by Regina Scott
Joanna nearly laughed imagining it. If he had thought her conversation in the park yesterday impertinent with her demands to know his deepest dreams, what would he think if she asked him whether he’d ever had a mistress?
Yet, how would she discover the culprit unless she knew more about her betrothed?
–
To reassure himself, if nothing else, Allister called on Joanna Sunday afternoon. He wasn’t surprised to find Eugennia Welch there before him. The shy heiress and Joanna were close friends. What did surprise him was the way the two of them looked at him over the tea tray. It was as if they’d discovered a new breed of cattle. He half expected them to demand to count his teeth.
“What have I interrupted?” he asked, seating himself on a chair across from them.
Joanna and Miss Welch exchanged glances, confirming his suspicion that they were up to something.
As if in accord, Joanna nodded, and her friend rose, forcing Allister to his feet once more.
“Nothing of concern,” Miss Welch told him. “I must be going. A pleasure to see you again, my lord.”
“And you,” Allister said, bowing over the hand she offered. He straightened in time to see her lips moving, as if she mouthed something to Joanna over his head. But his quizzical look was met with only a smile before she took her leave.
“Did I chase her off?” he asked, reseating himself.
“No, of course not,” Joanna assured him. “Jenny and I had completed our deliberations.”
“Deliberations?” Allister crossed his booted feet. “About the wedding?”
“No, in truth. I told her about the note and the other incidents.”
Allister stiffened. “Why?”
Her dark brows rose. “Whyever not? I wasn’t aware that the matter was a state secret.”
Perhaps not. Yet. He forced himself to relax. “Forgive me. You have every right to share your concerns with your friend. And did you reach any conclusions on the matter?”
She made a face, nose wrinkling in a way he found adorable. “No, worse luck. We can think of no one who might want to stop our wedding.”
His thoughts from the last day demanded attention. “A shame.” Might I impose on you for a cup?”
“Oh! Certainly.” She hurried to pour, long-fingered hands graceful even in her haste. “Forgive me, Allister. This matter weighs on my mind.”
“Mine as well,” he promised her, accepting the cup from her hand. Their fingers brushed, and a tremor ran through him. How the lads on Lord Hastings’ staff would laugh if they knew. Allister, Lord Trevithan, feared on two continents, undone by a mere touch from his beloved.
“And have you had any luck?” she asked, sitting back in her seat and folding her hands primly in the lap of her gown.
“Not much,” he admitted. He took a sip of the tea. “A few names have been suggested.”
“Oh?”
She was all interest. He smiled as he set down his cup. “Do you know George Safton?”
Her response was entirely proper, the faintest curl of her lips and a chill in her voice. “I have heard of him. But we are not acquainted.”
And not likely to become so if she had anything to say about it. He’d known she was clever.
“Understandable,” he told her. “I can think of no reason he might bear a grudge against either of us.”
“You have never…partnered him in his ventures?”
She could have only the slightest notion of the nature of those ventures. “No. Safton prefers less experienced fellows. Easier to gull them.” He reached for the cup and paused. “What of Robert Whattling?”
She started, and he was glad he hadn’t taken a sip, for it would no doubt have gone down sour. Young Whattling and his older brother Kevin were the darlings of the ton. Their golden good looks and charming manner had endeared them to the ladies and gentlemen alike. The traits came in handy for Kevin’s work with Lord Hastings as well. Still, nothing said charm was the sole purview of heroes.
As if to hide her reaction, she set about rearranging the items on the tea tray. “I know Mr. Whattling and his brother. He flirts with everyone. His attentions to me last Season appeared no more serious.”
Yet something about them troubled her. He reached out, stilled her hand with his own. “Were you disappointed in him, Joanna?”
Color climbed in her cheeks. “Certainly not. At least, no more so than with the other gentlemen who showed interest. It is the nature of the Season to flirt, to banter.” She met his gaze. “Until you meet a man you can admire above all others.”
He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and pressed a kiss into her palm. “I am the most fortunate of men.”
She demurred, as he knew she would. Humble to a fault was his Joanna. She did not seem to know how beautiful she was, skin flushed from his praise, hand warm in his. Whattling was a fool for not pursuing her.
Did he know it? Or, callow youth that he was, had he thought the note a prank, something to joke about with his cronies? Surely he would have come forward by now to gloat at Allister’s culpability.
Then again, Lydia Montgomery had mentioned the lad calling on her. Perhaps he had told her about the note, which was why she had doubted Allister was about to wed. And what of the park? He hadn’t spotted Whattling there, but he might have been present among the crowds.
He’d wondered whether to approach the fellow. That was no longer an option. He had to know whether it was an old friend, or an old enemy, who threatened them.
Chapter Eight
The steam from Joanna’s tea rose curling from the cup, but she could not force herself to take a sip. How odd that he would mention Robbie Whattling when she and Jenny had just been discussing the fellow. How even more shocking was Jenny’s suggestion, mouthed over Allister’s shoulder.
Ask him.
She didn’t question the meaning or the reasoning behind it. Jenny thought Allister might keep a mistress who sought to part him from his bride. Such a mistress would no doubt see Joanna as a threat. Was this possibly mythical temptress why Allister did not appear to have given Joanna his heart? Was some part of him loyal to her?
