Heart of Brass (28 page)

Except for the part about being a complete arse.

“Tell me the rest of it,” he commanded. “How did we go from enthusiastic to me deciding the mission was more important than you?”

She sighed. “Fine. Since you’re not going to give me a moment’s rest….” She turned away, her hands coming up to rub the back of her shoulders. “We had been fighting about whether or not to start a family. I wanted a child, and you thought it was too soon.”

A child. He’d never thought of children, not once in all those years with the Company. He’d wondered if he had family, but never if he was a father. What if he had returned here to discover he was a father? Could a child ever understand a father who had tried to kill its mother?

“Was it?”

“Too soon?” At his nod she shrugged. “At the time it felt right, but now…Perhaps I was a little young to rush into motherhood. You wanted to distinguish yourself with the W.O.R. You wanted adventure, and you wanted me to join you on those adventures, which I couldn’t do if I were confined. You didn’t understand how I could possibly want to stay here and raise a family when there were so many injustices in the world that needed righting.” She smiled ruefully. “And I couldn’t understand why you felt compelled to risk your life all the time when you had responsibilities at home—mainly to me.”

“So that was it? I walked out because you wanted a child?”

“Not quite. I…” She frowned, and he caught the longing glance she directed at the liquor cabinet. “I missed my monthly and was so very excited. I told you I was pregnant and you reacted…Well, you were angry. You had already accepted a new assignment—something you wouldn’t discuss even with me.”

Luke swallowed. “I was on the trail of a traitor.” He didn’t want to believe he was capable of being such a spoiled tit. He wanted to at least have a seminoble reason to leave this woman alone at what must have been such a vulnerable time for her. “At least, that’s what Alastair tells me.”

“He would know. Anyway, my monthly came and you went off to save the empire with your partner.”

The way she avoided his gaze made him uneasy. “Alastair?”

“No. You left with a woman named Rani Ogitani.” Finally her gaze locked with his. “Your mistress.”

The Cavendish party was practically a mob when Arden and Luke first arrived. Word had spread that he had “returned from the grave,” and the entire city was like a hive of bees over it—droning incessantly. It was all anyone could talk about. She’d had literally dozens of callers, most of whom she had to be “not at home” for. And it was impossible to go anywhere because everyone wanted to know about her husband and how she felt about his miraculous return.

This would be the same husband who hadn’t spoken to her more than he had to since the mention of Rani Ogitani. It had only been two days, but she felt his withdrawal—and the sting of the last thing he had said to her. He had muttered something about being a “twat” that sounded apologetic. Twat was such a foolish-sounding word, but that wasn’t what upset her. What bothered her was that he obviously withdrew because he assumed he had slept with the woman—which was exactly what Arden had been scared of when it all initially happened. It wasn’t that she hadn’t trusted him—not really. It was because Rani Ogitani was essentially a female version of him. She lived for danger and adventure. How could Arden ever compete? She was so petty where the exotic spy was concerned that she’d harbored a secret satisfaction when the woman returned from the mission missing an eye. That satisfaction soured when she learned Ogitani had suffered the injury while trying to fight the men who took Luke.

She wished he could have told her that he hadn’t slept with Ogitani, that he didn’t find her more satisfying and desirable than Arden, but he couldn’t. Her only consolation was that he didn’t remember the woman at all. Or so he claimed. She didn’t think he was lying. He looked too disgusted with himself to lie on top of it.

Then he had looked at her and said, “I wish I wasn’t Huntley.” He left the room immediately after.

How was she supposed to take that? She told herself she had nothing to do with the proclamation, but she couldn’t quite believe it. A little voice that had always popped up whenever she wanted something told her she wasn’t good enough to keep him, that all the changes wouldn’t be enough to hold his interest, and that the parts of her that were the same no longer attracted him.

She had a glass of whiskey and told the voice to shut the hell up. Still, she felt bruised and stung inside. This was not how she imagined their reunion would be. Lord, had she truly believed everything would just fall into place and they’d go back to how they were before he left? Before she realized she might not be enough for him?

