“I do so hope it is him.” Demeter wrapped her arms about herself. “He always made me feel uneasy.”
“There is something arrogant about him,” Cassie agreed. “But I’m not certain I can see him as a vicious killer. Look, he takes out his handkerchief every time he shakes hands with someone. Surely he would not wish to dirty his hands with murder?”
“Not everyone is who they appear to be.” Aunt Sarah said this sagely, as though she had knowledge the rest of them did not.
Chastity rolled her eyes. “I think we have been investigating for long enough to know that, Aunt Sarah.”
“Yes, but I have lived much longer than you all, and I have been investigating for far longer too. You would be surprised at the hidden depths behind even the quietest of demeanors.”
Chastity directed the briefest glance at Demeter and her sister’s cheeks reddened, but she could not ask why as Lady Fenwick and Mrs. Crisp entered their circle to greet them all. Chastity let her expression harden. Both were awful gossips and had been instrumental in spreading lies of Eleanor.
“Did you hear?” Lady Fenwick asked, the huge jewels about her wrist clattering together so hard as she gestured wildly even Chastity heard it over the music. “Mrs. Ramsey has taken up with Mr. Holman.” She waved her fan briskly. “He is such a rake he shall discard her in but a moment, and we all know he only wants her for her money.”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Crisp agreed. “She cannot be too bright to have allowed him into her bed.” She smiled quickly. “Thank goodness your girls are more clever than that, Sarah.”
“My girls are cleverer than any woman in attendance here,” Aunt Sarah said brightly. “There really is quite the selection of dolts in this ballroom tonight.”
Lady Fenwick’s smile faltered. “Yes, well, none of us shall be surprised when he ends things with her much richer than before.”
“I am sure she shall have a lot of fun in the meantime!” declared Aunt Sarah.
“Uh. Yes. Of course.” Lady Fenwick’s cheeks pinkened and she dipped sharply then turned, leaving Mrs. Crisp hurrying to catch up.
“Not a single useful thought in that woman’s mind,” said Aunt Sarah, still smiling.
“Not a one,” Cassie agreed.
“Was she not the one who accused that poor young woman of thievery when it turned out she had gifted some jewels to a lover many years ago?” asked Chastity. “I recall Mama talking of it.”
Aunt Sarah tilted her head back and released a delighted laugh. “I completely forgot about that. Goodness, the nerve of the woman to speak on such matters. We had to investigate for her, and she still could not admit she was wrong, even after we proved the maid’s innocence.”
“It was just before I joined Mama’s investigative society,” Chastity told her sisters. “Mama was trying to put me off I think, but proving Lady Fenwick to be a dimwitted fool appealed to me far too much.”
Demeter’s eyes rounded and she made a furtive shushing movement. Chastity followed her sister’s gaze to find Valentine looming over her. Her heart skipped a beat. How much had he overheard?
∞∞∞
“What is it?” Chastity twisted slowly. “Did you find something out?”
“Not a damned thing.”
Valentine saw her gaze skip to his lips where he knew a wretchedly stupid half-smile twitched his lips.
“Then what is so amusing?”
Words tangled in his throat and ricocheted around his mind. How to even voice it all, he did not know. I love you was the most simple of them but it didn’t feel simple. He admired this woman more than anyone. She was no pampered duke’s daughter and she certainly cared about more than shoes.
“You and your sisters investigate matters regularly?” he asked.
Her gaze hardened and she folded her arms, sending her dance card swinging from her wrist. “Well, yes. And I do not see why it amuses you. We have—”
“It does not amuse me.”
“Oh, I imagine you think it scandalous—women taking matters into their own hands.”
“No.”
Her gaze thinned. “It is more than silly feminine matters. Why, we even—”
“I can imagine.”
She blinked a few times, her gaze scanning his expression. He hadn’t let it change. He still reeled from the revelation—but in the most excellent way. Chastity liked balls, and beautiful gowns, and shoes. But she also reveled in breaking conventions. How many other women of rank took it upon themselves to help not just their family members but other women in need?
Women investigators. It was certainly a novel idea. However, he’d seen her in action and had no doubt she did a far better job than he ever could. He didn’t need to hear her argument as to why she did it. He understood fully. She didn’t like how Society treated their women any more than he did.
And she was determined to do something about it.
If he’d thought himself in love before, he’d been wrong. Now he was boots over head for her.
“Are you not going to deride it? Or tell me I should not be doing such things?”
He shook his head, then reached for her dance card. She watched, mouth ajar as he lifted the thing slowly from her wrist, drew the silk ribbon down her white gloves, over each little fabric button and freed it. Then he tossed it across the floor. It skidded some distance before coming to a halt in a tangle of velvet curtains.
“What are you doing?”
He shrugged. “You lost your dance card. Now you do not know with whom you are to dance next.”
She put a finger to her lips and peered around. “I think it was—”
He took her wrist and led her onto the dance floor. “Me. It was me.”
Eyes wide, she allowed him to twirl her into position. He set her hand in his and another to her waist.
“A waltz,” she murmured. He saw her throat bob.
