His too-clever aunt peered at him. “It is business.”
Leo managed a tight nod.
The duchess glanced over at her husband. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to discuss.” She pressed gloved fingertips to her lips and blew a kiss for her husband.
“What is it?” his uncle demanded as soon as the door closed behind his aunt.
Hand shaking, Leo stalked across the room. He grabbed the first decanter his fingertips brushed and sloshed several fingerfuls into a glass. “We were attacked.” His fingers trembled so badly, liquid spilled over the side of the table, staining the gleaming mahogany floor.
Uncle William stood. “What happened?”
“Our axle was broken.”
The duke grabbed the edge of his desk, but his efforts were in vain. He sank weakly back onto the edge of his seat. “Christ,” he whispered, a prayer and a curse rolled into one. “You’re…”
“I’m fine.” Except inside, fear held him in its punishing grip.
“Your wife?” His uncle’s voice emerged threadbare. “Chloe?”
“Shaken, but fine. I had Tomlinson summon Holman to act as guard. Until he arrives, Tomlinson will shadow her.” Tomlinson, who was so fleet of foot, she’d never know he was there. Leo ran through a quick accounting of his and Chloe’s journey from Montfort’s. “It wasn’t just a broken axle. It never is.”
Uncle William wrung his hands together. “Leo, are you certain you aren’t just…” At the look Leo leveled on him, his godfather wisely fell silent.
“I believe I’m close,” he said cryptically, mindful that there could be passing servants, and no one could be trusted.
Surprise lit his uncle’s eyes. The older man’s entire body arched forward, revealing the inherent need that would forever be with a member of the Brethren for the elusive details on an assignment.
Leo gave a slight shake of his head. Until he had Chloe away and conducted his inquiries, he’d withhold his suspicions. “I want the most-trusted men following my wife… at all times.”
“I’ll speak to Higgins,” his uncle promised in frustratingly calming tones.
Leo set his jaw. Surely his uncle didn’t doubt Leo’s instincts or the very real threat he and Chloe had faced a short while ago? “Someone knows of my role in the case,” he pronounced, watching his uncle’s face for a reaction… and finding none. Leo downed his brandy in one long swallow, welcoming the warmth that it left in its wake. And yet, the panic raged within.
The duke made a sound of protest. “You are assuming it is connected to your current case, Leo,” he said gently. “It could be an irate husband—”
“It’s not.”
“Or a foe returned from banishment.”
“It’s not,” Leo said vehemently. “I’ve never left a trail.”
His uncle winced.
“I did not mean,” Leo said quickly, setting his snifter down hard on his uncle’s desk, “to suggest… to imply…”
The Duke of Aubrey brushed off the useless apology. “I know, Leo.”
Leo had been—and was—a heartless bastard. But even he would never hurl the death of his uncle’s first wife at him in insult, or in any way for that matter. He began to pace. Logic said Chloe needed to be sent somewhere removed from Leo and his investigation. Nay, logic said he should have never married the lady in the first place. In being wed to him, she would always be at risk. It was the reason he’d set Daphne free. In the blackness to which his soul had descended, however, he’d allowed himself to forget humanity and put his role with the Brethren before everything else—and now Chloe could pay the price.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Tell me what to do,” he entreated.
“You need to complete the assignment. Ferret out those responsible for the Cato Event.”
“I’ve gained access to Waterson, and feel confident he is not the traitor, but I’m not willing to embroil Chloe.” He increased his frantic pace.
Any more than he had…
That damning revelation hung in the air between them, as real as if Leo had spoken the pronouncement aloud.
“You’ve been married to the lady less than a week, Leo,” his uncle reminded him. “Society is just coming to believe the lie about your being ensnared by the young lady. You can’t very well just sever the connection now.”
Believe the lie…
There should have been a rush of triumph for what he’d managed to accomplish in a short time. And yet, his reputation and his fight to maintain his post within the Brethren had been the furthest afterthoughts in his mind since Chloe had invaded his household… and his life.
