He'd told her he'd remain close by during the party, and she felt comforted by his presence. He'd also told her that under no circumstances was she to venture out of his sight—a directive she had every intention of following. She thought of poor Lady Hart and the other victims, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. She didn't want to meet a similar end.
Gideon had been particularly insistent as he'd been forced to relegate Caesar to the kitchen. When he'd arrived with the dog, the duke had flatly refused to allow Caesar entrance, stating that he didn't allow pets in his house. That the beast could wait for Gideon in the kitchen, or Gideon could leave as well.
"Is something amiss, Julianne?" Carolyn asked.
She forced her attention back to her friends. Only everything. "No. I was just thinking about…"—all the things I want that I cannot have—"these terrible crimes. And the announcement that will be made this evening."
Emily nodded. "I cannot believe that the wedding will take place in two days."
"Neither can I," Julianne murmured.
Silence swelled between them, then Carolyn said in a too bright voice, "You'll be a beautiful bride."
"Stunning," Emily agreed.
"And we'll all come to visit you," Carolyn said.
"Of course we will," Emily added quickly. "And you'll come to London for the season."
"And we'll write letters," Carolyn promised, giving her hand a quick squeeze.
"Lots of letters," Emily agreed. She nudged Sarah, who'd remained silent and looked troubled, with her elbow. "Won't we, Sarah?"
"Yes," Sarah said quietly.
Because Julianne knew her friends were trying to make her feel better, she tried her best to smile but feared the effort was less than successful. "Thank you. That sounds lovely."
And she wished with all her heart that she meant it.
* * *
From his post by the pillar, Gideon maintained an excellent view of the room. His gaze fell upon Julianne and, as always, his heart seemed to cough several times at the sight of her. She was listening to something one of her friends said, and his throat tightened. She looked so damn beautiful. And so damn sad. She should be smiling. All the time. She should be happy. Always.
Just then her lips curved upward, and his heart coughed once again. Bloody hell, when she smiled, she was so lovely it almost hurt to look at her.
"They're all four grinning," came Logan Jennsen's voice from directly beside him. Gideon turned. Logan was talking to him but looking at Julianne and her friends. "Makes one wonder what they're discussing."
"Something they're not supposed to be, no doubt," Lord Surbrooke said, joining them.
"Gives me shivers just to think about the mischief they could be concocting," Lord Langston chimed in. "Of course, so long as they remain in our sight, they can't get into too much trouble. I think." He turned to Gideon. "Jennsen's told you that Daniel and I want to help in any way we can. That we intend to do so."
Gideon nodded. "Lord Langston—"
"Matthew, please."
"And Daniel," Lord Surbrooke added. "We've been keeping an eye on the gentlemen Jennsen mentioned," he said in an undertone, "but so far the worst thing I've seen is Beechmore filching extra glasses of champagne."
"I was wondering," Gideon said, "have any of you heard of Count Chalon? It's a French title but he's lived in Cornwall for years."
"Never heard of him," said Matthew, while Daniel and Logan nodded in concurrence.
"And I spent a year in France before coming to England," Logan added. "Who is he?"
Instead of answering, Gideon asked, "How about a Mr. Standish or a Mr. Tate, both also of Cornwall, both wealthy and from well-respected families."
"Common names, but still I don't know of them," Daniel said.
"How wealthy?" Logan asked.
"Enough so that a loss of ten thousand pounds wouldn't distress them."
Logan's brows rose. "So extremely wealthy. Interesting that their names are unfamiliar to me, as I've made it my business to know about those in such advantageous financial positions."
"They don't spend time in London."
"Still, seems odd we've never heard of such wealthy gentlemen," Daniel said.
A humorless smile curved Logan's lips. "Exactly. Doesn't matter if they spend time in London or not. You can't hide that kind of money. At least not for long. I'd be interested in meeting these gentlemen."
Gideon was about to reply when, as if pulled by some force, his gaze shifted to where Julianne stood. She was looking at him, and he completely lost his thoughts as all his attention focused on her. For several seconds no one else existed. Then Lady Surbrooke said something to her, and she looked away from him. And he pulled in a breath he hadn't realized he'd held.