How were they ever going to rebuild on a foundation so shaky? She’d fooled herself into thinking that everything would be perfect if he just came back to her, and now she was faced with just how naive an assumption that had been. In this crowded ballroom, her husband might as well have a target on his back the way the women attacked him. If she hadn’t been enough for him when he claimed to love her, why would she ever think she would be now when he barely knew her?

It all made her head hurt, and quite frankly she wasn’t at this event to fret and ruminate over her marriage. She was there because it gave her an opportunity to look for the monster who killed those two girls.

Inspector Grant had visited her earlier—after she filled Luke in on everything she knew about his relationship with Rani Ogitani. It hadn’t been a long conversation. She didn’t tell him how jealous she had been of the woman, or her fears that they had resumed their affair. He didn’t remember, and she was surprised to realize it didn’t matter anymore. Not as much as it once had. The look of horror on his face at the idea of knowingly breaking his wedding vows had been all she needed.

Perhaps the changes that had overtaken the both of them would have some advantage after all.

Grant had arrived before they could discuss the matter further, and that was just as well. Luke left the room without needing to be asked. As much as it pained her to exclude him, he had not yet been reinstated into the Wardens, and was not privy to W.O.R. information.

“I’ve compiled a list of suitors that flirted or showed an interest in both girls,” Grant informed her, handing her an envelope. “There’s half a dozen names on there, all from aristocratic families.”

Arden removed the paper and scanned the list of names. In her chest, her heart sank like a stone. There was a lot of breeding and blue blood behind each of these names. “And these are only the ones the parents knew about.”

Grant frowned. “You think there may be more?”

A dry chuckled escaped her throat. “I’d wager my left arm there are at least three more. I was once a young girl, Inspector. The secret ones are always the most exciting—the sort you’d recklessly run off with.”

“Foolish girls.”

“Did you never sweet-talk a girl into sneaking away for a kiss, Inspector?” She couldn’t help the edge to her voice. At his flush, she continued. “I doubt any of them thought she was in danger of losing her life with you. Her virtue, perhaps, but not her life. These girls might have chosen the wrong gentleman to sneak away with, but they are not to blame for their deaths.”

“A good point, Lady Huntley, and one well taken at that. ’Tis the father in me speaking.”

Arden clapped him on the shoulder. “Your girls will grow up all the more world-savvy because of you.”

“What sort of man fathers a boy who turns into a killer?” The inspector’s face pinched with both pity and disgust. “What sort of tyrant raises such a child?”

“I’m not certain,” Arden replied, “but chances are I know him.”

Those words haunted her as she stood in the crowded ballroom later that evening. There was very likely a killer in this crush, perhaps that awful father of his as well. So she stopped watching Luke, who stood in the middle of a large group of men and women vying for his attention, and turned her eye to the rest of the gathering. She ignored Henry, who stood on the far side of the room looking sulky and favoring his hand, and his wife, Marianne, who glared at Arden as though she was a monster herself.

Yes, because it was all Arden’s fault that Henry was an idiot and punched a man with a gregorite-plated jaw. Obviously she should have seen it coming and thrown herself in front of Henry’s fist to spare him the pain.

Every man that passed by her she checked for a horseshoe pin on his cravat. Thus far, she’d counted five—none worn by one of the names on her list. Lord Thomas Fenton was on the list, but he wore a simple diamond stickpin. Lord Elton James was also on the list and wore such an elaborate mess of lace and silk round his neck she couldn’t see if he wore a pin at all. She had yet to cross paths with the others.

And even if she were lucky enough to discover one of them wearing the horseshoe, she would then have to discover whether or not he had automatized hands.

“I’m surprised you’re not watching your husband,” came Alastair’s voice as he appeared at her side.

“I could say the same about you,” she remarked lightly, scanning the nearby gentlemen, hoping for a glimpse of a horseshoe cravat pin. “In fact, I’m surprised Dhanya hasn’t had you living in a tree outside our house.”

He grinned at her. “If you see a very large nest, just ignore it.”

