Seduced at Midnight

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

"Yes, my lady."

  After Winslow departed, Julianne turned to Gideon. "Perhaps you should sing even more softly."

  "If I sing any softer, you won't hear a thing."

  He glared. "Very funny. Has anyone ever told you you're extremely humorous?" Before she could answer he said, "No-I didn't think so." He crossed his arms over his chest and asked in a testy tone, "Do you want to hear the rest of the song or not?"

  "I do."

  "Fine. Here we go, and this time I'm not stopping."

  True to his promise, he continued singing the outrageous song, accompanied by Caesar and Princess Buttercup. Julianne tried to pick out the melody on the piano, but she was laughing so hard she had to abandon the effort. By the time the song hit its last jarring, discordant note, tears of mirth were running down her face.

  "How was that?" Gideon asked, looking both proud and smug.

  "There… there simply aren't words," she managed to gasp out, wiping her eyes.

  "Glad you enjoyed it."

  "Oh, I did. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard." She smiled up at him. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. And now that my debt of honor is paid, I shall expect to be equally as entertained."

  "I cannot possibly top that performance. Has anyone ever told you you can't sing worth a jot?"

  "No one who's lived to repeat the sentiment. Has anyone ever told you you've an impertinent tongue?"

  "No. Most people believe I am shy and aloof. And perfectly ladylike at all times."

  "Clearly most people don't know you well."

  She nodded and looked into his beautiful dark eyes. And caught her breath at the humor lurking in their depths. She couldn't recall the last time she'd felt so carefree. "Most people don't know me at all," she said softly.

  He stilled, and she watched fire flare in his gaze, melting all hints of amusement. His gaze dipped to her mouth, and for several seconds she couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and the air between them seemed to crackle. Then he blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and stepped back. Then turned to stare out the window.

  Julianne had to draw in several breaths before she could speak. "Do… do you wish for me to teach you your song now? Or would you prefer to do something else?"

  His gaze snapped back to hers. The smoldering heat in his eyes burned her. The secret place between her legs that he'd awakened last night throbbed, and she pressed her thighs together, an action that only served to further inflame the insistent ache.

  He appeared about to speak when another woof sounded from the doorway. Seconds later Winslow appeared, bearing a silver salver upon which a trio of calling cards rested. "You've visitors, my lady," he said. "Are you in?"

  Julianne took the cards, slowly scanning the names to give herself a few seconds to recover, then smiled. "Yes, of course. Please show them in."

  "One moment," Gideon said, approaching her, his demeanor all business. Completely gone was the teasing, amusing man. "Who is here?"

  "My friends Emily, Sarah, and Carolyn."

  None of the tension seemed to leave him. He gave a tight nod. "All right."

  Julianne turned back to Winslow. "Please arrange for tea and refreshments for us."

  "Yes, my lady," Winslow said, then quit the room.

  Gideon moved to the doorway and issued a soft command to Caesar that Julianne could not hear. Then he and the dog stepped back, with Princess Buttercup joining them. Seconds later, her friends filed into the room, sending Princess Buttercup into a frenzy of tail wagging and joyful yips. Caesar remained at Gideon's side, his nose quivering as he appraised each newcomer. There was no missing her friends' surprise at seeing Gideon.

  "Mr. Mayne, what are you doing here?" Sarah asked in her no-nonsense way. Her gaze jumped to Julianne. "Is something wrong?"

  Julianne recalled her father's request that she not speak of last night's incident for fear of the duke finding out. But as far as she was concerned, if the duke found out and decided he didn't want to marry her because of it…

  "Nothing-" Gideon began.

  "Someone with a knife tried to enter my bedchamber last night through my balcony window," she said in a rush. "Father has hired Mr. Mayne to protect me and hopefully catch the scoundrel."

  Gideon barely refrained from groaning. Bloody hell, leave it to a woman to blab out details she shouldn't. Her father would not be pleased, especially if the duke caught wind of it. Although Gideon couldn't deny that he personally didn't give a rat's arse if either Gatesbourne or His Grace were displeased. And with the way servants gossiped, the entire ton would no doubt hear of the incident within a day or two anyway.

