SEDUCED AT MIDNIGHT

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  Gideon moved quickly and applied his eye to the crack in the door. All three gentlemen looked surprised at the question. Penniwick, Gideon noted, appeared… fidgety?

  "Really, Julianne," the countess said with a false-sounding laugh. "No one wants to discuss such unpleasantness."

  "I don't mind," Beechmore said, making Gideon wonder if he was also deathly bored of speaking of the weather. "Obviously the culprit is a very clever fellow not to have been caught so far."

  "He's a fool, if you ask me," said Lord Walston. "Surely he must know he'll get caught eventually."

  "Not if he's careful," said Penniwick in a brusque voice.

  "No clues have been found, no suspects named."

  "Perhaps there have been clues found that the authorities haven't reported," Julianne said.

  Gideon watched all three men's reactions. Beechmore seem surprised, Walston confused, and Penniwick again fidgeted.

  "That's enough of such a dreadful subject," the countess broke in with an exaggerated shudder, shooting her daughter a warning look. "Would you gentlemen like tea?"

  They refused, and a few moments later took their leave. As the countess showed them out, Julianne approached the adjoining door. "Did you glean anything from their reactions when I mentioned the murders?"

  "Perhaps. That was clever of you."

  "I'm not the nincompoop everyone seems to think I am."

  "I've never thought you were a nincompoop." His lips twitched. "I thought you were a spoiled princess."

  A grin lurked around her lips. "Yes, I know. Although you'd best be careful, as such flowery words might swell my head."

  "I said I thought you were a spoiled princess. I no longer do."

  Although it looked as if she wanted to question him, she merely murmured, "I'm glad."

  Just then the countess sailed across the threshold and fixed her angry gaze on her daughter. "Really, Julianne, you are such a trial. Why on earth would you bring up the murders?"

  "I thought it would be helpful to Mr. Mayne to hear how the gentlemen responded."

  "And it was helpful," Gideon added. "Thank you, Lady Julianne."

  "Well, I won't have it. Lord Haverly is here, and there will be no talk of murders or robberies during his visit. He's brought that American, Mr. Jennsen, with him. I suppose we'll have to entertain him as well, although why he's here, I cannot imagine. He certainly couldn't think himself in any way suitable for an earl's daughter."

  With that, the countess swept back into the sitting room with an imperious, "Come along, Julianne."

  Gideon watched through the crack in the door for the duration of Haverly's and Jennsen's mercifully brief visit. Jennsen didn't say much, and Gideon found himself very curious as to why the American was here. And with Haverly. His curiosity was satisfied within moments of their departure from the sitting room. Gideon planned to wait in the library until Haverly and Jennsen left, but a moment later, a knock sounded. At his bid to enter, Winslow entered.

  "Mr. Jennsen would like to see you. Shall I send him in?"

  "Please. But first, where is Lady Julianne?"

  "The dining room, with the countess, for their midday meal. Caesar is with them."

  Gideon nodded. Jennsen entered a moment later and crossed the room to extend his hand to Gideon. "I waited for Haverly to leave before I asked to see you," Jennsen said.

  "I know you arrived together. I didn't realize you two were friends."

  "We're not. However, I've learned that it's useful to remain close to those you are suspicious of."

  "Why are you suspicious of Haverly?"

  "I simply added one plus one and arrived at two. It was his snuffbox you found beneath the window at Daltry's party. Less than twenty-four hours later, Lady Daltry was discovered robbed and murdered. Which makes me believe the snuffbox, and therefore its owner, could somehow be involved in your investigation. Unfortunately, I didn't learn anything of interest from Haverly, but I intend to keep at it."

  "While I appreciate your efforts, I prefer not to involve outsiders in my work. Especially as it could be dangerous."

  Jennsen nodded. "Understood. And a very noble sentiment. But you are going to have to set it aside in this case, as I'm not letting go of this. In fact, what I've come to tell you is that I spent the morning in a meeting with Lords Surbrooke and Langston. As you can imagine, both are very concerned for their wives' safety, as well as Lady Julianne's. The three of us are therefore offering our services to you."

