Robyn DeHart - [Dangerous Liaisons 01]

by The Secrets of Mia Danvers

  “Why so interested?” Drew asked. “Aren’t you too busy shopping the marriage mart to worry about my nighttime haunts?” He looked up at Alex, his expression full of arrogance.

  It was a jab, but Alex refused to take the bait. Drew loved the fact that their mother spent all her time worrying about Alex’s marital status, and had yet to once mention any of it to the youngest Carrington. Of course she didn’t bother speaking much to Drew at all these days.

  But none of this was answering the question Alex wanted to ask. He’d watched Drew’s demeanor to check for any signs . . . of what? Violence? Of course not. He knew Drew wasn’t the killer. He needed to merely inquire on the situation. “What have you heard about the murders here in Mayfair?” Alex asked.

  “The two servant girls?” Again Drew shrugged. “It’s all everyone is talking about. Society is all abuzz about the poor chits. Frankly, it’s getting rather tiresome to hear about it. Tragic, yes, but the stories and the theories have grown tedious,” Drew said.

  “You do realize that one of those girls worked here in this house. Her older sister still does work here, and the girl hasn’t stopped crying for a week,” Alex said. “And her murder happened on Carrington property.”

  Drew sat up on the settee. He braced his elbows on his knees and gave Alex a crooked grin. “Is this what you wanted to talk about? You know if you went out more, you’d hear all the same stories I do.” Then he chuckled. “Perhaps not all of the stories with all the sordid details, your friends do tend to be a tad more straight than mine.” He leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. He still seemed unfazed by the direction of the conversation, not at all suspicious of Alex’s inquiries.

  “Is there any discussion for who might be the one killing the girls?” Alex asked.

  “No. Well, I suppose there are those who say that Jack the Ripper bloke has moved himself uptown to do his dirty work with our servant girls. Hell, the police don’t even seem to know who he is.”

  Alex had to admit he was rather surprised Drew had spent any time considering the murders and who the criminal might be. Perhaps his brother did do more than drink and carouse. “It’s a logical conclusion,” Alex agreed. “London had never seen murders so gruesome, and these are not much different.”

  Drew laughed then. “Oh, and I’ve heard some say they think it’s someone in Society,” Drew said. He shook his head in an exaggerated fashion. “A crazed aristocrat.”

  Alex frowned. “Who says that?”

  “Me.” He waggled his eyebrows. “That’s who I think it is.” He withdrew his pocket watch and glanced at the time.

  “Since when are you interested in murder investigation?”

  “I’ve always found that sort of thing of interest.” He clasped his fingers together, then braced them behind his head. “Consider, this bloke is right here in Mayfair. Not simply on the street, though our alleyway would certainly count as such, but that other girl was in that party. He’s moving around us without being noticed. That says something.”

  It had been so long since Alex had had a legitimate conversation with his brother that he’d almost forgotten what he was like. Drew was intelligent and clever and sharp-witted and once upon a time they had been close, true brothers as well as friends, sharing secrets and strategies. And then Drew had discovered the truth of his birth and everything had changed. But here in this moment, Alex remembered and knew that regardless of what Mia had said, there wasn’t any possible way Drew could be the killer.

  Shame nipped at Alex for even entertaining such a foolish idea, especially since it was introduced to him by someone he had barely known a handful of days. He had allowed his own attraction to her to distract him from the truth of the situation. There might have been some odor she recognized, but more than likely it was simply that she was still experiencing fear and Drew had been an ass to her.

  “It’s an intriguing theory,” Alex said.

  “It seemed logical to me,” Drew agreed.

  Then it occurred to Alex that Drew was in a position where he might prove quite useful to the investigation. Since Drew was often in the heart of London Society, he was in a far better place to gather information. If he was right and the killer was, in fact, a member of Society, then he could relay those details to Simon. But in order to convince Drew to assist he would need to give him some intelligence to invite him into the fold, as it were. “What if I told you there was a witness to the first murder?”

