“So your brother has gone on to follow in your father’s footsteps,” he said finally. He thought back to the scene last night at the Marchfords’, and was glad he hadn’t informed Maddie of what he’d seen. The knowledge would only distress her further.
When she looked up, he saw moisture in her eyes. “I greatly fear he has. Which is why I have to ensure that he does not become any more involved in this business over Tinker’s death than he already is.”
Though he now understood her reasons for wishing to rescue Linton, remembering the man’s inebriation last night and his sickly pallor this morning, Christian very much feared that it could be too late for Maddie to save her brother. From either his gambling or his drinking.
If he had a chance to do things over again, he would do his damnedest to shield his sister Clarissa from the danger that led to her death, and much as he wished to protect Maddie, he could not fault her for the worries for her brother that drove her to risk her own reputation.
“I’d better get you home,” he told her, not meeting her eyes lest she see the approval there. He might understand her need to shield Linton, but he could not give her his support while she was intent on putting herself in danger.
He’d lost one woman he cared for, and he was damned if he’d lose another without putting up a fight.
* * *
When Maddie returned home it was to find that Juliet had called in her absence and was waiting for her in her sitting room.
“What brings you here?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of tea and removing her gloves. “I thought you were supposed to go shopping with Cecily this morning.”
“I was,” Juliet said, sipping from her own cup. “But Cecily wasn’t feeling well this morning so we decided to postpone our trip. Which is just as well since it would be more fun if the three of us could go together.”
“You know I would love to. I simply couldn’t go this morning. I had an errand.”
“Yes, that’s what I heard,” Juliet said, unable to conceal a grin. “I heard from Alec that he saw you with Gresham in Green Park.”
“How the devil do you know that already? It hasn’t been more than fifteen minutes since we left the park!” Really, was it too much to ask that she have one morning to herself without half the ton gossiping about her and with whom she was seen?
“Come, Maddie,” Juliet chided, “you know better than to try to hide anything in this town. Someone is always watching. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if our servants had a network of their own to carry tales to one another.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it, precisely,” Maddie groused. “I simply accepted a ride home with Gresham in his phaeton instead of taking a hackney.”
“Interesting.” Her cousin’s green eyes twinkled. “Because it sounded to me as if the two of you were deeply engrossed in conversation in the park. Alone.”
Despite her efforts to school her features, Maddie was unable to prevent the blush from creeping into her cheeks. Even so, she tried to deny Juliet’s implication. “We happened to be going in the same direction and he offered to drive me home. In an open carriage. We stopped in the park to discuss … um … Mr. Tinker’s death. It was all perfectly innocuous, I assure you.”
“Oh, I believe you,” Juliet said with a raised brow. “Perfectly innocuous. Which is why you are blushing, of course.”
“I wish you would stop teasing me, Juliet,” Maddie said, unable to keep up the pretense any longer. “My relationship with Gresham … or rather this morning’s encounter was innocuous. I went to visit Mr. Tinker’s widow and unexpectedly met Gresham there.”
Juliet’s face lost all playfulness. “Oh, Maddie, I am so sorry. I had no idea. Why didn’t you ask Cecily or me to come with you? We would have been more than happy to.”
Feeling churlish for her pique, Maddie sighed. “I know you would have come with me, but I felt it best to go alone, since I do not even know Mrs. Tinker and I did not wish to intrude upon her more than was necessary.”
“But you did go,” Juliet pointed out. “You must know that you had nothing to do with that man’s death. Don’t you?”
“I do,” she responded, shaking her head to clear the memories of that night from her mind. “But I did wish to see her and offer her my sympathies. And I thought perhaps that she would wish to hear more about her husband’s last moments. I underestimated her anger about the whole situation, I fear.”
“Anger?” her cousin asked. “Why should she be angry with you? You were hardly responsible for his death.”
“She was angry at Linton,” Maddie explained, remembering with mortification just how Mrs. Tinker had railed against her brother. “She holds him much to blame for her husband’s death.”
