Scandalous Deception

by Rosemary Rogers

  “No.” Edmond stilled, meeting his companion’s narrowed gaze. “Actually, he was quite reluctant to brave the chilled night air.”

  Boris gave a slow shake of his head, his tight expression revealing his frustration at the peculiar attack. A frustration that echoed within Edmond.

  Not just the fact that someone was brazen enough to take a shot at him in the middle of London. Or that the bullet had strayed and wounded Brianna. But the seeming randomness of the shooting.

  It was hardly a brilliant scheme to lurk about a town house crowded with guests and servants on the off chance that the Duke of Huntley might offer himself as an easy target.

  “So, if Summerville had been the one to pay the villain to shoot you, it was not intended to occur on the balcony,” Boris muttered.

  “Not unless he possessed an inordinate amount of faith in the shooter,” Edmond said dryly. “We could not have been more than a few feet from one another when the gun was fired.”

  Boris shrugged. “Of course, if he were standing at your side when you were murdered, it would give him an unshakable alibi.”

  “Howard does not possess the wits, let alone the courage to plot such a dangerous scheme. Damn. This was not supposed to be so complicated.”

  For long moments, nothing but the occasional pop of a burning log broke the silence in the room. Then, awkwardly, Boris cleared his throat.

  “You are certain you were the intended victim?”

  “Who the hell would waste a bullet on Howard Summerville?”

  “It was Miss Quinn who was actually shot.”

  Edmond stumbled to a halt, his blood running cold. “Christ, Boris, it’s bad enough to accept that Brianna was hurt because of me. I cannot even consider the possibility that someone had deliberately attempted to kill her.”

  “Not wishing something does not make it so.”

  “No.” His stark denial echoed through the vast room. “The only one who could possibly desire to harm Brianna is Thomas Wade, and he is crazed with the need to have her in his bed, not in her grave. He would never attempt to kill her.”

  “Perhaps not,” Boris said, clearly skeptical. “Who inherits her dowry should she die?”

  “Enough, Boris.”

  Boris held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I agree, it is unlikely that the bullet was meant for anyone but the Duke of Huntley, but a wise man once taught me that it is dangerous to leap to conclusions and close your mind to other possibilities.”

  With an effort, Edmond uncoiled his tense muscles and sucked in a deep breath. Those were his words, of course. It was how he trained all of his employees.

  It was far too easy to be blinded by the obvious, or worse, to allow emotion to overcome logic.

  “A wise man, indeed.” His smile was strained as he conceded defeat. Boris was right. There were still too many unanswered questions to make any assumptions. “Tomorrow, I want you to discover whatever you can of Miss Quinn’s finances and if anyone stands to benefit from her death.”

  Boris offered a ready nod. “What do you intend to do?”

  “I have already sent a red rose to the King’s theatre to set up a meeting with Chesterfield.” Lifting a hand, Edmond rubbed the aching muscles of his neck. “If he is having Howard Summerville watched, as he is being paid to do, then someone must have seen something.”

  “Yes.” Boris’s expression sharpened at the realization that there might very well be a witness to the attack. “Perhaps I should visit that pub and see if Chesterfield left a message—”

  “In the morning, Boris,” Edmond interrupted, his expression uncompromising. “I have Danya keeping watch upon the grounds, but I prefer to have you near at hand in the event the villain decides to finish what he started.”

  “Surely no one would be foolish enough to attempt to slip into this house?”

  “So long as Brianna is beneath this roof, I intend to take no chances.”

  Ignoring his companion’s speculative expression, Edmond turned to leave the library. He had given the women long enough to fuss over Brianna. For the remainder of the night, she would be in his care.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IT WAS THE SOUND OF THE SOFT, yet fierce, argument that lured Brianna from the clinging sleep. For a long, painful moment, she struggled to recall where she was and what had happened.