How could she ask? She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. Besides, a lady wasn’t supposed to know about such matters. Certainly a gentleman never admitted in mixed company to keeping a lover.
Perhaps she could ease into the subject.
“And what of you?” she asked. “Have you thought of no ladies who were saddened that you are no longer on the marriage mart?”
“Not a one,” he said with a smile before bringing his cup to his mouth.
“What, no crying countesses, devastated duchesses?”
He shook his head.
“Ladies of lesser rank, perhaps?”
“No.”
He was not being helpful. Joanna clasped her fingers tightly together. “Ladies with no rank and questionable reputation?”
She thought she heard a chuckle, but he tilted up the cup and drained it before she could be certain. When he lowered it, his face was composed.
“Rest assured, my dear. There has been no one in my life since I met you. In fact, my life was a rather empty existence until you arrived.”
He knew just what to say to melt her concerns. “And I certainly never had such an interesting life before I met you.”
He set down his cup. “Joanna, I don’t want you to worry. That note may have been no more than a prank, our watcher in the park merely an innocent onlooker. I promise you, I will find answers. Until then, go on as you have.”
She fully intended to. She had a dozen more things to do before the wedding. But nothing said she couldn’t have a few words with Robbie Whattling in the meantime.
–
As Jenny had mentioned, the Whattling brothers enjoyed their sports—boxing, fencing, horse and carriage racing. It was only a matter of time before one or both appeared at Gentleman Jackson’s famed boxing emporium. All Joanna need do was find an excuse to loiter on
Bond Street. Because she was planning a wedding, she had every reason to frequent the shops. No one need find her presence suspicious or scandalous.
But Allister’s presence on Bond Street was decidedly suspicious.
Bond Street was its usual busyness, elegant ladies and dapper dandies strolling among the shops, servants hurrying to help. Voices rose all around. She had climbed from the carriage, footman assisting her, when she sighted her betrothed just down the way, eying a display in a shop window. Shopping? Allister? She was under the impression he found it the most boring of tasks. Yet no one could doubt his fascination with that display, hands clasped behind his back, body leaning closer. She glanced up at the sign over the door. A jeweler? Was he looking for a gift for her?
Or a parting gift for his mistress?
No, no, she had to believe him when he said there was no one else in his life save her. She would not approach him. If he noticed her, he could choose whether to engage in conversation.
She must have hesitated too long, for Dames gave her a puzzled look.
Joanna smiled at her footman. “Merely marshalling my thoughts. Shall we start at the stationers? I’ll need a quantity of paper to thank those who are sending gifts.”
“Of course, miss.” He stepped aside to allow her to proceed him toward the shop.
She’d chosen it with care. Not only was the stationer’s near the boxing emporium but its wide display window gave her a clear view of the street and those passing along it. She waved away the solicitous clerk and sorted through samples, all the while keeping an eye on the pavement outside. Perhaps that was why she saw Allister stroll past not once but twice.
Surely he wasn’t looking for the Whattling brothers too.
Just then, the very gentlemen strode past the window, heads high and coats tailored to their muscular forms. Joanna set down the samples and hurried after, her nod promising the clerk she would return with a decision. Dames scrambled after her.
The two Whattlings had gone only a short distance, but already Allister was bearing down on them. Joanna caught him up, just as he reached them. He blinked as if surprised to find her at his side, and she stepped into the opening.
“Gentlemen, how nice to see you again.”
They turned. Of the two, Kevin Whattling was by far the more striking, with features drawn by an artist with an eye to beauty and a frame hardened by hours of boxing and fencing. Robbie was more engaging, with a gleam in his blue eyes that promised adventure. He was the first to react to her greeting.
“Miss Lindby, a pleasure.” He took both her hands, spread them wider as if to get a better look at her. “How radiant you are. It must be your joy shining through.”
Allister took a step closer to her, forcing him to drop her hands. “Yes, we are both overjoyed by our coming nuptials. We are to be married, in June.”
How determined he sounded. She watched to see how Robbie would react.
“So I heard,” his brother said, inclining his head. “Congratulations to you both.”
Robbie put a hand to his chest. “Alas, another fair flower removed from the garden.”
“Quite happily,” Joanna assured him. “Make no mistake, Mr. Whattling. I have found the perfect man for me, and I would be disturbed if anyone thought otherwise.”
Kevin’s brows went up, but Robbie’s teasing grin faded. “I can imagine you might, ma’am,” he murmured, lowering his gaze. “I certainly didn’t mean to imply criticism.”
“Good chap.” Allister clapped him on his broad shoulder. “I’d take a dim view of any man who tried to come between me and my bride.”
“As would most men,” Kevin put in as Robbie positively squirmed. He turned to Joanna. “I wonder if I could request your aid, Miss Lindby. Robbie and I have been trying to determine the sort of wedding band that a lady might appreciate when it’s our turn to stroll down the aisle. Would you be so kind as to advise Robbie?”
Joanna glanced among the three men. Kevin’s look was all polite inquiry. Allister smiled encouragement. Robbie frowned as if he didn’t understand what his brother was about.