And now, she was at risk—because of him.
“What of the soiree? Has Waterson accepted your invitation?”
“He has.”
His uncle nodded. “That is good. At that point, speak to him. Tell him about a business venture you’d like to propose between him and Waverly.”
“I can’t do this,” he said quietly. “Put her at risk.”
The Duke of Aubrey said nothing for a moment. “Leo, you already did when you wed her. There can be no going back from this now. I’m a duke, but even I couldn’t manage to secure you a divorce.” He steepled his fingers and stared over their joined tips at Leo. “Would you even want that?” he quizzed.
Would Leo want that? Would he want to return to his bachelor state, free to carry on his rakish pursuits without a spirited minx underfoot who asked too many questions and teased with her eyes and smile?
He slid his eyes closed. God help him. It was all muddled. Unclear. For he couldn’t need her in his life. He was content. Filled with the purpose of his work. Wasn’t he? “I don’t know,” he said in truth. The answer knocked him on his arse as he slid into a nearby seat. “Just tell me what to do,” he implored.
Send her away… just as you did Daphne Smith. Only, this time, before it was too late. Before he lost any more of himself to her… before he craved any more of her smiles and laughter and clever repartee…
His chest rose and fell with the frantic breaths he took.
The duke dusted his hands together. “You don’t send her away, Leo. That is what you’re thinking.”
Did that ability to know precisely what Leo was thinking come from his own experience as a member of the Brethren who’d himself lost… and then found love with Lady Aubrey?
“At least, not yet. Hold your soiree, get inside Waterson’s household—only, this time without being discovered—and then you go from there.”
“What does that even mean?” he exploded.
“It means you can’t know yet whether or not Chloe is best off without you until you find out precisely what in hell happened today. Mayhap it was just a carriage accident.”
“It wasn’t,” Leo said automatically. If his uncle believed that, time away from working assignments had dulled his abilities.
“Go home, Leo… and be with your wife. There’s no certainty about tomorrow for any of us,” he said somberly as he came to his feet and joined Leo. “That is the only advice I can give you now.”
Leo set his jaw. What his uncle suggested—Leo returning, without answers and without assurances that Chloe was and would be safe—was an impossible venture by a man who’d been outside the inner workings of an assignment for too long.
As he took his leave, one thing was certain—Leo was going to flesh out the conspirators behind the Cato Event and protect a woman who’d come to mean entirely too much. And after he did, then he’d sort out what was to be done with his marriage to Chloe.
Chapter 25
It was funny how in the midst of a near tragedy a person saw the world and oneself with a startling clarity. When one’s life flashed before one’s eyes, one didn’t have the time for mistruths or wonderings or useless self-assurances that life was one way or another.
As Chloe and Leo’s carriage had careened over, breaking apart in a violent explosion of wood and glass, she’d seen not the past and everything she feared… but e
verything she wanted: a family… but one with Leo as her husband and babes of their own.
And as the conveyance had crashed to a stop, Chloe’s world had continued on in a dizzying spin of mayhem.
For there could be no altering or recovering from what she’d discovered—she loved her husband.
She loved that he’d not so much as blinked at the prospect of ceding control of Chloe’s future and funds, but accepted it as though it was her due. She loved him for fencing with her nieces and reciting verses of Mrs. Mary Darby Robinson… and blast, for simply knowing who Mrs. Mary Darby Robinson, in fact, was.
And she admired him as a man of restraint. Oh, the world saw a careless, thoughtless rake. But Chloe had witnessed in him a gentleman who’d not come to blows, not even to defend himself, because he took responsibility for a mistake he’d made in his youth.
That was why being abandoned by him after the accident had carved a hollow emptiness inside her chest. Seated in her husband’s library, her legs drawn close, Chloe stared absently at the letter on her lap. The cryptic missive had been resting on the leather button sofa… a note that not a single member of the staff she had questioned had been able to account for.