  She remembered being at Lady Montgomery’s soiree. And then following Edmond onto the balcony. But after that, everything was lost in the sensations of being held tightly in Edmond’s arms and the sway of the carriage. Now it would seem that she was tucked into her bed in the Huntley town house, with Janet standing guard at her door and Edmond not at all pleased to be prevented from entering the room.

  “I said to stand aside, Janet,” he snapped.

  “Nay.” The maid was at her most stubborn. “I will not have Miss Brianna disturbed.”

  “I have no intention of disturbing her, nor do I intend to stand in this hall and squabble with you. Move aside, or I will move you.”

  Brianna might have enjoyed the battle between the two obstinate, ruthless opponents, if it did not take her full concentration to hold back the looming darkness.

  “Now you look here, sir, I don’t be caring how top lofty ye might be, ye don’t scare me.” Janet was utterly fearless as always. “’Tis yer fault that me mistress was wounded. The least ye can do is allow her to heal in peace.”

  “You are treading a dangerous path, Janet.”

  “It is my duty to protect my mistress. Especially when she is unable to protect herself.”

  Brianna heard Edmond’s sharp breath and she forced her heavy lashes to lift so she could witness his hard, faintly outraged expression. She doubted it was often that Mr. Edmond Summerville had his honor questioned by a mere servant.

  “What the hell do you think I intend to do with her?”

  Janet snorted. “There is only one reason for a man to seek out a woman in her private chambers.”

  “Christ. I am not Thomas Wade. I have no need to force myself on women. Especially not those who are unconscious.”

  “Mayhaps not, but—”

  Brianna was relieved, as Janet’s mulish words came to a startled halt as Boris suddenly appeared in the doorway, a faint smile on his harshly chiseled features.

  “Allow me, sir,” he murmured before grasping a startled Janet around her waist and tossing her over his shoulder.

  “Why, ye devil.” The maid smacked Boris in the middle of the back with her clenched fists. “I’ll have ye gelded. I’ll have your throat slit and yer body dumped in the stews.”

  “Thank you, Boris,” Edmond murmured, chuckling as the large servant headed down the hallway with a struggling Janet.

  The threats were abruptly muffled as Edmond closed the door and moved to settle on the edge of her bed. Nestled on the mattress, Brianna shivered despite the blankets that had been piled on her while she slept. Even with his magnificent eyes shadowed with exhaustion and his jaw darkened with a hint of his morning beard, Edmond still managed to flood the room with his raw, restless power.

  And to send a disturbing shock of pleasure through her.

  Instinctively, she attempted to shift from his looming body, only to be halted as Edmond stretched out beside her and tenderly bundled her into his arms.

  Brianna stiffened, watching him with a wary expression as she realized that they were very much alone in her bedchamber, and that he was stripped down to his linen shirt and tight breeches, while she was wearing nothing more than a thin chemise.

  “Edmond?”

  “Shh. Do not move, ma souris,” he murmured, his lips stroking close to the wound on her temple.

  “What is Boris going to do to Janet?” she demanded.

  “I think we should be much more concerned for Boris’s welfare,” he drawled. “Where the devil did you find that terrifying gorgon?”

  She knew she should battle her way from his arms. Even with the thick blankets and his rumpled evening attire
between them, she could feel his tantalizing heat beginning to seep into her chilled body. But at the moment, she was too tired to fight the inevitable. And besides, it felt so wonderful to snuggle against him and to rest her head in the shallow dip beneath his shoulder. There was a fierce, relentless strength about him that banished the strange sense of unreality that plagued her.

  “She is very protective.”

  “So I have discovered.” His lips brushed down the curve of her cheek, his touch one of comfort rather than seduction. “Tonight, however, she has no need to stand guard. I am here to keep you safe.”

  “I believe she is convinced that having you here to keep me safe is rather akin to having the fox guarding the chickens,” Brianna said dryly.

  Edmond shifted so that he could frown down at her pale, pain-drawn expression.

