SEDUCED AT MIDNIGHT

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  "And Lady Julianne?"

  A chilling smile curved the duke's lips. "I needed to marry an heiress. And quickly. Before word of my dire financial situation got out."

  "What did you hope to accomplish by climbing up to her balcony and trying to enter her bedchamber?"

  "That was merely to frighten her. To establish that someone was after her. So that when she died a few months from now, no suspicions would be cast in my direction. And she had to die. So that just in case anyone ever linked the crimes together, it would appear that the woman dearest to me was also murdered."

  Gideon had to fight to tamp down the wave of fury that threatened to engulf him. "Making you a victim rather than the murderer."

  "Yes."

  "You knew after I questioned you this evening that I was suspicious."

  The duke frowned. "Yes, and very inconveniently. Required me to think quickly."

  "So you stole Haverly's watch, left the party, and hired Will and Perdy to kidnap Julianne and kill me. It's not difficult to find men willing to do your bidding if the price is high enough. Must have been a nasty shock when I returned with Julianne."

  "Very unpleasant indeed," the duke agreed.

  "You left Julianne by the French windows after your dance. Told her to wait for you there, while you fetched her engagement ring. Knowing that as soon as you made your false announcement of your jewels being stolen that chaos would reign."

  "And I knew you'd be watching her," the duke said. He picked up his quill pen and twirled it between his fingers. "Knew you'd go after her."

  He twirled the pen again, and it fell. As he bent down to pick it up, Gideon said, "She was the bait to lure me away, so the kidnappers could kill me. Because you suspected I was getting too close to the truth."

  "It would seem I was right about that." In a lightning-fast move, the duke stood and raised a pistol, aiming it directly at Gideon's chest. In a heartbeat Gideon realized he must have pulled it from a drawer in his desk when he bent to retrieve his pen. "And now it seems I'm going to have to do myself what those incompetent fools failed to do. Put your hands on top of your head, Mayne."

  Gideon slowly obeyed. "You realize you'll never get away with this."

  "I don't see why not. I'll simply say we were talking when the hooded ghost murderer burst into the room through the French windows. In the ensuing scuffle you were, tragically, shot."

  "No one will believe that."

  "On the contrary, no one will doubt the word of the Duke of Eastling."

  "I'll doubt the duke's word," came Charles Rayburn's voice from behind Gideon.

  Gideon didn't turn around, but he knew the adjoining door between the duke's study and the library had just opened. And the magistrate had entered the study. Gideon knew Rayburn's pistol would be trained on the duke.

  "I will also doubt the duke's word," came Matthew's voice.

  "As will I," said Daniel.

  "And me," added Logan.

  Gideon knew they were all standing behind him. And he prayed none of them would get shot.

  "We heard everything, Your Grace," Rayburn said. "All ofÛn s th us. It's over. Put down your weapon."

  Hatred burned in the duke's eyes as he glared at Gideon. "This is all your doing. If not for you, no one would have known."

  Gideon shook his head. "You would have been caught eventually."

  "No. Haverly would have been blamed. If you hadn't ruined everything." A sick smile curved his lips. "I may have failed, but I'll at least have the satisfaction of making sure you don't see another day."

  In the blink of an eye Gideon threw the knife he'd hidden up his sleeve. In the same instant both Rayburn's and the duke's pistol shots rent the air.

  Chapter 24

  Julianne froze at the sound of pistol shots. For the space of two rapid heartbeats, she and her friends stared at each other. Then she stood so quickly she knocked over her chair and dashed toward the door, Sarah, Emily, and Carolyn close behind. She raced down the corridor, barely registering the sounds of running footfalls and anxious voices of the other guests pouring in behind them. All she could hear was her heart pounding in terror. Gideon … dear God, Gideon.

  She knew, knew that those shots involved him. What if he were hurt? What if he were—

  She couldn't even bring herself to finish the thought. He had to be all right. Had to be. Had to be.

  A door just ahead opened, and the magistrate stepped into the corridor, quickly closing the panel shut behind him.

