A Most Improper Rumor (9 page)

Chapter 10

H
e was losing the battle.

Damnation
.

Even as Ben opened his mouth to speak, it occurred to him that he rarely won in a contest with his wife, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he indulged her, or if Alicia just outmaneuvered him.

He said in a reasonable tone, “Just for two weeks.”

A vision in a peach-colored gown made of some gauzy material that gathered under her breasts, with short fluttery sleeves that bared her slender arms, she looked fresh and pretty on this fine fall morning, especially with her shining hair tied back with a matching ribbon. “You do realize your logic is somewhat flawed, my lord.”

He brought the horses drawing the sleek phaeton to a walk, sending his wife a sidelong glance. “I would ask how so, but you are going to tell me anyway.”

She gazed at him from under the brim of her fashionable hat. “Do you honestly think your enemy, as you call him, would not be able to find me easily enough? Your country estate is not a secret, and if I am there, and you are here, how could you protect me?”

“That has occurred to me. I am naturally going to send someone with you.”

“A guard? No thank you, my lord. What will he do, pour my bath and stand over me while I take it?”

He found it immensely irritating when she tilted her shapely chin at that stubborn angle and he wasn’t pleased with the mental image of another man watching her bathe either. “I am not at all certain you have a choice, madam.”

“I can help you here.”

“I have already specifically said—”

“I’m quite worried about Lady DeBrooke.” She folded her hands in her lap and frowned. “Though I witnessed what happened to my cousin when she rejoined society after her abduction, it was nothing like what she has endured. Lord Andrews married Elena almost immediately, so it was more fairy tale than a wretched gothic story, and the scandal was essentially averted. Quite the opposite of what has happened to Angelina.”

He had to agree, though he was well aware the discussion of her removal to the countryside had just been neatly deflected on to the new topic. Unfortunately, she had a point and he’d been wavering over it himself. He wanted her in London, with him, but her safety was paramount. If he sent her to Heathton Hall, he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on her himself, and even though he had several contacts who could secure a reliable guard, Alicia had a certain determination that required adequate supervision.

No doubt their children would be hellions, he thought with resignation, sliding the ribbons expertly through his fingers to turn the horses.

Then there was the irrefutable fact that if he sent her away, she would sleep alone, and so would he. Purely self-serving to think of it in those terms, but then again, she didn’t wish to go, he rationalized.

Besides, he found the thought of being without her even for a few weeks while he sorted out this confounded mess left him oddly bereft.

Love, he was finding, was a singularly strange emotion. It seemed to be a mixture of elation and trepidation, and the vulnerability that went along with it was discomforting.

“Ben?”

He glanced over, drawn out of his ruminations. “What?”

Dark blue eyes regarded him with reproof. “You weren’t listening to me.”

“I’m afraid not,” he admitted.

“I said that it strikes me that maybe some of her friends might be able to shed light on this matter.”

“Whose friends?”

“Lady DeBrooke’s.”

The breeze and the movement of the phaeton blew a stray glossy curl across her smooth cheek and he was distracted yet again, so it took him a moment to answer. “Ah . . . well, yes, that is possible, I suppose.”

“May I then?”

Was he such a besotted fool he couldn’t follow a simple conversation? “Question them? I was under the impression that Lady DeBrooke actually had very few friends left. I know her family has effectively turned its back.”

“A fact that makes me quite shocked and angry.” Alicia compressed her soft lips into a firm line. “My family would never do such a thing. My sister, Hattie, is my very best friend, and my parents would do anything for me; I know it. It makes my heart ache for Angelina; it truly does. She is very alone.”

“Which easily could have been the point of killing both her husbands.” He deftly avoided an oblivious group of pedestrians who stepped onto the pathway without looking. The park was getting crowded, so perhaps it was time for them to head back home. He had things to do this afternoon anyway. A meeting with his solicitor, some letters to write concerning the new shipping venture . . .

Back to being the earl. Not nearly as interesting as the investigation, but he really didn’t have a lot of choice.

