“Rest assured, I haven’t much to tell, yet. The situation is continuing to develop,” Gemma said as she began to tear into her sausage.
“Dear heart, you fled in the middle of a ball after an illicit search of the host’s study,” Roz summed up, clearly aghast at her niece’s apparent nonchalance. “I need details.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Gemma bit back a mischievous smile. She couldn’t help but tease Roz a bit, even though she knew her aunt was dying a slow death.
“That uncle of yours made you too sassy for your own good, child,” Roz shot back.
“Yes, no one else in this family is cheeky,” Gemma said, letting the grin slip out. Roz harrumphed and picked up her tea, attempting to be the picture of indifference. “Now don’t hurt yourself!” Gemma laughed before taking pity on her. “I was hoping to find Nigel’s pocket watch in Lord Howard’s study.”
“I still do not know if that’s the best way to go about this,” her aunt said, singing the same song she had been since Gemma had started the investigation. “Nor will I believe that bore had anything to do with your poor cousin’s demise.”
“After last night, I believe you are right. We should press on, I think,” Gemma said. Despair clawed at her, but she pushed it away. Her lack of success in finding Nigel’s killer bothered her, but she would not stop until she found the justice she sought. Roz supported her, but worried about her. They only had so much time before the trail went cold. As much as Lucas intrigued her, she couldn’t waste her time trying to convince him to help her. “But I was in the midst of my search when the door swung open.”
“No!” Her aunt gasped and clutched at her heart, horrified and enthralled at once.
“I was quite startled, obviously,” Gemma told her. “It was, in fact, Lord Winchester. I, unfortunately, was not quite as quick to react as I would have liked and he caught me gaping at him in the middle of the room.” Roz leaned forward in her seat. “Oh, dear.”
“Indeed. It’s not over yet, though. Before we could even begin to question each other, we heard someone right outside the door. We made it behind a curtain in time to avoid that disaster. Though, why he had to pick the same hiding spot…” she trailed off still slightly peeved. Roz just stared at her, apparently at a loss for words. “So, there we are, trapped against each other while a couple carries out an assignation in Lord Howard’s library…”
“Did you hear who it was?”
“Just a Sylvie and Reginald.”
“Oh my!”
“Which didn’t last long, thank heavens.”
“Hmmm.” Her aunt hummed, and Gemma knew she was filing the information away in case it came in handy at a later date.
“Once they left, the earl broke into the safe without so much as blinking,” she continued. “There were only a few baubles in there, so we can cross Howard off the list.”
“Well, I can’t say that I’m surprised at that, at least,” Roz noted.
“Mmmm. Then Lord Winchester tells me to leave the ball and get the carriage, in which he will be waiting for me, so that we can discuss what has transpired. And he somehow got in there without John noticing.”
“Did you tell him about the murder?” her aunt asked.
“I did,” Gemma said, “but I think he believes Nigel was the victim of a cuckolded lord and not some other scheme. I’m not sure he’ll be very much help to us. He seemed quite doubtful of me the whole time.”
“That would be the obvious explanation, dear heart. You can’t blame the man for arriving at it,” Roz said gently. “Did you find out what he was doing searching the safe?”
“No, but I intend to today,” Gemma said, determined not to let Lucas avoid her questioning again. “I know you told me a little about him when we were first introduced, but is there anything else you’ve heard from the gossipmongers? I need to be prepared.”
“You sound like you’re headed into battle, dear heart,” Roz said.
“I feel like I am,” Gemma assured her.
“Well, his mother died some years back, and his father about two years ago. They seemed like fine people, if somewhat reclusive,” Roz rattled off.
“You knew them?” Gemma asked.
“Here and there we would see each other at balls,” Roz said. “He was some years older than I, so we did not run in the same circles. He seemed to be a tough man, though I remember some stories of his wild younger years. Nothing to warrant a scandal, of course, but some curricle races in Brighton, a few flirtations with ineligible women, the usual mischief-making of the wild young set, you know.”
“And the mother?” Gemma did not want to be as intrigued as she was by the information.
“Beautiful, in a classical way. But it was not a love match,” Roz answered, leaning in. “It was a typical ton marriage—his eye was on her inheritance, and hers was on his title.”
Gemma murmured something sympathetic. That was so often the case when it came to high-society engagements.
They shared a look before Roz continued. “She disappeared to their country house, with the two children…”
“He has only one sibling, then?” Gemma cut in.
“Yes, a sister. Beatrice. Lovely girl, though the on dit is that she has a bit too much personality for her own good,” Roz said, leaning in with a wink.
Gemma tried to call up an image of the girl. A pretty face and a halo of blond curls were all she could recall.
“I should think I would remember a young lady with too much personality,” she said, and a pang of sympathy plucked at the back of Gemma’s throat. The same thing could so easily be said about her. Uncle Artie hadn’t exactly considered potential in-laws when he’d been teaching her how to fence or pick a lock. “I am quite thankful I am not husband hunting.”
“My dear, if you had wanted, we could have made you into a diamond of the first water. You would have scads of proposals by now,” Roz said.
