by C. J. Archer
"I forgot. Something more important came up."
"What could be more important?"
"She's with child."
He gave a business-like nod. "We must add the information to her file."
I laughed. "Is that all you can think about?"
"No, but I don't want to dwell on the manner in which she coerced Gillingham into lying with her."
The sound of the dinner gong saved me from thinking about it too. We entered the dining room in pairs, with Lady Marchbank on Lincoln's arm since she was the highest ranked lady, and me on the arm of Lord Underwood, a marquess. Lady Harcourt had set her sights high with him.
Cook and I had spent a lot of time preparing the menu for the evening, along with Lady Vickers' input, and I was pleased to see that everyone seemed to enjoy the first three courses of soup, followed by fish, then quails with watercress. Cook would be thrilled. Conversation flowed as much as the wine. Inviting the two couples and another gentleman who were not part of the committee, or related to the committee members in any way, turned out to be a good idea. Talk remained genial through the meat and vegetable courses until the footmen brought out the ices and a four-tiered jelly surrounded by strawberries. The guests marveled at the out-of-season fruit and Lord Underwood mentioned eating peaches at a recent dinner hosted by his friend, the Prince of Wales.
"Was Sir Ignatius Swinburn there?" Buchanan asked with a wicked gleam in his eye. He'd been well behaved the entire evening, but now an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. It grew when Lady Harcourt stiffened and shot him a flinty glare.
"He was," Underwood said, watching Doyle slice through the jelly. "You know Sir Ignatius?"
"We've met. It was very late in the evening and I wasn't at my best, if you know what I mean." Buchanan laughed, revealing teeth stained red from three glasses of claret. "It was only last week. Oh!" He covered his grin with his napkin. "I forgot. He asked me not to say anything about it." He set down a napkin and picked up his glass. "Pretend you heard nothing, and certainly not from me."
Underwood chuckled. "Don't fret. Swinburn spends an awful lot of time at his club so you're bound to run into him sooner or later."
"It wasn't at a club." Buchanan leaned forward, conspiratorial. "It was a private residence."
Lady Harcourt's fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass. She did not look at her stepson. She did not look at anyone.
Buchanan winked at Underwood. "You'll get nothing more out of me. As I said, he ordered me to keep it a secret, and I'm not such a fool as to make an enemy of a rich and powerful fellow like Swinburn."
"He's not so frightening when you get to know him," Underwood went on. "Indeed, he's very agreeable. He has to be, or he wouldn't have His Royal Highness's ear."
"It's no wonder he's considered quite the catch for eligible women of all ages then. Money, power and charm are far more important than youth and good looks in the marriage market, much to my detriment. Isn't that right, Julia?"
She hesitated for a beat and finally turned to him. "Don't despair, Andrew. You'll find the perfect girl for you once you look properly. Indeed, there's a lovely girl here tonight." She nodded at Alice, seated near the other end of the table and not privy to our conversation. "What a shame you weren't seated next to her."
"I'm sure our hostess had her reasons." Buchanan lifted his glass and saluted me.
After pastries and lemon ices, the ladies retreated to the drawing room for coffee while the men played billiards. They joined us after a half hour, smelling of cigar smoke and brandy. Lincoln lifted an eyebrow in question, and I gave him a small nod. Everyone had got along, even with Lady Harcourt in our midst. The other women were far too well brought up to show their dislike of her to her face. Indeed, most of the discussion had centered on the Gillinghams' news. Harriet simply couldn't keep it in any longer and had announced it as soon as we'd settled.
Lord Gillingham was inundated with congratulatory handshakes upon his arrival in the drawing room. His face flamed again and he didn't say a word.
Lord Underwood wedged himself between Alice and Lady Marchbank on the sofa and engaged Alice in conversation until she shot me a pleading look. Before I could rescue her, however, Seth intercepted and drew Underwood into a conversation, freeing Alice to join me.
"I'll have to thank Seth later," Alice whispered. "Lord Underwood is pleasant enough, but people were beginning to talk."
"And you don't wish them to talk about you and a marquess in the same breath?" I teased.
"He's more than twice my age!"
"According to Buchanan, that's irrelevant, as far as women seeking a husband are concerned. You should have heard him at dinner, spouting such nonsense. It was definitely an allusion to Lady Harcourt's choice of men." I spotted Harriet coming toward us, her hand splayed over her flat waist. "Remind me to tell you later what he said about another fellow and his stepmother. Harriet! Just the person I wanted to speak to," I said as she joined us. "Come to the window where it's a little cooler. You look quite warm."
She patted her pink cheek and allowed me to lead her to the window. Alice peeled away and sat with Lady Vickers and her friends. Some of them made appearances of leaving.
"Did you read about the murder in today's newspapers?" I asked.
Harriet's face paled, and she covered her gasp with her hand. Perhaps I ought to have been a little subtler, but there wasn't time. "I don't read the newspapers," she said. "Do we have to speak about murders now? It's been a marvelous evening. Don't spoil it, Charlie."
"I must tell you something else." I told her about the gruesome death and the naked witness seen near the scene shortly afterward.
"A shifter," she whispered in horror. "My god. Who?"
"That's what I wanted to ask you. The reporter said he was a gentleman. None of Gawler's pack can be called that, and he doesn't believe any would commit murder. But what do you think? Would one of them go against Gawler's wishes and kill?"
"No! He's forbidden the taking of life, and we obey our leader in all things. That's pack law. Besides, despite the trouble stirred up by King, they're not bad people. A little rough, but they have good souls, and they're loyal to Gawler now that he is leader. Of course, if a stronger leader came along, they would switch allegiance—as would I—but no one has attempted to take it from him."
"Then who could the murdering shifter be?"
She surveyed the room then leaned closer. "I don't know, but I think there is another pack here in London."
