by Lucy Leroux
She put her hands to her face and rubbed before changing the subject. “They asked all the questions you said they would. I’m surprised you let me answer them.”
Gideon removed his cravat, leaning carelessly against the desk. “I wasn’t raised to privilege, and I’ve only been an earl a brief time. There’s no need to beat them over the head with my title. From my own experience making inquiries, I know it would only make Hayes more suspicious to deny him access. He’d give up on finding the real killer all the sooner, and I want him to keep looking.”
If that were true, then he might have mentioned the giant. No, the omission made sense because a giant as murderer sounds mad, she reminded herself.
There had been no disturbances since Sir Clarence’s death. It had been so quiet since that she was forced to concede Gideon had likely been correct about her former guardian’s role. Sir Clarence had been the one behind the strange disturbances and attacks on her.
“What if Inspector Hayes interviews the minister?” she asked, remembering Gideon’s unexpected falsehood regarding the hour they had married.
“Old Lessig has been amply compensated to tell the same story.”
She frowned. “But it’s not even necessary. Your friend Mr. Clarke confirmed Sir Clarence died in the evening.”
He bent to nibble on her ear. “At this point, I believe you can safely lay claim to Clarke’s friendship as well. He’s become a great advocate of yours. Also, it seems he and Lord Worthing have struck up a friendship.”
Amelia held her breath, waiting for Gideon to comment further on Crispin and Clarke’s relationship, but he seemed too engrossed with toying with the fine curls of hair next to her ear.
“And, yes,” he continued. “The murder was most likely when we were together at the Vernon’s, making love in the ballroom.”
“We were behind a screen!” she protested.
“I know. I simply like making you blush,” he teased before leaning over and picking her up. He pushed the papers on the crowded desk’s surface to make room to set her down.
“What did the inspector mean about Mrs. Spencer?” she asked, running her fingers through his thick dark hair.
Gideon’s mouth compressed. “Don’t worry about her.”
Amelia stopped him with a finger on his lips. “What is she doing, Gideon?”
Her husband sighed and sat back in his chair. “It seems the vivacious Mrs. Spencer has been making the rounds attending all the major balls and parties—all the ones we haven’t accepted invitations to that is. According to Clarke, she’s stoking the fires of public opinion against me, rather artfully, I might add. She knows better to state outright I murdered Sir Clarence, but she has dropped hints about my visit to Sir Clarence’s townhouse while he was away, painting it in the darkest light.”
Amelia was incensed. “Gideon, we can’t let her get away with that! How dare she impugn your honor? Why, I want to call her out myself. I may not know how to use a pistol, but I used to fence with Martin when we were younger. Get me your sword!”
He chuckled. “My bloodthirsty little wife.”
“Your loyal wife,” she corrected, pushing his nose with her index finger. “And most of the time, I could disarm Martin, so don’t make me angry.”
This time, he laughed outright. “I’ll remember that, but believe me when I say we don’t need to be concerned about Mrs. Spencer. Sir Lennon was right. Her proximity to the murder makes her fashionable, but it’s temporary…and I’ve already taken steps to dampen her cachet.”
“How?” she asked suspiciously.
Gideon began to fiddle with the ties of her bodice. “By exposing Sir Clarence’s dirty dealings. With the help of a few friends in the war office, I’ve dug deeper into my uncle’s business affairs. His reputation was that of a scrupulous and savvy investor, but we’ve found evidence of some unsavory connections and underhanded tactics. A few things were technically illegal.”
Amelia sniffed. “I suspected as much about Sir Clarence, but how will exposing those details hurt Mrs. Spencer?”
“Well, to be blunt, her reputation is tied to his. Before his death, he was considered spotless, a bit of prig really. But once his reputation is tarnished, hers will be by association. It’s not fair, but neither are her insinuations. Also, Clarke is already seeding doubts about the lady herself.”
“Such as?”
