“I can sympathize,” Gemma commiserated. He met her eyes, and she experienced a moment of understanding and kinship she hadn’t felt since Nigel had died. Roz was a continuous delight, but Gemma never quite felt that same connection—of knowing someone and being known in return.
“To make matters worse, my sister foolishly wrote about it in her diary, which was stolen sometime last month,” he said quietly. Gemma cringed for the poor girl. She herself didn’t keep a journal, but if she did, she would not like the idea of a villain poring over her innermost thoughts. “The only time anyone had access to our townhouse was during a party I hosted a fortnight ago. I have been going through the guest list from that night in hopes of narrowing down our suspects,” Lucas continued.
Gemma gasped. “My lord, we have been on the same path, it seems.” She drew up the skirts of her dress to reach a pocket underneath. Lucas arched a dark eyebrow at the sight of her ankles—and perhaps at the little blade she wore sheathed there—but Gemma refused to blush. She was too intent on her goal. She withdrew a carefully folded paper. “This is the guest list from the house party where Nigel was killed. I have been investigating the attendees for anything suspicious in their homes. That’s why I was in Lord Howard’s study, my lord. He was one of the guests.” She held out the paper to Lucas, who reached for it. Their fingers brushed and hers tingled at the contact. She hastily withdrew her hand. Such sensations were unfamiliar to her, as were the thoughts she had of where those sensations could lead.Roz hummed, a sound of doubt low in her throat, while Lucas scanned the list. They swiveled toward her in unison at the interruption.
“Roz doesn’t approve of the plan,” Gemma told Lucas. He glanced at Roz for confirmation.
“Well, dear heart, it’s not that I do not approve, I just feel it might be problematic,” Roz said with deliberate care, tiptoeing over the sensitive subject. The two of them had had several in-depth discussions over the best path to take. Roz worried she was chasing rainbows and fretted over the possible damage sneaking around could do to her reputation, but had been unable to come up with a better plan.
Gemma huffed out a dejected breath. “I am beginning to believe you are correct, Roz. I have made it through a majority of these attendees, and other than a few scandals and indelicacies, I have found nothing.”
“I have also pointed out to Gemma—and I will remark to you—that one does not need to be on the guest list to gain entry to an event. It is even truer in your case, Lord Winchester, as someone could easily slip into an overflowing townhouse. It would take more work to pass unnoticed at a house party, but it was a rather large gathering, so I would not discount the notion.”
Lucas surged to his feet and began to stalk around the small room. Impatience radiated off of him as if it was an aura she could actually see. He swung back toward them and halted almost midstride. “This cannot be a coincidence, our two cases.”
Gemma’s mouth parted in a slight “oh,” and Roz sat back in her chair.
“Think about the chances of there being a murderer and blackmailer on the loose at the same time, attending society events,” he continued, clearly warming to his revelation.
She rolled it over in her own mind. “But you do not believe Nigel was killed for any nefarious purpose other than the vengeance of an angry husband,” she reminded him. But even as she said it, she knew the theory made a kind of macabre sense. What if Nigel had been caught up somehow in the blackmailer’s scheme? Or had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Lucas studied her face for a moment. “Why do you think he was killed?” he asked, and for the first time it felt like he was ready to listen to her.
“I think he witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to see,” she answered. She could not believe Nigel to be a rakehell caught up in a scandal that had resulted in his death. Of the two of them, he was the calm, measured, sensible one, whereas she was the one who would go dashing off without much thought to propriety.
“Let us make a slight jump in logic. There are a few repeating names on our lists, at least from the ones I remember. Society is small, but that means several of the same members attended events in which our criminal deeds occurred,” he answered and sat down again.
“That’s not as rare as one would think,” Roz chimed in sardonically. Lucas glanced at her, his mouth twisting up in a half smile, half grimace.
“Touché. But if one of the men on both our lists is the blackmailer, then he was also at the house party where your cousin was killed. The coincidence is too much, I think.”
“I agree,” Gemma said, planning how to communicate the idea she had been formulating since last night. She sucked in a deep breath. “We must work together.” She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “If we piece what we both know together, we could actually come up with a clear picture of the villain. And you have useful…skills.” She paused for a moment. “But I must have your word as a gentleman that you will not hinder my efforts in any way.”
“Yes, indeed,” Lucas agreed. Was that a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth? Gemma couldn’t tell whether she was imagining it. Was he as pleased as she was at the notion of spending more time together? For her there was an anticipation that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Of course, that’s the moment Roz took to pop the bubble of excitement.
“If I may interrupt once more,” Roz spoke from her desk, a strange look on her face. “It will be nearly impossible for you two to work together without creating a scandal. Even if Lord Winchester is thought to be courting you, that still limits greatly the amount of time you’re allowed in each other’s company.”
Gemma sighed. It was true—young ladies out in society were monitored with an intensity that seemed better suited to Cromwell’s time. And still, even with the tight restrictions, many ended up compromised anyway, at least in the eyes of the ton. Gemma had heard of girls forced into marriage simply for taking a breath of fresh air with a gentleman at a ball for too long a time. Society told them it was for their safety, but Gemma chafed at the thought. It had more to do with a need for control, something she could not countenance.
