by Olivia Drake
“Someone told you about my military service.” He frowned at Jocelyn, Blythe, and then Fisk, but they shook their heads. Lindsey shrugged as if to say it hadn’t been her, either.
“Long ago, you a very lonely boy,” Kasi continued, tracing the long line that bisected his palm. “No parents, no family, no love.”
Thane stiffened. How could she possibly have known about those harsh years with Uncle Hugo—unless Fisk had been gossiping. He aimed a glare at Fisk, but his old nurse held one hand to her fleshy cheek, her expression openly mystified.
Kasi went on, “You a man of great passion, like the god Shiva. You destined for one love . . . only one . . . and soon she will be yours.”
His gut tightened involuntarily. Lindsey was watching him, her lashes half-lowered, her expression unreadable. The moment spun out into an eternity. For once, he wanted her to look him straight in the eye, so he could see into her mind and fathom her thoughts.
Then he realized the girls were giggling behind their hands, glancing from him to Lindsey and whispering to each other.
Thane felt the creep of a dull red heat up his neck. He snatched back his hand from Kasi. “Rubbish. This is naught but a parlor game.”
Seemingly unperturbed, the Hindu woman pressed her palms together and bowed. “I pray to Shiva you find your destiny, sahib.”
Destiny be damned. Too bad she hadn’t foretold something useful, such as the identity of the Serpentine Strangler. Or where the villain would strike next. That information would have been well worth his while, rather than some claptrap about love.
He stepped toward his ward. “Jocelyn, I came here for a reason. I would like to take you out for a drive tomorrow afternoon.”
Nothing could have been better designed to divert her attention. Her face suffused with radiance, she clasped her hands to her bosom. “Truly?”
The glow in her eyes made him regret never having taken her on an outing before now. “Be ready right after luncheon tomorrow. We’ll take a turn around the city in the landau so you can see the Green Park and St. James’s Palace.”
“Can Blythe and Lindsey come along, too?”
“What a capital notion!” Blythe said. “I’d like that very much!”
Lindsey directed a warning frown at her sister. “No, Mama will never approve. And you’ve lessons tomorrow, remember?”
“But that isn’t fair—”
“I’m sorry, you know it isn’t possible.” Her gaze flitted to Thane in what struck him as a strangely calculating look. “I, however, would be pleased to accept the invitation.”
Chapter 13
Early the following afternoon, Lindsey peeked out into the upstairs corridor to make sure no one was around. Only then did she step out of her bedchamber. It was vital to avoid being waylaid by her mother, who at breakfast had announced a schedule of afternoon calls to several of society’s top hostesses. If all went well, Lindsey intended to escape the duty visits.
For that purpose, she needed to keep a watch out the front window.
She hastened down the marble stairs to the first floor, which was usually deserted at this time of day. The series of chambers along the ornate corridor was designed for entertaining large crowds. To her right loomed the vast ballroom, dim from the drawn draperies, while to her left lay the state dining chamber, which could seat well over a hundred guests. Only a few sounds disturbed the silence: the faint patter of her shoes, the ticking of a clock in the gold drawing room, and the muted buzz of conversation drifting up from somewhere on the ground floor.
She tiptoed to the filigreed iron railing of the grand staircase and risked a quick peek into the entrance hall. A blue-liveried footman stood on duty by the double front doors. Unfortunately, the talkers were out of sight, although the pair sounded like a man and a woman. Was it Mama and Papa? Or gossiping servants?
Their words were too muffled for Lindsey to discern—yet an inexplicable tingle of nervousness prickled her skin.
She ducked into the larger of the two drawing rooms and hastened to the bank of windows that overlooked the square. Parting the heavy brocade draperies, she peered down through the wavy glass at the street. Ladies and gentlemen strolled the pathways of the parklike square, while the occasional fine carriage trundled along the cobblestones.
She could see no black landau carrying Mansfield and a young blond girl. Then again, it was a full quarter hour before the appointed time.