Gideon spread his arms as if addressing an audience. “Who is she? Ellen Spencer appeared on Clarence’s arm this season, but she never speaks of her people. No one knows anything about her. The sticklers in the ton have begun to question her background.”
He paused and rubbed his chin. “There is more. As Sir Clarence’s closest relation, I inherit his estate. His lawyers have contacted me. I’ve had them send word to Mrs. Spencer that I’ll be giving up the lease on his townhouse, but she is welcome to stay until the end of the season. If she is wise, she’ll make other arrangements soon. Without Sir Clarence’s fortune to sustain her, I expect she’ll leave town.”
“That’s quite generous under the circumstances.” Amelia crossed her arms. “What if she finds another protector instead?”
He shrugged. “Even if she does, the power of her words will be greatly diminished by the time my campaign is over. Have a little faith. Manipulating information was my stock in trade up until a few months ago.”
“Very well, I will trust your judgment on this,” she said, reaching out to him again.
He came eagerly, wrapping his arms around her. The next few minutes passed in a blur of heated kisses and caresses. She was about to suggest they retire to their room when Gideon exposed her breasts and pressed a soft kiss to one hardened bud as he began to fiddle with the fastening of his breeches.
Apparently, they would be staying where they were. Which reminds me…
“Do we still have to stay in town? You said we could leave after being interviewed by the authorities.”
Gideon reluctantly lifted his head. “Yes, but I don’t want to make the connection obvious so I think we should stay on till the weekend. There is a vote in the House of Lords on Friday. Hayes and the others will assume we stayed on for that.”
He returned his attention to her décolletage. Amelia had to tug his hair to get his attention again. “What is the vote regarding?”
His head dropped back to look at the ceiling as if searching his memory. “Something to do with munitions and supplies for the war effort, nothing critical,” he said before eagerly drawing up her skirts.
Amelia stayed his hand. “Nothing critical! My lord, that issue is of extreme importance.” She pushed him away and hopped off the desk.
“You must tell me which suppliers are being considered for government contracts,” she said, hurrying to the stack of ledgers she’d brought over from her townhouse. “There are entirely too many corrupt ones vying to be suppliers—poor workmanship of weapons and uniforms or tainted food. Even gunpowder is not safe. There was one case of adulterated powder supplied to the Navy. When they needed it for the cannons, it failed and the ship was taken. We must learn everything about the companies being considered. It’s urgent. The safety and well-being of our soldiers is at stake.”
Gideon sighed and fastened his breeches with a wistful grin. “As you wish, my love. But let’s do hurry…”
Chapter 25
The rapid whispering grew louder as she approached the library.
At first, Amelia believed Clarke and Crispin had dropped by to wish them well on their trip. She and Gideon were about to leave for Tarryhall, the Earl of Flint’s principal seat. They would spend a week there so Gideon could catch up on estate business with his steward before leaving for Devon.
While helping Gideon with the correspondence for his far-flung estates, Amelia had been thrilled to learn he owned a small property a stone’s throw from her father’s country home. After verifying that the cottage was in good repair, Gideon had offered to take her there as part of a larger bridal tour of his new properties.
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br /> She was so excited, she’d been unable to sleep the night before their scheduled departure. Not that Gideon allowed her much opportunity for sleep at night.
What good was a brand-new marriage bed if one didn’t use it? he’d asked.
The rogue, she thought with a small private smile. It had become necessary to nap for several hours each afternoon to keep up with his demands. And the reason their bed hadn’t seen much use was because Gideon was usually too impatient to go upstairs. The staff had quickly learned to make themselves scarce when they were together.
Blushing at her memories, she hurried to the library to say goodbye to their friends. But Amelia found Gideon alone, his face granite-hard. He spun around to face her, his hand in a fist.
“Gideon, what’s wrong?”
Relaxing his fist, her husband made a visible effort to calm down. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “Nothing.”