  "We heard shots," Julianne said, stopping in front of him. She grasped his arm, her fingers digging desperately into his sleeve. "Gideon." His name burst from her lips on a hoarse, terror-filled whisper. "Where is Gideon? Is he—"

  "Mr. Mayne is fine." His gaze touched on Sarah and Carolyn. "As are your husbands. Mr. Jennsen as well."

  Julianne heard her friends gasp. "Matthew is in that room?" Sarah asked weakly, reaching out for Julianne's hand.

  "And Daniel?" Carolyn whispered.

  "Yes. And they are all perfectly fine."

  Before he could say anything more, a crowd surged in behind them with shouts of, "What's happening?"

  Mr. Rayburn held up his hands and demanded silence. Once the crowd quieted, he said, "All is well. There is no need for alarm. If you'll go back to the drawing room, I'll explain everything."

  Amid much murmuring, the group turned around to do as the magistrate bade them. But Julianne again grabbed Mr. Rayburn's sleeve. "I'm not leaving this corridor until I see for myself that Mr. Mayne is unharmed."

  "And our husbands," Sarah added. "And Mr. Jennsen as well."

  "I'm afraid you can't go in there," Mr. Rayburn said in an undertone, nodding toward the door.

  "Why not?" demanded Emily.

  After making certain the crowd was far enough away that he couldn't be overheard, he said, "You have my word that Mayne and the others are unhurt. The duke, however, is dead."

  Before Julianne could even react to the news, the door opened.

  Matthew and Daniel, wearing identical grim expressions, entered the corridor. With cries of relief, Sarah and Carolyn went to their husbands and were enfolded in tight embraces. Logan Jennsen appeared next. He nodded at Julianne, then at Emily, who murmured, "Mr. Jennsen."

  Julianne craned her neck, and when she saw Gideon walking toward her, her relief was so strong she had to brace her hand against the wall for support. When he entered the corridor, heedless of their audience, she grabbed his hands. "You're all right."

  His gaze seemed to burn into hers. "Yes."

  "When I heard the shots I thought…" She squeezed his hands and blinked back the tears that rushed into her eyes.

  "I know. I'm sorry you were worried. But it's all over now."

  "Mr. Rayburn said the duke is dead."

  A muscle ticked in Gideon's jaw. "He is."

  The magistrate cleared his throat. "Mayne, if you'll escort the ladies and gentlemen into the drawing room and make the necessary explanations, I'll take care of things here."

  Gideon nodded. Julianne held his arm as they walked down the corridor, unwilling to let him go, unable to keep from touching him. When they entered the crowded drawing room, however, he left her in the care of her friends and addressed the assembled group.

  Julianne listened in shock and disgust to the story Gideon told. Gasps and cries of disbelief punctuated the tale of the duke's horrific crimes. By the end, everyone was clearly stunned yet relieved that the mystery of the murdering ghost robber had finally been solved and that no one else would suffer.

  With the explanations finished, Gideon urged the stunned crowd to make their way home, and a slow exodus started toward the foyer. Julianne scanned the room and saw Sarah and Matthew talking quietly nearby. Daniel and Carolyn also stood close together, deep in conversation. Emily and Logan Jennsen stood near the punch bowl, making what appeared to be stilted conversation.

  Just then Gideon joined her, pressing a glass of punch into her hand, which she
gratefully accepted.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "I'm … shocked. And grateful. That you weren't hurt. That he was stopped." A shudder of revulsion trembled through her. "That I hadn't married him." She took another sip of punch then added, "You were wonderfully brave and clever."

  "Thank you."

  "I'm very proud of you."

  What looked like a cross between confusion and surprise crossed his face. He lifted his hand, as if to touch her, then seemed to recall himself, where they were, and lowered his arm. "I don't believe anyone's ever said that to me before."

  "I'm also very angry with you."

  He blinked, then his lips twitched. "Now that I've heard before."

  "You took a terrible risk."

  "No. I took a calculated risk. I didn't have proof; that would have required a trip to Cornwall and weeks, if not months, to obtain. But the duke didn't know that. And I knew I was right. I didn't doubt for a minute that when confronted with the truth, he would confess. I went into battle armed. And came out uninjured. The brandy decanter, which took the duke's shot, didn't fare as well, I'm afraid."