“Roz, I have no aspirations in town past finding Nigel’s murderer. Let them gossip about me,” Gemma said at last. She could think of no other way around the problem.
“No. I’ve been supportive of your wild chase because I think many have not taken note of your escapades, but this will be a scandal you would not live down. The gossip will be merciless, and you will be torn to shreds, my dear.” Gemma could hear the steely resolve in her aunt’s voice. “I have countenanced a great deal from you, but this I will not. I will not let you willfully toss your reputation to the wind.”
That was unfair. She was doing this for her family. Her mind raced for a solid rebuttal, for Roz seemed unmovable in her conviction. She would rather not have to sneak around her aunt; in fact, it could prove impossible. But there was no way they could collaborate to catch a killer and blackmailer in the few minutes they would be allowed to be seen together at social events. At most, they could stroll in the park with a chaperone, but even that was limiting. Her plan was crumbling before her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. There was no way she could work with Lord Winchester and go unnoticed. She would have had more freedom if she was a widow…but they’d already introduced her as unmarried. If only she had thought ahead.
The feeling of loss took her aback. How could she miss something she’d never had?
She glanced at Lucas, who had remained silent through the exchange. He was studying her, his face an inscrutable mask.
“The solution is simple,” he said, his eyes not leaving hers. “We must announce our engagement.”
…
Lucas had never proposed before, but he did not think the desired reaction was blind panic. He tried not to be insulted as the color drained from Miss Lancaster’s face.
“Have you gone mad?” She leaped to her feet and began to pace.
His temp
er pricked. It was the clear solution to their problem, but she seemed to find the mere suggestion appalling. A blow to his pride, indeed. “It is perfectly sane. In fact, it is the most logical course of action. It allows us to be seen together, and for me to escort you around town so that I can protect you, and it will head off any scandal before it can gain legs.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” Gemma protested, without pausing her fretful wanderings around the study.
Rosalind remained quiet, but they both tracked Gemma as she moved around the small room.
“What about me?” Lucas asked softly.
She finally paused and turned her fierce blue eyes on him.
“What do you mean?” she asked, wary. She was intelligent and sensed a trap.
“If we do not make our arrangement respectable in the eyes of the ton, and scandal ensues, my reputation will be in tatters as well,” he said. He noticed Rosalind narrow her eyes, but still she did not interrupt. The idea to announce their engagement had not come from the blue. The possibility had occurred to him the evening before, when he was sneaking out of her carriage. Above all else, and as much as she protested against it, he needed to ensure her safety if they were to embark on this investigation together. The only way to do that was to be close to her far more often than the boundaries of propriety allowed.
“What are your objections?” Lucas asked. He believed he could knock down all her oppositions if given enough time. She was no frivolous society dilettante. She would see the logic of the idea.
“First, no one will believe it,” she said, waving her hand in his direction.
“They will believe it if I announce it,” he said firmly. First notion dismissed. “What else?”
“What will happen when we catch the killer?” She paused right after she spoke the words. Clearly a thought had just popped into her head. He braced himself for the inevitable madness that was about to come. “You will have to cry off,” she said in a rush of words.
“No.” It was a gut reaction—the only one he could muster in the moment.
“Don’t you see, it’s perfect,” she said, clearly warming to the crazed notion. “I was planning on returning to the country at the end of the affair. Or perhaps I will travel instead.” She lit up with excitement as he scowled at her. This was not going as planned. Nothing ever seemed to when it came to Gemma.
“Gemma…” he began, not even sure where to start. Mostly because he didn’t quite know himself why it mattered to him so much. She cut him off, however.
“No,” she said, and the fire colored her cheeks and lit her eyes. “It is the only way I shall agree to our false engagement. I will not have you trapped into marriage with me simply to protect my reputation, when you have not actually compromised me in any way. I would rather return home this day than have that occur.”
Her chin tipped up, and her hands clenched at her sides. She met his gaze unflinching. He glanced over at Rosalind, who was watching them with a bemused smile. She seemed unfazed by the wild scheme. He was smart enough to let this battle stand.
“You will not trap me into marriage at the end of this, Gemma,” he said, the best promise he could make at the moment. She relaxed at that, a gesture he found intriguing and confusing. Any other girl in town would have been happy to trap a wealthy earl into marriage, he thought; several of them had tried. Gemma Lancaster was in a class by herself.
“It’s settled, then,” Roz said, rising from her desk. “I believe I left something upstairs…”
Amused at the ploy and grateful for the moment alone, Lucas moved closer to Gemma and did what he’d been itching to do since she’d tumbled into the room, all flushed skin and fiery hair—he touched her. His fingers found her hips and settled there for a moment, relishing in the softness, before he pressed his hand flat against the small of her back. She trembled beneath him, her startled eyes lifting to his.
“What is this?” she asked, gripping his upper arms.
