Dangerous Pursuit (Lords 0f Whitehall Book 1)

by Ann Chaney

  Serena pasted a huge smile on her face. “Yes, I would be delighted to dance with you if Gillian will allow you to leave her side.”

  Gillian interjected. “Of course, Serena is my dearest friend and I think you should become acquainted.”

  Serena hugged Gillian. “Most assuredly. I must move along. Your aunt is giving me the evil eye for holding up the receiving line.” She turned her attention to Arnold. “I have promised several sets to other gentlemen. I think the second set, a minuet, is not spoken for.”

  Arnold beamed, “Excellent, I look forward to our dance.”

  Serena patted Gillian’s hand and made her way into the ballroom. She’d faced the traitor and not given herself away. Her blood sped through her body at lightning speed. What a heady experience to fool the man.

  “Oh, dearest, I see Muriel on the far side of the room. She was wearing the loveliest of hats in the park the other day. I must ask her which milliner she visited.” Philly waved at the Viscountess Weatherington, Richard’s mother. “Do you mind if I leave you on your own?”

  “Not at all, Aunt. Lady Muriel looks most anxious to have you join her. I’ll be fine.”

  Without a backward glance, Aunt Philly disappeared into the crowd. Serena surveyed the guests around her looking for a friendly face. A futile effort to be sure. Most of her friends had married and were currently settled in the country with their families. While she wished she were home tucked into bed with a book.

  Dressed in their finest evening clothes, everyone stood in groups chatting as they waited for the dancing to begin. With all the greenery snaking around the columns, windows and doors, she thought the room resembled the shores of her father’s beloved Amazon River.

  Serena walked along the side of the room closest to the French windows. She’d speak with some of the ladies sitting nearby until time for Mr. Arnold to seek her out.

  “I told her that if she added an infusion of vanilla bean to the lavender water it would…”

  Serena decided to keep moving rather than listen to the exchange of receipts for the stillroom. She stopped next to a column of vines half expecting a slithering snake to make an appearance.

  A chill slid across the back of her neck. Goose pimples rose on her skin. There was only person whose presence caused her to react so. It was most disturbing how Richard Weatherington could cause her to behave like that lovesick girl of eight and ten. She knew without any doubt if she were sitting in the nave of Westminster Abbey on Sunday morning, she’d sense the moment Richard walked through the door.

  She turned and found him staring at her. His eyes void of any emotion as he made his way across the floor toward her. That look did not bode well. What is he doing here? He never said he would be attending.

  Feeling the fool for not anticipating the confounding man would make an appearance, she watched him stroll across the room. Dressed in black eveningwear with snowy white linen and a cravat tied in an intricate knot with a sapphire pin situated dead center of the cravat’s lacy fall, the man was breathtaking.

  Gentlemen waylaid him but his gaze never left her. Ladies, young and old, eyed him with interest. He paid no attention. Richard reached her side, stood too close to give her a full bow as she curtsied. Smiling, he lifted her hand. Her breath caught as he pressed his lips to her glove. She felt the warmth of his lips through the thin satin. A far different reaction than the one Arnold elicited minutes before.

  “My lady, I cannot believe my eyes. You are standing here alone with not one suitor in sight. Am I correct in assuming you are not promised for the opening set?”

  Warmth replaced the coolness tickling her neck sending curls of sensation down her arms. “My lord, I’ve only just arrived. I prefer to sit out the first set and catch my breath.” She forced a smile to her lips while drilling him a glare. “Moreham will not be happy with you. You know as well as I, his expectation is for his agents to not draw undue attention to themselves.”

  He leaned closer. “Ah my sweet. There’s the rub. I don’t follow rules.” He raked his finger across the lacy edge of her gown’s bodice.

  Serena fought to breathe. No gentleman had ever touched her so. She wanted to slap his face and sail out of the ballroom and never look back. A lovely dream that, but she was committed to see this evening through to its conclusion. Drat the man for taking advantage of the moment.