  "You're making light of the danger you placed yourself in."

  "Only because you're making too much of it. I'm very handy with a knife, plus I had Rayburn and the others at my back." He paused, then said, "Julianne, I—"

  "There you are," came her mother's voice. "The carriage is being brought around. I swear this ordeal is going to be the death of me." She commandeered Julianne's arm and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Your father is absolutely livid."

  "Why?" Julianne asked.

  Her mother raised her gaze to the ceiling. "For heaven's sake, Julianne, have you not realized the implications? With Eastling dead, all the plans for your marriage are in ruins."

  Julianne pulled away from her mother. "Yes, that is a tragedy," she said in an arid tone. "However, I for one am pleased that I didn't end up married to that murdering madman."

  Her mother blinked. "Oh. Well, yes." She quickly recovered her aplomb. "I believe Haverly was your father's second choice, so that's most likely the way it will go."

  Cold dread filled Julianne. Even though she knew the answer, she found herself asking, "The way what will go?"

  "Your betrothal. But don't worry about it now. There's plenty of time to discuss it tomorrow." She turned to Gideon. "It appears we no longer require your services, Mr. Mayne. I'll see to it that your belongings are packed up and returned to you tomorrow."

  And suddenly it hit Julianne that the investigation was indeed over. Which meant that Gideon wouldn't be guarding her any longer. He wouldn't be coming back to Grosvenor Square

  tonight. There wouldn't be any more nights. Any more days. No more time. No more Gideon.

  Her mother once again commandeered Julianne's arm. "Come along, Julianne. The carriage is waiting."

  Once again Julianne shook free. "I'll join you in a moment, Mother."

  Her mother heaved a sigh. "If you feel you must speak with Mr. Mayne, I'll wait."

  Julianne lifted her chin and spoke to her mother with a firmness she couldn't recall ever using before. "As the man saved my life, I do want to talk to him. And I shall do so without you listening."

  Her mother's lips pursed as if she'd sucked on a lemon. Julianne knew she couldn't claim there was need of a chaperone as at least a dozen people still lingered in the room. Finally the countess nodded. "Very well. You may have two minutes. Then I'll expect you in the carriage."

  After her mother left, Julianne turned to Gideon. There were so many things she wanted say, but all the words stuck in her tight, dry throat. Words she wished she had the courage to utter. I love you. Do you love me? I want you. Do you want me, too? I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me? She hoped he might speak, but he remained silent, just looking at her with an expression she couldn't read.

  Nerves assailed her, and she pressed her suddenly damp palms against her gown. Moistened her lips. Then began, "If you need your belongings tonight, you may come to the house—"

  "No," he said quickly. So quickly it was clear he didn't want to return to the house. "Having them sent to me is fine."

  Julianne felt her time running out, and a sense of panic seized her. Unable to think of a way to delicately ask what she wanted, needed to know, she simply whispered, "Will I see you again?"

  Her heart beat in painful thumps waiting for his reply, trying to read his unreadable eyes. And then suddenly she could read them. Saw his answer. And his regret. And it felt as if her heart ceased beating. And instead began to bleed.

  "The investigation is over," he said quietly.

  She had to swallow twice to find her voice. "Which means that you and me … what we shared … is over as well." She'd found her voice, but it was utterly flat. And seemed to come from very far away.

  "I'm afraid so. Julianne, I hope you know—" His words cut off and he raked a hand through his hair. "I want you to know that I … I'll never forget you."

  She looked up at him and hid nothing. Let him see her heart and the depth of her love for him. Offered herself with her eyes. And he saw it. She knew he did. And so she waited. Until she couldn't stand the silence any longer. Then she asked in as steady a voice as she could muster, "Is that all you have to say to me, Gideon?"

  Gideon stared into blue eyes filled with so much hope and yearning and love it actually hurt to look. He could tell her that he loved her, would always love her, but what good would that do either of them? He could tell her that if their situations were different—if she weren't an earl's daughter, or if he were a peer—he'd marry her in a heartbeat. But again, what good would that do? Their situation wasn't different.