Timely indeed. He could not have planned it even if he wanted to though he’d overheard Aunt Sarah call for the scandalous dance, and no one would decline her request. He’d owe her greatly for the opportunity to hold Chastity close. Though he might have touched every inch of her naked body, there was something utterly sensual about having a hand to the curve of her waist, about being able to feel the lines of her stays in public. Even with a respectable gap between them, the air felt thick, as though they were joined by invisible strings.
“I should have told you,” she said as she settled her hand upon his shoulder.
“I understand why you did not.”
“You do?”
“Of course. It is highly unusual, after all.” He smirked. “And we did not exactly start on the right foot.”
“Actually, you started on my foot if I recall correctly.”
He chuckled. “You were the one not looking where you were going.”
The first strains of the music started up and she hesitated. “But, Valentine,” she protested. “You never dance.”
“I do not.” He led her confidently in the first steps.
Her gaze never left his. People would take note, of that he was certain. The mere fact he was dancing would draw attention, then add that to the fact he could not cease staring into those wide green pools that held so much he wanted to discover, and they would most likely be in the scandal sheets tomorrow as potential lovers.
He didn’t care. Let them talk. So long as he could have her in his arms, he would endure every ounce of gossip they had. And a woman like Chastity, so willing to throw away conventions to aid others, would not give a fig either.
His heart pounded hard. So hard he imagined it could be heard over the music. Where the other dancers were, he could not say. His world narrowed to only her and though there were words to be said, he did not want to break this moment. For now, it was perfection. Her in his arms, looking at him as though he was the only man she ever wanted to look at.
For the first time in his adult life, he wanted to stay at a ball forever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The r
ing of the front bell made all the women around the table straighten in their chairs.
Aunt Sarah gave a dramatic groan and tossed back the brown, sludge-like concoction that she swore by to cure all ills, then shuddered. Her gray hair hung wild and curly in front of her face, hiding the worst of the dark rings around her eyes. Chastity did not think the rest of them looked much better—not from the late night but from the amount of punch her aunt had imbibed last night. Chastity doubted even her miraculous drink would give Aunt Sarah a clear head.
“Who could be here at this hour?” grumbled Aunt Sarah.
Chastity picked at the buttered toast on her plate, unable to find the food interesting at all. For her, it had nothing to do with the punch. Her stomach had become a whirl of anticipation since the ball last night and it refused to slow or cease.
Could it be Valentine at the door? Surely he would know better than to call so early after a ball but perhaps he was eager to see her and with any luck, not just to discuss the investigation. Unfortunately, they had not discovered Julian’s killer. By all measures, their plan could be considered a failure. However, she was certain they had discovered something else.
Love.
The word filled her with a sense of awe, spreading through her and making her tingle down to her very toes. She loved him.
And she was certain he loved her too.
Why else shave and dance for goodness sakes? He loathed dancing. She could not be feeling this all alone. The trouble was, she did not know what they would do next. Did he want them to have a long-term affair? To court?
This was new territory. Even the butterflies she felt when she had met John could not match what she felt now. Against all reason, she loved that man. He’d tried his best to be disagreeable and gruff but there was no disguising the man he was underneath.
He was the man who understood her, who listened to her grievances with quiet compassion, who stopped wearing that awful cologne the moment she’d expressed a dislike for it. She did not think John had ever changed anything for her.
Demeter smothered a yawn with the back of her hand and Eleanor had her nose buried in a newspaper. With any luck, the ball had brought about some new gossip for the scandal sheets and there would be nothing to upset her. Even her brother Anton and his wife Eliza were quiet this morning, as though they were all held in reverence for Chastity’s new discovery.
Not that any of them would know of her love for Valentine. Not yet.
Not until she had figured out quite what she would do about it.
Footsteps by the door made her perk to attention. She managed to keep her gaze forward, focused on the elaborate mantel clock behind Demeter’s shoulder. If it was Valentine, she could not have her family see her practically panting to see him.
“A Miss Charlotte Summers,” the butler announced.
Chastity twisted in her seat and stood abruptly when Charlotte entered. Her cheeks were red, her hems grimy, and she had to pause to gulp down a breath before dropping into a deep curtsey.
“Forgive the intrusion, your lordship, my ladies.”
Chastity motioned for her to rise. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“I think I know who the killer is!”
Anton dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter. “Killer? What the devil is going on now?”
Chastity grimaced. They’d managed to keep their antics a secret from their father and brother and even Elizabeth until now. If Anton got involved, it could spell disaster. As much as he loved them all, he had some old-fashioned ideas about what ladies should do—despite the fact Elizabeth was hardly a wallflower.
“It’s nothing,” Demeter assured him. “J-Just a little game we’ve been playing.”
“This better not be like that whole debacle with Cassie and Luke,” he muttered.
“All is well, Brother,” Chastity said sweetly. “I must speak with Miss Charlotte, though.”
She left her brother muttering about disobedient women while Elizabeth scolded him, and her sisters offered reassurance. She heard Aunt Sarah threaten to box his ears if he continued being such a dolt.
Shaking her head, Chastity led Charlotte into the drawing room. The maid paused, peered around the pretty teal room, her mouth ajar, then gave herself a little shake.
