Ruined by Moonlight (13 page)

Where are you?

Unfortunately, with all the evidence to the contrary, Ben
still
somehow felt they were together, which might not particularly make sense, but his instincts rarely failed him.

Case in point: the first time he’d looked across a crowded ballroom, bored, restive, and uncomfortable with the role of earl he’d managed to avoid during the war, and seen Alicia among the dancers. He’d been struck by her grace, the glorious contrast of her shining dark hair and porcelain skin, but most of all it had been her laugh. Her partner in that fateful waltz had been another man who had said something amusing, and she’d spontaneously responded with mirth. Ben had to admit an instant attraction.

She was everything he wasn’t. Candid, warm, trusting…foolishly romantic.

I
definitely
am not romantic,
he thought sardonically as he walked purposefully up Bond Street. Which made her ridiculous ultimatum rather difficult, but if he managed to retrieve her cousin maybe she would count that in his favor, so he wished he were making more progress.

At least after talking to Mrs. Grant he finally had an idea of how to go about it.

Day Four

Elena took a bite of bread—some of the best she’d ever eaten, both soft and buttery—and regarded her almost lover with appraisal. Oddly enough she’d been touched by a new shyness.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, everything had changed.

Not just between them but in her perception of life. It was deeper than she’d imagined, richer, more colorful, more magical, and what she had once regarded as the simple equation of man and woman now took on a new complexity.

All thanks to the man who sat across from her, sharing a meal as they had for the past four days, that errant lock of dark hair hanging over his brow, his robe carelessly open to his waist. He was so easy in his demeanor, she marveled at it after what had happened between them, but she was also sure he had practiced nonchalance like this a great deal. When she’d woken he’d already risen, and by the time she’d taken care of the essential needs—she was getting used to the intimacy of doing that with someone else in the room—he was standing below the stained-glass window, studying it with his head tilted back.

Without turning he had said, “Whoever created this, I’ve seen their work before. The pattern is familiar and the brilliance of the blue pieces of glass unusual, though I confess I am hardly an expert on the subject.”

Then he had turned and smiled.

And for an instant she stopped breathing.

Why she wasn’t sure. He’d spoken in an ordinary voice—as if he hadn’t kissed her the night before, held her naked in his arms, as if he hadn’t brought her shocking, wicked pleasure, as if she hadn’t touched him intimately also and later slept in the same bed—but yet her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. She’d woken once to find she was curled up next to him, warm, comfortable, his scent masculine and clean, the circle of his arm a natural fit around her waist.

Had their breakfast not arrived in the usual manner she wasn’t at all sure what she might have said, but the boy with the tray and his elderly helper had come in and the smile she found so mesmerizing went tight-lipped as
his gaze shifted to the door. There was immediate tension in his broad shoulders and Elena wondered how long it would be before he decided that the rough-looking man with the pistol was not that formidable a barrier after all. Both of them had given up attempting to talk to the two servants. She suspected the old man was stone deaf, or, if not, he gave a good imitation of it, and the boy always just shook his head and darted out the door as fast as possible. Any attempt there was fruitless.

“I was planning on leaving London for the country today.” Ran had finished eating before her, which was the usual course of events, his restless energy no doubt accounting for his lean, muscular build. “My family is expecting me. Blast it. I hate the thought that my aunt and Lucy will be worried over my absence.”

As she felt the same way about her parents, Elena nodded.

“She never speaks of it but I know Luce misses my father and mother terribly.”

Elena suspected his younger sister wasn’t the only one. There was nothing in his tone to indicate it, but it was there even in the diffident way he picked up his cup and took a sip and in the slightly haunted expression on his face.

Maybe she shouldn’t ask, but perhaps after the night before she could dare the intimacy. “What happened?”

To her surprise he answered readily. “It began with a stomach ailment. Nothing serious, or so the doctors told my father. But my mother grew noticeably thinner and eventually was unable to eat at all. They tried various cures, everything from potions to purging, but nothing
helped and in a few months she was gone. He died, if you ask me, of a broken heart. They tried to tell me it was the same illness, but I honestly believe it was grief. He wasted away and perished as well within half a year.”

“I’m so sorry.” She was, and the hint of rawness she caught in his voice moved her. This was not London’s most careless rake but a wounded son. If everyone could see his averted profile and anguished features the perception of him might be quite different.

“They had an unusual love affair.”

Elena inelegantly propped her elbows on the table and lifted her brows. “How so?”

He glanced down at his cup momentarily, just a flicker of his gaze before it lifted, but telling. “They met by accident. My mother worked in her father’s bakery.”

So Viscount Andrews had married a baker’s daughter? That was certainly interesting and Elena sensed it wasn’t a topic he normally introduced. “He must have truly been smitten.” As the daughter of an earl she understood the rigidity of her class.

“Indeed.”

“What was he doing in a bakery?” Not an unreasonable question, as most aristocrats had servants to do just about any task, especially one as menial as shopping for bread.

Ran’s grin was crooked. “I suppose my sire and I are not that unalike. He had been out carousing and needed something to counteract the effects of several bottles of blue ruin. As the story goes, he was walking down the street, smelled the fresh bread, and stumbled in to find himself facing the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.”

“How romantic.”

“Why did I think a female would take that view?”

With due logic she pointed out, “Your father apparently did.”

“I must concede that, I suppose, though may I point out that lust is also a powerful incentive to a healthy adult male?”

“You were the one who used the wording
love affair
.”

