“I don’t recall that they were especially close,” he said when they were back together, clasping hands and strolling forward. “That’s not to say that they were not, only that I had not noticed. I ran with a different set.”
“What about David and Evert Larson?”
He laughed. “Are you going to ask me about everyone I went to school with at Eton?”
“I’ll finish with them.” She smiled at him, and was a little surprised that it was a genuine smile, not for politeness’s sake.
“I remember David as being a serious student, and Evert . . . even though he has no pedigree, most of the boys hero-worshiped him. But I can’t say I was friends with either of them. Different groups. Different interests. I must say, I haven’t really thought about them in years. Don’t know where they are.”
The music was changing, coming to an end. “David is helping his father with his apothecary shop,” Kendra said.
“Ah, that’s right. I remembered he was a merchant of some kind.”
“Evert died in the war.”
Shock crossed Humphrey’s face, followed by sorrow. “Ah, there’s a pity.” They drew to a halt when music ended. He bowed, and she curtseyed.
“I didn’t mean to finish on such a depressing note,” she apologized as he led her back to where Alec, Lady Atwood, and the Duke waited.
“Not at all. You are a refreshing change to the insipid debutantes. In fact, now I am depressed, knowing all other dance partners will pale in comparison.” He took her hand, and bowed over it, his gaze on hers. “I hope I may see you again soon, Miss Donovan.”
“I don’t see why not.”
He grinned, then left her.
“You did quite well, Miss Donovan.” Lady Atwood practically beamed at her.
Kendra thought about saying something snide, but decided it wasn’t worth it. She’d rather have the countess happy with her.
“You seem to be in a congenial mood.” Alec eyed her closely, unsmiling. “Was Mr. Humphrey to your liking as a dance partner?”
“Actually, he was nice.” And informative, she thought, but didn’t reveal that before Lady Atwood. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
“Mayhap I need to request your hand for the next dance before you are too occupied with your new beaux.”
There was an edge in Alec’s voice. She glanced at him in surprise. “I rather think Mr. Humphrey will be the last man to ask me to dance tonight,” she said. “Except for you and the Duke, of course.”
She was wrong. Much to Kendra’s utter shock, other men asked to be introduced to her, and she found herself dancing three more sets consecutively. Unfortunately, her partners were much less agreeable than Mr. Humphrey. The first dance was with a portly man, whose face was nearly scarlet from his exertions, making Kendra afraid that she’d be forced to do CPR on him by the end of the dance. The second was a middle-aged lord whose gaze seemed transfixed by her bosom. The last dance was with Mr. Allen, who couldn’t quite hide the glint of avarice in his eyes as he quizzed her about her connection to the Duke of Aldridge.
While she was fielding those questions, Kendra allowed her gaze to drift around the room. She wondered if Lord Cross was among the crowd. Across the ballroom, she noticed Rebecca and her parents had arrived, with Rebecca and her mother joining Lady Atwood and Lady St. James’s social circle while Lord Blackburn moved off to where Alec and the Duke were conversing with several gentlemen.
By the time Mr. Allen brought her back to Lady Atwood, who, along with the Duke, was her chaperone for the evening, the Duke was leading Rebecca out onto the dance floor. Kendra grabbed Alec’s arm before anyone else came up to her.
He lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. “Do you wish to dance?”
“God, no! How do we find Lord Cross?”
Alec turned to his aunt. “Miss Donovan is famished. I’m escorting her to the refreshment room.”
“I should never have learned to dance,” Kendra muttered as they moved into the hallway.
Alec gave her a strange look. “You are not thrilled by your success? You have been declared a diamond of the first water. London beaux will soon come calling.”
She searched his face. “Are you angry?”
Alec said nothing, but his jaw tightened.
“You saying that beaux will be calling is probably the scariest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He gave a reluctant laugh. “Most women would be thrilled with your success,” he said, steering her around a knot of young men in the hallway. “You know, there is one way you could stop the young bucks from competing for your favors.”
“How?”
He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Marry me.”
