The men guffawed heartily.
“Excellent show!” Mr. Brown beamed. “So we want all of the details.”
Winking at Heath, Bills leaned forward and spoke in muted tones, “It’s quite hush-hush and we cannot say.”
Mr. Heatherton shook his cane. “You must tell us!”
“You must!”
Heath held up his hand. “Sorry, gentlemen, but my friend is right. We are sworn to secrecy. Honor demands that we keep our word.”
“This is utterly dissatisfying.” Mr. Brown sniffed.
Stamping his cane, Mr. Newman scowled. “Smashingly disappointing.”
Wanting to move along and find Tess, Heath exhaled. “Sorry to disappoint, but we must take our leave. Society business, you know.”
“This will not suit!” Mr. Henderson barred Heath’s way with his cane. “You must tell us something!”
Looking to Heath, Bills shrugged. “We must give them a little.”
At a nod from Heath, Bills leaned forward conspiratorially.
The three men moved closer, leaning in.
Bills whispered, “All I can say is that in applying for membership…”
Mr. Brown urged, “Yes, yes…”
“…we were required to go…”
“Where?” Mr. Henderson demanded.
“…to prison. Marks-Cross Street.”
“Prison.” Mr. Henderson nodded with a hum. “Very interesting.”
Straightening, Mr. Brown scowled. “What’s so interesting about prison?”
“Are you completely without a brain in your head?” Mr. Newman scoffed.
“I can’t stand it when you call me stupid!” Mr. Brown stomped his foot. “I am no one’s fool!”
Mr. Brown turned to Mr. Henderson. “You explain it to him.”
Shooting Bills a glance, Heath extricated himself from the group and slipped deeper into the crowd.
Trailing behind him, Bills wagged a finger. “I told you this society for females business would be in our favor.”
“That you did.” Heath’s eyes scanned the crowd, looking for those crimson curls once more. “Which way, again?”
“Over there! I see her near the corner of the room.”
As they approached the place that Bills had indicated, suddenly a white diaphanous silk gown came into view. But instead of lush curves and flaming curls, the gown belonged to a slender young lady with golden blond hair and hazel eyes.
“Oh…Penelope.”
Bills stopped and stared at Heath a long moment. “That wasn’t who you were looking for, was it?”
Heath swallowed his disappointment. “Of course it was.”
Stepping forward, he bowed to Lady and Lord Bright and Miss Penelope Whilom, all the while trying not to look over his shoulder for the woman who possessed peach-colored lips that tasted like Aphrodite’s nectar.
Chapter 11
Pushing away all thought of Tess, Heath bowed to the Whiloms and introduced his friend.
Sipping from his champagne glass, Lord Bright sniffed. “A barrister, you say?”
“Solicitor, my lord,” Bills corrected with a smile.
Lady Bright turned away, peering over Bills’s shoulder at the crowd. “This must be a very special occasion for you.”
Bills’s face was impassable. “I am honored to be here.”
Hoping to ease the tension, Heath turned to Penelope. “You look exquisite, my dear.”
Her pale cheeks flushed pink. “Thank you, sir.”
“May I have the privilege of a dance?”
Penelope’s hazel eyes flitted to her mother, who nodded. “That would be lovely.”
Bills made a movement like he was going to leave.
Wanting to impress upon Penelope that Bills’s friendship was important to him, Heath laid a hand on Bills’s arm. “Mr. Smith and I have been friends for a very long time.”
Playing along, Bills turned to Penelope, smiling. “Since we were first introduced at the Inns of Court.”
“Oh, how nice for you.” She sipped her lemonade, her eyes veering away.
“And for me as well,” Heath interjected, irritated that his friend was being dismissed. He wished that the Whiloms weren’t quite so snobby, but recognized that nobility tended to accept their own, a lesson he’d learned a long time ago from Tess’s family. “Mr. Smith is as good a friend as one could wish for.”
“That makes two of us, Bartlett,” Bills agreed, with a look saying he was willing to play along for only so long.
