Heartless (35 page)

“Hart! What is it?”

The duke shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. What was that all about? The same stairs that… what?

Leandra shook his arm, reached up and shook his shoulder, and then slapped him lightly on the cheek. She didn’t understand what was happening, why he looked so distant, so frightened. What distressed him so?

Derringer looked down at Leandra with a perplexed, distracted air. It was such an odd recollection that he still couldn’t grasp exactly what it was about. Her slap across his face snapped him out of it. His eyes widened considerably in surprise.

When he realized that she was very nearly embracing him, he did the only natural thing he could do and wrapped his arms around her.

Leandra tried to frown but was tempted to laugh. “I was not offering you anything other than comfort, your grace.”

“You called me Hart a minute ago and I promise I am very comfortable.” He leaned closer and placed tiny, nibbling kisses along her neck and behind her ear.

A giggle escaped before she could stop it. Her husband released her with a smile and held out his hand. “Shall we go in to dinner, my duchess?”

She hesitated. “Hart, what happened just now? You seemed to be miles away.”

He tried to shrug nonchalantly but was afraid he failed in the attempt. “I honestly do not know, my dear. It was nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles. “Nothing? I saw an injured child once with less fear in his eyes than I saw just now in yours. How can that be nothing?”

It is said that one cannot change overnight. This universal truth had little to do with Derringer. He had only been striving to change for a few hours. His annoyance levels were increasing dangerously, mainly because he was frustrated by his own inability to understand what had just happened.

But, remarkably, instead of snapping at her, he said, “I don’t know what happened, I don’t understand any more than you, in fact, I am through discussing it.”

Leandra wisely heeded the warning tone in the duke’s voice. She had no desire to bring about another onslaught of his sharp tongue.

She took his arm and together they joined the others.

27

Derringer nearly burst out laughing when the redoubtable Lady Brianna, loving and… hmm, obedient wife of Sir Adam Prestwich entered the drawing room with all the magnificence of a queen. He strode over to greet her before her husband had the chance.

“My dear lady, you have no idea how welcome you are,” he told her, bowing over her hand.

Bri gave him a startled glance. “Why?” she asked, green eyes narrowing in her stunningly beautiful face.

“I believe I will allow your husband to tell you that if he so chooses. Meanwhile, please join us for dinner.”

Prestwich joined them, frowning, clearly suspecting that the duke had something to do with Bri’s escape from her apartment. “Well, my lady? How did you do it?” he inquired, his voice soft but intent.

Before Bri could form a response, Derringer inserted dryly, “She picked the lock on the window and climbed down the ivy, Prestwich.”

Adam looked his wife over carefully. “How do you know that?” There were no telltale marks or tears on her lovely gown of lemon yellow silk and her hair appeared to be in perfect order. He looked at the duke.

Derringer smiled at Bri, a bit of his old glee in the discomfort of others peeking through. She seemed to plead with him to hold his tongue, but he was nearly as worried about her getting involved with his problems as his own wife. The last thing he needed was the death of two or three ladies on his conscience.

“I think perhaps this should wait, Prestwich,” the duke said lightly. “Very bad
ton
to murder your wife in a duke’s crowded drawing room, you see. Not sure even I can get away with that.”

Prestwich was livid; anyone with eyes could see that. Derringer patted him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture of understanding just as Stark entered to announce dinner.

Leandra presided at the foot of the table entertaining her dinner partners. Gabriel St. Clair sat on her right side and Lord Greville on her left. She was talking to Greville about nothing really when she suddenly remembered of the letter she had found in her predecessor’s journal. She glanced at Gabriel who laughed at something Michaella was saying. Had Derringer even read the note, or had events prompted his forgetfulness as it had hers?

“Lady Derringer?”

Leandra turned a bright smile on Greville. “Why so formal, my lord?”

“Because I have said your name several times with no response. What is going on in that very fertile mind of yours?”

“I don’t know why I should tell you, Levi. A woman in this day and age has very little left to her other than her thoughts. I think I prefer to keep mine to myself.”

“If I suspected you of getting involved in something you shouldn’t, Leandra, I would feel obliged to put a stop to it.”

“I don’t think I care for your tone, sir.”

Greville sighed and lowered his voice. “This situation with Hart is dangerous, Leandra. I think you know that. He would be destroyed if you were to get hurt trying to protect him.”

“Is that not a decision for me to make, my lord?”

“No, Lady Derringer, it’s not,” Greville told her adamantly.

There was a lull in conversation just as those words left the earl’s mouth. Everyone turned surprised eyes on the couple at the end of the long table. The duke’s expression was faintly inquiring but he said nothing.

Leandra smiled and shrugged. “Simple misunderstanding,” she murmured.

The duke cocked an eyebrow but returned his attention to Aurora on his left.

The gathering in the drawing room after dinner proved entertaining to nearly everyone present.

Derringer watched Adam Prestwich as he managed to inveigle Harwood’s empty-headed wife into willingly giving up her locket. This was done off to one side of the spacious room, out from under the eyes of everyone else. Derringer made sure the rest of his guests were entertained elsewhere, leaving Adam to charm his victim.

The duke noted Leandra chatting with Aurora, Michaella, and Bri, while trying to get his cousin Kathryn to open up a little. She was paying Adam no heed whatsoever, he was pleased to see. He returned half his attention to Greville while still watching Adam.

The baronet proved to be very adept at negotiation and soon had the young woman willing to part with all of her jewels if he wished it. Adam assured her he only desired her locket and she handed it over.

“Thank you, Prestwich,” said Derringer as the other man joined him. “I appreciate it.”

Adam grunted. “How did she do it, Derringer? I have racked my brain all night and the answer eludes me.”

The duke laughed, drawing the eyes of some close to them. “When you retire, ask your bride to undress before you.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it, and shook his head.

“And if you can’t even determine how your wife escaped her room, I’m not sure I believe you will be of any help apprehending my attacker.”

Adam made no reply to this and walked away to join his lady.

It wasn’t until later that night that Derringer recalled the note he had taken from his wife. He sat down behind his father’s desk in the study and pulled it from his pocket. He read the short missive once, twice, and a third time before the words really sank in. Then, his eyes blank, the duke rose from his seat and left the room.

Gabriel was awake, reading a book that the duke remembered from their schooldays. He walked over and tossed the paper onto the bed. “Read that and tell me what you think,” he commanded curtly.

Gabriel was surprised at his cousin’s tone but forbore mentioning it, reading the note instead. His eyes grew wider and wider the further he read until he finished and fixed his blue gaze on Derringer. “Is it true, do you think?”

“It is the duchess’s hand, I’ve no doubt. Why she would lie about such a thing, I don’t know. So how can it be other than true?”

The other man shook his head. “It must be. But how the devil did she manage to keep the servants quiet about this? Someone must have been here at the time. Someone must have known.”