Laura Lee Guhrke (29 page)

The ball was held by Lord and Lady Dalrymple at their country estate in Chiswick, just outside London. It was in honor of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, though the Queen herself was too infirm to attend. Rumor had it, however, that the Prince and Princess of Wales would be there, which made this ball one of the most sought-after invitations in society.

A maid stopped before Mick with a silver tray filled with champagne glasses. He took one, wishing it were a pint of ale, and glanced around. Violet was talking with Lord and Lady Fortescue and Harold Tamplin. Sophie was standing about two dozen feet from him, deep in conversation with her mother and sister. Mick
knew his presence here was the subject being discussed, and he could tell from Sophie’s face that it wasn’t going well.

He decided to take a stroll in that direction. It seemed to be two against one, and he figured she needed reinforcements. As he approached, Sophie, who was facing his way, saw him and waved him over with obvious relief.

“Inspector Dunbar,” she said, so sweetly that Mick knew she was furious, “would you explain to my mother just what it is that makes it necessary for you to be here? She feels that your presence at this ball is hampering her attempts to marry me off.”

“Sophie Marie Haversham, I don’t need your impertinence,” Agatha said with heavy disapproval. “I am looking out for your future, since you seem oblivious to it.” She turned to Mick. “I’m sure you understand, Mr. Dunbar, that my daughter is very important to me, and—”

“Indeed, I do, ma’am,” he interrupted, “and that’s why I am here. Sophie received a letter from the madman who recently murdered a policeman, and in that letter he threatened to kill her, too. I am here to make certain she is safe.”

“Yes, yes, Sophie told us,” Charlotte said, “after we dragged it out of her. But really, Inspector, it is ridiculous to think anyone here would wish my sister ill.”

“He doesn’t just wish her ill, Mrs. Tamplin. He wants to kill her.”

Charlotte gasped at his deliberate brutality. She was silent for a moment, then she recovered her poise and said, “I’m sure we know no one who would want
to kill anyone. We don’t mingle with the criminal classes.”

“For heaven’s sake!” Sophie snapped her fan closed. “Don’t you understand anything Mick said? The killer has threatened my life. You may take the notion of my death lightly, but I don’t!”

She turned and stalked away as Agatha called after her, “That is utterly untrue, and unworthy of you, Sophie.” But her daughter did not hear or chose to ignore her words, and Agatha sighed as she watched Sophie walk away. “I’m only trying to do my duty as her mother,” she said.

Mick knew she was talking to herself, not to Charlotte, and not to him. Nonetheless, he said, “Sophie knows that.”

Agatha turned on him. “You had best watch your step, Inspector. I am acquainted with the Home Secretary, and I will not hesitate to use my cousin’s influence with him to keep you away from my daughter.”

“Ma’am, the Home Secretary himself knows of this case, and endorses having police officers watch over your daughter. Complaining to him will serve no purpose. I must reiterate that your daughter’s life has been threatened, and we take such threats seriously at Scotland Yard.”

She sniffed, unimpressed, and walked away.

“I realize you feel the need to do your job, Inspector,” Charlotte said, “however ridiculous it may be, but you are not the only one conducting investigations. My husband and I have been conducting one of our own.”

He was trying hard to remain polite, but Charlotte Tamplin was really more than any man should have to bear. He felt an enormous pity for Harold. Even if the man was a criminal, he didn’t deserve this. “Indeed?” he murmured, keeping an eye on Sophie, who was now standing along the far wall of the ballroom, her reflection against the windows behind her as she talked with a stout woman in purple satin. Mick noted she was at the opposite end of the room from her mother.

“I’ve been reading about you in the newspapers,” Charlotte went on, “and I know that you have no family and no connections. My sister is quite above you in station. So if you have any marital aspirations regarding my sister, you will be disappointed.”

Mick turned to Charlotte and smiled. “I assure you, Mrs. Tamplin, you may rest easy on that score,” he said in as pleasant a voice as he could manage. “I have no desire to marry into your family. I would hate to have to arrest my own brother-in-law for fraud.”

Her face went pale. “What do you mean?”

