He could have kidnapped you. Or compromised you beyond saving.’
She laughed. ‘This situation is too much for you. You’ve gone histrionic.’
He gaped at her. ‘I am not histrionic!’
‘And I’m not a fool.’
‘I didn’t say you were!’
Mae knew she’d taken on her most mulish, unattractive expression, but there was no avoiding it. ‘You implied it—and the alternative is worse. If I’m not foolish, then you must think me a wanton! Is that what you meant to imply?’
His mouth dropped open. She didn’t give him time to come up with a reply.
‘I left word with my mother before I left the long parlour. She’s aware of both my location and the viscount’s condition. The servants have been in and out with coffee and a footman has been parading up and down the hall at regular intervals. I had only a few minutes alone with him, but I managed to discover what I needed to know before he passed out from all the drink you’ve poured down him.’
She set her hands on her hips. He stood near now; close enough to catch the scent of his spicy cologne and freshly starched linen. Close enough to feel the warmth rising off his broad chest and notice that it was rising faster than it had been just a second before.
‘He was in more danger from me than I was from him.’ She pitched her voice low, kept her expression cool and taunting.
In contrast, his face darkened. ‘That’s the God’s honest truth.’
‘Perhaps you should consider your own welfare, then.’ She exhaled. ‘Perhaps you’d better run.’
He made a strangled sound of protest. He took a step closer instead, closing the small space between them. He looked like he wished to strangle her.
‘Or perhaps you might begin to fulfil your part of the bargain.’ She gestured towards the unconscious viscount. ‘Twelve hours it’s been since we made our pact and between Josette and myself we’ve eliminated two suspects and one potential husband.’ She showed him no mercy. ‘It would appear you’re falling behind, Stephen.’
His only answer was a growl, laden with frustration. She froze as he took the last, infinitesimal step. If she moved but an inch, she would find herself pressed up against him.
He didn’t speak.
She wouldn’t back down.
Stalemate. It lasted moments. Or centuries. She waited. He held himself aloof. Immobile. His breath sounded like a bellows, and his expression might have been carved from stone.
‘Good Lord,’ he moaned. ‘Perhaps this is not going to work.’
‘Perhaps not.’ She sighed.
He stepped back, scrubbed a hand in his hair. Even now, mad as a fury, she longed to follow suit.
‘Did you agree to this, Mae, just so that you could get even with me?’ He sounded exhausted. ‘Were you only after a little revenge?’
Flabbergasted, she stared at him. ‘Revenge for what?’
‘For the last time we were together.’
It hurt, that he would bring the subject up again. But she tossed her head to hide the pain, and gave a deprecating snort. ‘I begin to think that you ascribe more importance to that night than even I do.’
He turned away, his head hanging low. ‘I w
as in a lot of pain that night, Mae.’
‘I know.’ And that had been the problem all along. She’d known things, seen things that he didn’t want seen. She’d chased him, yes. Manipulated him into kissing her once. But the real problem had been that she had asked for more than he was willing to give. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
‘I’d only just returned from my first visit to Fincote, since my mother’s death. I …’ His voice trailed away.
Mae did not make the mistake of urging him to continue.
Finally he turned back to face her. ‘It wasn’t you I was angry with.’
‘It’s fine, Stephen. I’m fine. You did what you had to that night—you told the truth. You made me see that there was nothing more than friendship between us.’
‘I shouldn’t have lashed out so harshly.’
‘It was better that you did.’
‘I never thought your father would pack you off to the Continent.’
‘He did the right thing, too. I was hurt, and young and headstrong. He’d been aware of my … pursuit … of you. I think a good deal of his sympathy was for you, actually. He saw me that night, after we argued. He knew I was upset and suspected that something had occurred between us. He knew enough of my tenacity to take me away before I did something foolish.’ She sighed. ‘It was the right thing. It gave me time to deal with my disappointment and plenty of other things on which to focus my energies.’
He was going to say more. She could see that he wanted to. She waited, but he held silent, stood immobile. His breathing grew harsh and laboured once more.
Her own breath caught the rhythm and followed along. Behind them the viscount slept on. Between them the air crackled with intensity, sizzled with spiralling heat. And inevitability.
She saw his intention in his eyes a moment before they closed, before he gave a groan of frustration, reached out and pulled her hard against him.
She froze at first, rigid with disbelief. Feebly, she reached up, put her hands on his chest to push him away.
Instead, she melted. Gone. All the rigidity of her bones and the strength in her muscles—gone to mush under the angry heat of his kiss.