A Most Improper Rumor (11 page)

He hoped to hell Heathton was making some progress on the case.

Chapter 12

J
anelle eyed him from across the table with a superior look of both feigned pity and cynical amusement. “It seems to me your pretty little wife has your ballocks in the palm of her dainty hand, does she not?”

Ben lifted a brow at that inelegant observation. “How so?”

“I saw you together at the theater.” Her hand moved languidly to pick up a cut-glass goblet full of claret, her slender pale fingers circling the stem. “I’ve never seen you attentive before. Usually your nonchalance takes indifference to an entirely new extreme. You didn’t watch the play; you watched
her
. I found it so entertaining, I missed most of the production myself.”

He studied his companion. Today her flame red hair was upswept into a stylish display of ringlets and secured by pins tipped with tiny emeralds, her gown a lavish cream concoction with beribboned flared sleeves, and she wore a wreath of pearls around her slender neck that emphasized the daring plunge of her décolletage. Though she wasn’t an expensive courtesan, she looked like one this evening, and since nothing she did wasn’t calculated, he had to wonder why in an offhand way. He thought about it for a moment, and then said mildly, “The duke is a good-enough sort, but he is old enough to be your father.”

Her gaze caught his and her smile was feline. “Worried about me, darling?”

“I think I’m more worried about him. You are dressed this evening as if you might just be going in for the kill.”

“How appropriately you put it, but it isn’t for the old duke. You don’t care for my gown?”

“Quite the opposite. It is very becoming.” The creamy weight of her opulent breasts threatened to spill from her bodice at every movement.

“Too pointed a statement?” Her expression was one of beguiling innocence, but she was far from being an ingénue.

“I suspect whoever is the target will understand your message,” Ben observed dryly.

She pouted prettily. “You never did, darling.”

He’d understood, but Janelle was far too fierce for him, a warrior in the body of Venus, both driven and self-sufficient to an almost frightening degree. He leaned back and his smile was bland. “We both know you were just testing me to see how far I could be pushed.”

“That’s only partially true.” Her lips curved and she deliberately let her gaze wander over his body where he sat relaxed in the wing chair opposite hers. “I’ve always wanted to be there in a moment when you lose control, even if it just slips away for that crucial heartbeat of the ultimate pleasure. I’ve fantasized about fucking you for that reason alone, among others.”

She was testing him
now
, being deliberately vulgar. He shrugged. “I’m a married man.”

“So?”

I love my wife
. He didn’t say it because he was still getting used to the idea, and besides, love made a man vulnerable and it was never wise to give Janelle ammunition.

“As for the duke, in his case, I’m more interested in revenge than pleasure.” She folded her hands on the table with deliberate care. “He has some connections I need.”

He lifted a brow and said, “Ah, Bridgeway. I wondered if that was what brought you back here.”

“Damn you, my lord. You can’t know everything.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t. If he had, he wouldn’t be asking for her help in the DeBrooke matter. “Be careful with this particular project. I’ve heard Bridgeway likes it a bit rough.”

With lethal softness Janelle said, “I know.”

The menace in her tone spoke volumes. He didn’t want to know who had told her about Bridgeway’s particular perversions, but he suspected someone of whom she was fond enough to seek retribution.

“It’s just a bit of advice. Now then, can you accomplish what I asked?”

“Of course, but it will cost you, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

She smiled with a flash of white teeth. “We both know you can afford it. Why don’t I just send your steward the bill.”

They were sitting in a small inn that he wouldn’t ever have chosen as a spot to take a lady, but then again, she tried her best to tell him often that he needed to adjust to the concept that she really wasn’t one in the first place. “I suppose I can agree to that,” he said dryly. “After all, I am the one asking you to help me.”

“I’m curious enough as to why you would concern yourself with this matter. Is it that confining being the earl?”

She was not just beautiful and devious but perceptive too. At first, perhaps, it had been confining. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that no matter how dutiful he strived to be, part of him craved a less-tame existence. Then, of course, he had married Alicia, and from that pivotal point, his life had slowly swung in a different direction.