She trailed her fingertips over the handful of sentences there.
Your husband is not who he seems. The carriage incident is a reminder that he should proceed with greater caution if he has a regard for your well-being…
What did it all mean? Leo was not who he seemed? She’d already seen flashes of truth about Leo Dunlop, but why should someone go to such lengths to harm her as a message to him?
What secrets did he carry? Secrets she’d long suspected and couldn’t make sense of, but could make even less sense of now.
Glancing up from the note, she looked around at the rows upon rows of leather tomes. The sheer volume of books in this room was an incongruity that didn’t fit with a rogue who couldn’t be bothered with a book over his bedroom activities.
Furthermore—Chloe furrowed her brow—what did it say about Leo that, despite the grim state of his finances, he’d not sold those copies, still?
“Who are you, Leo Dunlop?” she whispered into the quiet. And why did she have this painful inkling that he’d never tell her? Not truly and not fully. He was a man bent on his secrets, who shared only the remotest glimpses of himself and then pushed her away whenever the wall between them began to come down. Pushed her away by seeking out his clubs and returning only in the dead of night, when Chloe should be sleeping. But she remained awake, unable to rest, fixed on the sounds of him entering his rooms and moving about the chamber next to hers. Until all was quiet.
At which point, sleep eluded her still.
She hated this gripping need to see him and talk with him. To share with him the contents of the note and face that unknown threat with him.
Because in that instant when they’d both nearly died, when he’d shielded her body with his own, there hadn’t been indifference, but a fear in his eyes and a need to protect.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Heavy ones, methodical in purpose, and definitively masculine.
Relief filled her. Note in hand, Chloe stood.
And her heart promptly sank as the door was opened.
“The Marquess of Waverly,” Tomlinson announced. Tomlinson, whose steps were as stealthy as Chloe’s husband’s.
“Oh.” The regret-tinged utterance slipped out.
Her brother grinned wryly. “A standard greeting I’ve come to expect from my dear sister,” he drawled, pulling off his gloves as he walked.
A guilty flush climbed her cheeks. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t expecting…” She hurriedly folded the letter and tucked it away inside her pocket.
He waved off her attempt at an apology. “As I’ve stated numerous times in the past, I long ago accepted that I am not the favorite of your brothers. Speaking of which…” He fished a note out of his jacket and held it out.
Chloe’s startled gaze went to the officious-looking letter, folded and marked with a familiar signet. “Alex.” As soon as the telltale admission came out, her blush burned all the hotter. “Forgive me,” she spoke on a rush. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“It is fine, Chloe,” Gabriel said gently.
Worry pitted her belly. “Imogen?”
“Has not yet given birth.”
Since she’d wed, something that felt very much like homesickness struck when being presented with a link to the sibling who’d stepped between Chloe and her father’s fists countless times. Accepting the note, Chloe clung to the edges and clutched it close, finding a lifeline in the connection to Alex.
Perching herself on the leather button sofa she’d abandoned, she slid a nail under the seal and worked the page open. She proceeded to read.
Chloe,
I won’t begin by berating you. Knowing our dear mother and Gabe as I do, you’ve already suffered through quite enough chastisement.
A smile curved her lips.
When her mother and eldest brother had sought to shape Chloe into someone other than who or what she was, and would always be, Alex had encouraged her to thumb her nose at convention. There had been a great void in the Edgerton household since he’d gone and wedded Chloe’s dearest friend.
She continued reading.
I will not say, however, I’m glad over your choice of husband (Tennyson ran in too wild of circles for even me), or your being married without an Edgerton at your side. Particularly me. Because had I been present, I would have had an opportunity to threaten your husband with death if he even causes a wrinkle of a frown in your brow.
He’d always been devoted. Nor did Chloe believe for a single instant Alex’s words were anything less than a promise based in fact. He would kill Leo if Chloe gave that order.