Still scanning the crowd, Penelope nodded. “Are you members of the same club?”
“Being my friend should be recommendation enough for anyone,” Heath bit out. “Mr. Smith is—”
Clearing his throat, Bills interjected, “Oh, Bartlett and I may have a history, but for the most part, we move in different circles.” His tone made clear he wasn’t distressed by the fact. “We have very different ideas about our roles in this world.”
Penelope’s eyes were wide, but her meaning less than innocent. “So you probably don’t have the occasion to see each other that frequently.”
Heath was willing to do many things to win Penelope’s hand, but slighting a friend was not one of them. “Sometimes we may move in different circles, but we will always be dear friends. Nothing”—his eyes fixed on Penelope’s—“will ever change that.”
Heath turned to Lord and Lady Bright. “In fact, Mr. Smith is helping me with your cousin Belington’s investigation.”
Three sets of eyes fixed on Bills as if he were suddenly a new specimen to be dissected.
“You don’t say…” Lady Bright’s gaze was calculating as she waved her lacy black fan.
“Mr. Smith made application to the society with me and is assisting with the story that the entire affair is based upon a wager.”
“How very useful of you.” Eyes narrowing, Lady Bright sniffed. “Do you work for the solicitor-general as well?”
“Only when he needs me.” Bills’s tone was self-effacing.
The Whiloms were seemingly impressed, and the air warmed a notch or two.
“How goes it, then?” Lady Bright asked in dramatically hushed tones. “Have you secured the evidence against that Jezebel?”
Heath tried not to be annoyed by the nasty label. Even if Tess had done the crime, it still seemed wrong to vilify her. “These things take time. Especially if we wish to protect those making the claims.”
“Of course we must be protected!” She huffed. “If only it was as simple as locking her up and throwing away the key!”
Bills scratched his chin. “You are wise to have a care about making unsubstantiated accusations, Lady Bright. To expose yourself to claims of slander creates an unnecessary risk to your reputations, not to mention your assets.”
“Assets?” The matron’s face paled.
Her daughter stepped over and grasped her hand. “Don’t worry, Mama, Mr. Bartlett will take care of everything.”
“I will do my utmost,” Heath assured.
Bills’s face was markedly serious. “No matter the sacrifice.”
Heath glared at him.
“What?” Bills lifted his shoulder. But his eyes twinkled, letting Heath know that Bills considered being with Tess far from painful.
Turning to Lord and Lady Bright, Bills leaned forward. “I must warn you that the person who is the focus of our inquiry will be present this evening.”
“Here?” Lady Bright screeched, her face reddening.
Penelope grasped her mother’s arm. “It’s all right, Mama.”
“We must leave at once!” Lady Bright declared.
His brow furrowing, Lord Bright frowned. “It’s a large ball with hundreds of people. We can hardly—”
“My delicate constitution cannot sustain it!” Lady Bright wailed. “My lord, please!”
Scowling, Lord Bright held up his hands. “What was I thinking? Of course you cannot stay. Penelope, please take your mother home at once.”
“But�
��but…”
Lady Bright’s mouth pinched. “Don’t be so selfish, Wilbur.”
“What’s selfish? I promised Walworth I’d meet him for cards. Besides, that woman’s presence offends you, not me. So why should I miss out on a wonderful evening?”
Lady Bright’s nostrils flared. “One might argue that being with me was the only way for you to have a wonderful evening.”
Lord Bright grimaced with irritation. “You’re going to take a dose of tonic for your nerves and fall asleep. Besides, you’re always complaining about me drinking alone. Here I’m surrounded by friends with whom I can partake. At home…well, there’s little enough of anything for me to join in at home.” His tone left very little to the imagination, and Heath looked away, embarrassed for them.
Lady Bright’s face was flushed as her gaze fixed on Heath. “At least would you be a gentleman and escort us home?”