  “I do not mind being likened to a fox, but I will be damned to be thought a monster. I do not force myself on wounded females.”

  Wounded.

  Yes. That would explain the fiery ache at her temple. She lifted a hand to discover that a plaster had been placed over her injury.

  “What happened?”

  “You do not recall?”

  She started to frown, only to wince in pain. “I remember stepping onto the balcony and a loud explosion. I think something must have hit my head.”

  The hard, bronzed features were unreadable. “You were shot, Brianna.”

  “Shot?” She froze in pure shock, her fingers still pressed to her temple. “A bullet did this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good heavens,” she breathed. “Who would shoot me?”

  “Who can say?”

  “You,” she said, glaring into his guarded expression.

  “What?”

  She cautiously shifted up on the pillows, just enough so she was not lying flat on her back. “You know something.”

  “Now is not the time to discuss…”

  “Dammit, Edmond, tell me.”

  “I suspect that it was an accident.”

  She clicked her tongue. “You think I am stupid enough to believe that someone was just randomly shooting at Lady Montgomery’s balcony?”

  “No, I do not think for a moment that it was random.”

  She shivered at the low, feral edge in his voice. For goodness sakes, he claimed it was an accident and yet, was certain it was not random….

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened as realization struck. “You believe that it was an accident that I was the one who was hit by the bullet. You think they were shooting at you.”

  It was only because he still held her tightly against him that she felt his muscles tense.

  “That is one possibility,” he hedged.

  “Why? Why would someone shoot at you?”

  His lips twisted in a wry smile. “Surely you, of all people, cannot be surprised that someone might wish me dead?”

  No, she would not be surprised. He was, after all, the sort of arrogant, ruthless bastard who would collect enemies with the same ease that some men collected snuffboxes. Not to mention the fact that he was a renowned rakehell who had no doubt seduced his way through all of England and most of Russia.

  The only wonder was that he hadn’t already been shot.

  The blow to her head, however, hadn’t completely scattered her wits.

  “But no one in London knows that it is you. Everyone assumes that you are the Duke of Huntley,” she pointed out, suspiciously. “This has something to do with you pretending to be Stefan, does it not?”

  His lips thinned. “It is late, Brianna. You should be resting.”

  “No.” She made a move to sit up, only to be halted as his arms tightened around her. “I deserve to have the truth, Edmond.”

  He arched a dark brow. “You deserve the truth?”

  “I was the one shot.”

  There was a brooding silence as he studied her stubborn expression. Brianna knew that he wanted to ignore her demands for an explanation. He was a man who gave orders and expected them to be obeyed without question. As his gaze lingered on the plaster stuck on her forehead, his beautiful features hardened with a hint of resignation.

  “I suppose that is true enough,” he grudgingly conceded.

  “Please.” She touched a hand to his cheek, the prickle of his whiskers that darkened the line of his jaw pressing into her palm with an oddly pleasurable sensation. “Why are you in London posing as the Duke of Huntley? What secrets are you hiding?”

  His eyes darkened at her soft touch before his features tightened and he pulled back to regard her with a hard gaze.

  “I am here because I suspect that someone is attempting to murder my brother.”

  An icy disbelief jolted through her body. She was uncertain what she had expected, but certainly not that.

  “No. I cannot believe it.”

  His lips twisted as he gently touched the plaster covering her injury.

  “You have the wounds to make you believe.”

  “But…Stefan.” She shook her head, feeling oddly numb as she struggled to accept the shocking notion that anyone could wish harm upon the Duke of Huntley. “You must be mistaken. He is so kind and good. Everyone loves him.”

  Edmond’s expression was grim as his fingers shifted to trail down the curve of her cheek.

  “No matter how kind and good he might be, he is also a powerful nobleman who inherited his own share of enemies.”

  “I suppose.” She sucked in a deep breath. “It still seems…”

  “Seems what?”