  “Nonsense, you know as well as I do, the first dance is a very sedate quadrille. Our host may be regarded as a gentleman with many stellar qualities, but everyone in this overheated room knows the duke has two left feet. I also know you’ll not cause a scene by refusing me. You do follow rules.” Richard held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  Their hosts took to the floor with Gillian and Mr. Arnold and two other couples to form the first square. Other couples formed squares around the perimeter of floor. The musicians played the opening strains of the music while Richard drew her forward to join the last square.

  “What are you doing here? You never said you were attending,” she muttered as he drew her to him in the third movement.

  “My apology. I thought you understood. My rank requires I make an appearance. To do otherwise would attract notice. The duchess does throw the most lavish balls. I love what her chef does with lobster patties. More important, sweeting, I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to dance with the loveliest lady in the room,” he replied with a mischievous wink.

  Speechless, she shot him a glare cold enough to freeze the Serpentine. Serena fought the urge to lash out at the insufferable man. His words were a mockery. The blood in her veins chilled. Perhaps Richard’s cavalier treatment of their past was for the best.

  For the first time since that most horrendous night, she knew with great certainty, Richard was never meant to be hers. Their two recent encounters had proven they were united in a cause to save their country. Nothing else mattered to either of them. She’d not squander the opportunity Moreham had given her. Enough was enough. Time to prove her mettle.

  “You said you would be out by the gazebo,” Serena replied through gritted teeth as she circled around him.

  “Now, sweeting, you know I would be bored out there.” Richard pulled her closer. She dearly wished he would not do that. “You met him?”

  For a mere moment, Serena could not focus on his question. Him? Richard frowned at her. Oh, yes, Arnold.

  “Ah, in the receiving line. Quite a popinjay, I would say. I have promised him the next set.”

  Richard stepped away and smiled at his new partner without a backward glance in her direction. It was all an act. Treating her as if she were the only woman in the room. Standing a shade too close and smiling was only a ruse. Why did that thought hurt so much?

  Richard crossed behind Serena intent on returning to her side. He wanted to watch her eyes widen and her cheeks blush as his breath tickled her ear. An innocent, she could not know the effect she had on him. Every muscle hardened, every nerve stretched, and his life’s blood soared through his veins. He could not remember ever feeling so much so intensely.

  Richard thought hard on what to say but could not come up with any of the witty conversation he normally spouted at a moment’s notice. Serena held herself apart from him, her body stiff as a board. What had happened? He replayed every word they spoke and found nothing untoward. Who was he to ever understand the fickleness of a lady’s mind? All he cared about was capturing Arnold. Or so he told himself.

  Each figure of the dance brought them together only to part then come together again over and over until the music stopped. He bowed to her curtsey and led her to the side of the room. “Until later.”

  With a courtly bow, he took her hand and kissed it. Not a kiss in the air above her hand. As he stated earlier, he didn’t follow rules. Richard pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Only when Serena attempted to free her hand from his grasp, did he bring the kiss to an end. He wanted to give her something to remember.

  Serena turned away without uttering a word, to d
isappear into the crowd. Richard roamed from room to room before returning to the ballroom. He stood in the shadows avoiding the mamas and their sweet girls. From his vantage point he saw Moreham lead Miss Browning out to dance while Arnold puffed up with self -mportance led Serena. Justice was one step closer.

  While she’d waited for Arnold to claim his dance, Serena joined a group of wallflowers and sat with a pair of ladies she didn’t know hoping they would ignore her. One of Moreham’s dictates was one should always hide in plain sight. She’d never grasped his meaning until tonight.

  Serena smoothed her skirts and allowed her thoughts to drift back to Richard. He had been the one who received the note about bees. What possible connection could there be between the two men? Why did he volunteer for what he referred to as a simple endeavor?

  She didn’t like Arnold. The man, a clerk, was a rather unassuming little man with a strange way of looking at a person. She mulled over her interaction with him in the receiving line. His gaze reminded her of the cold stare of a lion stalking his prey.