“Well, Linton can hardly have kept a grown man from going to a gaming hell. And it’s not as if he killed Mr. Tinker, after all.”
“True,” Maddie said. “We don’t know what sort of influence Linton might have had over the man. But I will learn it from him at the soonest opportunity. If for no other reason than to warn him that Gresham is looking into the matter for the Home Office.”
“Gresham?” Juliet demanded. “Is that why he was there that night? I vow I did find it odd to hear that he was in a place like Mrs. Bailey’s. It’s no small secret that he hasn’t much interest in gaming.”
“Well, he was there investigating something,” Maddie confirmed. “And he is definitely interested in Mr. Tinker’s murder. That was how I came to ride home with him. He came upon me on Mrs. Tinker’s doorstep.”
“Really?” Juliet pulled the tea tray closer and took a macaroon. “So he was following you?”
“Hmm, that hadn’t occurred to me,” Maddie admitted. “I suppose I thought he was there for his own reasons.”
“Well, perhaps his own reasons have something to do with looking out for you,” Juliet said slyly. “Because he likes you.”
“Lord spare me from happily married ladies hell-bent on matchmaking,” Maddie said with a sigh.
But her cousin only laughed.
“Changing the subject,” Maddie said pointedly. “I have come up with an idea that I would like to get your opinion about.”
At Juliet’s nod, Maddie said, “It’s just this. Since my brother was so foolish as to bring suspicion on himself by fleeing the scene, I would like to ensure that the blame for Tinker’s death does not fall on him. Being foolish is certainly a bad thing, but it is not a crime.”
“You can’t think that Gresham blames your brother for Mr. Tinker’s death. From what you’ve told me of who was there that night, it could have been any one of them.”
“I don’t know what Gresham thinks since he refuses to tell me.” Maddie tried not to sound as hurt over that as she felt. “And I would not wish him to compromise his position with the Home Office, anyway.”
“It is a muddle, isn’t it?” Juliet asked, her green eyes sympathetic. “So, what will you do?”
Her cousin’s matter-of-fact acceptance of Maddie’s decision to involve herself in the investigation warmed her heart. Juliet might be cautious, but she was always supportive and Maddie was grateful for it.
“I mean to become friendly with the same set that Linton and Mr. Tinker belong to.”
“You mean the fast set?” Juliet asked, her eyes wide. “Your mama will have a conniption!”
“I know,” Maddie said with an unrepentant grin. “I won’t follow their every scandalous pursuit, of course. I will simply become friendly with them. Speak to them at ton parties. Perhaps secure an invitation or two to some of their more exclusive gatherings.”
“What can I do to help?” Juliet asked, grinning herself.
“I would like you to go to Madame Celeste’s with me,” Maddie said, relieved that Juliet had agreed to help her. She would have put her plan into place without her cousin’s help, but knowing she had an ally made the prospect less daunting.
“Of course,” Juliet said with a decisive nod. “I suspect Cecily is feeling be
tter by now. Let’s stop at Winterson House on our way to Madame’s.”
Maddie gave her cousin an impulsive hug. “You are the best.”
“I should certainly hope so,” Juliet said, hugging her back.
They were on their way downstairs to call for the carriage when a footman met them with a note for Maddie. Recognizing her brother’s handwriting, she ripped it open and quickly scanned the hastily penned missive.
At her muffled curse, Juliet gasped. “What is it?”
“It’s Linton,” Maddie said, her voice sharp. “The featherwit has left town until the investigation into Mr. Tinker’s death has died down.”
“What will you do?” Juliet asked.
“I will continue with my plan,” Maddie said firmly. “He might be foolish enough to think that he can defend himself from afar, but I am not.”
Eight
“Oh, please do tell me again about the intricacies of the Waterfall,” Christian said to Deveril, his eyes gleaming with mock enthusiasm. Letting his pose drop, he continued, “Really, Dev, when will you get it into your excessively thick head that I have little to no interest in fashion?”