  For several seconds there was stunned silence, then all four women began talking at once. They moved as a unit toward the settee and chairs by the fireplace, a rainbow of muslin gowns and chattering voices. Gideon inched his way into the background, doing everything a man over six feet tall could to remain as invisible as possible. He didn't want to answer a plethora of questions about the investigation, nor did he wish to listen to four women chat about all the things that upper-class women were wont to discuss: the weather and the shops, bonnets, parties, and all manner of feminine fripperies.

  Yet surely this unexpected hen party was good. The interruption came at a moment when he'd found himself nearly drowning in his want for Julianne. Still, at the same time he felt strangely trapped in this room with four women, who-

  Were all looking at him with expectant expressions.

  Bloody hell.

  "Don't you agree, Mr. Mayne?" asked Lady Langston, pushing up her spectacles.

  "Agree?"

  "That this talk of the criminal being a ghost is nothing but rubbish?"

  A sensible female-thank God. "Of course it's rubbish. This man is very real. And very dangerous."

  "Are you certain the person you seek is a 'he' and not a 'she'?" asked Lady Surbrooke. "After all, women can be just as evil as men."

  "Indeed they can," Gideon agreed, "and while I would not eliminate someone as a suspect based solely on their gender, I believe our murderer and thief is a man."

  Lady Emily's intense gaze bored into his. "You will of course make certain nothing happens to our beloved Julianne."

  His gaze shifted to Julianne, who sat on the settee. Bloody hell, she looked so damn lovely, and her eyes seemed to just… swallow him. He dragged his attention back to Lady Emily. "I will not allow any harm to come to her."

  A simple, irrefutable statement, yet the depth of its truth hit him like a blow to the head. He would forfeit his own life if necessary to keep her safe. A realization that stilled him. And stunned him.

  "As we're all aware of your expertise, that is a huge relief, Mr. Mayne," murmured Lady Surbrooke. She smiled at him, clearly an acknowledgment of his assistance in solving the case two months ago that had threatened her life, and he nodded in return.

  They resumed conversing among themselves, and with relief Gideon continued his inching progress toward the doorway. Her friends demanded details of last night's ordeal, which Julianne provided, along with a recitation that made him sound like some sort of hero.

  "Mr. Mayne was so brave, and very intrepid, searching and securing the house and grounds in spite of the foul weather," she said, sending a smile in his direction, and he once again found himself the cynosure of all eyes.

  "I'd be more worthy of praise had I caught the culprit," he felt compelled to point out, although he couldn't deny that warmth spread through him at her complimentary words.

  "Surely you didn't spend the entire night outdoors," Lady Langston said. "Why, you could have caught your death of chill."

  "He stayed indoors with me until my parents arrived home," Julianne said.

  "Precisely where he needed to be to insure your safety," Lady Surbrooke said with an approving nod.

  "Yes, thank goodness you were about, Mr. Mayne," added Lady Emily.

  They again resumed chatting among themselves, and he quickly stepped to the doorway. He didn't intend
to listen to them, but it was impossible not to. Their long-standing friendship was evident in the way they spoke-finishing each other's sentences, the warmth and teasing and concern in their voices.

  Winslow appeared bearing a silver tea service, followed by Ethan the footman, who carried a food-laden tray. Gideon breathed deeply as the tray filled with biscuits and assorted little tarts and cakes went by just under his nose. The scent of vanilla-her scent-filled his head. His mouth watered, and his body tightened in response.

  "Please join us, Mr. Mayne," Julianne said.

  "Oh, yes, please do," seconded Lady Langston. He wondered if he looked as wary as he felt, because she added, "We don't bite."

  "At least not very often," Julianne added.

  Deciding they looked harmless enough and that one cup of tea and a biscuit or two couldn't hurt, Gideon joined the ladies, settling himself in the wing chair opposite Julianne. He looked around the group and realized that Julianne's three friends were studying him with a great deal of interest. He fought the sudden urge to squirm in his seat.

  "I've never been to a ladies' tea party before," he said, trying to fill the silence while accepting his cup and saucer from Julianne with a nod. "I'm not quite certain what to do."