  Her heart stuttered at the implications. Richard returning to Town. All the puzzle pieces fit together to reveal the truth. Richard believed Arnold either killed his father or knew who did. Richard wanted justice. Now, everything made sense. He’d lived a life devoted to the principles of honor and loyalty. From Richard’s nursery days until the day his father died, the late viscount had instilled those ideals into him. He would never allow his father’s murder to remain unsolved. His agreement for her to assist him made sense now.

  Richard at his most arrogant was at work here. The infernal man considered her an inexperienced operative who’d have no notion what he was up to with Arnold. Unfortunately, while she sympathized with his need for justice, they must not lose sight of what Arnold knew about his compatriots. She’d not be patted on the head sent on her way, so he could interrogate Arnold. Richard didn’t know it, but he’d met his match in Serena Preston.

  Mr. Arnold appeared at her side as the musicians played the familiar measures of the minuet. “Shall we?”

  She placed her hand on his sleeve and smiled. It was time to do her part. While dancing, she hoped she’d be able to come up with her own scheme to remain with Richard until Arnold was behind bars in Newgate. Did traitors go to the infamous prison or was there some dank, dark place set aside especially for those dastardly people?

  Arnold escorted her onto the dance floor. He motioned for her to take her place in the line across from him. She didn’t like the man at all. Even when he was silent, he exuded an I know better than you do boorish demeanor. His actions suggested she didn’t know how to dance.

  “My lady, I count myself the most fortunate of men to be dancing with you this evening. I’ve heard much about you from Miss Browning.”

  She shivered as the cold from Arnold’s hand seeped through her glove to her own skin. It was all she could do to not jerk her hand from his grasp. “Yes, Miss Browning and I made our bow to the Queen in our first season. We’ve enjoyed spending time together ever since.”

  He stepped back and took her hand to advance down the line of dancers. “Word in the clubs is you both are too picky when it comes to choosing a husband.”

  She forgot herself giving the man a hard glare. Not the way to lure the man into the garden. “Mr. Arnold, I pride myself on being very picky when I’m considering binding myself to a man for the rest of my life.”

  Arnold frowned at her as they separated once more. He moved through the figures of the dance but remained silent. The longer they danced without conversing the more worried she became.

  Oh no, had she offended him? Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? Why couldn’t she ramble on about her gown or maybe describe her newest bonnet? Isn’t that what most of the Ton’s young ladies did, night after night, with no effort at all? What was wrong with her?

  Arnold stepped forward and bowed in the last movement of the dance. “My lady, my apology for my bluntness. I beg your forgiveness.

  Serena gave him her brightest smile as he led her off the dancing floor. “Mr. Arnold, you only spoke the truth. I find honesty to be the basis for all friendships.” She made a point to unfurl her fan. A few delicate swishes near her chin. “My, it’s rather warm in here, isn’t it?”

  “May I fetch you a cup of ratafia or maybe you’d like to walk in the rose garden? I’m certain you know the bushes are devoid of blooms but a short walk in the night’s air wouldn’t be remiss. You will be safe with me, I assure you.”

  Serena gave him another fatuous smile. “A walk would be lovely. How gallant of you to suggest so.”

  Arnold laid her hand on his arm and headed for the French windows at the far end of the ballroom. Perhaps she was more like the simpering misses than she realized. A tiny voice in her brainbox wanted to shout to Arnold that while she might be safe with him as her escort, he was in grave danger in her company. Now, Richard had to handle his end.

  Chapter 5

  Richard made his way to the gazebo in the most remote corner of the garden. The gentlemen of Society all knew of the location of the dainty little folly. No finer trysting spot existed in all of Mayfair. The five-sided birdcage’s lacy scrollwork allowed a gentleman to seduce a lady while keeping an eye on all approaches. It was said no gentleman had ever been caught in a compromising situation in the folly. Among the duchess’ rose bushes was another matter entirely.

  Richard held firm that weddings occurred, when a fellow was caught in a lady’s sensual web and closed his eyes. Poor sods never saw the parson’s mousetrap snapping shut.