  At that, Drew sat up. He leaned forward on his elbows and eyed his brother. “A witness to the murder here? Who?” His eyes narrowed. “You?”

  “No, not me,” Alex shook his head, “had I seen anything I would have . . .” Then he paused. He’d assured Mia that had she intervened she would most certainly have been killed. But what about himself? Would that same logic stand for him if he had been the witness? He did not normally carry weapons with him when he went about town, he didn’t even wield a cane. “No, it wasn’t me,” he repeated.

  Drew sat back. “Who, then?”

  “It doesn’t matter as to who,” Alex said.

  “It was that girl, wasn’t it? The one who was here earlier?” Drew smiled slowly and the ending result was nearly sinister. “The one you fancy.”

  “I do not fancy her,” Alex said before he could keep his mouth shut. His compulsive need to answer the accusation so quickly proved what he hadn’t yet been willing to admit to himself. He did, in fact, fancy her. Well, more to the point, he found himself quite attracted to her.

  “No one gets that angry over something so harmless as an invitation. I didn’t assault the girl, merely gave her an invitation, but your reaction . . . ,” Drew said.

  “You were crude. You frightened her,” Alex argued. But perhaps there had been some truth to what his brother said. Had he seen Drew approach any other woman would his reaction have been as visceral?

  “Tell yourself what you need to believe, brother, but I know what I saw,” Drew said knowingly.

  Well, even if Drew was right, it didn’t matter. Alex could not have Mia no matter how much he wanted her. He had a responsibility to his family to marry well. That woman, the one who would become the next Duchess of Carrington, had all but been selected for him. And Mia was not her.

  That being said, if Drew, in his inebriated state, could sense Alex’s attraction to Mia, then anyone else would be able to see it. He needed to be far more careful when in her company. From here out, he would make a much better attempt to keep his eyes to himself and his mind from imaging all the things he would like to do to her.

  “I think you should be concentrating on your own behavior, Drew,” Alex said, knowing fully that his blatant attempt to change the subject was, well, blatant. “You’re living far too recklessly these days and it has gone on long enough,” he continued.

  “My life is not all that different than plenty of the men in London,” Drew said. “And I hardly see how it concerns you to begin with.”

  “Be that as it may, you are nearly seven and twenty, it’s past time for you to start acting like a grown man. I will be forced to take action if you are not more careful.”

  Drew stood. “Oh, I need to watch myself? What are you going to do, big brother, disown me? Tell the whole world the truth of my birth?” He flipped his hand dismissively. “Go ahead, I don’t give a damn who knows I’m a bastard.” Then he turned and walked out of the study.

  For a while there, they had actually had a conversation. No matter how it had devolved. But Alex couldn’t ignore what needed to be said simply because it would infuriate Drew. So he had said what had to be said. Drew needed a reminder to stop living so recklessly before he got himself into significant trouble. He’d only meant to hold some financial assistance over Drew’s head to get him to live more responsibly. Alex would never tell anyone the truth of Drew’s birth, it was the Carrington secret most closely guarded. And it wasn’t Alex’s secret to share.

  As for Mia, the u
rge to go to her then and apologize again for his brother’s behavior was strong. But Alex had to admit that wasn’t his true motivation. No, he wanted to see her because he wanted to admire her lovely face, her stunning eyes. He wanted another excuse to touch her, to kiss her. To do more than kiss her. Hell, he wanted her, wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman. But he couldn’t have her and damn if that didn’t make him angry.

  If she wasn’t a Danvers, if she wasn’t from a good family, would he disregard protocol and pursue her anyway? Would he seduce her and let the consequences be damned? He honestly didn’t know. The whole thing would be easier if he could simply avoid her. But that wasn’t an option, not when a killer was on the loose. Not when her life might be in danger.

  He knew he would see her again, but not tonight. He would figure out a way to help her identify what it was about his brother that felt so damned familiar to her. And in those moments when he was next to her, he’d have to fight every urge he had to pull her to him and kiss her senseless.