“Okay, that is the scariest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She saw his features tighten in anger and frustration, and knew she’d made a mistake. “I was joking.”
He said nothing.
She sighed. Marriage was the one topic that she and Alec would never agree on. “I’ve wasted too much time dancing, and all I was able to learn is that Gerard Holbrooke was a bully,” she muttered.
He cut her a sidelong glance, frowning. “How did you learn that, pray tell?”
“Mr. Humphrey went to school with him. Eton.”
“Good God.” Alec jerked his head around to stare at her. “Never say that you quizzed Mr. Humphrey about Sir Giles’s murder on the dance floor.”
“I didn’t know what else to talk to him about.”
He laughed, and Kendra sensed his annoyance with her was over. He said, “I’m not certain that Gerard Holbrooke’s unappealing character is a new revelation.”
“No, but it confirms the picture that’s building.” Kendra glanced around in surprise when she realized that Alec had maneuvered her into the card room. “I thought we were getting refreshments.”
“And I thought you wanted to speak to Lord Cross.” Alec grabbed two champagne flutes from a silver tray carried by a passing footman.
The Smyth-Hopes had transformed one of their drawing rooms into a card room, with at least a half-dozen green baize tables. Both gentlemen and ladies were playing games of hazard, baccarat, and whist. Kendra was sure the games were meant to be entertaining, the wagers small, but there were a few tables where the participants appeared tense, their laughter carrying a razor-sharp edge.
“The gentleman with the unfortunate whiskers is Lord Cross,” Alec murmured as he handed her a flute.
Kendra’s gaze drifted over the faces as she sipped the champagne, until she found the man in question. Alec was right about his facial hair being an unfortunate choice. Cross looked to be in his mid-twenties with a thin, pallid face and light brown hair that had been curled and carefully arranged. The side whiskers flared out, too bushy for his narrow face. His nose was long and thin, his pale blue eyes small. Kendra thought that he had the look of a ferret. Of course, that could have been the side whiskers.
“Now what?” Kendra asked.
“Now we wait.”
It took twenty minutes before Lord Cross finally shoved back his chair and declared that he was done. Alec and Kendra intercepted him as he stalked out of the card room.
“Lord Cross? A moment of your time?” Alec smiled at the younger man. “I am Sutcliffe—Alexander Morgan, the Marquis of Sutcliffe. This is Miss Donovan, the Duke of Aldridge’s ward.”
Recognition flickered in his small eyes. His face tightened, telling Kendra that he probably would have come up with an excuse to get away from them, if he could. “My lord, Miss Donovan,” he acknowledged with an abbreviated bow. “I am at your service.”
“Walk with us,” Alec directed, and, taking Kendra’s arm, began to move in the direction of a withdrawing room, forcing Lord Cross to fall into step beside them. “You may be aware that my uncle is looking into the death of Sir Giles.”
Cross’s mouth knotted with tension. “That is a peculiar pastime for a duke. Unless you are referring to another uncle?”
“No, he is the one. We a
re assisting him in the investigation.”
“What has any of this to do with me? I did not know Sir Giles.”
Kendra kept her gaze steady on him as they came to a halt in an alcove across from the card room. “Really? You had dinner with Sir Giles on Wednesday night—the night of his murder,” she said bluntly, watching the emotions flit across his narrow face. Fear. Panic. “Odd for you to do if you didn’t even know him.”
Cross adopted an outraged expression. “You are being deliberately provocative, Miss Donovan. I meant I did not know him as a close connection. And I did not have dinner with him. I joined him at his table for a moment. That is all.”
“Why did you join him at his table at all? What did you have to say to this man who was not a close connection?”
“I don’t recall. It was a trifling subject.”
“What is it? You don’t recall or it was a trifling subject?” Kendra pressed.
He frowned at her. “A trifling subject.”
She said coolly, “What would you say if I told you witnesses have reported that you and Sir Giles were involved in a heated discussion? One might even call it an argument.”