She understood. Kevin wanted a private word with Allister. She ought to refuse to leave Allister’s side, stand her ground.
But if they conversed privately, so could she, with Robbie.
“Certainly,” she said with a smile. “If you’d be so kind as to lead the way, Mr. Whattling?”
–
Allister watched Joanna go with some misgivings, even though her footman trailed behind her as if determined to protect her from the crowds. What rotten luck that she’d been on Bond Street that morning, just as he had a moment to interrogate the Whattling brothers. Or was it luck? He had never liked coincidences.
“Of what do you suspect him?” Kevin murmured beside him, gaze following the pair to the jeweler’s display window.
Allister turned to his colleague. No one looking at Whattling’s golden good looks would suspect him of being an intelligence agent. He was too polished, too perfect, an angel come to grace earth. Only a few understood the cunning behind that fair façade.
“Someone sent Joanna a note cancelling our wedding,” Allister replied.
“Ah, a prank.” He shrugged. “Robbie would certainly be up to it, but he would have thrown it in your face long before this. He’s said nothing about the matter to me.”
“Do you spend all your time with him?” Allister pushed.
Kevin’s eyes narrowed. “More and more lately. I won’t lie to you, Trev. Something’s troubling him, and I don’t believe the answers he gives me. But I sincerely doubt it has anything to do with your lady.”
Robbie must have said something witty, for Joanna’s laugh floated toward Allister. His hands tightened at his sides.
“Someone has been watching us.”
Kevin shook his head. “Not Robbie, I tell you. He’s too busy to skulk about after a lady who clearly loves elsewhere.”
“Are you?”
He laughed. “Trev, if I was following you, you wouldn’t have noticed.”
Perhaps not. “I had to ask. I don’t like the alternative.”
Kevin sobered. “One of your enemies, then?”
Allister nodded. “Davis and his lordship suspect the Skull.”
Kevin’s gaze darted to his brother and Joanna, who had their heads together as if deep in discussion over the baubles displayed in the window. “I can see why that would concern you. I hadn’t heard he was in town.”
“We have only Lydia Montgomery’s word for it. Be watchful.”
“Always.” He frowned. “What do you think those two are discussing? I wouldn’t imagine the cut of a wedding band to hold such fascination.”
Neither would Allister. In fact, the discussion seemed far more impactful. Robbie Whattling’s face was pale and set, and he nodded so frequently his head might have been on a spring. What was Joanna saying to him?
Chapter Nine
What a waste of time. She’d used every wile available to a lady of good breeding to winkle out Robbie Whattling’s secret, only to learn it had nothing to do with her. The poor fellow was over his ears in debt and singularly unwilling to believe that the gaming tables wouldn’t be his salvation. She’d given him a good scold, as any friend or sister might have done, and returned him to his brother, barely able to keep from displaying her annoyance. Not only had she learned nothing of use but she’d been deprived of hearing what Allister said to the older brother.
He insisted on escorting her home. Joanna allowed him to hand her up into the carriage. The landau’s hood was up, for the clouds threatened rain. The first drops pattered down as he settled himself across from her.
“Shopping?” he asked as the carriage started off on the busy street.
“Naturally,” she said, hoping her smile wasn’t overly bright. “We are to be married, you know.”
“I believe I heard a rumor.” He leaned back against the squabs. “Odd that we should meet.”
“On Bond Street?
La, my lord, everyone shops there. Even you, it seems.”
“Naturally.”
She had given him too much opportunity to evade her. She tried something more pointed. “I’m sorry I interrupted. What were you looking for?”
She thought he might prevaricate, but he answered readily enough. “Information.”
“From the Whattlings?” She couldn’t help but perk up. “What did Mr. Whattling tell you?”
“What did his brother tell you?”
Might as well admit it. “Precious little, I fear. I doubt he’s our culprit, Allister. He clearly bears neither of us ill will.”
He leaned forward, and the look in his eyes chilled her. “So I surmised. What I don’t understand is why you would insert yourself in this investigation.”
“Insert myself?” Joanna drew herself up. “My happiness was threatened. Surely I have every right to determine who would do such a thing and why.”
“Every right, but no need. I told you I was looking into the matter. Don’t you trust me?”
Yes? No? She didn’t know the answer, which was troubling. And an honest response could only hurt him.
“I am merely trying to help,” she murmured. “You asked me whether someone from my past might be involved. How can I know unless I ask?”
“By allowing me to ask,” he countered. “It is my honor and duty to protect you.”
Even when she could protect herself?
She shifted on the seat, her mother’s comfortable cushions suddenly hard. Perhaps he was right. What did she know about investigations? He surely had more experience. She just wanted the matter settled, to be certain of their wedding.
To be certain of him.
“Let us not quarrel,” she said as the carriage drew to a stop before the door of her town house. “I have satisfied my curiosity about Mr. Whattling and am convinced he poses no danger. I trust you concur?”
He inclined his head. “It appears Whattling didn’t write that note.”
She reached for the latch, and his hand came down on hers. Before she knew what he was about, he’d pulled her into his lap.