  But he had to say something. He reached out and gently took her hand. And forced himself not to dwell on the fact that it was the last time he would touch her.

  "I hope," he said quietly, his gaze steady on hers, "that all your wishes and dreams come true."

  For several seconds those blue eyes gazed into his. Then all the hope and yearning leaked away, breaking his heart in the process. She slowly withdrew her hand from his.

  "I wish the same for you," she said in a broken whisper. "Good-bye, Gideon."

  And then she turned and walked away.

  Leaving him with a broken heart and a shattered soul. And a very bleak future.

  * * *

  The following afternoon, Gideon sat in his study, doing the same thing he'd been doing since finally arriving home just before dawn: staring at the mantel. Thinking. Of things he needed to forget but knew he never would. Remembering. Her every word and touch that were branded in his brain. Aching. With a bone-deep pain he despaired of ever ridding himself of.

  He blew out a long, tired sigh. If he had to sum up this situation in one word, it would have to be how. How had he allowed himself to fall so deeply, so hopelessly in love? How was he going to get through the next day, the next week, the next year, without her? How was he going to stand thinking of her married to someone else?

  How the bloody hell was it possible to hurt so badly yet still breathe?

  He'd tried to dull the ache with whiskey, but after the first hour realized the folly of that, since there wasn't enough whiskey in the kingdom to make him forget Julianne. So he'd capped the decanter and tried to concentrate on his headache rather than his heartache. And failed completely.

  Caesar came to him and plopped his head on Gideon's knee, his soulful eyes filled with canine misery. Gideon scratched behind the dog's ears. "You lost your lady love, too, didn't you, boy?"

  Caesar made the most pitiful sound Gideon had ever heard from the beast.

  "I know exactly how you feel."

  Caesar shifted his eyes to the whiskey decanter, and Gideon shook his head. "Take it from me, it doesn't help. It tastes foul and just gives you a bloody headache. And you don't get your woman back."

  Caesar let out a mighty sigh, one Gideon was tempted to emulate, except it hurt too much to breathe that deep
ly. He dragged his hands down his face, grimacing at the rough scrape of his unshaven jaw.

  The brass knocker on the front door sounded, rousing Caesar, who dashed from the room barking crazily, as if grateful to have something to do other than mope. Gideon hauled himself out of his chair and made his way to the foyer, wondering who was calling yet not really caring. His portmanteau had been delivered hours ago by Ethan. He'd hoped there might be a note from Julianne, but there wasn't. And although he was disappointed, what more was there to say?

  When he reached the foyer, he quieted Caesar, then opened the door. And raised his brows in surprise at the sight of Matthew, Daniel, and Logan standing on his steps.

  "You look like hell," Logan said.

  Gideon blinked. "Uh … I'm not quite sure what to say to that except I feel like hell, too."

  "It shows," Matthew said. "May we come in? There's something we need to discuss with you."

  Gideon opened the door wider. "Of course." He led them to his study, where long rays of afternoon sunshine slanted through the windows. Once they were all seated, Matthew said, "I had a very interesting conversation with my wife on the way home in the middle of the night. It prompted me to call upon Daniel early this morning—"

  "And it turns out I'd had a similar conversation with my wife on the ride home."

  Logan cleared his throat. "I have no wife and therefore had no such conversation, but Daniel and Matthew were kind enough to include me in their plan."

  "What plan is that?" asked Gideon.

  "That depends on you. On what you decide to do about this." Matthew pulled an envelope from his waistcoat pocket and held it out to Gideon.

  Gideon hesitated then took the envelope. "What is it?"

  "One way to find out," Daniel said.

  Mystified, Gideon opened the envelope and withdrew the contents. Scanned the paper. Frowned. Then read the words more carefully. Finally he looked up. And found three sets of serious eyes resting on him.

  "This appears to be a special license," he said.

  "That's because it is a special license," Matthew confirmed. "Arranged for today by the three of us at the Archbishop of Canterbury's London office in Doctors Commons."