He quickly recalled his own conversation, and said, "Meeting those gentlemen—yes, I would be very interested in doing so as well. At the very least I'd like to know more about them. If you hear anything, please inform me."
Just then the music changed to a waltz. "Ah, a chance to hold my wife in my arms," Matthew said with a grin. "If you'll excuse me."
"Same for me," Daniel said. They departed together and led their wives to the dance floor, while Jennsen wandered off, murmuring, "I'll leave you to your duties."
Would the duke ask Julianne to dance? Gideon's stomach tightened at the thought. Julianne remained where she'd been before, chatting now with her mother and Lady Emily. He scanned the room but didn't see the duke. In fact, he hadn't seen the duke for at least a quarter hour.
As if the thought of him conjured up the man, Gideon's gaze fell upon him, entering the room from a side door set in the dark wood paneling. The duke looked a bit flushed, Gideon noted. And furtive. His jaw tightened with the grim certainty that within the next few minutes a woman would enter the room from that same doorway looking equally as flushed and furtive.
Unfortunately, he was proven correct when, less than two minutes later, a woman Gideon didn't recognize but whose skin bore a noticeable blush and whose gaze shifted in a stealthy manner slipped into the room. His hands clenched into fists, and he imagined them pummeling the duke to dust. The man was not only an immoral bastard but a blind fool. How could any man blessed to have Julianne as his betrothed even look at another woman?
Probably now, when his temper hovered so close to the surface, wasn't the best time to speak to the duke, but nonetheless, Gideon approached him. Making certain Julianne wasn't out of sight, Gideon stepped directly in front of the duke and said, "A moment of your time, Your Grace."
Clearly annoyed at Gideon's peremptory tone, the duke said, "My patience with you is running thin, Mayne. With both you and your questions. What is it now?"
Only years of practice at schooling his features into an expressionless mask enabled Gideon to hide his distaste. Did the duke know or care that the faint smell of sex and women's perfume clung to him?
"Tell me about Count Chalon, Mr. Tate, and Mr. Standish," Gideon said, watching him closely.
Surprise flickered in the duke's cold eyes, followed by annoyance, and for a few seconds Gideon thought he meant to refuse to answer. Finally he said, "Clearly you've heard of our unfortunate investment. The gentlemen are friends from Cornwall whom I've known for years. They all hail from well-respected families and are wealthy in their own right."
"Except that they're all ten thousand pounds less wealthy now. As are you."
Eastling shrugged. "Sadly, not all investments go the way we might hope."
"That is a great deal of money."
The duke's dismissive gaze flicked over him. "I suppose it would seem that way to you."
"I'm certain it would seem that way to anyone. The count is French?"
"Yes, although he settled in Cornwall years ago. All three men eschew London and society." Another shrug. "I felt some measure of guilt for encouraging them to join in a venture that failed, but they knew the risks."
"I'll need their directions in Cornwall. If you'd write them down
by the end of the evening, that would do."
The duke's brows rose. "Very well. However, all three are currently traveling on the Continent."
"What of their families?"
"None are married, although Mr. Standish is a widower."
"Any sisters? Mothers?"
The duke's annoyance was clearly growing. "Neither Mr. Standish nor Mr. Tate have sisters, but both have brothers. Their mothers are deceased. The count has a sister who lives with their mother in France. And now, Mr. Mayne, I'm afraid I must see to my guests." The way he emphasized the word left no doubt that Gideon did not fall into that rarified category. "If you have any further questions, you'll need to schedule an appointment to see me." The duke turned on his heel and walked away.
Gideon watched him go. And again wondered if his deep dislike and suspicion of the duke was truly deserved or the result of Gideon's feelings for Julianne.
After making certain Julianne was still chatting nearby, Gideon approached Lord Walston, who proved much more cooperative than His Grace.
"Terrible about poor Lady Hart," Walston said.
"You were friends?"