Not entirely, of course. No one changed so quickly, but he was reconsidering some of his priorities. “I want to solve this little puzzle and retire to the country as much as is possible. Alicia is carrying my child.”

Janelle paused in the act of sipping her wine, her expression faintly sardonic. “I suppose I should not be surprised. After all, you’ve been married for the good part of a year.”

“We have.”

She tilted her head at a slight angle and looked at him with critical assessment. “I thought I sensed a change. You are not quite the cold, calculating young man I met seven years ago. Mayhaps you even have a heart. It is only a possibility, mind you.”

He leveled a cynical look in her direction. “I do not think you should cast stones at me, my dear. I do not have a false identity, nor am I intent on having half of Mayfair swoon at my feet, one besotted idiot at a time, and I certainly never have served time in Newgate for . . . what was it again?”

“A misunderstanding.” She drank her wine, delicately touched a napkin to her full lips, and rose. “I will be in touch if I have any news to impart.” She turned in a rustle of perfume and silken cloth, but hesitated. “This reminds me of how it used to be.”

She almost sounded wistful and to his knowledge Janelle did not ever have regrets, nor did she believe in sentiment. Her forte was much more on a level with cold, determined survival.

“Keep in mind that how it used to be involved a great deal of uncertainty and danger,” he reminded her. “Don’t glamorize what was never intended to be anything but a struggle for power, and at that, only a hope we were on the right side.”

Her green eyes looked almost unfocused for a moment. “I didn’t realize you weren’t sure.”

“When facing death, every man is unsure.”

“What about every woman?”

His smile was crooked. “I sometimes wonder if women aren’t
more
sure.”

Almost immediately her smile resurfaced, her eyes glimmering. “We are the superior sex, after all,” she said mockingly, fluffing her pelisse with exaggerated care. “Now then, your lordship, farewell for this fine evening.”

He’d risen when she had, and he swept a slight bow. “Travel safely.”

A light laugh floated out as she exited the room, but Ben wasn’t yet ready to depart. He poured another glass of wine and thought about poisons and motive and a Chinese symbol for divine power. Moodily he stared at the fire, booted legs crossed at the ankle.

If his study had been rifled, then his involvement was known. Alicia’s public championing of Angelina DeBrooke would not go unnoticed by whoever wished her ill either.

His instincts told him he needed all due speed in concluding this investigation.

* * *

Eve Summers was maybe like the mysterious Mrs. Dulcet in coloring, but there it seemed the resemblance ended. There was a hint of freckles on her cheeks and nose, her mouth was wide, and her eyes were framed by lashes the same color as her hair. It was easy enough to see she was as surprised by the impromptu visit as Angelina had been, and after her offer of refreshment was declined, she sat down in a satin-covered chair and looked at Alicia with undisguised curiosity.

In the carriage on the way, Alicia had pondered how to begin this conversation and had decided the direct approach really would not do. It would be unfortunate if all of London found out Ben was investigating the murders. This was true for several reasons, not the least of which was that perhaps the real killer would hear of it. However, that made asking pointed questions difficult and she had to fabricate some sort of reason why she had called.

She chose to start with a small evasive explanation sprinkled liberally with the truth, but in a somewhat different slant than her true purpose. “I understand you were very good friends with Lady DeBrooke.”

Whatever her hostess expected, it was obviously not that opening to the conversation. Lady Eve blinked, and then frowned. “I
am
very good friends with Angelina, Lady Heathton. In the present tense. Why?”

“I am glad to hear it.” Alicia smiled warmly. “It is kind of you, after . . . well, everything.”

“Hardly a kindness to stand by a friend falsely accused of two terrible crimes.” Her voice held a hint of instant dislike.

The last thing that would help was to antagonize the woman. Alicia quickly tried to smooth over her last comment. “I agree completely. I’m here only because I am worried about her. Recently she and I met, and I like her very much.”

“Yes, she mentioned you.” Eve Summers gazed at her with narrow-eyed speculation. “I wish I could have been at the Greggstons’ to give my support, but my mother was hosting a dinner party and insisted on my presence. I didn’t even know Angelina had accepted the invitation. It is very rare for her to do so.”

