A Lady of Letters (26 page)

"I would ask what has brought such a grim expression to your face, but I fear I wouldn't want to know." So intent was Augusta on working out her plans that she failed to notice Sheffield's approach. His mouth twitched as a guilty look flashed over her features. "Ah, I see that I am not far off the mark."

The musicians were warming up in prelude to a new melody and Ashton, with another pointed wink at Augusta, excused himself to find his partner for the next dance.

"You are not the only one thinking of how to discover the information we need," she said under her breath, watching her friend stride away in hopes of hiding the stain of color that once again was rising to her cheeks. Drat the man, she thought rather irritably. And drat herself! Was the simple sound of his voice going to cause a heat to course through her every time they met?

Sheffield chuckled. "That's exactly what I was afraid of." His hand came around her elbow. "Come, let us find some refreshment." In a lower voice he added, "There appears to be a quiet spot in the corner where we might continue this discussion with a modicum of privacy."

Augusta let him lead her away from the crowd and fetch her a glass of rataffia punch. "You don't imagine that I mean simply to hand over the only hard bit of evidence and go back to my embroidery, do you?" she said rather acidly as he passed her a glass.

"You embroider?" He took a long swallow of his champagne. "I would not have imagined it possible."

"Oh, you know what I meant."

"Unfortunately I do."

"Lord Sheffield," she began.

"Alex," he corrected in soft voice. "Remember?"

Her mouth suddenly felt very dry. "Very well... Alex. It's just that I... you see, I, too, have a plan. Of sorts. That is...." Why was it that she couldn't seem to manage a coherent sentence?

The Earl appeared to ignore her stammerings. "Did you bring the piece of waistcoat?"

"Of course I did." She fumbled with her reticule and withdrew the scrap of silk.

He slipped it into his pocket. "Now, you may as well tell me what plan you have been cultivating in that fertile mind of yours. I daresay I shall learn about it soon enough."

Augusta drew her chin up a fraction higher.

"Gus," he warned. "I thought we had a deal. If we are to work together, we must keep each other informed as to our intentions."

The trouble was, she thought with wry dismay, she hadn't realized the deal would include having her pulse start to race out of control whenever he was near her. Her fingers tightened around her glass as the faint scent of bay rum wafted from his freshly shaven cheek. Daring a quick glance in that direction, she found herself fighting the urge to run her hand over the tanned skin, to twine it in the long, dark locks curling around his ear. Appalled at where her thoughts were headed, as well as the fact that they might be transparent, she forced her gaze out to where the couples were swirling by in a blur of color.

The Earl gave a bemused smile. "Is it that bad?"

Had he really guessed even the half of it? She sucked in her breath. "Is what so bad?" she asked faintly.

"Your plan, of course." He regarded the contents of her glass with an arch of his brow. "Has someone dumped a bottle of blue ruin in the punch, for you are beginning to act a trifle bosky?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered, secretly relieved it was that to which he had been referring. "I am in complete control of my senses."

"That might be a matter of some debate, but enough of this verbal fencing, Gus. Out with it."

"It is nothing to make such a fuss over. I merely intend to see if I might encourage Lord Ludlowe's attentions...."

Sheffield's expression turned very grim.

".... and manage to coax some slip of the tongue from him."

"And just how, may I ask, do you intend to coax a slip of the tongue," he asked in a very deliberate voice.

"Well, er, in the usual way that females do such things."

There was a moment of ominous silence before the Earl's jaw unclenched enough for him to speak. "Absolutely, unequivocally not."

"You have no right to order—"

"Are you stark, raving mad?" he continued, ignoring her feeble protest. "Have you conveniently forgotten that, if your suspicion is at all right, this is a very dangerous man. You saw just this afternoon what he is capable of if he thinks his plans are in the least threatened."

"I shall be careful, of course."

"Of course," he mimicked. " And of course, since the brilliant Miss Hadley is infinitely more clever than any mere male, there is no chance of any mishap along the way."

Augusta's hands balled into fists at her side. "Odious, overbearing man," she retorted in a near whisper.

"Stubborn, willful termagant," he replied through gritted teeth.

There was a discreet cough as a well-dressed figure paused in his approach. "I had hoped to claim my spot on your card, Miss Hadley, but if you would rather continue what looks to be a fascinating conversation, I could return at another time." Ludlowe's cool gaze regarded the two faces before him, each rigid with anger, and a look of faint amusement played on his lips.

"Indeed not," said Augusta emphatically, reaching out her hand to him with what she hoped was a brilliant smile. "I am delighted with the prospect of having the chance to enjoy such a charming partner as you, sir." Her tone left little doubt as to her opinion of her present company.