“To punish her? Yes, I agree, but why?” In a gloved hand Alicia held the strap near her shoulder for steadiness as they rolled along, her face a picture of reflection.

“She’s very beautiful. That alone inspires both passion and envy.”

That observation won him an unfathomable sidelong glance. “I rather wondered if you had noticed.”

“I
am
a man,” he answered, though somewhat cautiously. “And that I am married does not mean my powers of observation have left me.”

“Humph.”

He went on, trying to decide whether to be amused or flattered at the hint of possible jealousy. “Please tell me you don’t doubt I find you desirable in every way possible.”

She dismissed the question with an airy wave. “That is really not the topic of discussion.”

Fine with him, for he sensed trouble when it was right in front of him. He said neutrally, “It means our villain could be either male or female. Motivation is probably the key to discovering who might be behind both murders. Opportunity can be discerned after there is a solid suspect with a viable reason to disgrace Lady DeBrooke.”

“She swears there are no frustrated lovers in her past.”

“Have you never heard of secret admirers?”

“Of course,” his wife said, nodding. “I had one myself. He used to send me the oddest poetry and charming little notes.”

“The devil he did.” Now the tables were turned. Ben had the feeling he was scowling. “Who was it?”

“I’ve no idea. As you just said, his identity was secret. When you and I became engaged, he gave up.”

For whatever irrational reason, that didn’t make him any happier, but he’d have to address it later. “It could be that she had no idea this person was or is obsessed with her, and therefore, she cannot pinpoint the danger.”

“It is possible.” Alicia abstractly looked at the street as they left the park, but he had the feeling she didn’t actually see it. “And that is why I wonder if perhaps her friends might see more than she ever did. At the time of her debut, from what I gather, she was immensely popular. It is all confusing with so many people being introduced, flowers arriving, all those gentlemen calling . . . How can anyone have an analytical perspective? I think to say most young ladies are overwhelmed is an understatement.”

His lovely wife would know. She had also been considered a diamond of the first water, pursued by suitors, with many offers for her hand. In retrospect, he wasn’t sure just why he had prevailed, considering the field of competitors.

That had never occurred to him before, damn all. He was an earl, with a fortune, and women seemed to like his looks, but there had been others, just as socially prominent and financially stable, who had pursued her.

Almost,
almost
, he asked her why she chose him.

Perhaps he was a little afraid of the answer. Not because he ever thought his fortune or title had anything to do with it, but because he rather thought it didn’t; that would make him examine why he chose her and he preferred intellectual puzzles to emotional ones.

He should still pack her off to the country because she did nothing but wreak havoc on his concentration.

But he’d resigned himself to the fact he wasn’t going to take that course of action.

* * *

“Do you know anyone named Mrs. Dulcet?”

Harriet studied her teacup for a moment and frowned. “I think maybe that is the name of the Duke of Fondlac’s distant cousin, recently arrived from Dorset. She was widowed several years ago. I’m afraid that is all I’ve heard. She is staying with them in the ducal mansion, I know.”

“I see,” Alicia muttered. It sounded like an alias to her, but she was hardly well versed in such matters.
Dulcet.
It meant sweet-sounding and modulated. The flame-haired woman she’d seen at the theater looked anything but either of those, but how often did a person get to choose his name?

Only when he had something to hide.

Her sister sent her an inquiring look. “Why?”

“Benjamin was talking to her the other evening and he seemed disinclined to explain exactly how they knew each other.”

“Benjamin is disinclined to explain anything, darling.”

Well, that was true enough. “I suppose I am a little out of sorts since I am starting to notice my gowns are not fitting quite as they should,” she admitted. “It is a strange feeling to be so enchanted with the idea of a child, and then as it becomes more real, also quite intimidated. It does not help that my husband is overprotective and tried to send me off to the country. Luckily, he seems to have changed his mind.”

“You’ll want to go soon,” Harriet informed her. “The city is too noisy, too full of noxious smells, and once your condition is evident, you will no longer go out anyway. Besides, the season is about over. Why not go?”