“Oh, I see.”

“My parents discourage our association for what I suppose are the obvious reasons. It was kind of you to act as if you welcomed her presence.”

At least Alicia could reply with honesty. “It wasn’t acting. As I said, I like her and she has had a difficult time, from what I understand.”

“The trial was awful.” Miss Summers took in a breath. “But it is all past us and I am afraid I still wonder why you are here, Lady Heathton.”

“Do you have any idea who might have wished her so much ill as to frame her for the murders of two innocent men? I want to befriend her but am not sure I know the entire story, and I can hardly revive old painful memories by asking her. Besides you, I don’t think anyone else in the
ton
would be able to give me an accurate account of the events.”

For a moment the entire interview hung in the balance, Eve Summers seemingly weighing whether or not she was flattered or suspicious Alicia was just another avid gossip, but then she lifted her shoulders. “I doubt I know anything that hasn’t been whispered over by half the interested parties in London, so I suppose there is no harm in telling you. May I start by saying I don’t know how innocent they were.”

It was Alicia’s turn to blink. “I beg your pardon?”

“William and Thomas. In my opinion, neither of them was good enough for her. William essentially bought her, declining her dowry and giving her father a very favorable marriage settlement that influenced the acceptance of his suit. Her family would not allow her to refuse his offer.”

That was interesting but hardly helpful yet. “That sounds like a man who knows exactly what he wants. Did he love her?”

“No.” Eve’s face tightened. “I can say unequivocally he did not. He had a mistress and two bastard children he’d neglected to mention when they married, the scoundrel. However, his consequence was very important to him and, after all, she was considered the most beautiful woman in England. So he paid to have her.”

A mistress might be a viable suspect. Did Ben know this? He might, of course, for men closed ranks when it came to personal secrets. Alicia’s pulse quickened, but she hoped she kept her features schooled to sympathetic interest. She was able to say honestly, “I would be devastated.”

“She wasn’t in particular, or so she told me. Humiliated is a better description.”

So far, as usual, Lady DeBrooke was the best suspect, which was hardly heartening. “My husband knew her second husband and thought he was a good sort.”

“Thomas?” Lady Eve shook her head, red ringlets brushing her temples. “Well-meaning, I suppose in some ways, and Angelina liked him, but he was the jolly kind to prefer his club to home, which might have been why both she
and
your husband liked him. I think she married because she had to, and living separate lives suited her well. I doubt she shed a tear for William, but she was shocked and upset when Thomas expired from his sudden illness.”

Alicia could not imagine it, but then again, she was very much in love with Ben, and it sounded as if—until now—Angelina hadn’t been so lucky.

Her ill luck held if some madman was out there intent upon keeping her a widow.

“I think I understand it all better now,” Alicia said with what wasn’t entirely false gratitude, though she hadn’t learned anything dramatically enlightening. “I came to you because I didn’t want to misspeak and cause her more pain or embarrassment. Considering that she seems to be intelligent and gracious even under her circumstances, who would want to do this to her? I find it all very puzzling. I suppose, since she is so lovely, there were many other jealous young ladies, or even worse, their ambitious mothers.”

Eve Summers looked at her with troubled blue eyes. “It is hard to say, of course. I’ve always wondered if it wasn’t just a macabre accident of fate. It’s possible. Stranger things in this world have happened. Of course, I’ve never thought she was guilty, but one does wonder if she should marry again.”

Yet that was precisely what the lady in question wished to do, and though Alicia was sure Ben would look at her in that singular way he had—as if he could see through her transparent romantic soul—it was a shame that if two people loved each other, they should be kept apart by a single poisonous entity who would use murder to manipulate someone else’s life.

“Is she thinking of it?” Alicia felt she should ask the question because it would only be natural since she’d been so interested in the rest of the conversation. No one ostensibly on her mission would let that sort of tidbit slip past.

“I don’t know,” Eve said soberly, “but if you really wish to be her friend, I would discourage her if she should tell you she is considering it, Lady Heathton.”