Shaking his head to clear the dark mood that threatened, he bounded up the front steps, the door opening before he could reach it. The butler, Yeats, had a penchant for correctness in all things, and had probably been watching for him.
“Good afternoon, your lordship,” Yeats said as Christian stepped into the entryway.
Handing his walking stick and hat to the footman beside his reed-thin majordomo, Christian accepted a stack of letters from the butler.
“You have a caller, my lord. I have asked him to wait for you in the study.”
“Curious,” Christian said, “do you know who this mysterious visitor is?”
As if insulted by such a question, Yeats sniffed, then offered a card on a salver.
“Interesting,” Christian said, reading the card. “See that we aren’t disturbed.”
Making his way upstairs, Christian opened the door to his study to find Lord Thomas Leighton, late of His Majesty’s Army, sipping brandy and reading that morning’s Times.
Upon hearing his host enter, Leighton raised a graying brow. “About bloody time, Gresham. For a new earl you spend very little time counting your stacks of gold.”
Pouring himself a glass of brandy, Christian snorted. “That’s because I am constantly being hounded by a demanding old blighter from Whitehall who thinks I’ve got nothing better to do than chase Bonapartists.”
“You should tell that old blighter to leave you alone,” Leighton said, sipping his own brandy. “Or to get another hobby.”
“I’ll consider it,” Christian said with a wry smile. Taking a seat behind his desk, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I take it this isn’t a social call.”
“Hardly,” Leighton said, sitting up straighter. “I heard about the business at Mrs. Bailey’s last night. I want to hear your version of events.”
In detail, though without referencing his conversations with Maddie, Christian told the other man about the events leading up to Tinker’s murder the night before.
When he was finished, Leighton whistled. “I wish you’d been able to see who it was that confronted Tinker in the passageway.”
“So do I,” Christian said with a frown, thinking once more of how close Maddie had come to stumbling upon the murderer at work. “Unfortunately I didn’t see anyone leave the room with the exception of Lady Madeline, and I know she wasn’t the one to kill the fellow.”
“So you trust her?” Leighton asked. “Despite the fact that she’s Linton’s sister? We did have reason to think he might be the man the Citizen’s Liberation Society might have been planning to contact. Now that Tinker is dead, I wonder if Linton might not have been the CLS operative who was planning to contact Tinker.”
“You can trust Maddie, sir,” Christian said, then winced inwardly. “Lady Madeline, I mean.”
Leighton didn’t miss the quick correction. “Maddie, is it? Just how well do you know this chit, Gresham?”
“We move in the same social circles,” Christian said with what he hoped was indifference. “She is the cousin of my friend Winterson’s wife.”
“Is she, indeed?” Tretham asked. “I hope you won’t let that friendship compromise your duty. You would not be the first man to be taken in by a pretty face, son.”
“Lady Madeline is not involved in her brother’s activities,” Chritian bit out. “She was there to conduct research for a novel, for pity’s sake. It was foolish for her to convince her brother to take her there, but hardly criminal.”
Then, realizing he might have sounded less than respectful, he added, “My lord.”
Leighton remained silent, waiting for Christian to continue. It was a particularly effective interrogation technique. One that Christian had used himself a time or two. Realizing that his superior was giving him a chance to make amends, he thrust his hands through his hair, ruining his valet’s hard work.
“My apologies,” he said finally. “It would appear that I am perhaps more involved with the young lady than I like to admit. But I do assure you that she has nothing to do with the Citizen’s Liberaton Society. I don’t really think her brother is, either, though his behavior last night is certainly not that of an innocent man.”
“No, it isn’t,” Leighton said, rising. “I want you to find out one way or another, Gresham. And that might mean making that pretty face you’re fond of look very sad. Are you prepared to risk that?”
Christian stood as well. “I won’t like doing so, of course,” he said, “but I will do what’s necessary to ensure the country’s safety.”
“Good man,” Leighton said with a smile. “If we’re lucky, you won’t need to make your lady weep.”
Following his commander from the room, Christian sent up a prayer that he was right. Otherwise, he’d have to deal with a very angry, very distraught Maddie.
* * *
Fully prepared to spend the entirety of the Marchford ball sitting out every dance, Maddie was somewhat surprised to find herself in demand as a dance partner, thanks in no small part to her firsthand knowledge of what had happened at Mrs. Bailey’s the night before.
True, she had been less wont to sit out dances since her cousins had married, but even so she was certainly no toast. And Amelia Snowe, still smarting from her own failure to bring someone, anyone, up to scratch, had done her part to make sure that Maddie did not benefit too much from her cousins’ marriages. It was an open secret that Amelia had set her cap for the Duke of Winterson at the beginning of the season. And the fact that someone like Cecily Hurston, who, though a viscount’s daughter, was considered firmly on the shelf, had caught Winterson’s eye galled Amelia to no end.
Thus it was that Maddie found herself the recipient of Amelia’s glare from the opposite side of the room as she took her place next to Cecily once more.
“Someone should tell Amelia that scowling like that can lead to wrinkles,” she said to her cousin as she sipped the cup of punch Lord Dimsdale had brought her. “I should think someone as concerned with her appearance would know that.”