  "Thank you, but—"

  "You might as well accept it, Mayne, because you're not going to deter us. Certainly not Surbrooke or Langston, who are like rabid dogs when it comes to any thought of their wives being endangered, especially as they both suffered through dangerous situations in the past several months. Therefore, we've determined that we shall be three extra sets of eyes and ears in the ton for you. Fists, knives, and pistols as well, if needed. That being the case, it would be helpful to know if there's anyone in particular we should be watching. Aside from Haverly."

  Gideon kept his gaze steady on Jennsen. He knew very little about this man. Certainly not enough to completely trust him. Especially since Jennsen had visited the house the day of the evening Lady Julianne was attacked. Yet his instincts told him Jennsen wasn't the man he sought. Still, if Jennsen were the guilty party, it couldn't hurt for Gideon to lead him to believe his suspicions lay elsewhere.

  As for Langston and Surbrooke, he didn't know them well either, although he couldn't deny there was something to be said for men who clearly loved their wives as much as those two did. And Surbrooke especially had proven himself more than capable during the murder investigation two months ago during which his wife had nearly lost her life.

  Except when directed to by his superiors, Gideon preferred to work alone. What about Henry? his inner voice asked. You often rely on him for help. True. But Henry was a trusted informant he'd known for years. Still, having a few members of the ton on his side could prove useful. And bloody hell, he'd do anything, anything, to keep Julianne safe.

  "Three extra sets of eyes and ears might be helpful," he admitted.

  Jennsen nodded. "Good. Now, who should we concentrate them on?"

  "I'm currently looking at everyone who was in or entered this house the day before yesterday."

  Jennsen's expression didn't change. "I was in the house then."

  "Yes, I know."

  "So I'm a suspect." A statement rather than a question.

  Based on him being at the house that day, he was. But Gideon couldn't dismiss his instincts that insisted Jennsen wasn't involved. "I'm satisfied you're not the man I'm looking for."

  Jennsen flashed a grin. "Although you don't sound as certain about that as I'd like, I'm delighted to hear it."

  "There are others, however, who have not yet been cleared to my satisfaction. Some who I expect will be at the duke's party tonight. Therefore, in addition to Haverly, if you, Langston, or Surbrooke were to observe Lords Penniwick, Beechmore, Walston, or the duke himself saying or doing anything suspicious, I would like to know."

  "Interesting group," Jennsen murmured. "Consider it done. I'll see you this evening."

  Jennsen took his leave, and Gideon headed toward the kitchen for something to eat, passing by the dining room on his way. He observed through the open door that Julianne and her mother were still inside, and he continued on. He enjoyed a bowl of hearty stew, then made his rounds through the house, rechecking all the windows. Afterward he headed outdoors and walked the perimeter of the house and grounds. The day was sunny, with the barest hint of chill in the air. And nothing seemed amiss at the Gatesbourne mansion.

  After he completed his rounds outside, Winslow opened the double oak doors for Gideon, and he paused just inside the threshold. The duke stood in the foyer, removing his gloves. He barely spared Gideon a look, then jerked his gaze back. And narrowed his icy blue eyes. "What are you doing here, Mayne?"

  Recalling Lord Gatesbourne's directive that
the duke not know about the attack on Julianne, and not wishing to do anything that would cause Julianne's father to dismiss him, Gideon answered, "What I've been doing all along: investigating the murders and robberies."

  "Here?"

  "It is necessary that I interview everyone who knew the victims. What brings you here?"

  The duke's gaze chilled. "That's hardly your concern."

  "I disagree. Until this criminal is caught, everything is my concern."

  His Grace slapped his gloves into Winslow's hands. "I'm here to call upon Lady Julianne."

  "I see. Before you meet with her, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you."

  "I don't see why. I've already answered your questions and told you everything I know."

  "These questions are regarding your deceased wife."

  The duke stared at him for a full ten seconds before replying. Then he turned to Winslow. "Mayne and I would like to converse in private. May we make use of the library?"