Ludlowe gave a slight bow, then proffered his arm. "Well then, if you will excuse us, Sheffield, I believe the set is forming."

It was only with great difficulty that the Earl restrained the urge to utter a certain oath aloud. But he thought it as he watched Augusta walk away arm in arm with the other man. Hell's teeth! he added for good measure. Didn't she have any idea of how perilous a course she might be setting for herself? After a moment's consideration, he decided the problem was not that she failed to grasp the danger, rather that she refused to allow it to stop her.

His foot began to tap impatiently on the polished parquet. No doubt she would take great pains to avoid being alone with him any time during the rest of the evening. He could hardly pick her up and bodily carry her from the room, though the thought was sorely tempting—for more than one reason. Why was it that even when he was furious with her, those flashing hazel eyes had the most unsettling physical effect on his person? As she had brushed past him, he had wanted to reach out and stop her, not the least because his fingers were burning to feel the soft heat of her cheek and bury themselves once more in the silkiness splendor of those wheaten tresses.

With a start, Sheffield realized it was waltz that was playing, and that she and her partner were gliding toward where he stood. His eyes locked on the gentle swaying of her hips, then moved up to the gloved hand lightly pressed at the small of her back. For an instant it was he, too, and not just an unknown villain, who was contemplating murder. Then, getting a grip on his emotions, he turned on his heel and stalked to the far end of the room where he sought another glass of champagne to dampen down the worst of his ire.

"Good evening, Lord Sheffield."

The Earl's head jerked around. He had come to halt next to where Marianne, not yet approved by the patrons of Almack's to waltz, and one of her admirers were sitting out the dance. Wiping the scowl off his face as best he could, he gave a curt nod in acknowledgement of her greeting. "Good evening, Miss Hadley. I trust you are enjoying the activities as much as your sister is." The words came out rather more sharply than he had intended.

Marianne's eyes stole a quick glance at Augusta turning in step with Lord Ludlowe and a slight crease furrowed her smooth brow. It disappeared in an instant, replaced by her usual sunny expression. "Yes, the music is quite delightful. Indeed. I find I have worked up quite a thirst on the dance floor." Turning to her partner with a charming smile, she said, "Lucas, would you mind terribly fetching me a glass of lemonade? And perhaps another glass of champagne for His Lordship?"

The young man by her side jumped to his feet with alacrity. "Of course, Miss Marianne."

As soon as he had hurried off, she spoke again, concern replacing gaiety in her voice. "Has something changed that Augusta has not seen fit to mention to me, sir, or is Lord Ludlowe still among the prime suspects?"

The Earl slanted her a look of grudging approval for such a quick grasp of the matter even as his mouth set in a grim line. "You are not mistaken. Once again, your sister has seen fit to throw caution to the wind and sail full tilt into battle. But this time I fear she is facing the very real risk of running hard aground." He drew in a breath. "She means to encourage some measure of intimacy between them, with the idea of wheedling the incriminating evidence out of him. If Ludlowe is the guilty party, he has proven that he is no fool. Nor is he a man to be trifled with, as the events of this past afternoon have proved."

Marianne went a bit paler. "What do you mean, sir?"

"She did not tell you of the attack?"

"No. She did not."

His lips compressed even more. "As you see, she does not see fit to tell you everything."

Marianne drew in a ragged breath. "Is there nothing you can do to convince her to abandon such a perilous course? She seems to... pay some attention to you."

A muttered "Hah!" was the only reply. He then lapsed into a gloomy silence and appeared to be contemplating the tips of his polished Hessians. After several minutes, he cleared his throat and was about to speak again when interrupted by the reappearance of Marianne's admirer.

"Here is your lemonade, Miss Marianne." Lord Andover's cheerful tone faltered on taking in the stony expressions that met his words. "And, er, your champagne, sir."

"I believe Miss Hadley requested rataffia punch. The champagne you may leave with me."

The young man handed the glass over to the Earl. "But Alex, she most definitely said—"

"Are you contradicting the lady?" inquired Sheffield softly. "Or me?"

"Ah, no, sir."

"Good. Especially if you expect me to stand you for the Four-In-Hand Club any time soon."

Without further argument, the young man headed off into the milling crowd with even more haste than the first time.

Marianne observed the interchange between the two men with some interest. "You appear to have some acquaintance with Lord Andover, sir. He, ah, seems to defer to your wishes without question."

"Unlike a certain someone else," growled the Earl under his breath. "But yes, Lucas is quite used to me barking orders at him. I've been doing it since he was in leading strings." At her look of puzzlement, he added, "He is my cousin."

"Oh, I did not know that. How... interesting." She fiddled with the strings of her reticule. "You were about to say something, my lord, before he appeared?"