What if he rescinded his offer to take his ward on an outing? Jocelyn would be crushed. Lindsey wished she had more faith that he would hold to his promise. But her suspicions of him ran too deep. She of all people knew he could not be relied upon to behave as a gentleman of honor.
Let me make you happy, Lindsey. Trust me, darling.
A blush suffused her from head to toe. She had spent the night tossing and turning, burning with the carnal memory of his embrace and her own ardent response to it. At first she had capitulated to the kiss as a means to delay him from going upstairs. She hadn’t wanted him to find out about the treatment that Kasi was giving to Jocelyn’s withered limbs for fear he would forbid it. Yet Lindsey’s acquiescence had altered swiftly into illicit pleasure, especially when he had slipped his hand inside her bodice and stroked her bare breasts. And sweet heaven, she’d been spellbound when he’d reached beneath her skirts, his fingers stopping short of touching her in the most shamefully wicked manner.
The memory made her weak all over, and she caught hold of the window frame to steady herself. In a very short time, Mansfield had made her crave his caresses. She had been wild for him, ready to follow her reckless desires wherever he might lead her. Then a sobering thought had cut through her passion: Was this how he had charmed those maidservants before he’d strangled them? By seducing them with his skillful touch? In horror, she’d snatched up the letter opener and struck at him.
You enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.
She ought to be angry at Mansfield for making such a blunt statement. It was hardly gallant of him to point out her embarrassingly wanton response to his touch. However, Lindsey had never been one to mince words or deny the truth. In the heat of the moment, she had wanted his seduction with all her heart and soul. How had he overcome her defenses when she had believed herself immune to male persuasion? When she had every reason in the world to mistrust him?
Those relentless questions had nagged at her for half the night until at last she’d fallen into a fitful sleep. With the light of day, she was no closer to finding any answers. The Earl of Mansfield remained an enigma to her. A part of her wanted to believe him to be an admirable man, yet another part—her logical half—fretted about the mounting evidence that pointed to him as the Serpentine Strangler.
On the night they’d met, she had caught him escorting a comely maidservant into the study at Wrayford’s house, presumably to engage in an illicit tryst.
A few nights later, she’d witnessed his flirtation with Lady Entwhistle, who had employed the first Strangler victim.
Then there had been the matter of the clipping about the murders that she’d found in his desk drawer. If he wasn’t guilty, what possible reason could he have for keeping the news article?
Most damning of all, Nelda had vanished from his house. Jocelyn had said that at the same time as the maid had disappeared Mansfield had taken an overnight trip.
Where had he gone? To dispose of Nelda’s dead body?
Lindsey tightened her grip on the window frame. Leaping to conclusions wouldn’t solve the mystery. She had to probe deeper to uncover the truth, and this outing was a prime opportunity. She needed to shadow the earl in the hopes that he might be tricked into dropping a clue about his culpability.
And she was concerned for Jocelyn’s safety, too.
Thus far the murderer had shown an affinity for lower-class women, yet it would be a dangerous mistake to underestimate him. If Mansfield was indeed the killer, then he must be made to realize that Lindsey intended to keep a close watch on Jocelyn.
It was the only way to protect the girl from harm.
Footsteps approached from the passageway. Lindsey spun around to see her mother step into the doorway of the drawing room. Mrs. Edith Crompton looked trim and fresh in a green-and-white-striped gown, her russet hair stylishly arranged.
“Ah, there you are, my dear.” Smiling, she playfully shook her forefinger. “Naughty girl, you were to wait in your chamber for my summons.”
The bantering note in her voice served as a warning to Lindsey. It blunted the surprise as Lord Wrayford stepped into sight just behind Mrs. Crompton.
Nevertheless, Lindsey’s heart plummeted. This was a complication she had hoped to avoid. It was obvious from their smirks that the two of them had something planned. Was it Wrayford and her mother that she’d heard talking downstairs earlier?