  “Unbelievable,” she muttered, unable to come up with a suitable word to describe the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was not so innocent that she did not understand there was evil in the world. Thomas Wade had made certain of that. But it was nearly impossible to think of sweet, gentle Stefan being stalked by a coldblooded murderer. “Who do you suspect?”

  Frustration rippled over the lean features as Edmond gave a shake of his head. “Howard Summerville seemed the obvious choice. If both Stefan and I were to conveniently cock up our toes, he would be in line for the dukedom and a rather large fortune that he has made little effort to disguise he is in desperate need of.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “So that is why you allowed your cousin to be invited to Lady Montgomery’s.”

  “Yes.”

  She pondered a long moment. “Perhaps he was the obvious choice, but he could hardly have been the one to pull the trigger on this eve. Not unless he is a magician.”

  “He could have paid someone else to do the evil deed while he was standing at my side. What better means to ensure no one believes he is guilty?”

  She blinked at the devious implications. “So you think…”

  “At this moment, I do not know what to think.” He heaved a sigh of aggravation as he tugged her close to his chest and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “All I know for certain is that I am weary and in need of a few hours sleep. We can finish this conversation tomorrow. Or rather, later today,” he amended as he glanced toward the window where the faint hint of a rosy dawn could be detected.

  Brianna could not deny a desire to snuggle close to Edmond and rest her aching head for a short while. Despite the vibrant awareness, or perhaps because of it, she felt safe and protected and strangely peaceful in his arms. As if nothing could harm her so long as he held her near.

  A sensation that was far more dangerous than mere desire.

  “Edmond.”

  “Mmm?”

  “You cannot remain in this bed with me.”

  “Be at ease, ma souris. I trust you with my virtue. At least for the next few hours.”

  “And what of my virtue?”

  “It is safe.” He smiled deep into her wary eyes before turning to blow out the flickering candle beside the bed. “At least for the next few hours.”

  BRIANNA AWAKENED TO DISCOVER herself still cradled in Edmond’s arms. Not entirely shocking. She had not given more than a token resistance to rid her be
d of his presence, and then promptly ruined even that by falling asleep with remarkable ease.

  It was rather shocking, however, to discover that sometime during the early morning hours, Edmond had shed the last of his clothes and that she was pressed possessively against his naked flesh.

  For a moment, she allowed herself to savor the comfort at waking in a man’s arms. Then, with a muffled curse at her stupidity, she cautiously began to shift from beneath the leg that Edmond had thrown over her hips. Good lord, the entire household must be aware that Edmond was in her chambers and that he had slept in the same bed.

  What must they be thinking?

  Intent on her escape, Brianna had managed to wriggle less than an inch when the arms wrapped around her tightened with an unyielding force.

  “Good morning, ma souris. How did you sleep?”

  Unable to move, Brianna tilted back her head to discover a slit of brilliant blue shimmering between the thick lace of his lashes. Her heart gave a violent jump at the sight of his lean features still softened by sleep and his dark hair tumbled onto his forehead.

  He looked younger, more…vulnerable. As if he might actually possess a heart beneath all that ruthless strength.

  “Well enough, considering that you consumed far more than your fair share of the bed,” she muttered, her breath oddly elusive as his soft chuckle brushed over her cheek.

  “Did I? That is easily remedied.”

  “Yes, quite easily,” she said, tartly. It was all very well for him to mock her embarrassment. He no doubt awoke every morning with one woman or another in his bed. She, however, hadn’t the least experience in such matters. “All you need do is move aside so that I can rise…”

  Her words ended in a squeak as Edmond rolled onto his back, hauling a startled Brianna on top of his hard, splendidly naked body.

  “Is that better?”

  Sprawled across his chest, she gazed down at his impossibly handsome face, shuddering as she encountered the smoldering hunger that burned in his eyes. It was a hunger that beat deep within her. She craved his kisses, his skilled caresses. His most intimate touch.