“To think you left all of this to be a maid.” She gestured about the room.
“Who do you think the killer is?”
“Oh yes.” Charlotte pressed a hand to her chest. “So, this morning, I walked past her room...I’d risen early because you know what Mrs. Cooke is like when we have to clean the floors and I am such a heavy sleeper so I was determined I would not be late...”
“Past whose room?”
“Rose’s.”
Chastity lifted a brow. “You think she’s the killer?”
Charlotte nodded vigorously. “She was crying. Awful great big sobs. You could not help but hear them. I stopped by the door and I was about to walk in when I heard her say Julian’s name. Well, we all assumed Julian was courting someone, but we never realized it might be her.”
“She lied to me,” Chastity breathed. “She said she thought Julian was courting a girl from home. I did not even detect a flicker of emotion.”
Charlotte shrugged. “If she’s a killer, who knows what sort of person she is?” She clapped hands to her cheeks. “Good Lord, to think I’ve been sleeping with only a wall between me and a murderess.”
“Did she see you?”
She grimaced. “She did. I offered her a shoulder to cry on, but she shut the door on me.”
“She might know you are onto her.” Chastity nibbled on the end of a finger. “We should confront her before she has a chance to do anything else. She might run if she fears you will connect her to Julian’s death.”
“My thoughts exactly. Why do you think I sprinted all the way over here?”
“Sprinted?”
Charlotte grinned. “Very well, I took a hack.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
“You will not. This is the most fun I have had in forever.” Her face turned ashen. “That is to say...I’m not glad Julian was killed...” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh dear.”
Chastity put a hand to her arm. “I know exactly what you mean, do not fear. Now let us go and confront this killer.”
∞∞∞
“Lane, fetch me a cravat.”
Valentine might well have declared he was to jump into the Thames naked and intended to swim all the way to France. His valet’s mouth fell open, his eyes bulged. To give Lane credit, he recovered quickly and adopted a neutral expression.
“I shall have one ready for this evening.”
“No. I wish to wear one now.”
If he thought he’d flummoxed Lane before, he’d seen nothing. It was amusing really. He should do it more often. He smirked at his reflection in the long bedroom mirror that hung above the washstand while Lane flailed for a response.
Stubble had returned swiftly to his jawline after last night and he briefly debated shaving but there was only so much a man could do to win the favor of a woman. Besides, Chastity had declared a love for running her fingers through his beard.
With any luck, she might declare a love for him after today.
“I—” Lane took a step toward the door and paused. “For today?” he repeated.
“Yes, Lane,” Valentine intoned. “I need to make a visit.”
“Today?”
“Lane,” he snapped.
Lane straightened and gave a brief bow. “I shall need to fetch one from the laundry, my lord. I have none ready.”
Valentine ignored Lane’s accusatory tone. It was hardly his fault he needed to spruce himself up to visit Chastity. As much as he would happily consign all his cravats to live in the laundry forever, he could hardly turn up at the duke’s house cravatless, especially if her father or brother were there.
For the first time in a long time, he actually cared what they might think of him.<
br />
His gaze caught on the stupid smile lingering on his lips. He forced it into a straight line and found the corners of his mouth did not wish to obey. His thoughts were only of Chastity and dancing with her, holding her, practically claiming her as his own last night. If he’d been bold, he could have taken another dance and announced it to the world, but if he knew anything of Chastity, it was she was a woman with a mind of her own and he would force no decisions upon her.
No, it was better that he waited. Today, he would ask to court her and by the time the ton heard of their relationship he hoped they would be close to an engagement and little could be said of them. Of course there was his household to think of. There would be talk of Chastity’s deception.
But even that could not dampen his sprits. Nor the ridiculous smile haunting his lips. Really, if he was going to do this, he needed to cease looking an utter fool or Chastity was going to think him ready for the asylum.
Perhaps he was.
He just could not bring himself to care. Society, gossip, the whole ton, they could still go hang. But so long as he had Chastity on his arm, he would care even less for them, even if in their very proximity. Hell, he’d never admit it, but he’d almost enjoyed the ball last night.
Lane entered his bedroom, shutting the door abruptly, cravat in hand.
Valentine frowned at the man’s bewildered expression.
“I know I do not usually wear cravats, Lane, but it cannot be that distressing, surely?”
He opened his mouth, gestured to the door, then closed it. “I just saw...” He shook his head. “I believe I saw the maid who left—Chastity—with one of the other maids, my lord.”
“Chastity is here?”
Lane’s gaze narrowed, but he wisely did not comment on Valentine’s familiar tone. “They came in through the servant’s entrance and were in quite the hurry. But the maid, my lord...she wore...” He shook his head. “She wore a silk gown.”
He let his scowl deepen. Why would she be here, not in disguise, rushing through his home? The blasted woman never passed up an opportunity to change costumes.
For the briefest, sweetest moment, he’d believed her to be here for him but why would she not simply present herself at the door? The only answer he could conjure was that she’d discovered something.
Temptations of a Duke's Daughter (The Duchess's Investigative Society Book 2) Page 18