Unbidden, an image of Lord Winchester slipped into her mind. She pushed it away. “I don’t need suitors, Roz. I need answers.”
“Mmmm.” Roz was watching her with a gleam in her eye. “Maybe once this little mission of yours is over…”
Gemma held up a hand. “Stop. I’ll be more than happy to return to my solitude in Northumberland,” she said, and for a moment she wondered which one of them she was trying to convince.
Roz just peered at her over her teacup and Gemma hastened to turn the subject back to their investigation. “In any case, Lord Winchester is calling on us today to further discuss the situation. He really has some skills that could be of help, but he is just so arrogant. I fear he will want to dictate how I should behave and tell me it’s too dangerous. I believe that it will be a fruitless visit this morning, but perhaps it won’t be a complete waste of time.”
“No,” her aunt murmured. “I don’t think it will be.”
…
“You do realize, dear brother, that I have a right to know what’s going on.” Beatrice’s voice was deceptively calm as she sipped tea at the breakfast table.
Lucas wasn’t fooled. He knew that tone from years of growing up with his hellion of a sister. She locked eyes with him over her cup. He glanced at the clock on the sideboard, not wanting to delay his meeting with Gemma much longer. He decided to not enter a battle with Beatrice. He could have told her that she had lost all her rights when she’d been so foolish last year. And if not then, definitely when she’d decided to commit those foolish deeds to paper. But he held his tongue. It was not worth the wasted time or energy, and she was sure to win in the end anyway. She was nothing if not stubborn.
“As I said before, dear sister,” he said. “There is nothing to tell at the moment. Howard’s safe turned up nothing. We will simply have to carry on with the list and hope to get lucky.”
She pouted prettily at him. “I have been telling you all along I want to help,” she said. “And you will not let me. It is not fair to place the entire burden on your shoulders when this
is all my fault.”
At least she was admitting to that.
He tried to place himself in her shoes. He was too used to thinking of her as the five-year-old who needed his constant protection from neglectful parents. It had always been the two of them against the world. The other boys had teased him for letting her tag along when she had been so much younger than them. But from the minute she had been born, she’d owned his heart.
She was not a child anymore, though. Perhaps being a part of the investigation would allow her to feel a semblance of control over her own fate. At the moment, it must feel like her world was spinning wildly.
He studied her across the table and thought about his options. “I am going to bring George Harrington in to help me with the case,” he finally told her.
“Lucas, no!” She straightened in her chair. “What will you tell him? I cannot have your man of affairs knowing such things about me.”
“I will not tell him the details,” Lucas assured her. “Just enough for him to be able to research a few things for us. He is quite brilliant, from what I have witnessed of his work on other tasks I have asked of him. And discreet.”
“If he is so brilliant, he will figure out what we are investigating, and I will never be able to look him in the eyes again,” Beatrice said.
“Because you have done so much of that in the past?” he teased her. He was not concerned his man of affairs would divulge any of their secrets—if he had been, he’d never have hired the man. “But I think you should help him with his research into the matter.”
She finally lost her panicked air with that suggestion. “You would let me participate in the investigation?”
“I think the two of you could work together,” Lucas said, making clear that she wouldn’t be off chasing wild tangents on her own. He glanced at the time once more and pushed back from the table. “After I’ve talked with Harrington, we can discuss it. For now, I must leave you. Try not to get into too much trouble.” He winked at her. He could feel her glare boring a hole in his jacket as he walked out the door.
Lucas pondered the previous night as he strolled the empty pavement in the direction of Gemma’s residence. It was early still for the ladies of the ton to be out and about, calling on friends and enemies alike. It wouldn’t be long before the sun began to cut through the chilling fog and society poured into the streets, but this was his favorite time to be out in London. When it was just him and the shopkeepers setting up for the day.
He’d yet to formulate anything resembling a plan. His mind drifted to the way Gemma’s soft skin had felt against his hand, and the pull of her gown against her breasts. The way her eyes lit when she was annoyed with him.
From the moment he’d seen her at the Dorchester ball weeks earlier, he’d been intrigued. It had been three days after the first letter from the blackmailer had arrived, and reentering society after the solitude of his country estate had been a jolt. He knew the mamas of the ton believed him to be searching for a wife, and he was pleased with that assumption. He hoped it would throw off any suspicion about his sudden interest in the workings of society.
He’d been waiting for the right moment to slip out of the ballroom unnoticed when a sharp voice had pierced the air rather close behind him.
“He’s such a bore, Roz. And what’s more, I got the impression he wanted to open my mouth and inspect my teeth like one of his broodmares.”
“The on dit is that he is on the prowl for a third wife. His first didn’t give him any sons, and he’s getting desperate,” a second voice answered.
“He’s old enough to be my grandfather! And he told me I had sturdy hips for birthing…stop laughing.”
He’d angled himself to get a view of the amusingly candid women. He could think of several respected gentlemen of the ton that they could be discussing, none of whom would be happy to know he was the subject of such a conversation. He’d noticed her hair first—shimmering, unfashionable red, the candlelight bringing out its soft gold streaks. A few curls had escaped to frame her delicate face. Her gown had been a drab mud color that washed out her peaches-and-cream skin and disguised any shape. But when she leaned over to tap the other woman with her fan, he saw her gentle curves hiding beneath.