  "Of course, Your Grace." Winslow escorted them down the corridor.

  After being shown into the library, the duke said to the butler, "After Mr. Mayne leaves, I'd like to see Lady Julianne."

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  As soon as Winslow withdrew and closed the door, the duke turned to him. "I can't imagine what you would want to ask about my dead wife."

  No, but you're apparently curious enough to find out and make sure we had privacy when the questions came. "Let me first say I am sorry for your loss." When the duke's only reply was a frosty glare, Gideon continued, "I understand Her Grace committed suicide."

  "Yes."

  "She was distraught over miscarrying a child."

  "Yes. Unless you can explain why questions about her death are necessary, I refuse to listen to any more of this." He started toward the door.

  "I've received reports of rumors she didn't die by her own hand."

  The duke stopped as if he'd walked into a wall. He slowly turned. The gaze he leveled on Gideon was the coldest he'd ever seen. "And I suppose it is your duty as a Runner to dig up those filthy, untrue rumors?"

  Gideon's gaze didn't waver. "It's been my experience³n me f that rumors oftentimes are true, or at least partially true."

  "Clearly you've been listening to the whispers of disgruntled servants who were dismissed after my wife's death. Not the best source for the truth." His gaze drilled into Gideon. "You think I killed my wife?"

  "Did you?"

  "Let me ask you a question, Mayne. My wife was young, desirable, and beautiful. What possible reason could I have for killing her?"

  "That is indeed a very interesting question. Here's another one: Why would a woman with a deep fear of firearms choose to end her life with a pistol?"

  There was no mistaking the anguish that flickered in the duke's gaze. For several seconds he looked like an empty shell. A man who'd lost everything. A man who'd deeply loved his wife. Certainly not the expression of a man who would have killed her. Then his face hardened, and he looked Gideon over as if he were something he'd scraped off the bottom of his expensive boots. "I don't know. And I'll thank you to never mention this painful subject to me again. As there is nothing more to say on the matter…" He finished crossing the room and opened the door. "On your way out let Winslow know I'm ready to see Lady Julianne."

  "Very well." Gideon quit the room then returned to the foyer, where he delivered the message to Winslow. As soon as the butler headed toward the dining room, Gideon strode down the corridor and entered the sitting room next to the library. He positioned himself near the adjoining door, which remained ajar.

  And waited.

  Chapter 19

  Julianne stared at the duke, his words tolling through her mind like a death knell. Did she look as horrified as she felt? She could only thank God she was already seated, because his statement left her shaking.

  "I … I beg your pardon?"

  "I'll be announcing our engagement at my party this evening."

  Nausea and panic warred within her. "But…why? My parents have everything planned to make the official announcement at their party next week."

  "My plans have changed, and I'm needed back in Cornwall sooner than I'd anticipated. We shall make the official announcement tonight. I already have the special license; therefore, the wedding will take place in two days. We'll leave for Cornwall immediately after the ceremony."

  Two days… Dear God. She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt dizzy. As if she weren't inhabiting her own body. As if this nightmare were happening to someone else, and she was just watching it from far away.

  He lifted her limp hand where it lay lifeless in her lap and pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers. She opened her eyes and found him watching her. Through those cold eyes she'd have to look into for the rest of her life. He was a good-looking man. So why didn't she find him in the least bit attractive? His eyes were actually quite the perfect shade of blue. So why did they appear so chilly to her?

  "I know this comes as a surprise." He offered her a smile. "But not an unpleasant one, I hope."

  She had to press her lips together to contain the hideous laugh that threatened to escape. Unpleasant? That was the most lukewarm word she could imagine to describe this entire revolting debacle. She could scream and rail and refuse, but in the end she'd lose. And really, what difference did it make if she married him in two days or two weeks or even two hours? Gideon didn't want her for any period of time. Since her marriage to the duke was inevitable, it was better to just get it over with as quickly as possible.

  "I know we don't know each other very well, Julianne," he said quietly, "but that will change. I'm sure you'll love Cornwall. As for the rushed wedding, I'm afraid it can't be helped."