“Well, you were dancing with Lord Dimsdale, dearest,” Cecily said. “She’s had to lower her expectations since both Winterson and Deveril defected. But I understand that Dimsdale has a healthy income. Certainly enough to keep her in frocks.”
“I don’t think you’ve sat out a dance all evening,” Juliet said from her position next to Cecily. “You are certainly in looks tonight. Is that a new gown?”
“You know it is,” Maddie said with a grin. “It’s the one I bought the day that Deveril came with us to Madame Celeste’s.”
She was amused to see her cousin blush. That had been the day she convinced Deveril that he would need to take desperate measures if he wished to court Juliet. Which had, apparently, worked because it wasn’t too much later that the two had married.
“I was rather preoccupied that day,” was Juliet’s response. “But we were discussing you. That shade of rose is quite becoming. As is the cut.”
“It’s hardly my gown that accounts for the number of dance partners I’ve garnered this evening,” Maddie wryly. “It’s because they all wish to know what happened at Mrs. Bailey’s and they are all kicking themselves for not being there to witness it themselves.”
“They are a bloodthirsty lot, these gentlemen,” Cecily said with a frown. “They cannot stand the idea of missing out on the least bit of excitement. It’s quite sad, really.”
“Well, they aren’t hanging about Gresham peppering him with silly questions,” Maddie said resentfully. It had not escaped her notice that Christian had not been among those gentlemen seeking her out tonight.
“Speak of the devil,” Juliet said in a low whisper. “Here he comes now.”
And true enough, Gresham was approaching them from across the ballroom. He was in looks himself tonight. His light brown hair was slightly longer than was fashionable, but was arranged in artful disarray. And his black coat and breeches created a sharp contrast with the white of his shirt points and cravat. A diamond and
onyx pin winked from the folds of his cravat, which had also been expertly arranged.
“His man has obviously been speaking with Deveril’s,” Cecily said to her cousins. “Which is all for the better considering his own carelessness about such things.”
“Yes, Deveril says that Gresham grew tired of being harangued over his appearance so he agreed to let his valet take instruction from Deveril’s.”
“It has certainly paid off,” Cecily said. “Don’t you think so, Maddie?”
But Maddie was preoccupied with the man himself, who was striding toward them like a jungle cat on the prowl. Good Lord, she thought, is this what I’ve come to? Clichés about jungle cats? She turned her attention instead to Gresham’s expression, which was grim.
“Ladies,” Lord Gresham said as he bowed to the cousins. “I hope you won’t mind if I steal Lady Madeline for a word.”
Yes, they do mind. Maddie didn’t speak the words aloud, but she hoped that she conveyed the sentiment effectively. She wasn’t ready to be in his company again. Last night’s ordeal at Mrs. Bailey’s gaming hell had been harrowing, and not only because of Mr. Tinker’s murder. She’d seen Christian, or Gresham she corrected herself, in an entirely different light, and her newfound … awareness … was not at all comfortable or convenient.
“We don’t mind a bit,” Cecily said, breaking into Maddie’s thoughts. Her sideways glance at Maddie indicated that she was ready to send her off with Gresham whether Maddie liked it or not. “I’m sure you both have much to discuss.”
Maddie glared at her traitorous cousin. She’d deal with Cecily and her matchmaking schemes later.
Grudgingly she allowed Gresham to take her arm, and just as she had last night, she felt a thrill of excitement zing through her as she placed her hand on his arm. Trying to calm her senses, she realized that they were not headed toward the dance floor. But when she saw the direction in which he headed, Maddie had to fight the impulse to balk like a mule.
“It is quite warm here,” Gresham said, as if he hadn’t noticed his partner’s reluctance to continue on. “Let’s step outside for a breath of air, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s,” Maddie said, reconciling herself to the situation. Unable to stop herself, she reveled in the feel of hard muscle beneath his coat sleeve and his leashed power as he walked beside her.
Before she could succumb to temptation and inhale the scent of him, they arrived at their destination. For which Maddie was grateful.
The terrace beyond the dance floor was blissfully cool after the closeness of the ballroom. And though several other couples had also sought out the openness of the balcony, their conversation was a far cry from the loud chatter inside the house.
A kinetic silence fell over them as they walked, arm in arm, toward a small alcove created by a bower of spring peonies trained to grow tall and tower over a bench. Reaching the secluded nook, Gresham stepped back and allowed Maddie to take a seat while he remained standing. Her independent nature didn’t much care for the asymmetry of the arrangement, but some traitorous impulse within her did.
“You are recovered from last night’s ordeal?” he asked, his gaze boring into her.
There was an intensity in his question that puzzled her. He had seen her home last evening, after all, and assured himself that she was well. She had lain awake long after arriving home, unable to get the image of Mr. Tinker’s face as he breathed his last out of her mind. But eventually she’d drifted off. Not that she would reveal any of that to Gresham, of course.
“Yes,” Maddie responded. “Thank you for asking, my lord.”
His curt nod indicated that he’d expected as much. But it was Gresham’s next words that indicated to Maddie that her welfare was not his only reason for asking her here.