Dread pooled like bile in her stomach. “Don’t—I could hear the voices from the hall. It’s happening to you now, isn’t it?”
It was as if Gideon closed in on himself. She could see him withdrawing, his expression metamorphosing into a careless mien.
“Of course not,” he said dismissively with a hint of a smile. “What you heard was the servants speaking upstairs through the chimney. I told you this place was in bad repair,” he added, gesturing at the hearth. “This needs to be rebricked, that is all.”
Well, she supposed that could be true. The renovations were taking longer than she’d assumed they would. It was such a large house, and like all of Gideon’s properties, it had been neglected for some time.
He narrowed his eyes and looked at her from head to toe. “You were ill this morning. How are you feeling now?”
She waved away his concern. “Much better. It’s just taking a little time to grow accustomed to your French chef. His meals are delicious but too rich… Are you certain it was the servants? The voices were loud as if there were multiple people in here with you.”
“Darling, the maids are busy closing the rooms upstairs. Now, have you finished packing, love?”
“I have. My apologies for the delay. I didn’t realize how many trunks I would need and had to send out for another from my former residence.”
“Well, if you didn’t insist on taking so many books with you… We have to use a second carriage as it is.”
Crestfallen, she stepped closer to him. “Oh Gideon, I need all those books!”
Gideon put his big hands on her upper arms. “Amelia, darling, I know what those books are for. And we don’t need them. Not anymore.”
But what if he was wrong? It really sounded as if the voices were coming from the library. “I need them,” she insisted.
“My lord!” Footsteps pounded in the hallway. Young John, Gideon’s tiger, and Adolfo appeared, sweaty and winded.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing forward.
“It’s the grey mare, one of the matched pair. It’s dead.”
Amelia covered her hand with her mouth. She wanted to weep. “That poor animal.”
Gideon hadn’t been able to keep her from the stables. Intent on seeing the horse, he’d given up trying to make her stay in the library.
“Don’t look at it,” Gideon growled, shoving her behind him to obstruct her view. “Was it poisoned?”
“No, my lord,” the stable master said in disbelief. “Can’t you see—”
“I think it was poisoned. The same thing happened to Lord Stanley’s last month when he didn’t pay the staff’s wages for the quarter and he dismissed a groom for complaining. Notify the relevant authorities and have it hauled away.”
“But, my lord—”
“I said have it taken away. Hitch the chestnut to the carriage instead. It’s the closest in size to the dappled grey. We leave within the hour.”
The stable master tried to hide his dubious expression. He and his subordinates hurried to their lord’s bidding.
“Gideon!” Amelia scolded. “You know very well the animal was strangled. Look at its neck.”
The air around them grew thick with tension. Disbelieving, she stared at him, wondering how he could be so obtuse. But he was in earnest—so much so that the cords on his neck stood out.
“It was poisoned.”
She threw up her hands. “Damn it, Gideon, you can’t bury your head in the sand and pretend the giant hasn’t returned.”
He put his hands on his hips and walked in a circle, then turned and stared at her.
She waited for him to acknowledge reality. It was suddenly painful to breathe. Was he about to assert his prerogative as her lord and master and dismiss her truth?
Amelia didn’t know what she would do if that happened.
Gideon’s eyes flicked to her waist. Without a word, he opened his arms. Relieved, she flew into them and waited.
“We’re still leaving,” he muttered into her hair. “The air in town is not good for you, and I have put off attending to my estates long enough. But we’ll travel with a few more outriders than I originally planned.”
He led her out of the stable and hailed Adolfo, who was watching the men readying the carriage.
“Yes, my lord?”
Gideon leaned toward him. “Adolfo, I’m going to write a quick note to Inspector Hayes. I’d like you to deliver it. Keep the horse’s body long enough for him to see it.”
“Yes, my lord. I take it you want me to deliver it after you have left?”
He nodded. “We won’t be delaying our departure. Find me in my library in five minutes.”
He turned to Amelia. “Come, my love. Our departure from London is long overdue.”