Heath understood that he had a chance to score some perfectly brilliant marks with his mother-in-law-to-be. Yet he didn’t want to go, even for that. He told himself that it was for the investigation, but deep down he knew he wouldn’t miss out on seeing Tess. Not tonight. Not after that kiss in the carriage.
Heath bowed. “I must remain, madame. To further the investigation. But I will gladly call for your carriage and escort you outside.”
Her shoulders deflated. “Very well then. Penelope, we will go.”
Heath swallowed, regretting his choice, if only a little. “I’d been hoping for the honor of a dance.”
Penelope smiled at him. “Another time, then.” She extended her hand. It was skeletal thin and cool to the touch through her white gloves.
“Your hands are cold.”
Penelope shrugged. “They always are. Mama says it’s from being so small when I was born. My blood doesn’t move much.”
Why had he not noticed that before? Perhaps because he was comparing her touch to another’s. Inwardly he pushed away the notion. Penelope was nothing like Tess, and he was glad for it. Penelope was kind-hearted, sweet; she would be a good mother—all the things he wanted in a wife. Not a passionate hellion. Not a woman whose desire flashed and then sputtered as if doused in water. Who needed the headaches and heartaches that were endemic with someone like Tess? Not Heath.
He offered one arm to Lady Bright and the other to Penelope.
Bills bowed. “I wish you a quick recovery, madame. Miss Whilom. I am off in search of the card room.”
Lord Bright gulped the rest of his champagne. “I’ll join you. I hear it’s upstairs.”
Heath envied his friend’s quick escape, but knew he was doing the right thing by his Penelope. Or the best he was willing. He motioned to a passing servant. “My good man. Would you be so kind as to call for Lady Bright’s carriage? She is unwell and wishes to depart posthaste.” The sooner his mission was completed, the sooner he could find Tess.
The servant nodded. “She’s the third tonight. It’s the crush, I think.”
“Your haste would be most appreciated.”
Lady Bright sent him a grateful glance. “Thank you, Mr. Bartlett. You truly have fine character.”
He nodded, not feeling very gentlemanly at all. “It’s my pleasure. I only wish I could be more of service to you.”
“You are doing me a great service by capturing that dreadful witch.”
“I’m simply doing my job, madame.”
Oh, the games one played to secure one’s future.
Heath returned to the ballroom even more tense than before. Securing the ladies into the carriage had taken a vexing half hour while Lady Bright had complained and fussed. Now free from the ladies, Heath felt wound up, like a cork ready to pop.
The sands of the hourglass were sifting away and he hadn’t yet accomplished his goal. Seeing Tess. Talking to Tess. Finding out if he was enchanted, or going mad, or being duped.
Reaching over, he grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing servant’s tray and gulped, trying to quench his sudden thirst. The orchestra played a minuet and the dancers moved in elegant procession. The murmurs of many voices accompanied the music, as did the clanking of glasses and the footfalls of many shoes on the marble floor.
Where was Tess? She had to be here by now.
A flash of red hair captured his eye. He snorted. Nay, the owner was a stout matron awash in pounds of diamonds.
Bills came up alongside him and slapped him on the back. “There you are, my friend! So you’ve sent the ship sailing, have you?”
Heath didn’t turn. “Don’t start.”
“I thought I had it bad with Macbeth’s witches, but Lady Bright gives a whole new meaning to the expression self-absorbed.”
“She’s upset—
“I can’t wait to win my bet and save you from the clutches of that officious Whilom clan.”
Heath exhaled. “I’m not asking to be saved. They’re my future.”
“They are? Not ‘Penelope is’?”
Heath scowled. “You know what I mean. I would be privileged to have the benefit of such a clan.”
“It’s your death sentence. By the way, if you’re looking for your Tess—
“She’s not my Tess.”
“Whatever you tell yourself, my good man. But if you’re looking for her, she just headed out that door.” He motioned to the entry to the left passage angled away from the stairway where they stood. “She was trying to be inconspicuous, but she seemed very intent, and I know she wasn’t headed to the ladies’ retiring room as it’s in the opposite direction.”