Wrayford looked entirely too confident as he swaggered forward to bow over her hand. He was the consummate dandy in a pale yellow coat with a frothy cravat and tan breeches. As usual, he addressed her bosom rather than her eyes.
“Miss Crompton, you are a vision of beauty. I am most delighted to find you alone, without a crowd of suitors. May I remind you, you owe me a drive in the park.”
She extracted her hand from his. “I’m afraid you’ve arrived at an inconvenient time.”
His gaze snapped to her face. “Sorry?”
“My schedule is rather full today. Perhaps you could return another day.”
“Lindsey!” her mother exclaimed, rushing forward to join them. “Such rudeness is not to be borne. You must apologize to your guest and accept his invitation at once.”
Lindsey firmed her lips. She resisted the urge to peek out the window in the desperate hope of seeing Mansfield drive up to the house. Not, of course, that his arrival would matter one whit now. Judging by the determination on Mama’s face, there would be no dissuading her from playing the matchmaker.
In bitter frustration, Lindsey realized she’d been outmaneuvered. Her own wishes were for naught. She would have to do as her mother wanted. The last thing she needed was to waste the afternoon in the company of a colossal bore like Wrayford.
Unless . . .
An idea sprang into her mind, a plan that would enable her to investigate the murders while placating her mother at the same time. Feverishly Lindsey considered all aspects of the scheme. It might just work. As the old adage went, every dark cloud had a silver lining.
Edith Crompton stood beneath the grand portico and watched as Lord Wrayford helped Lindsey up into his smart yellow phaeton. The girl had been rebellious at first yet ultimately had acquiesced. A sense of deep satisfaction filled Edith. At last her long-held dreams were coming to fruition. She must make certain there were no further impediments to a betrothal between Lindsey and Lord Wrayford.
Nothing would cement her position in society more than having her middle daughter marry the heir to the Duke of Sylvester. The previous year, Portia had wed a mere viscount, having scorned the hand of a duke amid a firestorm of scandal. Edith was determined to prevent any such event from happening this time. To that end, she had taken a bold step today. She had summoned Lord Wrayford and struck a bargain with him. If he was able to coax Lindsey into an engagement within the next month, Edith would provide him with a bonus payment in addition to Lindsey’s enormous dowry.
Considering the pitiful state of his finances, Wrayford was in full agreement with her proposal. Any slight misgivings Edith felt were vanquished by the thought of the enhanced status the family would gain as a result of the grand connection. Unfortunately, George wouldn’t approve of her manipulative tactics—he was very protective of their daughters—which was why he need never learn all the particulars.
A flurry of movement from behind her distracted Edith. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Kasi coming out of the house. A thickset figure clad in bright yellow silk, the old Hindu woman lumbered past Edith and headed toward the phaeton.
Edith seized the ayah’s arm, grabbing her from behind in such a way that it wouldn’t be apparent to any watchers. “Stop,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Kasi tugged at her hold. “Missy need protection.”
“Nonsense. It’s perfectly acceptable for them to take an unchaperoned drive to the park.”
“He is bad man.”
The ayah made another attempt to wrench free, but Edith had learned a few tricks of her own during her hardscrabble youth. She dug her fingers into the soft area beneath the woman’s arm. “Don’t be absurd. And stop fighting me. You’ll make a spectacle before all the neighbors.”
Then it was too late for any interference as Lord Wrayford picked up the ribbons and the phaeton set off down the cobbled street. Cognizant of any watching eyes, Edith released the servant. A few pedestrians strolled the pathways of the square, but thank heavens, it didn’t appear that anyone had noticed her little tussle with Kasi.
The Hindu fixed her with a hard stare, and the accusation in those inscrutable brown eyes shook Edith. She was well aware that the woman knew too much about her and George and their time in India. That was why Edith had brought Kasi to England, where she could be watched closely. The past must be left buried lest the family suffer dire consequences.
Edith would never, ever allow that to happen. She had not achieved entry to high society without having strength of will.
“Follow me,” she told Kasi. “I want a word with you in private.”