Arden smiled back, but it was brief. “Is she concerned that Luke is a traitor, or that the Company may try to kill me again?”

“Both. Have you noticed anyone suspicious skulking about?”

“Nothing. Though I must confess to being a tad distracted.”

“How is it?” His tone was low, and soft. Her throat tightened in response.

“Fine.”

“You’re a lousy liar, Arden.”

“No, I’m a tremendous liar, especially to myself. It’s telling the truth that gives me trouble.” She took a sip from her glass of champagne and grimaced. It was warm. That didn’t stop her from downing the remainder in one gulp.

“What has happened?”

“I’d really rather not speak of it, Alastair.” She snatched another champagne from a passing footman with a tray, trading it for her empty glass. “If you happen to see a man with a horseshoe-shaped cravat pin would you be so good as to alert me?”

“Of course.” He didn’t ask why. He rarely did when he assumed a request was work-related. Alastair only worried about her when it came to personal matters.

“Arden, may we talk? Privately?”

She cast a glance at Luke, who hardly seemed to know she was alive. He looked so lovely in his tailored black suit and white shirt. It was amazing what clothes that fit properly could do for a man, even one already as handsome as her husband. It was hardly fair that women had to primp and crimp and stuff themselves into corsets and shoes that often pinched one’s toes.

“Of course.” She linked her arm through his and allowed him to lead her toward a balcony where they could take a little fresh air and speak without being overheard. They had to walk by the automaton “orchestra,” which so many upper-class houses now employed. The musicians were like overgrown dolls in appearance, with pink “skin” and wide eyes. Arden often imagined one of them coming to life and murdering them all in an emotionless rampage. It had never happened, of course, but the creatures unsettled her all the same. They played their programmed music beautifully, and only needed to be wound once during the course of an evening, but they lacked the depth of feeling a human could bring. Though she was scientifically minded, Arden preferred music and art with a human touch.

Outside on the balcony, the evening was cool—a refreshing change after the warmth of the ballroom. The music was softer, the lighting dimmer; everything was altogether more agreeable than the stuffy ballroom. Lanterns illuminated the balcony and the garden below, and made Alastair’s hair a rich tobacco.

To Arden’s surprise they were completely alone. Obviously everyone was too busy fawning over her husband to make a break for the out-of-doors.

“If you want to talk about Lucas, I don’t,” she informed him, gripping the stone balustrade in her gloved hands as she stared out into the shadowy garden.

“I think he’s already getting enough attention for one night. I want to talk about you. About us.”

It was as though an icy hand wrapped around her spine. “What of ‘us’?”

Alastair leaned his elbow on the railing next to her. Relaxed as his posture was, he was still much taller than her. He wasn’t as tall as Luke, but he was a little broader through the shoulders and chest. She might be intimidated—or perhaps swoon—if she hadn’t known him so very long.

“I owe you an apology.” He glanced down at his hands. “I let myself believe Luke was dead because that allowed me to think that there might be hope for the two of us. I would get so angry at you for hoping he’d come home, when I was right there, alive and eager.”

He looked at her as though he expected her to argue. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel the urge. “There were times when I wanted to share your feelings, Alastair, but I simply could not. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. My behavior has not always been as it ought, nor have my motives always been strictly based in friendship, and for that I apologize.”

“Accepted.” She smiled at him. “Aren’t you glad now that we never did become involved? What a mess we’d be in right now.”

His stormy gaze locked with hers. “Yes, because I would have killed him the first night he came for you.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much else that could be said. “I wouldn’t want you to have blood on your hands, Alastair.”

“And I don’t want him in your bed.” The curve of his lips was familiar, but the regret behind it was not. “At least one of us will get what we want. Good night, Lady Huntley.” He lowered his head and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek before straightening and walking away. Arden was left alone on the balcony, face hot.

She truly was an awful person to have let things get so out of hand with Alastair. She’d known he cared for her—fancied himself in love with her—but not to this extent, not to the point that he would have killed the man who was once his best friend for her.