His bushy side whiskers quivered. “I can’t imagine who could have said such a thing.”
Alec raised an eyebrow at the man. “As the last person to have seen Sir Giles alive, I would think you would want to help us in our investigation, my lord, lest you give the impression that you have something to hide.”
Cross blinked four times in rapid succession. “I have nothing to hide.”
“Then you shouldn’t have a problem telling us why you sought Sir Giles out at his club to speak with him,” Kendra said, and watched Cross gaze at the doorway to the card room, probably regretting ever having left the table.
He exhaled. “It was a private discussion. He outbid me on a horse that I had my eye on, if you must know.”
“Your argument was over a horse?” Kendra didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.
Cross nodded quickly. “I told you it was a trifling.”
“Okay,” Kendra allowed with a nod. “What horse? Where did you bid on it? I’ll make sure I ask Lady Holbrooke about this horse that her husband purchased as well.”
“And Sir Giles’s man of affairs,” Alec put in smoothly. “Unless you’ve finished with your Banbury Tales, and are ready to tell us what you really argued about with Sir Giles?”
Cross’s narrow jaw clenched. “I have nothing to say on the matter.”
“Was it about Spain?” It was a shot in the dark, but Kendra thought it was interesting to watch the horror flicker across his face.
“Spain?” he said faintly. “What does Spain have to do with anything?”
She said, “We know you were involved in the incident in Spain.”
“Involved? What are you suggesting? I was held captive by the French for months.” A shudder rippled over him. “It was a terrible time. A terrible time. I do not wish to remember it.”
“That’s understandable,” she said. “Most of your regiment was killed, along with a young man. Evert Larson. Did you know him?”
Cross blinked. “No.”
Alec spoke up. “That is curious. He was killed while rescuing you and another soldier.”
“Of course, I know the name,” he said quickly. “I only meant that I did not know Mr. Larson personally.”
“Not even from Eton?” Kendra asked mildly.
“I did not associate with Mr. Larson at school. He is . . . was the son of a merchant.”
Kendra changed subjects. “What happened in Spain? How was Evert killed?”
“What can that have to do with Sir Giles’s murder?”
“It’s come up, and we’re following all leads.” She eyed Cross. He looked like a man who badly wanted a drink, his upper lip dotted with sweat. “Where did you go once you left White’s?”
“Lord Cross,” someone hailed.
Kendra observed the relief that washed over the viscount’s face before he faced the newcomer. She shifted her gaze to the stranger as well. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with russet hair and chiseled features. Good-looking, and confident with it, Kendra decided.
The man said to Cross, “I thought you only stepped out of the card room for a moment, my lord, but would be returning for another hand.” He smiled, flashing even, white teeth. His eyes were dark gray, and despite the smile, curiously flat when he turned to look at Kendra and Alec. “Will you introduce me to your friends?”
“Certainly. Lord Sutcliffe, Miss Donovan, this is Captain Mobray. Captain Mobray, this is the Marquis of Sutcliffe, and Miss Donovan.”
Alec said, “This is a fortuitous meeting. Miss Donovan and I were speaking to Lord Cross about Sir Giles’s murder.”
Mobray lifted one eyebrow in a languid movement that seemed practiced. “That hardly seems an appropriate conversation in such a frivolous setting as a ball, my lord.”
“Perhaps . . .” But Alec shrugged in an equally lazy gesture to telegraph how little he cared about what was or was not appropriate. “I understand that you and Lord Cross served together during the Peninsular war.”
“Yes.” Mobray shot Cross a hard look. “My lord, I hope you were not regaling them with our war stories. ’Tis not fit for ladies’ ears.”
“My ears have heard a lot of stories,” Kendra assured him, summoning a slight smile. “I don’t necessarily believe everything I hear.”
“Indeed,” was all he said.
“Did you know Evert Larson?” Maybe if she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she would have missed his slight hesitation.
“Yes, but only by reputation,” Mobray said finally, reaching inside his breast pocket and fishing out a small, delicate porcelain container that Kendra recognized as a snuffbox. He flicked open the lid with his finger. “I know that I owe my life to him.”
