A Most Improper Rumor (15 page)

He still asked mildly, “Was she a bitch? Or was she just unfortunate enough to catch the attention of someone who has an unsavory hobby of ruining popular young ladies? Not all aristocratic young ladies are shallow and self-serving despite your past experiences with the upper classes.”

Janelle took a moment before she gifted him a seductive smile. “How clever of you, my lord, to be able to read my mind so easily.”

“I wasn’t trying to be clever and it isn’t a weakness to have suffered at the hands of others.”

A distant light came into her verdant eyes and then was banished in an instant. “Is that what you think?”

“Please credit me with enough powers of observation to recognize that you are well educated, well mannered when you wish to be, and intelligent enough to use the gift of beauty nature bestowed on you to your advantage when the opportunity presents itself. That speaks of a hard-earned self-reliance. Was there ever a Mr. Dulcet?”

“How lovely to know you are curious about me. Perhaps there is hope after all that you will succumb to my infamous wiles.” Instantly she was back to her usual provocative persona, adjusting her position so he could view more clearly the exposed valley between her generous breasts.

Dryly, Ben said, “I simply wondered if you ever had truly been married.”

She shrugged. “I make a much better mistress than a wife. If you care to discover for yourself what I can do for you that your lady wife would not, say the word. I had a protector once with some . . . unusual tastes a man of your sophistication might find intriguing.”

And you would find no pleasure in it
. He studied her intently and decided against pointing out he could see through the throaty-voiced temptress and glimpse the wounded woman underneath. If she ever wanted to tell him more about her past, she would. Instead he said simply, “I’m afraid I take my marriage vows seriously.”

“How very honorable of you.” Her tone held a mocking edge.

It was time to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. “It seems to me the level of ruthlessness involved indicates a past experience that might give us a clue as to the identity of whoever would go to such lengths. Hopefully when I speak with the other victims, they will be able to provide a common bond of some kind.”

“Do you want me to accompany you? They might speak more freely to a woman.”

The silky tone of her voice gave him pause, but then again, she could be right. “Perhaps it would be advantageous. I want to end this as soon as possible. I promised my wife less than a week.” He got to his feet and inclined his head. “I’ll call for you in an hour.”

Janelle’s expression was amused. “At least I will be relieved of my ennui by our quest. Whoever we seek is out there, and I think, from what you have told me, he knows you realize it.”

“Oh, I realize it. He
wants
me to realize it. I am just trying to understand the rules of the joust.”

“Is that how you look at it? Pikes and armor?”

“Shouldn’t I?” The scent of smoke was still acrid in his nostrils. He could not forget it. “This is a duel,” he observed in cold, ruthless appraisal. “I didn’t initiate it, but I am a participant, and the acceptance of that is paramount to the outcome. I can sit and rage all day over how I have wronged no one, or I can do battle.”

“Oh, you’ve wronged someone, my lord,” Janelle said with lazy humor, lounging in her chair with negligent grace. “We all have, and some more than others. You weren’t roasted alive on his first attempt, but there could be more.”

“He threatened me through my wife.”

Dark red brows rose. “And made you angry. Not easy to do. Our opponent is canny.”

He’d thought so all along, which was not all that reassuring. “To a certain extent he must be.”

Her gaze was challenging. “What makes you think it is a man? It could be a woman.”

“An interesting observation,” he said, and took his leave.

Chapter 18

H
e had no idea.

Ah well,
Janelle thought as the carriage came to a stop,
so much better this way
. If Benjamin Wallace didn’t realize she fancied herself in love with him, that was just as well. He didn’t need to know, after all. The war had been the war, and the intrigue had suited her, so she had offered to spy for England and their paths had crossed.

It had changed her life forever.

Whatever he thought of their acquaintance—and she carefully maintained a façade of flirtatious vixen, trying to lure him to her bed to no avail—the truth was much different. He treated her as if she had a functioning brain, not just a luscious bosom and all the other important female parts a man appreciated, and though she hadn’t even realized that courtesy was important to her, it was.

It truly was.

She envied his wife, truth be told, but surprisingly not with a sort of black jealousy, but with a wistful kind of romantic girlish sentiment she thought had long since gone from her jaded soul.

“Not exactly what would have been had she held the attention of His Majesty’s cousin, now is it?” she murmured, referring to the young woman they sought and eyeing the square outline of the modest country house, a bevy of hounds running up to meet the carriage, the racket of their baying making her raise her voice.

Lord Heathton looked contemplative. He was a contradiction, far too handsome in a classic sort of way with that wavy dark blond hair and his vivid hazel eyes, but that was hardly the first thing a person noticed about him. It was more the quiet air of confidence, understated but probably more visible to others than he realized. He gazed out of the carriage window. “Comfortable, but not luxurious, true. Let’s find out what the magistrate’s daughter has to say, shall we?”

When he alighted and turned to extend his hand to assist her, Janelle complied, the clasp of his fingers warm and firm, and, of course, in keeping with her perfect acting, she sent him an arch glance and curled her hand around his in as provocative a manner as possible. “Shall we?” she murmured. “I rather like the sound of that, my lord. I’ve always thought we should.”