“Hmm. I can’t deny that, can I?”

The notorious Raven would know all about lust, though Elena refrained from saying so. “And they fell in love then and there over a loaf of bread?”

“I suppose it could be put that way.” Ran quirked a brow. “All I know is my father endured a great deal of familial derision for marrying so far beneath him, but, in the end, he was the heir, he got his way, and they were always happy in my memory.”

“They must have been if he mourned her so deeply.” Elena set aside her half-eaten piece of toast. “Is that why you are so opposed to marriage?”

The mere mention of the word stiffened his spine, but after a moment he relented. “I don’t know. I wasn’t in England to see my father suffer the decline after my mother’s death. I was in Spain, against his wishes.”

No wonder he felt such a responsibility to his younger sister. It was true the heir was not supposed to risk his life and limb, even for the cause against Bonaparte. “Why did you go, then?”

“I’m still not sure.” He didn’t dissemble but neither did he excuse. “Part bravado, I would guess. The English male can be a stubborn creature. When I first mentioned it my father was so against the idea, I rebelled.” Quietly he added, “I wish I hadn’t in retrospect, but we cannot relive our lives. It never occurred to me that they were
more mortal than I was. After all, I was the one going to war. The irony doesn’t escape me.”

He was correct. Certainly she could never go back to the woman she’d been before last evening. “Surely reviling yourself is a futile effort. Every experience shapes us.”

She should have known he would not let that pass. His tone dropped to a suggestive timbre as he gazed at her, the transformation effortless. “Are we being specific?”

“Perhaps.” As if she could ever forget.

“Tell me how.”

There was no way she could explain her feelings at the moment over what had happened, so instead of complying she countered. “Tell me about Spain.”

He shrugged but his face went shuttered. “I survived. Many others didn’t. That is enough said about it, really. War is not a glamorous topic, nor should it be. We laud our heroes, but what it takes to make them such is not pleasant.”

It was interesting he did not seem to include himself in the category, but she had already come to the conclusion that whatever Viscount Andrews might be, whether wealthy lord, notoriously skilled lover, or responsible guardian, he wasn’t vain. Yes, he had a certain air of self-confidence but it wasn’t arrogance. He was undeniably handsome and certainly intelligent enough to realize women thought so, but there was nothing of the peacock about him and he seemed to have no affectations.

“I suppose that is true.”

“Take my word.” He did something no male
ever
did and poured her more coffee, going so far as to add two lumps of sugar as she liked it, and then handed her a
spoon. “Now, then. What would you say if I told you I have a plan to help us escape?”

Elena picked up her cup, inhaled the delicious fragrance of the dark beverage, and said coolly, “I would say that I also have a plan. Feel free to go first, my lord.”

H
is first real clue to her cousin’s disappearance came quite by accident and courtesy of his beautiful wife.

It was humbling, really.

Ben took a moment and carefully guided his gelding around a small puddle from the previous night’s rain. “Your grandmother’s footman saw what?”

“A strange man loitering by Elena’s carriage. The man was chatting with the driver before she came out of the house, and he rushed over and opened the door and lowered the step before the driver could do it and then said something to her. She nodded, so the young footman thought nothing of it.”

An eyewitness. At last. The investigation in the disappearance of Andrews was going nowhere at all. Not that Ben had a great deal of confidence that this would solve the case, but at least he could get a description and then maybe query the driver.

“Interesting,” he murmured, when in truth he had just stopped himself short of demanding to know why Alicia hadn’t imparted this information earlier. His wife—who was delightfully fetching in a dark green riding habit that emphasized the supple slenderness of her body and the
darkness of her lustrous hair—had no idea he had an outside interest in Elena’s sudden inexplicable absence in the force of the debt he owed Wellington.

“Yes…well, I rather wondered about something.” She glanced at him in a quicksilver movement of her eyes.

The Heatherington affair had been crowded, loud, and stuffy, and he’d barely seen her despite the sacrifice of his evening, so he was hoping an afternoon ride might serve as a substitute if he begged off accompanying her to the opera. “Such as?”

“Do you think you will find her?”

“Who?”

“Oh, please. We both know my uncle wants you to find Elena, and so do I. As it happens, I think I can help, darling, but you have to vow to not be deliberately obtuse in return.”

Why had he known that she was going to say exactly that? Which was not a problem—it actually made it all easier because now he didn’t have to conceal from his wife that he was looking into her cousin’s disappearance. But the endearment threw him off balance.

Darling?

“Can I point out,” he said after a moment, summoning a deliberate smile as they rode side by side, the day cool enough so the park was not that busy. “I am very good at being obtuse though I must admit it usually isn’t deliberate at all. Tell me, why do think for a moment you can help?”

She frowned delicately. “Because you are beyond a doubt the most intelligent man I know, but women have different insights. I suspect my uncle, who is not particularly intuitive when it comes to his daughter or he
wouldn’t have forced her into an engagement to Lord Colbert, came to see you the other day not as friend but to ask you for assistance. I agree with him that you can find out what happened if anyone can. Surely my help would be beneficial.”

Her uncle might not be intuitive but
she
certainly was. Ben was finding his wife had an interesting deductive ability of her own. There had been some female operatives under his command in the war, but the thought of her exposed to such danger made his blood run cold, so he couldn’t honestly say he wished she’d been there. But he
could
say he wished he’d had such a promising agent at his disposal. “So, what did the driver tell you when you asked him about the man who helped her into the carriage? And the footman, does he have a description?”