  ***

  The following evening, Alex stood at the edge of the ballroom at the Travers townhome. It would seem he was safe from the temptation that was Mia Danvers. At least for tonight. It wasn’t a particularly large affair, and he wasn’t all that interested in being here. But he had responsibilities to see people and be seen and he had the little business of a courtship to attend to.

  She was here tonight, the pretty Juliet Beckinsale, and he was already on her dance card. Once he’d spent the appropriate amount of time with her, enough to show his interest without appearing forward, he could leave.

  “You look so pensive, Alex, one might mistake you for intelligent.” It was his friend Edward Simms, the Earl of Fairbanks who’d come to stand at his side.

  “You’ve ruined the image by speaking to me. Now people will believe me to be as ignorant as you,” Alex quipped.

  Edward laughed jovially. “Still bride hunting?”

  Alex nodded. “Still hell-bent on seducing every skirt in London?”

  Edward held up his glass in a mock toast. “Someone has to do it.” He scanned the ballroom. “Not much worth seducing here, though.”

  Juliet picked that precise moment to walk up to them. “Your Grace, I believe this is our dance,” she said.

  “Try and behave yourself,” he mumbled to Edward. Then he took Juliet’s gloved hand and placed it on his forearm and led her out to the ballroom floor. As the music swelled, he swept her into the waltz.

  “Aside from that cold snap two days ago, we’ve had unusually warm weather, wouldn’t you agree, Your Grace?” she asked.

  “Yes, it has been rather mild.” Alex had a flash of this precise scene twenty years from now as they danced and talked about the weather. But was that not what Society marriages were made for? Companionship and for the betterment of the families involved?

  His mind involuntarily turned to Mia and he sensed they would have much more to discuss. Or rather argue about since she was rather stubborn with her ideas. And since she had no regard whatsoever for propriety and the rules of Society, she would probably kiss him right here on the dance floor.

  He glanced back at his dance partner who was currently chatting about—horses? Is that what she was rambling about? It mattered not, he should listen. Her droning on and on would get his mind off of Mia’s kisses.

  Her perfume was distracting, he’d give her that. It wasn’t so much that it smelled distasteful, but it was rather strong. Or perhaps that was her hair wash. How was it that Mia was able to detect such precise scents on people?

  “It’s a new perfume,” she said.

  He looked down at her face, confused by her words. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I could see you,” then she blushed, “sniffing. I thought perhaps to answer your question so that you would not have to make the inquiry.”

  He supposed he should be embarrassed, but he was so damned amused by the situation that he couldn’t muster up the shame, though he did his best to stifle his humor. “The perfume is lovely,” he said.

  “And rose water in my hair, I suppose you could sense that as well,” she said. Then she frowned and he thought that she did look rather adorable in that moment. Much like a younger sister. “Oh, and I also have a scented facial crème. I don’t guess I know precisely what you were smelling. I do hope they are pleasant to you, though, Your Grace.”

  “Most pleasant,” he said.

  She smiled sweetly and nodded.

  And then, suddenly, it struck him. He knew precisely how to help Mia decipher which distinct odor she smelled on Drew that matched that of the killer. Alex needed only to isolate the smells and have her select the appropriate one. They would conduct a bit of an experiment and Alex would present her with multiple options, and he could prove to her that while his brother was definitely an ass, he was not a killer.

  They finished the dance in silence and Alex was most glad it was his last dance of the evening. He wouldn’t leave immediately, there was no reason to start gossip over an untimely exit. No, he’d return to Edward, talk with him a moment or two and then he could leave and prepare the experiment for Mia.

  ***

  Edward Simms watched his friend deliver his dance partner back to her waiting mother, then turn and head back in his direction.

  “I’m impressed,” he told Alex as he approached.

  Alex’s eyebrows rose. “Impressed? Well, yes, she is very pretty.”

  Edward chuckled. “No, that’s not what I meant. I was impressed you managed to endure the entire dance. I danced with Miss Beckinsale once and once was all I could tolerate.”

  “You do not care for her?” Alex asked, a frown marring his forehead.