Peering through his quizzing glass, Bills raised his brows. “A secret rendezvous perhaps?”
Heath felt his anger rise. She couldn’t…wouldn’t…
“You didn’t happen to have an assignation planned with the lady…?”
“Shut it, Bills.”
“I suppose not.”
Heath stamped down the stairs and pushed his way through the crowd, unmindful of whom he passed. As he headed down the passage, his only thought was that he was going to have to toss her over his knee and teach her a lesson. His pace quickened.
Chapter 12
Tess made her way down the long candlelit passage, thankful for the carpets that silenced her footfalls. Dance slippers were wonderful for moving about quietly, and the fact that the servants were busy with the festivities downstairs made this the perfect opportunity to investigate Countess di Notari’s chambers. If only her muslin skirts wouldn’t whisper so loudly.
From her discussions with the footman, Tess knew that she was headed in the right direction, and once she made the next left, she would be at the door to the countess’s rooms. People tended to keep those things most precious to them near, so the bedroom was the ideal place for potentially sensitive items. What exactly, Tess had no idea, but if there was anything to uncover, she would soon find out.
Peering over her shoulder, she checked the hallway, and upon seeing no one, prepared to enter.
Nonchalantly, but with a bit of a widening of her eyes and drooping of her mouth, she opened the bedroom door, ready to pretend that she was more than a bit foxed and had gotten lost in the corridors.
Upon seeing the empty chamber, she swiftly entered the room and closed the door behind her.
Grand ivory and gilded Egyptian-inspired Thomas Hope furniture graced the chamber’s sitting room. The fire burned low in the hearth, indicating that the countess wasn’t expected here anytime soon. Good. She should have at least a half hour if she’d timed the festivities right.
Distantly she wondered if Heath missed her at the ball. She doubted it; he was too busy with his fiancée-to-be and her mother. Anger simmered within her, but she pushed it away. Why should she care how he wasted his time? What did it matter to her that he was courting a high-minded, toffee-nosed chit?
Oh, she’d done a little digging on Miss Penelope Whilom tonight, and Tess wasn’t impressed. And it wasn’t only the fact that the girl was related to George Belington, the toad.
A bum
p resounded. Tess jumped, but forced herself to calm. Someone had dropped something upstairs; she had not been discovered.
Blast, she couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Clear-eyed, cool, steady. Get results. Trounce Napoleon. King and country. She felt her body relax and her senses sharpen as she honed in on the task at hand.
Silently Tess moved into the chamber’s inner sanctum. The bed was large enough to swallow the countess whole. The frieze-adorned tester was supported by a headboard at the back and by fluted columns at the front. The bedclothes, pillows, bolsters, and feathered quilt would be handled by servants, so Tess doubted they held many secrets. Still, she removed her evening gloves and set down her reticule. Then she felt every pillow and bolster until she was certain nothing lay hidden within.
Straightening, Tess leaned over to examine the decorative needlework bedcover, curious about the odd design. The needlework depicted sloping cliffs overlooking the ocean, with waves foaming as they came up upon the sand. It reminded Tess of a beach she’d visited once along the English coast. The needlework was a bit sloppy, and it was an unusual choice given the Egyptian-inspired furnishings. She made a mental note of the depiction and filed it away in her head for later consideration.
Her hands grazed the fluted columns and along the wooden bedframe, finding nothing of note. Squatting down on her hands and knees she peered beneath the bed. Chamber pot, slippers—
“What the blazes are you doing?” a male voice cried.
Tess jumped, her heart in her throat.
Heath stood in the doorway dressed in his black and white formal attire, nauseatingly handsome and well turned out down to his shiny black shoes.
“You!” The breath rushed out of her in a heady swell of relief.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Heath’s handsome face was darkened with anger.
Gritting her teeth, Tess hissed, “Lower your voice!”
“Why? Is your paramour hiding beneath the covers?” His tone was scathing.
“Paramour?” She blinked. “Oh, botheration! You think I have an assignation?”
Sari Robins Page 11