“I think we should seal our engagement with a kiss, yes?” He watched her lips part on a quick intake of breath. He brushed a loose copper curl away and cupped her cheek in his rough hand. Something akin to fear showed on her face before curiosity settled upon it.
“Well, it wouldn’t be a proper deal without sealing it,” she murmured, her eyes on his mouth.
Her sense of humor kept surprising him. The odd mixture of amusement and desire was unfamiliar, and it was intriguing. It was something he would be haunted by later, but for now he pulled her flush against him. Every muscle in his body tightened as her subtle curves, the ones he’d known lurked beneath her dowdy dresses, molded themselves to his body. Groaning, he pressed his lips to hers, and lost himself to the feeling of her under his mouth.
It’s just a kiss. Get a hold on yourself.
But even as he had the thought, he wasn’t able to resist deepening it, his tongue exploring the seam of her mouth.
A small gasp, and then she opened for him. She tasted like warm honey.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, warning bells chimed. Too much. Too fast. The feel of her, her heat, her smell was wreaking havoc on his normally ironclad self-control. He was all but calculating the distance to the couch, so that he could lay her down, strip her naked and lose himself in her.
Rein it in, Stone. Rein. It. In.
He gentled the kiss, pulling back and nibbling on her freshly plump lower lip. He lingered there, waiting until her ragged breathing evened. Then, with what he swore was an act of God, he stepped back.
Her eyes were glassy, her cheeks flushed. It looked like he had claimed her as his, and something suspiciously close to satisfaction welled in his chest. He tamped it down.
“That should do it,” he said, annoyed at the slight quiver in his voice.
He had to get away before he forgot himself and took her right there in the drawing room.
“I shall see you tomorrow night,” he said as he strode toward the door, not waiting for a response.
“Wait! What is tomorrow night?”
“Lord Conway’s ball. He’s on both of our lists.”
Chapter Four
The minute Lucas left, Roz returned and went to work on Gemma. A new wardrobe and look were in order, she decreed. When news of their announcement hit, she would be the main attraction in every ballroom in town. She could no longer go unnoticed by society; she would have to make a splash instead.
Roz mustered her troops with the calm and command of a general.
“You should only ever wear jewel tones, dear heart,” Roz informed Gemma as the dressmaker her aunt had summoned tut-tutted over her body, poking in pins she could swear drew blood. “Those eyes, that hair.”
“Just days ago you were bemoaning the color,” she reminded her aunt.
“That was back when you had to tone down its fire. Now you can let it shine,” Roz said with a flourish. She turned to Madame LeCroix, who was about as French as the post outside on the street. “I know this is of the very last minute, but will you have something ready for tomorrow night? It is dire.”
Madame reassured them that she could send something over in time, but warned it might not be to the highest standards with such short notice. But, on the night of the ball, Gemma couldn’t find a single stitch out of place on the stunning ballgown. She smoothed a hand over the emerald silk, as she peered into her looking glass. She almost refused to believe it was herself staring back. Roz’s maid had dressed her hair, and rather than fighting the wild mass of curls, she had simply pinned it up in a few places and let it run like a river over Gemma’s ears and around her face.
She was foolishly glad Lucas would see her with her new look. She maintained to herself that her dowdy disguise had aided her in her investigations, but Roz was correct. Now she was no longer invisible, but she would still be hiding—this time it would simply be her relationship with Lucas providing the subterfuge. She had to remember that. When they caught the killer, they would go their separate ways. She steeled her
self. It had to be this way. Never again would she be a burden to someone she loved.
And if she’d had any doubts, the answering buzz when she walked into Lord Conway’s ballroom squelched them. Of course, none of the content of the whispers reached her ears, but the undercurrent flowed through the sparkling room. The news of her engagement had reached the ears of the ton.
Roz patted her arm, careful to make the reassuring gesture unnoticeable, and murmured, “Head up, dear heart.” Then she whisked them toward the center of the room. They were soon surrounded by Roz’s bevy of admirers, and Gemma felt her nerves calm amongst the elderly rakes. Long gone were their days of carousing, but their charm remained, untouched by age.
She’d almost relaxed when she felt a looming presence behind her. She pivoted to find herself face to chest with Lucas. She took a shaky step back, trailing her eyes up until they met his.
Would the jolt she felt when she saw him ever fade?
“My lord,” was all she could manage. He took her hand, brought it to his full lips, and brushed his mouth over her knuckles.
“Miss Lancaster,” he said, making the words sound like a dark promise. He turned to the gaggle of men hovering around her and nodded to each.
“Winchester,” came the chorus from the group as a series of heads bowed. Gemma smiled to herself. They looked like nothing so much as a group of puffins.
After paying his respects to Roz, Lucas turned back to her. “Is your dance card open for the waltz, Miss Lancaster? I believe it is the next song.”
She refused to admit she was saving the set for him, lest he become even more insufferable, so she made a show of checking her card. “I believe I am free.”
His eyes lit with humor as he led her onto the floor. Couples in beautiful silk and lace took their places, awaiting the quartet on the small stage by the terrace doors.
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