  Chuckling to himself, Richard stepped up into the gazebo to find two men waiting. Both, dressed in evening clothes, nodded. No one spoke, though all three men were close friends. After his morning meeting with Moreham, Richard had enjoyed having lunch with the pair at White’s that very afternoon.

  Until he’d entered the folly, he’d had no idea Sturm and Cross were the gentlemen who would be assisting him. As a matter of protocol, each man received a briefing from his own contact at Whitehall. No one spoke as they waited in the shadows.

  A lady’s soft voice floated above the strains of music from the ballroom. The volume of her voice muted while her companion’s voice rumbled in response.

  Richard would be glad when this night was done. He leaned forward ready to pounce when Arnold cleared the last step into the gazebo. First came the rustle of skirts, followed by footsteps. Richard lurched forward as did his colleagues. Each man grabbed an armful of evening clothes and man. He heard Serena gasp. One man produced a handkerchief and tied it over Arnold’s mouth to keep him from calling out.

  The sound of sobbing alerted Richard something was amiss. Serena did not sob… ever. He turned to find, not Serena, but some young miss in white backed into a corner with tears running down her cheeks.

  “Rosemary, what the devil are you doing out here?” Phillip, Earl of Crossley snarled. Sturm dropped the man in his arms to the floor.

  Cross, who had inherited his earldom before he was out of short pants, had the ill fortune of also having four unmarried half-sisters. The earl shot a cold glare in Sturm’s direction. Richard nudged Sturm back into the shadows. Rosemary and her abused swain were too upset to notice either of them. At least, Richard hoped so.

  “M-Mr. W-We-Wentwhistle asked me to take the fresh air with him. I-I asked Ma-Mama. She said it was fine if we stayed on the lighted walk.” The lady collected herself and returned fire at her brother. “Phillip, I can’t believe you would attack a gentleman? Wait until I tell Mama.” She reached down to assist Mr. Wentwhistle up from the floor.

  “You are not on the lighted path, little sister. Do not say another word. You and your suitor will accompany me back inside. We’re going to find Mother and depart for home.”

  From the look of gloom on the young lady’s face, she knew she was the one her mama would be chastising. Cross extended a hand to help his soon to be brother-in-law navigate the gazebo steps. Wentwhistle weaved about until
Cross and his sister took his arms then led him back to the mansion. Watching the trio return to the ballroom, Richard, for not the first time, was glad he was an only child.

  “Hopefully, no more couples will wander out into the garden this far except for Arnold and the lady,” Sturm muttered.

  The two men returned to the shadows as the quiet night resonated with the lively tunes of the orchestra. A lady’s voice drifted through the air. This time, Richard recognized Serena’s voice. He nodded to his partner and waited. Once again, a lady’s skirts rustled as she stepped into the gazebo. Once again, the two men grabbed at the dark form following her. This time no sobs or gasps of surprise materialized.

  Richard wrapped his hand over Arnold’s mouth and held on. It was essential the man not be able to shout an alarm. He groaned. Without Cross to help, neither he nor Sturm were able to free a hand to fish their handkerchief from a pocket.

  Richard turned to Serena. “Handkerchief? Trouser pocket?” he grunted out his request as he tried to keep his hand across Arnold’s mouth without getting bitten.

  Serena wasted no time in coming forward to find his handkerchief. Arnold wasn’t ready to surrender. The man twisted around and tried to kick first him, then aimed for Sturm. Richard was sure the scene would’ve been comical if there hadn’t been the potential for injury, or worse, the unthinkable, Arnold’s escape.

  Serena must have taken all this in and decided to gag the man herself. She went behind Arnold, wrapped the cloth over his mouth and tied a knot at the back of his head. Arnold looked from one man to the other before wilting and collapsing to the floor of the gazebo in a dead faint.

  Richard deliberately didn’t call her by name. “We need your help. Go and open the garden gate behind the gazebo.” Richard nodded to the back of the garden. “Stay in the shadows. Don’t leave the garden.