  “As you said, she is very pretty. And polite, but she’s everything a woman is meant to be. It’s as if she was designed specifically to be an Englishman’s wife,” Edward said.

  “I believe that was the intention. Is it not with most of these girls?” Alex asked.

  Edward scanned the room and it was one colorful dress after another with crimped curls and baubles hanging from ears or throat, all in the name of beauty. And he was tired of it. Not one skirt in here stirred him. “I suppose you’re right. Still I found her conversation predictable. It was more than I could bear.”

  “Are you ever truly looking for conversation?” Alex asked.

  Edward chuckled. “Not anymore.”

  “So you know, I do intend to propose to her,” Alex said.

  “Someone so dull?” Edward asked.

  “Dull is precisely what I need,” Alex said.

  “I had not pegged you to settle for such monotony.”

  “But those are the very reasons why she’ll make the perfect duchess.”

  “I was not aware that dullness was a prerequisite for managing a household,” Edward said.

  “I am pleased to inform you, then,” Alex said. “In truth, the Carrington name could use a woman bred to be a noble wife. We don’t need any more scandal.”

  Well, this was awkward. Though Alex’s logic made perfect sense, Edward still didn’t see how anyone could marry a woman like that. Then again, Edward had no plans to marry. He’d asked a woman once, but she’d said no and he’d decided then and there to never again offer a woman his heart. So instead he found willing women and offered them his body and good humor.

  “I feel as if I should apologize,” Edward said. “I meant no offense.”

  Alex waved him off. “There is no need to apologize. I am not in love with the girl. There was an unofficial agreement between our families, though admittedly she was intended to be Stephen’s, but we both know how that ended.”

  “Stephen never courted her,” Edward said. “At least that I ever noticed.”

  “No, and he had no intentions to. He and mother fought about it many times. But my pending nuptials is not truly what I’d like to discuss. I’d prefer to ask you a question, if you do not mind. What have you heard about the recent murders? I asked my brother
earlier and you and him have more socially active lives than I do.”

  “Only what I’ve read or heard the gossips say.”

  “Have you any thoughts on the matter?” Alex asked.

  “It’s obviously the Ripper. He’s come back and gotten more brazen,” Edward said. “The police are fools if they think otherwise.”

  “Indeed. I’m inclined to agree.”

  “The first murder was on your property, was it not?”

  “In the alleyway, not on the property proper,” Alex said. “Still, because of that, I’ve been working with the inspectors.” Then he smiled. “Do you know who the lead investigator is? Simon Jacobs.”

  “Somehow I do not find that surprising. I suspect he’s a rather gifted inspector,” Edward said. “What have you discussed?”

  Alex was quiet for several moments before he finally answered. He took a slow breath. “There was a witness to the first murder.”

  “So it should not take the police long to bring him in. Who is the witness?” Edward asked.

  “The woman who lives in the cottage at the back of my property. But her account has not identified the killer. She didn’t see him.”

  “I don’t understand, was she hiding?”

  “Yes, but she’s also blind.” Alex then proceeded to tell him the rest of the details about the woman’s witness of the crime and her hiding place in the bushes.

  “She should be thankful he didn’t find her there.” Edward paused a moment. “So she’s blind and she lives alone in that cottage?”

  “No, she has a companion. Her former governess, Rachel Webster, stayed on with her when her family deserted her at the cottage.”

  Edward nearly spurted his drink out, but he forced himself to swallow. The champagne slid down his throat in lumps as if filled with stones. “Did you say Rachel Webster?” Edward asked. His heart had sped up and was beating so rapidly it was making it difficult to hear.

  “Do you know her?” Alex asked.

  “I used to.” He’d heard long ago that she’d become a governess. Chosen that route to provide her worthless father with an endless supply of gambling funds. Until the bastard had gotten himself shot outside a less than desirable gaming hell. Edward had tried a handful of times to locate her, though he’d never known precisely what he’d do if he found her. Tell her of the fortune he’d made for himself? For her?