Chapter 26
“Amelia, love, where are you?”
Gideon stepped around a stack of books, trying to find his wife. She’d been locked in Tarryhall’s immense library since breakfast and was now officially ten minutes late for lunch.
Despite his initial plan to visit all his estates as part of their bridal tour, they hadn’t stirred past Derbyshire for the past three weeks.
Once they’d arrived, he had taken a good look at the estate and decided to stay longer. Despite the size of the holding, and the neglect it had suffered after changing hands so many times, the house itself and surrounding pleasure gardens were sound and imminently defendable—almost a fortress.
If the giant was coming for them, it would have a hell of a time getting to them here.
Fortunately, they had sent most of Amelia’s extra staff to Tarryhall. As it happened his estate manager had a few positions to fill, posts his predecessors had left vacant far too long. Grateful for the help, the rest of the staff absorbed the foreign-born servants with surprising open-mindedness.
But there were still superfluous footmen he could now employ as guards for the house and grounds. He also quietly assigned four guards to watch over Amelia whenever she left the house to pay calls or visit his tenants. Since they were all members of her former staff, she hadn’t quibbled about his overprotectiveness—not once he hinted he’d been at a loss to find other occupations for them. Rather than see any of her people dismissed, she’d accepted the guards with no complaint.
There had been no further disturbances of the kind he experienced in London, but he wasn’t willing to risk his wife—or the child he believed she was carrying.
He found Amelia curled up on a couch in a corner of the library surrounded by leather-bound volumes. She’d insisted on bringing her complete collection of occult books to Derbyshire and had taken over the library for her research.
Amelia had even added a few texts related to the supernatural from Tarryhall’s own shelves. Apparently, one or more of his predecessors had been an enthusiast of the occult.
Gideon knelt and tried to shake her awake, but she was fast asleep. He stroked her cheek, deciding to give her more time.
Amelia continued to ascribe her fatigue and occasional bouts of illnesses to the long journey and his country cook’s pre
ference for heavy local dishes. Privately, he found her sweet ignorance endearing, but it also made him a little sad that nothing in her upbringing had prepared her to consider pregnancy as a cause.
Selfishly, Gideon hadn’t been sorry she was carrying his child. When she first showed signs of illness, he’d been concerned she was being poisoned. Then it dawned on him she was only sick in the morning. He’d welcomed the idea of a baby with relief. But the more he thought about it, the more concerned he became.
Amelia was so small and he was a big man. It stood to reason his babe would be large. Childbirth might be difficult for her.
At least those strange occurrences have stopped plaguing her. The voices and strange visions, and the horse’s death—those had been directed at him. It was difficult for him to accept, but Amelia had been correct about the supernatural aspect to the harassment. No wonder she had believed she was going mad.
Gideon stood and rolled his shoulders. Whatever else was true, he still believed Sir Clarence was behind the initial attacks. But he hadn’t conducted them on his own. There was the giant, the one that turned on him, and possibly someone else. A person able to cast spells.
There simply wasn’t another explanation for everything he’d seen.
“Gideon?”
He turned to find a sleepy Amelia blinking up at him. “You slept through lunch, my love. I came to find you, but now I have a better idea. Why don’t I have cook prepare us a hamper and we can dine outside? A little fresh air should help if you’re still feeling poorly.”
Her soft smile curled around his heart. “I’m much improved, thank you, but a picnic sounds lovely.”
He nodded, touched by her enthusiasm. She was so easy to please, and he loved spoiling her. “I thought we could find that little stream on the other side of the orchard again.”
Amelia beamed and gave him her hands. She didn’t appear to have an issue with dizziness, he noted as she got to her feet. Nevertheless, he would keep a watchful eye on her…
“This choice of picnic spots was inspired,” Amelia said, falling back on the blanket with a satisfied sigh after they had finished their meal. “What is it about the sound of running water that relaxes one so?”