Naturally he didn’t respond to the implied sexual invitation—he never did even before he married—but instead handed her out of the vehicle politely and nodded toward the house. “After you, of course.”

Mrs. Hayden was in, they discovered, and willing to see them, though she did look puzzled when she came into the small, informal parlor, wiping her hands on an apron she hastily untied when her visitors were announced as an earl and the cousin of a duke.

Mistress
of an old duke and no relation whatsoever, Janelle sardonically reminded herself, but worth it for the entry into society. His Grace had been fairly panting to have her, and so she agreed, only if acknowledgment as part of his illustrious family—a lie—was part of the price. In truth, it hadn’t been so bad—she’d had more inept lovers who were much younger—and he’d been infinitely grateful afterward. She rather liked older men. They didn’t entertain ridiculous notions of love but had their own lives. They wanted the use of her body and the benefits were usually generous.

“My lord, my lady.” The woman who curtsied was still very young, in her early twenties, her fair hair lustrous even in an upswept careless knot, her features exquisite. It was no wonder, Janelle decided as she appraised their hostess with an assessing eye, that this young lady had been so lauded by polite society.

Ben bowed, his usual half smile in place, his eyes unreadable. “Thank you for receiving us.”

“Of course, my lord.”

The wail of a child’s voice came from a distance. He said, “We won’t keep you long. I suppose I should get used to that sound in my own household. Within less than half a year I will be a father for the first time.”

How easily it came to him dancing proudly like a penguin. The right words, the correct manner, the ability to read his mark with such accuracy. Mentioning her child was exactly the right approach, for Mrs. Hayden, once the toast of all society, smiled with endearing enthusiasm. “My congratulations, Lord Heathton. There is nothing quite like having a child of your own.”

A part of Janelle thought
: Poor pathetic creature, clinging to something a woman could do even if she wasn’t trying, getting impregnated by some drunken toff who only wants a quick moment of pleasure before he lapses into a snoring slumber
.

And another traitorous part envied her fond smile, and envied even more the infernally lucky Lady Heathton who was going to have Ben’s child. She spoke for the first time, her tone more brittle than intended. “We wish to discuss with you the scandal that occurred the year of your debut.”

It might not have been the most politic way to begin the conversation, but it was the best she could do.

To smooth it over no doubt, Ben amended calmly, “We are hardly interested in the accusations, but what might have prompted them. I believe you are innocent of the charges, but, as I am sure you have as well, I do wonder who went to such lengths to frame you for a crime you did not commit.”

Well said
. The man had a remarkable ability to talk to people while yet seeming unapproachable. If she had it, she would not be susceptible to wealthy, lascivious dukes, but then again, Janelle thought philosophically as she waited for Mrs. Hayden to answer, she had her own methods.

“I’ve no idea.” Georgette Hayden said the three words tightly. “And trust my word on this; I thought about nothing else for months after it happened. If I could give you a name, I would.”

“What about the young lady your former suitor married?”

“The king’s cousin’s wife? No.” Georgette shook her head emphatically and her smile was thin-lipped. “Maybe someone at court orchestrated the debacle, but she is not at all intelligent enough to conceive of the idea herself, much less execute it. He didn’t even know her when it happened, and to be frank, as bitter as it sounds, I wish him joy of her the way he so easily renounced me.”

“She was cruel to you?” Janelle asked it idly, belying her sharpened interest.

“Cut me dead in public,” Georgette admitted, her face taking on color even after all the time that had passed. “It was several years ago and by then I was married myself, but now I simply refuse to go to London at all. My husband, I am happy to say, is an understanding man and he prefers the countryside. He lets me stay here with the children, which is for the best.”

But then again, Janelle thought, eyeing her hostess, even in a simple gown and unprepared for visitors, his wife had a very natural, stunning beauty, and he no doubt considered himself a lucky man.

At what expense, though? A disillusioned young woman’s dreams at the least. She could unfortunately relate to that all too well. It was perhaps why she agreed to help.

“Can you by chance give me a list of those you remember who attended that party?” If Ben was disappointed in the result of their interview, he didn’t show it, but the blasted man rarely showed much emotion anyway.

Georgette nodded and rose. “As you can imagine, I remember quite well. Give me a moment and I will write them down for you.” She stopped in the doorway and turned. “May I ask why you have taken such an interest in this after all this time, my lord?”

“Let’s just say the matter was brought to my attention in a way that piqued my curiosity.”

That fire,
Janelle thought with some measure of amused satisfaction,
was an exceedingly poor idea on the part of their foe
.

* * *

Dinner was not the stilted affair she feared it might be, though Alicia had to admit there was nothing like looking at a romance from the outside.

Each time the other two people at the table exchanged as much as a glance, it was obvious they were lovers.

Baron Lowe smiled at her across the table, his good-looking face affable. His hair was also a dark gold, but he looked nothing like Ben, his face instead holding a boyish charm. “I understand your sister is married to a friend of mine, Lady Heathton. Oliver and I were boys together at Eton, and hopefully became men later at Cambridge.”