“How?”
Mobray glanced at Cross. “Did you not tell them?” He took a pinch of snuff from the container, dabbed it into his nostrils, and inhaled sharply. “Lord Cross and I were in a regiment that came under attack in the mountains of Spain. We were captured by the French. It was . . . not a pleasant time. Two of our men died from battle wounds immediately, and the French officers shot one for sport.”
Cross drew in an unsteady breath, but he said nothing.
“Mr. Larson found us,” Mobray continued. “He was in a nearby village, pretending to be a peddler, I think. He worked his way into our camp.” His gray eyes darkened. “I don’t know what happened exactly, but the French realized he was a spy, and he was captured.” He snapped the snuffbox closed and tucked it back into his pocket.
“How long was he around before he was captured?”
“I’m not sure. Two days, perhaps.”
Kendra looked at Cross. “Is your memory clearer?”
The viscount’s mouth pinched. “He may have been in the camp for longer. I don’t know. I barely recognized him. He’d darkened his hair and was quite unkempt.”
Kendra nodded. There were regions in Spain with naturally blond citizens, but it made sense that Evert had disguised himself to blend in more fully with the majority of the Spanish population. She asked, “What happened next?”
“I think Mr. Larson attempted to escape, but, again, I cannot be certain. There was an explosion and a fire. In the confusion, Lord Cross and I managed to escape.”
Alec’s lips thinned. “You left your men behind.”
For the first time, something hot glinted in Mobray’s eyes—anger maybe. “It was too late for them, sir. Would you have us sacrifice ourselves for dead men?”
No one said anything.
Mobray smiled in a way that revealed his teeth to Alec. “As I said, my lord, it was not a pleasant time. And not a memory I care to revisit.” He paused. “What does Spain have to do with Sir Giles’s murder?”
Kendra ignored his question, asking instead, “Were you well acquainted with Sir Giles?”
“Yes. Not during the war, b
ut after. I work in Whitehall, in the Home Office. I have never worked for Sir Giles directly, but he was a presence one couldn’t ignore.”
“Do you know why anyone would have a reason to kill him?”
He seemed to ponder that for a long moment, but finally released a sigh, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine anyone doing such a thing, especially in the manner that it was done.”
Kendra switched her attention back to Cross. “You never said where you went after White’s, my lord.”
“Didn’t I?” Cross blinked. “I didn’t have a particular destination. I wandered for a bit. There are other entertainments to be had in London. Then I went home.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know. Two, I think.”
“Did anyone see you at those other entertainments? Someone who can verify your whereabouts?”
“Speak to Mr. Huntley—his father is Lord Winthrop. And, oh, there were countless men at—” Cross suddenly stopped, flushing. He glanced at Kendra, and she guessed he had visited a brothel, or some other sordid establishment not for a lady’s ears.
“You’ll need to say the name of the place, my lord. I won’t faint,” she promised drily.
He stiffened, glaring at her.
The captain laughed, though his eyes remained watchful. “If you met Huntley there, it’s probably the Blue Boar. Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Cross said reluctantly.
“There you go.” Mobray smiled, and straightened. “As interesting as this discussion is, I must take my leave. There is more to London than the Smyth-Hope ball as well. Cross, will you join me?”
“What? Oh, yes. Good evening, my lord.” He looked warily at Kendra. “Miss Donovan.”
Kendra’s gaze followed the men as they wove their way through the people loitering in the hallway. “Well, Mobray was right—it was an interesting discussion,” Kendra murmured. Despite Cross’s higher pedigree, she noticed that the captain seemed to exude the most confidence. His stride was long and easy, while Cross scurried to catch up.
“We need to have Sam check out the Blue Boar and Mr. Huntley, see if Cross was there and how it works with the timeline,” she said. Realizing she was still holding the champagne flute, she lifted it and drank. “Overall, though, I thought Cross was a very bad liar.”
Betrayal in Time Page 21