  "It's very simple," Julianne said with a smile, handing him a plate containing several biscuits and small cakes. "You sip tea, nibble on cakes, chat about the weather, then talk about things you're not supposed to."

  Her smile was captivating, and he had to force himself not to stare. He noted how at ease she clearly felt in the company of her friends, not exhibiting the shyness he'd observed in her during larger gatherings and parties.

  "And what sort of things are ladies not supposed to discuss?" he asked, hoping to keep the conversation diverted from his investigation.

  "Anything that isn't the weather," Lady Emily said, wrinkling her nose. "You won't tell on us, will you, Mr. Mayne?"

  If Gideon had to sum up Lady Emily in one word, it would be mischievous. "I suppose that depends on what you reveal, Lady Emily," he said in a perfectly serious tone. "If it's too salacious, I might have to turn you over to the magistrate."

  Lady Emily's eyes lit up. "Really? How ghastly!"

  "Don't encourage her," Julianne said, continuing to serve the tea. "She'd no doubt enjoy such an outing."

  "I absolutely would," Lady Emily confirmed. "I would shamefully exploit my newfound friendship with the magistrate and enlist his help in controlling my hooligan younger brothers."

  "Shall I toss them in Newgate for you?" Gideon asked casually.

  "A splendid idea," Lady Emily agreed. "Although we probably should wait a few years. Little Arthur is only seven, after all."

  "Perhaps when he's nine," Gideon agreed.

  Lady Emily sent him a dazzling smile that he was certain knocked most men flat. "Perhaps you're not as dour as I thought, Mr. Mayne."

  "Perhaps you're more bloodthirsty than I thought, Lady Emily."

  The ladies all laughed. "You see?" Lady Langston said with a smile, nudging up her spectacles with her index finger. "You find out the most fascinating things at tea parties."

  Ten minutes later, Gideon couldn't disagree with that statement. During that time he learned that Julianne's friends were charming, intelligent, amusing, and witty and that the Gatesbourne kitchen produced the most delicious tarts and cakes he'd ever tasted. They chatted about the robberies and murders, all of them expressing sympathy and horror over Lady Daltry's death. They asked him a few questions, but as he didn't have any information to give them, their conversation moved on to other topics. As was his habit, he sat back and listened, studying the group over the rim of his cup.

  "Mr. Mayne is awfully quiet," Lady Surbrooke commented, her gaze resting on him with an expression he couldn't decipher.

  "I fear I've nothing constructive to add to a debate concerning whether ostrich or peacock feathers are a more becoming decoration on one's turban."

  "Then we must change the subject," Lady Emily said. Her eyes took on a devilish glint. "Tell me, Mr. Mayne, are you fond of reading?"

  Bloody hell, he didn't want to turn this party into an interview. Indeed, it was time he resumed his post at the door. He set aside his plate, intending to rise. "I am, but-"

  "Have you read The Ghost of Devonshire Manor?" asked Lady Emily.

  Gideon heard Julianne's small gasp and turned toward her, noting the twin flags of color marking her cheeks, an interesting reaction to be sure. So interesting that he resettled himself in his chair. "No, I haven't. Is it a book you'd recommend?"

  "I'm certain Mr. Mayne wouldn't care for it in the least," Julianne said, shooting her friend a repressive look.

  "It's really the sort of story that would appeal more to a woman," agreed Lady Surbrooke, who, Gideon noted, was also blushing.

  "And why is that?" Gideon asked, finding this entire exchange fascinating.

  "Oh, well, you know," Lady Langston murmured, her face even pinker than her sister's. "It's a love story."

  "The title suggests it's a ghost story," Gideon said.

  "A love story about a ghost," Julianne said, her complexion resembling a setting sun. "Very girly. All very silly, actually. Who would like some more tea?"

  "I would," said Lady Langston and Lady Surbrooke in unison, while Lady Emily unsuccessfully tried to squelch a smile.

  The talk turned back to the murders and, as Gideon had no desire to be interrogated by Julianne's overly curious friends, he rose. "If you ladies will excuse me for a few minutes, I'll see to Caesar." He turned to Julianne. "I'll be right outside, on the terrace. If you need me, just call." He gave a soft whistle, and Caesar trotted over to him. Princess Buttercup followed as far as her satin pillow, then jumped onto her soft throne and with a sigh closed her eyes, presumably to nap until the love of her life returned.