“So long as you keep attending social functions in monstrous waistcoats like that,” Alec gestured with a moue of disgust at Christian’s blue peacock-embroidered waistcoat, “I will continue to attempt to teach you some kind of taste. It’s the least I can do. As your friend.”
“What’s wrong with this one?” Christian asked, perplexed. He’d chosen it himself, against the judgment of his valet, because it reminded him of Madeline’s eyes. Though he’d never tell her, or Deveril, that.
“If you don’t know,” Deveril said with a long-suffering sigh, “then I can’t begin to tell you.”
They’d been discussing Lord Deveril’s favorite topic—or rather Lord Deveril was discussing while Christian affectionately mocked him, in that way that gentlemen have of ribbing one another—at the Harbaugh ball for some time when a prickle on the back of his neck alerted him to a ripple in the crowd.
“What’s amiss?” he asked, turning to where the crush of guests had begun to accumulate at the entrance to the drawing room. “Has Prinny arrived at the last minute?”
Deveril frowned. “I don’t think so. People would be falling over themselves to toady him rather than crowding round. Probably just some young lady trying to cause a scandal. There’s one at every gathering, it seems. If they can’t make their mark by behaving properly, they take it into their heads that causing a ruckus will get them noticed.”
“When in fact it merely causes their mamas to tighten the leash,” Winterson said, stepping forward. He’d been hovering over Cecily ever since they’d discovered she was with child. And this evening was no exception. “I suspect it’s a tradition that’s been around as long as there have been young ladies with mamas.”
With his extra height, Winterson craned his neck over the crowd pressing forward. His soft curse sent a frisson of dread down Christian’s spine. “What is it?” he asked.
“You’re not going to like it,” Winterson said with a scowl. “I’m pretty sure I don’t like it, either.”
“Is it Cecily?” Deveril asked, his blond brows drawing together.
“No,” Winterson said, as the crowd performed a maneuver much like Christian thought the Red Sea must have done, and parted right down the middle to reveal the figure standing boldly in the entrance to the Harbaugh ballroom. “It’s not Cecily.”
No, it certainly wasn’t. The air in the room seemed to evaporate and Christian felt the need to run a finger under his suddenly too-tight neck cloth. Standing at the head of the room, wearing a blue gown that was far more revealing than any debutante had the right to wear, her hair arranged in a fashion that seemed to evoke the bedchamber, was Lady Madeline Essex, flanked by her cousins.
“What the hell is she thinking?” he muttered, stepping forward, unsure if he was going to read her a thunderous scold or kiss her senseless in public.
A hand on his arm stayed him.
“Don’t make it worse than it is,” Winterson cautioned. “Right now, it’s just a gown that’s a bit too revealing. If you march over there with that look on your face it turns into a scene that will be talked about for weeks.”
“They’ll talk about this for weeks as it is,” argued Christian. “What the hell is the matter with her? Does she mean to ruin her reputation entirely?”
“There is very little that Maddie does without careful deliberation,” Deveril said thoughtfully. “I doubt that this entrance is any different. She probably has a reason, however misguided.”
Christian felt his jaw clench painfully—though not as painfully as the tightening of his groin—as he watched Maddie slink toward them, flanked by her cousins. It was as if she were possessed by the spirit of a courtesan. A very skilled one, at that.
What had happened to the no-nonsense young lady he’d argued with yesterday?
“Gentlemen,” Maddie said in a sultry tone that did things to him. “I hope you’re having a pleasant evening.”
“Interesting, certainly,” Deveril said with a wry smile. “The gown is exquisite, Mads. If a bit … bold.”
“I helped her choose it,” Juliet said with a glance at her husband from beneath her lashes. “In fact, I ordered one just like it.”
“Which you will not wear in public,” Deveril said with what might be termed a growl. Then realizing his rudeness he added, “No offense, Maddie.”
Maddie laughed, her tousled curls brushing against her bare neck in a way that made Christian wish devoutly to do the same. “None taken, my lord.” In a low voice she added, with a flash of humor, “I marvel that I managed to wear it in public myself.”