  "In two days," she agreed, feeling as if a noose had just been put around her neck. "Have you told my parents?"

  "I told your father at the club before coming here. If you'll ring for the servant to summon her, I'll speak to your mother now."

  "Of course." Somehow she managed to rise and pull the bell cord. Her gaze fell upon the slightly ajar door leading to the sitting room. Gideon. He'd heard everything. As soon as she left this room, he'd appear. And she couldn't face him. Couldn't face anyone. She needed some time alone.

  When Winslow appeared a moment later, she said, "Will you please tell Mother the duke wishes to speak with her? And that I've gone to my room to rest. To be refreshed for tonight's party."

  "Yes, Lady Julianne."

  After Winslow withdrew, Julianne, still engulfed in a numb fog, turned to the man who would be her husband in two days and offered him a curtsy. "If you'll excuse me, Your Grace…"

  He offered her a formal bow. "Of course, my dear. You must get your rest. You've a big evening ahead of you." He smiled. "We both have."

  Unable to do more than nod, Julianne quit the room. Not wanting to risk seeing her mother or Gideon, she gathered up her skirts and broke into a run, heading away from the foyer and taking the servants' stairs. By the time she reached the top, her breath was hitching, and sobs she couldn't contain were clogging her throat.

  It was over. All her hopes. All her dreams. Her time had run out.

  The only word that kept pounding through her mind as she hurried down the corridor toward her bedchamber was escape. Escape. But it was a futile, useless word. There was nowhere to go. Except to Cornwall. As the Duchess of Eastling.

  Another sob broke from her throat. Lifting her skirts higher, she dashed the last few feet to her bedchamber. As soon as she closed the door behind her and locked it, she leaned against the oak panel and buried her face in her hands. Tears leaked between her fingers, matching the pain pouring from her heart.

  If only she could run away. But she knew if she did, she'd be found. And anyone who might assist her would then face her father's retribution. Which she knew would be swift. And ugly.

  She sank to the floor, wrapped her arms around her bent legs, and rested her forehead on her knees. No sooner had she done s
o than a knock sounded on the door, and the knob rattled.

  "Julianne…please open the door." Gideon's low, quiet voice drenched her eyes with a fresh supply of tears.

  "I … need to be alone. Just for a little while."

  "I heard what happened. I know you're upset. Open the door. Please."

  She shook her head, then realized he couldn't see her. "Just a few minutes to myself."

  He was silent for several seconds. "Will you at least go into the blue bedchamber?"

  She lifted her head and realized that out of habit she'd entered her own bedchamber, the one Gideon was using. "The windows are locked. No one can get in through the balcony."

  Another silence, then, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  "Yes. You can leave me alone for a little while."

  She heard him sigh. Imagined him raking his hands through his hair. "All right. For a little while. Caesar will be right outside the door while I arrange for some tea to be brought up for you."

  "Thank you," she murmured.

  "And then you will need to open the door."

  She heard his muffled footfalls against the carpet as he walked away, then silence. After several moments her silent sobs tapered off, and her shaking ceased, leaving behind exhaustion and a sense of calm finality. Everything was settled. No more wishes. No more dreams. She knew what she had to do.

  She rose to her feet and crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps. From the corner of her eye she noticed Gideon's hairbrush and comb on her dresser, but rather than detouring to run her fingers over them, she continued toward her destination.

  She knew what she had to do.

  * * *

  Gideon handed a hastily scribbled sealed note to Winslow. "How quickly can that be delivered? It is of the utmost importance."

  Winslow glanced at the direction written on the note. "Within the quarter hour."

  "Can the messenger wait for a reply?"

  "Yes, Mr. Mayne."

  Gideon nodded his thanks then headed toward the kitchen to arrange for tea for Julianne. Julianne … who right this minute he knew was crying, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Bloody hell, it was enough to make a man go mad. If she didn't open the door when he went back upstairs, he might have to consider breaching the lock. To ascertain for himself that she was all right.