“Ask Harold about the trust accounts of his clients he’s been stealing from. He’s being investigated by Scotland Yard, so he’d better put the money back soon, because we are tightening our net around him.” He bowed. “If you will pardon me?”

He turned and walked away, knowing he might have just ended any chance of the Yard catching Tamplin in his crooked schemes, but for Sophie’s sake, he had no regrets. As for Charlotte, well, living with her was Harold’s true punishment. “What a poisonous woman,” Mick muttered under his breath.

He headed toward where Sophie was standing, but after taking only a few steps in that direction, he realized she was no longer there.

Mick strode across the crowded ballroom as quickly as he could, his gaze scanning the crowd in search of her, feeling a sudden twist of fear in his guts as he reached the spot where he had last seen her and found that she was nowhere nearby. He saw a pair of French doors that led out to the gardens. Mick strode outside, hoping to hell she’d only gone out into the gardens for some air.

Sure enough, he found her seated on one of three curved stone benches that encircled a fountain, surrounded by a large expanse of lawn.

In the moonlight, her creamy satin dress gleamed, and the beads that decorated it sparkled like diamonds. She was moving her fan back and forth so rapidly that Mick knew she was seething. He didn’t blame her.

Sophie sensed his approach and turned toward him. “What a lovely time I’m having,” she said through clenched teeth. “How about you?”

“Never had more fun in my life.”

She gave a humorless laugh as he sat down beside her. The fan she waved brought the delicate fragrance of her to his nose, along with the sharper scent of the freshly cut grass.

“I give it up,” she said. “How can any rational person deal with my mother?”

“Look at it this way. You only see her twice a year.”

“That’s two times too many by my reckoning.” Sophie slumped. “She’s so exhausting. And let’s not even talk about my sister.”

“I agree. Let’s not.”

She pressed her fingers to her temples. “May I go home?”

“No. You have to dance with me first.”

“I told you, I don’t dance.”

Mick opened his mouth to reply, but a female voice interrupted. “What a lovely prospect from the terrace!”

A man’s voice responded, a voice Sophie knew very well. “I told you Lord Dalrymple’s Chiswick estate is one of the finest properties I know.”

Sophie looked up and moaned under her breath. She could not mistake the male figure standing on the terrace a dozen yards away. “This evening is going from bad to worse,” she groaned.

Mick stepped a respectable distance away from where she sat as the man and woman came down the terrace steps and onto the lawn. At the sight of Sophie and her companion, they halted.

Sophie stared in dismay at the boyish, handsome face of Charles Treaves, the Earl of Kenleigh, the man she had once loved.

Too many things happening in too short a time. Her name in the papers, crowds outside her door, threats on her life, and now Charles. Sophie felt a numbness come over her as she watched them approach her. She lifted her chin, bracing herself for the encounter as she pasted on a smile and stood up. “Why, Charles! What a surprise.”

Her voice sounded brittle to her own ears.

Charles shook his head. “Of all the people to run into,” he said. “I thought you hated events of this kind.”

“I do, but my mother feels I don’t mix enough in society.”

“She’s right. Whenever we attend social gatherings in London, we never see you.” He smiled. “I saw Agatha earlier. She seems just the same.”

The woman on Charles’s arm gave a slight cough, and Charles looked at her, smiling. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he said to her. “Allow me to introduce you. This is Miss Sophie Haversham. Sophie, my wife.”

“How do you do. Lady Kenleigh?” Sophie murmured. She gestured to where Mick stood a few paces away. “Michael Dunbar, Lord and Lady Kenleigh.”

“Dunbar?” Charles looked at him with interest. “You are the Scotland Yard man the papers are talking about.”

“I am.” Mick bent his head slightly, but other than that slight acknowledgment, he stood like a statue, unmoving, hands behind his back, his face expressionless.

“Your men have already interviewed me, Mr. Dunbar,” Charles went on, “and I want you to know I am perfectly willing to cooperate with them in any way I can.”

“Thank you, my lord.” The words were clipped, dismissive, and Mick made no further attempt at conversation.

There was an awkward silence, then Charles and his wife looked at each other, and Charles said, “Well, we should be moving along. It was good to see you again, Sophie.”