“Then why the bloody—” Christian said, his voice raised, before five voices shushed him. “All right, all right.” He waved them off. “Why,” he began in a lower voice, “did you wear it? Have you no care at all for your reputation? Every man in this room is staring at your…” He paused, searching for a polite term, and settled on, “Body.”
Laughing loudly as if he’d been relaying a risqué anecdote rather than scolding her, Maddie said, “Oh, Lord Gresham, you are so amusing.”
In an undertone, she added, “Because I needed to make a spectacle of myself in order for Lady Emily Fielding to let me into her inner circle.”
“What?” Christian bit back a curse.
At his outburst, Maddie straightened her spine. “I told you I planned to find out who killed Mr. Tinker. Have you not heard the talk tonight? They all think Linton did it.”
“I don’t see how you could have heard any talk given that since your arrival you’ve been the topic on everyone’s tongue,” Christian bit out. He had the urge to cover up Maddie’s form with his coat, toss her over his shoulder, and escape the Harbaugh house with her.
“Children,” Winterson warned, “you might wish to carry on this conversation elsewhere. You are being watched.”
Christian looked up to see that his friend was right. All eyes in the room were on them. Even the dancers seemed to watch them from the dance floor.
“Fine,” he said, “Maddie, come with me.”
“Certainly not,” she said with a frown. “I am engaged for the next set.”
“Then give me your dance card and I’ll take the next dance,” he barked. “It’s a waltz, so we’ll be able to talk.”
“I am sorry,” she said without any sort of remorse he could see. “I’m afraid I don’t have a dance open all evening. I hope you’ll excuse me.”
And with that, she turned to young Lord Kenneth Upham, whose not-so-veiled glances at Maddie’s prominently displayed attributes made Christian wish he’d brought his dueling pistols to the ball, and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.
“Damn it,” Christian said under his breath. As if he didn’t already have enough to worry about, what with Leighton breathing down his neck for information on Tinker’s death, and Linton’s abrupt disappearance from L
ondon, he also had to protect Maddie from her mad plan to clear her brother’s name.
“If it’s any consolation,” Winterson said with a sympathetic clap on the shoulder, “I don’t think her parents will stand for this one bit. So she might begin and end her notoriety in this one night.”
And true enough, the Countess of Essex stood on the opposite side of the ballroom looking like thunder. Lord Essex was, as was his custom, in the card room. He would doubtless be informed of his daughter’s behavior later.
“I wish I could believe that,” Christian said, ignoring the avid gazes Maddie’s cousins trained on him. Let them think whatever they wished. He had no intention of tying Maddie to him. But he’d be damned if he would allow her to ruin herself while he could do something to stop her.
The trouble, was, of course, determining just how to do that.
* * *
Maddie was still fuming over Christian’s response to her attire as she walked on the arm of Mr. George Fullerton to the refreshment room. She’d managed to avoid him—and her parents—by dancing every set, which was an unusual occurrence for her. And though she’d chatted a bit with Lady Emily Fielding, she’d not, as yet, gotten close enough to that lady to exchange more than a few words with her. She had to figure out how to ingratiate herself without alerting Lady Emily to her scheme to determine if somone in her set was responsible for Mr. Tinker’s murder.
“Here we are,” Mr. Fullerton said, in his bluff, pleasant way. He was handsome enough, Maddie supposed, if one were interested in that brawny sort of fellow. For her part, she preferred a bit more wit than brawn, but Mr. Fullerton was a means to an end anyway. Besides, he’d not very subtly suggested several times over the course of their dance that they retire to one of the antechambers of the Harbaughs’ town house and get to know one another a bit better. She wished to catch Lady Emily’s notice, but not at the risk of her total ruination. A bit of scandal here or there would be all right. A total scandal, neither she, nor, she surmised, her parents, were willing to risk. “Ratafia. I don’t know how you ladies stomach the stuff,” Fullerton went on, handing her a glass of amber liquid, “but I suppose it’s the thing, eh?”
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