He’d forced an introduction later in the night, but when he talked to her, all the life he’d witnessed earlier seemed to be dampened. He’d found her to be a dull conversationalist, with little wit or personality. Still he tried, and still, he was disappointed.
“Miss Lancaster, have you been enjoying your season thus far?” he’d asked during their first conversation.
“Yes, my lord,” she’d answered, looking at a spot just over his shoulder.
“And what have you found you like best about town?” he’d tried.
“The balls, my lord,” she’d answered, not removing her gaze, obscured behind spectacles, from the fascinating sight just to the side of his ear.
He’d known, then, that she had secrets.
He didn’t think he could have imagined just what secrets she had.
…
“You have a caller, Miss Lancaster,” the butler announced, interrupting Roz and Gemma’s lively discussion about the case.
“This early?” Roz exclaimed. The butler’s disapproving expression turned even more censorious.
“Lord Winchester, my lady,” he sniffed, without any of the reverence typically shown for a visit from such a high-ranking gentleman.
Gemma tamped down the excitement that sparked within her, and told herself it wasn’t over seeing him again.
No. He’s a nuisance.
But something told her that matching wits with such an adversary would be inherently dangerous—and invigorating.
She was no slouch in the intelligence department, herself, though. If it was a battle he wanted, he would shortly come to realize she would not give ground easily. She set down the paper she’d been about to read and skirted around Mr. Bird, headed in the direction of the drawing room. She was showing all the restraint of a schoolgirl in the first thralls of love as she hurried into the room.
Forcing herself to pause, she took a breath.
Lucas wasn’t seated. He leaned against the window frame, lit from behind so his features were shadowed.
“My lord, good morning,” she said and was immediately annoyed by the breathiness in her voice. It was just that he was so…large. And so handsome. She cleared her throat. “You’re out and about early.”
“Yes, I assumed you would be up. I see you are an early riser like myself. Lady Andrews.” He tilted his head in the direction of Roz, who strolled into the drawing room with slightly less urgency than Gemma. “Apologies if I have interrupted your breakfast.”
“We were finished and discussing Nigel’s murder, so your timing was perfect, my lord. Please sit down.” Gemma gestured to the delicate rose-patterned chairs near the window. He eyed them warily before lowering himself into one. “They’re not going to break, my lord.” She laughed at him.
“I would be forever disgraced and have to leave town, so I appreciate the reassurance. You are not wearing your spectacles,” he remarked as he sat, turning the conversation without warning.
“Oh.” She reached to her face, but of course she wasn’t wearing them. They were part of the ruse and not necessary in her house. She had not been expecting him so early. “Well, I might as well be candid. I wear them so the ton finds me even more unfashionable than I am, and will thus pay me less attention. We imagined I could bend some of society’s more autocratic rules if I could move about unnoticed.”
“Clever,” he said with an approving nod. She frowned, upset at the gratification she felt by the compliment. “Unfortunately the gossipmongers of the ton are unrelenting vultures, so I’m not sure you have emerged as unscathed as you think, or that your reputation is protected.”
“I’m not concerned about my reputation, my lord,” she assured him. “I have no intention of marrying, and as soon as this is over, I’m
returning to the country.” She sounded convincing to her ears, but she felt the now familiar sinking of her heart when she pictured returning to her bucolic life in Northumberland.
Lucas’s face remained inscrutable, and he skipped over her protest. “I assume, Lady Andrews, that you are aware of everything that is happening?” He directed his focused attention at Roz, who had settled herself behind a desk, somewhat out of the way of their conversation.
“Indeed,” her aunt confirmed. “Carry on with your discussions as if I am not here. I have letters to write to my dear friends. I have been putting them off for far too long.” Roz proceeded to tuck her head down, and began writing with all the apparent concentration of a spy divulging state secrets.
Lucas’ mouth tipped up at the corners, and he focused on Gemma once again. Each time he did that—turned his full attention on her—her tongue stopped working.
“Why Lord Howard?” he asked.
“I shall tell you why Lord Howard if you tell me as much yourself,” she replied.
Just because he was as attractive as sin didn’t mean she could let him distract her. It was time she got some answers, as well. Though she affected the impression of a wallflower with the ton, that wasn’t who she was, and she refused to be cowed by the demands of an arrogant earl.
“That’s fair.” He paused, contemplating. He looked at a pointedly distracted Roz before glancing back at Gemma. She sensed he’d made a decision. “My sister is being blackmailed.”
“Good heavens! And you believed Lord Howard is the culprit?” she asked.
“No,” he said, and she could hear the frustration in his usually smooth voice.
It was a feeling she recognized well.
“But I’m following one of the more promising avenues that I have at the moment. No one knows the matter for which my sister is being blackmailed, apart from the two of us, and a gentleman who is no longer in the country. She does not believe he would tell anyone, and as the last I had heard from him he was headed to India, I am wont to believe her. Or I must choose to believe her, as the alternative would open too many possibilities.”
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