Never had she seen Lady DeBrooke glow as she did this evening, her normally oh-so-reserved composure in abeyance. Instead she seemed relaxed. “Men?” Angelina said it with a certain teasing tone to her voice, elegant in gold satin, her ivory skin and dark hair striking. “I am sure both Alicia and I would love to have you define that for us. What makes a man?”

The dining room of the manor house where they’d arrived at midafternoon was spacious, the grounds well groomed, the exterior showing a plain brick front, square windows, and a series of stone steps to the massive front door. Not overly large, the house was quiet and staffed with just a few necessary servants, the park lined with trees and buffered by a forest, and the sound of the night birds the only noise drifting in through the windows open to the pleasant fall evening.

Christopher Durham apparently reflected, looking at the ruby contents of his wineglass. “I suppose there’s no easy answer to that weighted inquiry that won’t either have me betray my gender or irritate yours, but I will try.”

Exchanging a glance of female understanding, both of them looked at him across the table.

After a short explosive laugh, he said, “The unfair advantage of superior numbers is discomforting, I admit it. That said, I will postulate that a man is one who acknowledges responsibility and seeks to protect those in his care.”

“Whom did you protect and care for while at Cambridge?” Angelina let a mischievous smile twitch her mouth and her long fingers stroked the stem of her wineglass.

“No one,” he admitted, gazing at her with adoration in his eyes, the grin tipping his mouth that of a man deeply infatuated. He lifted his glass in a toast. “Obviously I was waiting for you.”

The smile faded from her face, leaving her somber. “And look where it has gotten you.”

“Where exactly has it gotten me? I am not even sure who owns this house. Somehow when I asked Heathton, he redirected my inquiry, I became distracted, and then when our conversation was over, I still did not have an answer.”

“That would be Ben,” Alicia was able to say with conviction. “If he doesn’t wish to answer, he employs his very effective methods of deflection.”

“It is all my fault.” Angelina’s smile had completely vanished.

“If this is going to be another lecture on how the repercussions of loving you might affect me, spare yourself the trouble.” Baron Lowe’s tone went from ardent lover to crisp, pragmatic man. “I
do
love you, I don’t care who discovers it, and you are the one who has reservations about the world knowing it. That is why we are in seclusion here, though I have to admit keeping company with two such lovely ladies is not a hardship.”

“How odd to think no one besides Lord Heathton and our driver knows where we are.” Angelina took a last bite of her pudding—which had been excellent in Alicia’s estimation—and set aside her fork. “It is liberating. I told no one besides Eve we were leaving, and even then, since I had no idea where we were going, I couldn’t even give her that.”

“I told my factor so he would know when to expect me back in London,” Christopher said, lifting the wine bottle in open offering to both of them. “Otherwise, I am unreachable apparently for the better part of this week.”

Alicia murmured, “Thank you, my lord, for the gallant comment. I feel the same as Lady DeBrooke. If we are in exile, then the company is at least desirable and your romantic sensibilities admirable. No one knows where we are, so that alone allows a certain measure of freedom. Why not enjoy your . . . ooh.”

In the act of rising to leave them to their own company, she felt it. A ripple, a brush, a bubble along the inner wall of her belly, but definitely a movement of some sort. She gasped again and sat back down, looking at Angelina. “I think the baby just moved.”

“Oh.” Silver eyes gazed at her in consternation, but also in sisterly delight. “Truly? How did it feel? Are you sure?”

“Just a . . . There it is again.” The wonder of the moment made Alicia’s eyes fill with tears. “This child is real. I mean that, of course I knew it was real, but it is now
real
. Harriet told me that it would seem like a small tickle inside me, and it does.”

“The things I do not know in this life.” Christopher’s voice was ruefully amused but his gaze friendly and open. “It makes sense a woman would feel a living being inside her belly, but I guess I never thought about it overmuch. You aren’t in pain, I hope.”

Alicia laughed, so delighted all she could do was clasp the slight swell of her stomach with both hands. “No, not at all.”

His masculine relief was humorous, but she had to admit she wished Ben was with them so she could at least tell him.

Would it fill him with the same wonder? She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to share it with him anyway. She was eager to know his reaction.

Instead, he was out seeking a murderer. That was a sobering notion and she gathered her scattered thoughts. “What I meant to say earlier was that if you will excuse me, I will probably retire now. I sleep far more than I used to and the countryside is always soothing.”

“We will, of course.” Angelina smiled and toyed with the stem of her wineglass. “This is a lovely house and the night is very calm and clear after such a dismal day. Maybe Christopher and I can take a walk around the grounds. Would you eschew your port for a stroll, my lord?”

“It would be no hardship, I assure you.”

Yes, definitely time to take her leave, considering the two of them were looking at each other as if the world had stopped moving and the sun and stars shone entirely for their benefit. “I will see you in the morning then.” Alicia rose and left the room, grateful to find the lone footman who had served their dinner in the hallway so he could direct her toward the stairway.

The house was very well-appointed for being so modest; climbing the stairs, she couldn’t help but wonder who the owner might be. Her husband had some unusual friends. She was well aware of that; a residue of eclectic relationships left over from the war no doubt.