But no sooner had Edith turned toward the house when she caught sight of a landau heading down the street on the opposite side of the square from where Lord Wrayford’s carriage had disappeared. Something made her pause to observe its approach.
A coachman sat on the high seat, driving a matched pair of blacks. With a shock, Edith recognized the gentleman riding in the back. Her sharp eyes could just make out his boldly handsome, scarred face. A young woman, bundled in blankets against the cool spring weather, perched beside him.
Edith amended her order to Kasi: “Go to my boudoir at once. I’ll see you there shortly.”
The Hindu bowed and disappeared into the mansion. Edith proceeded inside as well, for the earl must be coming here to call and she did not wish for their conversation to take place outside on the steps. She instructed the footman on duty in the entrance hall to send any visitors to her in the green sitting room.
Who was the girl with Lord Mansfield? His ward?
Pursing her lips, Edith headed for the chamber down the corridor, her footsteps ringing on the marble floor. If he was intending to introduce Lindsey to his ward, then he must be very serious indeed about winning her hand. And there were already signs that Lindsey harbored a preference for him.
No wonder the little minx had been watching out the front window of the drawing room. Lindsey must have been intending to sneak out of the house to join him. She had taken a shine to Lord Mansfield, and that was something Edith could never allow.
“If you don’t mind,” Lindsey said, “I should like to make a stop on our way to the park. A brief detour to your home.”
Lord Wrayford’s pale blue eyes bugged out as he swung to stare at her. He fumbled the reins, causing the bay gelding to swing his head from side to side and snort a protest. “What’s that you say? You want to go to my house?”
“Yes. You see, at your ball, I lost one of my best diamond earbobs. Do you know if any of your maids might have found it?”
“Uh . . . not that I’ve been informed.”
“Well, it may have rolled out of sight beneath a piece of furniture. In truth, I believe I may know exactly where I dropped it. I hope you won’t mind my taking a quick peek.”
He arched his sandy eyebrows. “Certainly not, Miss Crompton. Your wish is my command!”
As he returned his attention back to the street, Lindsey caught the occasional calculating glance he sent her way. Of course, the buffoon must be pondering how to use her request to his advantage. He would see it as a chance to compromise her, to force
her hand in marriage. Too bad for him, she had no intention of letting that happen.
Striving for serenity, she kept her gloved hands folded in her lap as he turned the phaeton onto Bruton Street with its row of stately redbrick residences. Had Mansfield arrived at her house yet? Would he—and Jocelyn—be disappointed to find her gone?
Lindsey banished the troubling thought. At present, she had more important things to occupy her, the first of which was gaining entry to Lord Wrayford’s house and accomplishing her purpose there without his interference.
Midway along the block, he stopped the carriage and clambered down to secure the reins. Lindsey quickly descended from the high perch before he could come around to help her. She shuddered to imagine his hands on her waist, the way Mansfield had done when he’d assisted her.
Not that she wanted the earl touching her, either. All men liked to show their superiority over women and to keep them as possessions. Lindsey had no intention of spending her life under the rule of any male.
She glided to the iron post where Wrayford was securing the leather ribbons. “Thank you for being so kind. Now I must ask you to wait right here.”
“What?” he said, his florid face exhibiting displeasure. “I thought you said you wanted to have a look around my house.”
“It’s best that I do so alone. If you accompany me, people will find out and gossip. They’ll spread rumors and ruin my good name. You wouldn’t wish to embroil a lady in scandal, now would you?”
Wrayford looked as if he would relish doing just that—and much more. His detestable gaze kept flitting to her bosom. With the corners of his mouth turned downward and his lower lip jutted out, he resembled an overgrown schoolboy who had been denied a sweet.
“No one will know if we hurry on inside very quickly,” he countered, grabbing for her arm.
She pulled free. “It’s too late. The neighbors are already watching us. Just now I saw someone peering out the window across the street. If you dare to follow me inside, you’ll ruin not just me but your own standing in society as well.”