Alas, my face-to-face and threats must be saved until I return. Please, send me some indication of your well-being. If you need me now, say the word.
Your faithful servant and favorite brother,
Alex
Chloe carefully folded the note over. For that was the devoted brother he’d always been. Even expecting his first child and his wife in confinement, if Chloe cried for help, he’d be there.
“I learned you were involved in a carriage accident,” Gabriel said quietly, unexpectedly. “A carriage accident, Chloe,” he repeated, more urgent in his tone. He moved to the edge of his chair. “And yet, you didn’t see fit to tell any of us.”
She shrugged. “There was nothing to say. I’m—”
“Never tell me? You are fine?”
Well, she was. Chloe flashed a teasing grin. “Well, I was going to say all right. But that shall also suffice.”
Of course, her most serious sibling merely frowned in return. “Do you truly think this is a matter to make light of?”
Her teasing and mischievousness over the years had been a crafted ploy to keep anyone—her family, the other girls at Mrs. Belden’s—from seeing the scars she carried. Ones that would always be there…
Except, since you met Leo, you’ve not been haunted even once by those ghosts…
“What would you have me do, Gabriel?” she asked, impatient. “Dissolve into histrionics about an incident when I’m fine? An incident that happened yesterday and left me no worse for the wear.”
“That accident was a product of your husband’s funds.”
She scoffed. “Don’t be foolish. There’s nothing wrong with my husband’s conveyance.” Or there hadn’t been, until it had splintered into a million fragments and pieces. “The accident was a product of a broken axle. Nothing more.”
“That same day, Tennyson and I met for drinks at White’s. I invited him to join Waterson and me.”
“How gracious of you.” If Gabriel detected any of the sarcasm there, he gave no outward indication.
“Chloe,” he went on in pained tones. “He admitted to not having two coins to rub together to buy a horse.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. I should know that. Sh
e’d sworn never to be one of those wives who remained oblivious to the familial finances. As such, Leo’s inability to purchase a horse if he so desired was a detail she should be privy to. Nonetheless, her own failing aside, she took umbrage to Gabriel’s being here. Chloe arched a brow. “Is that why you’ve come, then? To tattle on my husband?” Her brother blushed. “I daresay it is in bad form to bandy about details shared among gentlemen.”
A sound of disgust spilled from Gabriel’s lips. “Again, you’d disparage me while blindly turning an eye to who Tennyson is.” Before she could rush to her own defense, her brother pounced. “Tell me, Chloe. Where is this honorable husband you so staunchly defend?”
“My husband is otherwise engaged,” she said smoothly, not missing so much as a beat. She’d too much pride to admit to anyone—family included—that she didn’t know where in thunderation her husband was.
“Then ring for him. Invite him to join us.”
Chloe bit back the urge to tell her brother precisely where he could go with his questioning. For, Gabriel knew. Her brother knew precisely what he was asking and where Leo was.
“He’s not here, Chloe. He left following the accident and hasn’t returned since.”
“Having my servants spy upon me and my husband, are you?” Outrage sent her hands curling into fists. She made a tsking sound. “How impolite of you.”
“Be upset with me, Chloe. But I know this is hurting you.”
Damn him for being correct. “What do you hope to accomplish?” she asked tightly.
“I am looking after you.”
“You are more than twenty years too late,” she cried. As soon as that charge echoed around the room, she wanted to call it back.
Gabriel paled.
“Gabriel.” She stretched a hand out.
“It is fine,” he said gruffly.
“It isn’t. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No. You should have.” Her brother dusted his hand over his jaw and, avoiding her gaze, spoke. “You are correct, Chloe. I have attempted to exert control over your life, but it is not a product of you or anything you’ve ever done wrong.” His throat convulsed. “But because of every way I failed you. I should have been there. It should have been me who put an end to…” His gaze slid to the door, and he went silent.
The Lady Who Loved Him Page 29