  Gideon opened the French windows leading to the terrace. Caesar trotted through the opening, then dashed down the flagstone steps leading to the garden. Gideon closed the door behind him, glancing into the room. His gaze met Julianne's through the glass, and for several seconds he couldn't move. Could only stare. And try his damnedest to tamp down the flood of wants that surged through him. With an effort he turned away and moved to the edge of the terrace, where he pulled in some much-needed breaths of fresh, cool air. He risked one quick peek over his shoulder and noted that the four women had scooted nearer to each other. Their heads were bent close together, obviously in whispered, furtive conversation.

  Alarm bells clanged in his head. What the bloody hell were they talking about?

  * * *

  Julianne pulled her gaze away from the French windows through which Gideon had just departed. And found three pairs of wide eyes staring at her.

  "Oh my heavens," Emily said.

  "Oh my Lord," murmured Carolyn.

  "Oh my, oh my, oh my," whispered Sarah.

  Julianne wasn't precisely sure why, but heat rushed into her cheeks, and she quickly reached for the teapot. Emily forestalled her by gently grabbing her hand. "How can you possibly think of tea at a time like this?"

  "A time like this?" Julianne repeated. "You mean the murders?"

  "I mean that man," Emily whispered, jerking her head toward the terrace. "Did you not see the way he looked at you?"

  Julianne tried her best to keep her features blank, but she wasn't certain she succeeded or if it even mattered, given the heat scorching her cheeks. "What do you mean?"

  Carolyn scooted closer and leaned in. "She means that Mr. Mayne clearly finds you… attractive."

  Sarah made a snorting sound. "Well, of course he would find her attractive. Good God, what man wouldn't? What Emily means is that he clearly finds you more than just merely attractive." She waved her hand in front of her face. "The heat you two generated was enough to steam the air."

  "What Emily means," Emily said, shooting a frown around the group, "is that until I saw him in this room with Julianne, I'd never seen Mr. Mayne's eyes be anything o
ther than cool and impassive. Dispassionate, really. And they were when he looked at anything or anyone in this room except you, Julianne. When he looked at you, his eyes seemed to-"

  "Breathe fire," Sarah broke in.

  "He is clearly smitten," Carolyn agreed. "Certainly he desires you." Her gaze settled on Julianne. "And based on the way you looked at him…"

  Carolyn fell silent, but her eyes were filled with concern.

  Oh, dear. "How did I look at him?" Julianne asked, hoping her dismay didn't show.

  "As if his desire for you was mutual," Carolyn said softly. She reached out and clasped Julianne's hand. "You mustn't do anything foolish. Think of the repercussions-"

  "Just because he desires her-and truly what man wouldn't," Emily broke in, "doesn't mean she desires him. Heavens, why would she? He's nothing like the men of the ton."

  "Which is not necessarily a bad thing," Sarah said.

  Emily looked toward the ceiling. "Says the new marchioness. You didn't marry a Bow Street Runner; you married a marquess."

  "Because I was in love with him," Sarah whispered. "I didn't care a jot for Matthew's title. Or his money-which, as you'll recall, he didn't have any of at the time. I'd have married Matthew if he were a sailor or a-"

  "Yes, yes, that's fine for you to say, but you didn't grow up as Julianne did," Emily insisted. "She's the daughter of an earl. Cavorting with a Runner simply isn't done."

  "Who says I'm cavorting-?" Julianne tried to break in, but Sarah rolled right over her, saying, "You'd prefer that she marry a man she doesn't love, a man she barely knows, simply because he's a duke?"

  "At least the duke is of our class," Emily said.

  Sarah straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I'm not of your class, Emily. Neither is Carolyn. Our father was a mere physician."

  Emily huffed out an exasperated breath. "You're taking this the wrong way, Sarah. I'm not trying to be haughty-"

  "Yet you are being so just the same-"

  "I'm merely pointing out that the man is a commoner-"

  "As were Carolyn and I until our marriages."

  "But you were both completely respectable."

  "What is not respectable about a man who captures criminals and upholds the law?" Sarah demanded.