“I have heard from more than one source that you are claiming not to have witnessed anything about the man who killed Tinker last night,” he said briskly. “Is that correct?”
Relieved, and a little disappointed that the charged atmosphere between them had disappeared, Maddie nodded. “It’s nothing more than the truth. I didn’t see the man who killed Tinker.”
“How well did you know him?” Gresham asked. Then, perhaps realizing that it was an impertinent question, he added, “If you wish to tell me, that is.” Though it was clear that the amendment was only for courtesy’s sake.
Deciding that answering the question would harm no one, Maddie said, “I’ve known him as a friend of my brother’s for some years. Mama did not see him as the sort of person a young lady should spend a great deal of time with, however, so we were never in the same company above a dozen times.”
“It’s not like you to back down from a parental dictate,” Gresham said with a raised brow. “Did you obey her?”
Maddie bit back a huff of annoyance. “Of course I obeyed her. To be perfectly truthful, I found him a bit of a bore. All he talked about was horseflesh and racing. Not a favorite interest of mine.”
“What do you know of his friendship with your brother?”
This question stopped Maddie cold. “Why are you asking about Linton?” she demanded, though she knew the answer without asking.
Gresham looked as if he wished to evade the question, but said, “I don’t know if your brother had anything to do with his friend’s death, but it is a possibility. His disappearance doesn’t make him seem innocent.”
Before Maddie could protest further, he lowered himself to the bench beside her. At eye level now, he said, “I didn’t bring you out here to discuss your brother or his friends.”
Maddie was disconcerted once more by those intense eyes. “I wanted to tell you,” he went on, “that you are doing the right thing in telling everyone that you saw nothing last night.”
He took her gloved hand in his. Maddie tried and failed to ignore the frisson of awareness that vibrated through her.
“The last thing you need is to draw the attention of a killer,” Gresham said seriously.
“So you don’t think Linton did it?” Maddie heard herself ask. It was a good thing, she told herself, that he didn’t suspect her brother. A very good thing.
His lips tightened. “I didn’t say that,” Gresham admitted, making her stomach leap in fear for her brother. “I simply think that if the man who killed Tinker is not your brother, then you could do much worse than to let him know that you are not a threat.”
“If?” Maddie demanded, pulling her hand from his grasp, looking Gresham boldly in the eye. “I know for a fact that my brother didn’t kill his friend. He might be a gambler and an occasional drunkard, but he would never do something so reprehensible. Never.”
“Easy,” Gresham said, his voice soothing. “I know you love your brother. It does you both credit. But I must tell you that this is a more complicated matter than it appears on the surface. And until the authorities can learn just why Tinker was killed, you must prepare yourself for the cloud of suspicion to hover over your brother for a bit. If he is innocent, as you claim, then it will just as quickly move on to implicate the real killer.”
“I don’t understand,” Maddie said, frustrated by his lack of candor. What did Gresham know of the matter anyway? And why did he suddenly appear so grave? It was unlike him, she realized. He was always given to joking and laughing. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him as serious as he’d been these past two days.
“I cannot tell you the full story,” Gresham said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But your brother is involved with some very bad characters. Men who would think nothing of killing a man for any number of reasons.”
“Then they are the ones who killed Mr. Tinker,” Maddie said with what she hoped was convincing authority. “Not Linton.”
“It’s too early to say,” Gresham admitted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. Maddie couldn’t help but notice how the shift in position displayed his muscles beneath the fabric of his evening coat. “What I do know is that you are well out of the business. And I would suggest that w
hen next you speak to your brother that you caution him against the company he keeps.”
“As if that would make a difference,” she said before she could stop herself. Feeling disloyal, she went on, “That is not to say that James is stubborn, my lord.”
Gresham laughed softly. “I’m afraid you won’t fool me on that score. I know all too well that stubbornness runs in your family.”
Since it was true, Maddie couldn’t be too angry over the assessment. Even so, she wondered whether he was serious about her brother’s intimates. “Do you really think that one of Linton’s friends might have something to do with Tinker’s death?”
“I do, indeed,” Gresham said seriously. “And I would be pleased if you could find some way to keep out of the company of your brother and his friends until this matter is settled.”
Christian watched as Maddie’s brow furrowed with concern for her blackguard of a brother.
“Are you quite serious?” she asked, her color rising in her agitation. Feeling like a lecher for wondering, he speculated about whether the blush extended farther down than the bodice of her gown revealed. He hadn’t even allowed himself to entertain those kinds of thoughts for Maddie in the past, but once the barrier in his mind against them had crumbled at the Wexford ball, he’d had the devil of a time controlling them.
“I cannot simply abandon Linton to whatever it is that these people mean to do to him,” Maddie went on. “He’s my brother!”
Which was the trouble, Christian thought. She was loyal to a fault and it was unlikely that she’d consider her own safety as a reason for keeping out of the killer’s way. Whoever he might turn out to be.
In an effort to smooth things over, and to remind her where his own loyalties lay, he said, “I do not mean that you should abandon him, Lady Madeline. I only wish for you to protect yourself. Your brother is a grown man and can fend for himself should it come to that, but you are—”
How to Entice an Earl Page 6