“Not if Ben stays here.”

Her older sister smiled indulgently. “I understand the romantic sentiment, but really, you must at all times think of the child you carry. If Heathton decides he must be in London, you really have no choice; certainly bouncing around in a carriage becomes uncomfortable quickly when you are enceinte.”

Maybe . . .
perhaps
, she would consent to spend out the duration of her confinement at Heathton Hall—she loved it there actually—once this dilemma was solved. The country already held a certain appeal for her, but she could not help but think of Angelina DeBrooke’s face when she stepped into that ballroom. Brave, indifferent, expressionless . . . but not enough so. Had Alicia known nothing about her, she might have still been moved to come to her rescue.

As it stood, she’d seen the gratitude in the other woman’s eyes and at that moment had thought not just about Elena and what had happened to her, but wondered at the vagaries of life in general. She had a growing personal interest in the case.

“I’m not anxious to be apart from my husband,” she confessed. “But perhaps you are right. That aside, since you are of an age, can you tell me what you remember of your first season and Angelina DeBrooke’s debut?”

They were in her sister’s sitting room, warm and sunny on this afternoon, and Harriet’s face reflected consternation. Her cup rattled into her saucer. “You are certainly full of questions today. Usually you don’t like to gossip. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d like to know.”

“Don’t be difficult. I meant, why does it matter?”

“I don’t know if it does, but I am curious. I ran into her last evening.”

“I heard.”

Well, news did travel quite quickly in the
haut ton
.

“What are they saying?” Alicia was curious, nothing more.

“The elite are wondering just how the two of you know each other, for you seemed quite good friends.”

Not precisely, but if there was one attribute Alicia admired, it was courage, and it had taken quite a bit of it for Angelina DeBrooke to attend the event last evening. Well, the
ton
could continue to wonder as far as she was concerned. “Just answer if you please. You had your debut at the same time. Of course, you met Oliver and he fell madly in love with you, so there is no dramatic story there, but what about Angelina? Do you remember?”

Her sister waved a hand in an airy gesture. “No dramatic story? I love it when my life is decreed dull and not noteworthy.”

“Would you rather be Lady DeBrooke?”

“Good heavens, no.”

“Then? What can you tell me?”

Hattie took a cream cake but didn’t eat it, setting it instead on her plate and dusting off her fingers. “I suppose what I remember most was all the fanfare.” Her smile was wry. “It wasn’t all that easy to be part of the group of debutantes when one person so takes the stage, as it were. Everyone
adored
her.”

“They don’t adore her now. I’ve seen firsthand her reception at a fashionable event,” Alicia rejoined, sipping her tea.

“She killed her husbands.”

“She
allegedly
killed her husbands. Go on.”

“Point taken. I admit I am not sure why you wish to know this.”

“Call it morbid curiosity. Besides, I like her. What else?”

Hattie shrugged. “I don’t know. Men fawned all over her, and really women as well, trying to get a taste of her popularity. She always seemed a little aloof to me. As if she were bored with it all, or even a bit chagrined over the attention. She was charming, of course, and a dazzling beauty with her dramatic coloring, even if dark hair is really considered unfashionable. There is an air about her that draws people.”

How interesting that Hattie was in general more observant than even she realized. Alicia persisted, saying, “I’ve never gotten the impression she was vain.”

“I suppose I have to agree. Even in the height of her triumphant bow, she was always gracious, at least in my presence.”

“Do you in particular remember who her friends were?”

“I was one to a certain extent. So was Beth Rathman. Margot Heath. Eve Summers . . . I think she and Lady Eve are still friends even through all of the scandal. They were certainly the closest.”

Eve Summers. She would have to look into that. After all, Ben had not forbidden her to do so. He hadn’t precisely agreed either, but at this point, she would risk his anger.

The very civilized room, with its flowered linen curtains and elegant carved furniture did not invite talk of murder or betrayal, but Alicia ventured the question anyway. “Do you think she did it?”