Did something flicker in Walston's eyes? Before Gideon could decide, the viscount said, "Yes. I knew her husband very well. Awful tragedy, his death, and I know her brother, Penniwick, of course. Have you any leads yet in Lady Hart's murder?"
"Actually, I'm convinced that the guilty party will be taken into custody within the next two days."
Walston's eyes widened. "I say. That's good news."
"Yes. What can you tell me about the three gentlemen from your failed business deal, Count Chalon, Mr. Standish, and Mr. Tate?"
There was no missing Walston's surprise or confusion. "Well, I … I don't know anything about them really. Never met them. Friends of Eastling's, so you might ask him."
"It didn't concern you that you'd never met them?"
Walston shook his head. "No. It's not always possible to actually meet all the parties involved in every deal, you know. Eastling vouched for them, and they put up their money. That was good enough for me."
"You have one sister, I believe?"
Walston blinked. "You do ask the most unusual questions. Yes. She's visiting me from Dorset. Loving every moment of being in Town. Finds life on her husband's remote estate rather dull."
"Given the rash of crimes, I suggest you keep a close eye on her." Watching Walston carefully, he added, "Especially as the most recent victims have all been women in some way related to the gentlemen who were part of that particular failed business venture."
Walston blinked. Then frowned. "Have they? I say, I had no idea. Yes, yes, thank you. I'll be certain to watch over Celia." His frown deepened, and he looked around the room. "That is, if I can find her to begin with. Always wandering off, she is." His face brightened. "Ah, there she is. If you'll excuse me…" He gave a vague wave then headed off toward the opposite side of the room, and Gideon quickly lost sight of him in the crowd.
For the next two interminable hours Gideon kept his post by the pillar, maintaining his view of the room. He caught snippets of conversation, many of them about Lady Hart. The guests were clearly reveling in the gossip, enjoying the champagne, music, and dancing. But where was the duke? Gideon hadn't seen him since he'd walked away, telling Gideon to schedule an appointment. Odd, seeing as he was the host and would be announcing his imminent marriage very soon. Indeed, Gideon was surprised the announcement hadn't already been made. As much as he didn't want to hear it, dreaded doing so, part of him wanted it over with.
So, where the bloody hell was His Grace? Lifting the skirts of some other woman? A red haze seemed to blur Gideon's vision. Bastard. With a Herculean effort he tamped down the desire to search every room of the house until he found the duke, then beat him to a bloody pulp. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Walston in quite some time either. Or Penniwick. Haverly and Beechmore had seemed to disappear for a time as well. Damn crowded party. It was nearly impossible to keep account of everyone.
He allowed his gaze to drift back to Julianne. As she'd promised, she hadn't left his sight, a bittersweet blessing as it was nearly impossible not to stare at her every second. He watched her now, standing with her mother, who appeared displeased about something, which didn't surprise Gideon in the least. Had the woman ever been pleased about anything? Someone claimed the countess's attention, and she turned away from Julianne. It seemed as if a shudder ran through Julianne, and in the space of a heartbeat Gideon was at her side. Touching her arm, he drew her a few feet farther away from her mother. "Are you all right?" he asked in an undertone.
"I'm fine. Just felt a bit of a chill."
"Do you need a wrap?"
She offered him a smile. "No, thank you." Then she leaned just a bit closer… close enough for him to catch a tantalizing whiff of her delicious vanilla scent. "Stop glowering. Anyone watching will think I've made you angry."
He wiped his expression clean. "I wasn't glowering."
"Very well. You were merely frowning strenuously."
"Has anyone ever told you you're very cheeky?"
Amusement bloomed in her eyes, the first he'd seen all evening, and it filled him with a warmth he couldn't put a name to. "Never. I'm delighted you think so. I've always wanted to be a cheeky sort of girl."
He frowned. "I wasn't being complimentary."
"You most certainly were. And you're glowering again."
Again he smoothed out his features. "You're feeling better." On the surface, at least, although not deep down, he suspected.
"Talking to Sarah earlier helped. She is a good listener and a steadfast friend. Thank you for sending for her."