The couple continued on their moonlight stroll and soon vanished around the corner of the house, leaving Sophie and Mick alone again.

“Heavens, this has been quite the day.” Sophie tried to laugh as she sank down onto the bench, still feeling an odd sense of numbness.

Mick stepped in front of her and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

She looked up at him in astonishment. “What, now? Here?”

“Why not? The ballroom is lit, and we’re outside in the dark. No one will see you step on my feet out here.”

“Arc you trying to distract me?”

His hand remained outstretched. “I gave up my Saturday night poker game with the lads for this ball. Make it worth my while.”

She smiled. “You didn’t really.”

“I did.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn to play poker.”

“Aye, I’ll bet you have, since you can tell if people are bluffing.” He gestured impatiently with his hand. “Come and dance. Stop stalling.”

Sophie stood up. Mick put one hand on her waist and grasped her other hand in his. He pulled her close to his body. Through her gloved hand, she could feel the warmth of his palm as he entwined their fingers.

“Ready?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “No.”

“You have to trust me.”

She looked straight into his eyes. “I trust you,” she said, and meant it. “I’m just awful at dancing.”

She proved her words when he began to lead her in the steps. She immediately stumbled, tripping over her own feet and stepping on his. “Sorry,” she told him. “I warned you.”

“Just relax,” he said. “Relax and let me do the work.”

That was easier said than done. He was so close, and the touch of his hand on her waist did crazy things to her insides. She couldn’t help remembering the carriage ride, when his body had been beneath hers and how she had felt beautiful and desired when he’d touched her, when he’d looked at her.

She looked up at him and caught her breath. He was looking at her like that now. The man who had just left the garden had never looked at her the way this man did.

She stepped on his foot again and came to a stop, pulling her hands away. “See, I told you I was hopeless at this. Let’s just forget it.”

Mick didn’t answer. He didn’t move. He just stood there looking at her, and she knew what he was thinking.

“He jilted me at the altar,” she whispered.

“I know.”

She tried to laugh. “Of course. Everybody knows, don’t they? It’s been in all the newspapers this week.”

“Did he give you a reason for breaking your engagement?”

“He did.” She took a deep breath. “He said he couldn’t live with a woman who could read his thoughts or see into his mind. It was like being raped, he said.”

Mick stiffened, and she sensed he understood exactly what Charles had meant. She’d been right. He wouldn’t want to marry her either. No man would. And she could not change. She would not pretend.

“I can’t change what I am,” she said. “Charles understood
that better than I. That was why he couldn’t marry me.”

She turned away, looking out over the lawn. For five years, she had dreaded the idea of meeting Charles again, of seeing him again, but now that the worst had happened, she was astonished to realize that thinking of Charles didn’t hurt anymore. Somehow, time had healed that wound without her even realizing it.

She felt Mick’s fingertips brush the back of her neck. “Are you all right?”

“Actually, I’m fine now,” she said and turned to face him. “It was just the momentary shock of seeing him again. The truth is, I got over Charles long ago, and I just didn’t know it.”

“Good.” He lifted her hand in his and put his hand on her waist as if to resume their dance.

“I don’t want to do this,” she protested.

“You’ll be fine. You just need a bit of help.”

Before she knew what was happening, his arm was wrapped around her waist, and she was being lifted from the ground. With a shriek of laughter, she tried to protest, but his arm was tight around her, and her feet dangled several inches off the lawn. She flung her arm around his neck to hang on as he began to move across the lawn in the swaying steps of a waltz, holding her body pressed hard against his to keep her from falling.

“See how easy it is,” he murmured. “Anyone can do it.”

Sophie felt as if she were floating on air as he waltzed her around the lawn. She hardly noticed when
the music ended. Mick came to a halt, but he didn’t put her down.

Sophie felt his desire for her, and all the memories with which she had been torturing herself came back to haunt her now. “Mick,” she whispered and touched her lips to his.

“DeWitt will take a strip out of me for getting involved with you,” he murmured against her mouth. “I could lose my job.”

Before she could reply, his mouth opened over hers in a hard, hot kiss. He lifted her up until his forearm was beneath her bottom, and his other arm was around her back like a steel band, holding her in place as his tongue entered her mouth.