"You're welcome. I would—" He pressed his lips together to cut off his unguarded words. "Go back to your mother. I'm going to return to my post."
She stayed him by touching his arm. "What were you going to say, Gideon?"
For the space of a single heartbeat his gaze touched hers, and it took all his will not to touch her. Instead he forced himself to return to his pillar. Once there he drew in a much-needed deep breath, then resumed scanning the room. Almost immediately he saw the duke, who was just entering the drawing room. Once again he appeared slightly out of breath, and Gideon's hands fisted. He was torn between watching the doorway to see which woman would walk in and watching the duke, who approached the musicians. After several minutes passed, however, no one else had entered through the doorway His Grace had used, and the musicians struck up a waltz.
Gideon watched in an agony of futile jealousy as the duke escorted Julianne to the dance floor. Bastard didn't deserve to even touch her. Hands clenched, he recalled every moment in her arms as she'd taught him the dance—a skill he would never have the opportunity to share with her at a party.
He was vaguely aware of the other couples swirling around the floor, but his gaze remained attached to Julianne and her future husband. The duke was as smooth as Gideon had been clumsy, leading Julianne expertly around the room. And the way the man was looking at her…bloody hell, the bastard's eyes didn't look cold now. The heated glint in them made Gideon clench his teeth.
"Bastard is looking at her like she's candy, and he has a craving for sugar," muttered Logan.
Gideon's brows raised, and he slanted a look at Jennsen. The other man was staring at the dance floor, his face resembling a storm cloud. Well, bloody hell. Was Jennsen simply outraged on Julianne's behalf, or was there something more to this?
"Yes, but she is beautiful, and they're soon to be married—"
Jennsen's head snapped around so fast, Gideon swore he heard the man's neck crack. "Married?" he repeated, staring at Gideon. "Are you certain?"
Bloody hell. Could Jennsen be harboring an attraction for Julianne? If it weren't for the fact that it only served to increase Gideon's jealousy, he might almost feel sympathy toward him. "Yes. The duke is going to make the announcement tonight."
Logan frowned. "The duke? Why would he make the announcement?"
/>
Gideon discreetly sniffed, wondering if Jennsen might be foxed, but he didn't discern any scent of spirits about him. "Because the duke is the man Lady Julianne is going to marry."
"Lady Julianne?" For several seconds he stared at Gideon with an utterly blank expression. Then, to Gideon's amazement, color rushed into the American's cheeks. "Oh, um, yes. Of course." He gave a laugh that sounded decidedly forced. "If you'll excuse me, Mayne, there's something I must attend to." With no further explanation, he moved off. Gideon's attention returned to the dance floor, and he wondered who Jennsen had been talking about, because he clearly hadn't been referring to Julianne.
His gaze had just located her when the music ended. She and the duke stood near the French windows leading to the terrace at the far side of the room. With his jaw clenched, Gideon watched him raise her hand to his lips, then excuse himself. Daniel and Matthew and their wives stood nearby, as did Lady Emily and … was that Penniwick with her? Indeed it was.
Gideon looked at Julianne and stilled. She was looking at him. Bloody hell, looking at him as if he were the only man in the room. As if she were saying she wished she'd danced the waltz with him. Just as he wished he'd been the one to lead her to the dance floor.
Someone jostled him, yanking Gideon from his thoughts, and he realized with a jolt how many people stood between him and Julianne. Far too many. He couldn't effectively guard her with so much space, so many obstacles between them. He started making his way toward her. He noted her friends moving away from her, heading toward the punch bowl, but Julianne remained where she was, near the French windows.
Gideon frowned and, keeping his gaze on her, tried to move quicker through the crowd. He didn't like her standing by windows, but he couldn't tell her to move. What seemed like a sea of bodies still separated them. He saw her craning her neck. And then she saw him. Looked at him with those beautiful eyes. And he wondered if she could see his desire for her. His feelings for her. If everyone could see it. Because bloody hell, his love for her beat so strongly through him he wasn't certain he could hide it any longer.
SEDUCED AT MIDNIGHT Page 26