"What?"
"I don't know who's in it or where to find its members. It could even be just a rumor. But soon after I joined the pack, one of my pack mates asked me why I hadn't joined the toff shifters, as he called them, since I was a countess. I told him I'd never been invited, and that was the end of the conversation. I haven't brought it up since." She lifted one shoulder. "I like my pack and have no interest in finding another. Running with the lower orders is rather thrilling, Charlie. Rather thrilling indeed. I don't think I'd have nearly as much fun with creatures of my own class."
I nodded and smiled, yet I couldn't help thinking about the fight with her pack that had given Lincoln, Seth and Gus terrible injuries. Gawler's pack was capable of inflicting great harm if an immoral leader took over. And Gawler wasn't a strong leader. King had beaten him and taken the group down a diabolical path, so why not another?
"You will report to us if a new shifter approaches you or anyone in your pack, won't you?" I asked.
Harriet took my hand in her big one and squeezed. "Come on. Let's rejoin the party."
Chapter 3
I reported Harriet's answers to Lincoln after our guests left. We lounged in the drawing room to deconstruct the evening along with Gus, Seth and Alice. Cook and Lady Vickers had already retired, as had the staff.
"I'll visit Gawler again," Lincoln announced with a disappointed shake of his head. "I hadn't detected his lie but a lie it must have been."
"Maybe he doesn't know a
bout the toff pack," Gus said.
"If one of his pack told Harriet then he must know too. A leader knows everything that goes on in his organization."
"Not everything," Seth said into his glass of brandy.
"Everything," Lincoln repeated with firm finality.
Seth sank into the armchair and sipped.
Lincoln rose and took my hand. "Tonight was a success, Charlie. Well done." He kissed the back of my hand, a smile in his eyes as he looked at me through his thick lashes.
"Cook did a wonderful job," I said, "as did Doyle and Mrs. Cotchin."
"And me," Gus declared.
"What did you do?" Seth asked.
"Whatever was needed. Stirred pots, washed dishes, listened to gossip."
"What did the servants gossip about?" Alice asked.
"This and that, who they've worked for in the past, which toffs are good and which run their staff ragged. Apparently the Marchbanks pay generously, but Lord Underwood don't."
"He's not as wealthy as he makes out," Lincoln said.
"You know that?" Alice asked, half laughing. Her laughter faded away upon Lincoln's nod.
"I'd wager Julia doesn't know," Seth said with a shake of his head. "Or she wouldn't have insisted he come tonight."
"She might not be with him much longer anyways," Gus said, stretching out his legs. "One of the footmen reckons another toff visits her some nights."
"Buchanan alluded to it at dinner," I said. "He was subtler, and I don't think Underwood realized he was implying that Swinburn comes to her house late at night, but I'm quite sure that's what he meant."
"It seems she's dangling a carrot in front of both Underwood and Swinburn," Seth said. "That's a risky game, but she's playing for high stakes."
"I remember what you said about Swinburn after we saw him at the Hothfields’ New Year's Eve ball."
"An upstart whose grandfather was a mere sailor?"
"That he's not the marrying kind," I reminded him, "and discards his lovers when he tires of them, which is often."
"Ah yes, it's all true, but I wouldn't put it as nicely as that. He's a revolting rakehell who takes advantage of desperate women."
"Lady H ain't desperate," Gus said.
"She's getting on in age, and she knows she's only got a few good years left before her looks fade. If she hasn't snared a rich husband by then, she'll never remarry. There's nothing else going for her."
For someone who counted Lady Harcourt among his past lovers, Seth sounded a little cruel. I could see from Alice's wrinkled nose that she thought he was being harsh, too.
Lincoln bade us goodnight then left to change and visit Gawler again. I almost asked him to take either Gus or Seth with him but stopped myself. He would be all right on his own, and I didn't want to tell him what to do, especially in front of the others.
"Maybe Underwood didn't notice Buchanan's remarks because he ain't all that interested in Lady H after all," Gus said when Lincoln was gone.
He had a good point, and I told him so. "He gave Alice far too much attention for someone supposedly smitten with another."
"Turd," Seth spat.
Alice gave him a sweet smile. "That reminds me. Thank you for rescuing me tonight, Seth. There's only so much talk of the prince's hunting parties one can endure."
Seth straightened, looking pleased with himself.
"Peacock," Gus muttered.
Seth shot him a glare, and Alice pressed her lips together to smother her smile. She didn't quite succeed.
"I'm going to bed," Seth announced with a sniff.
I followed him and caught up to him on the staircase. "Be yourself with her, Seth."
He took three more steps before he answered. "What if she doesn't like me?"
"Since when do you worry about women not liking you?"
"Since I met Alice and she doesn't seem to like me." He lowered his voice. "It matters, Charlie. It matters more than I care to admit."
It was a little disturbing seeing the confidence of this golden Adonis shaken to the core. I never thought it would happen, and yet here he was, uncertain about himself, and because of a woman, too.
"Then stop pretending you're perfect," I told him. "Be the man you are, not the man you think she wants. She's clever. She knows you're acting the role of respectable gentleman around her, and she doesn't like swindlers."
"I'm not trying to swindle her."
"When someone is pretending to be something they're not, that's how it seems. Remember, her family treated her badly. She can't trust them and she needs to be able to trust a man if she is to fall in love with him."
He paused at the top of the stairs and studied the carpet. "My past is…vivid. I didn't always do things I'm proud of. If I am to be myself then she'll have to learn about it."
"There's no need to launch into your entire history just yet. You could introduce it to her slowly, beginning with the least scandalous bit."
He considered that then nodded. "I'll try."
"And, for goodness’ sake, find that sense of humor that women adore."
The return of his crooked smile was a welcome relief. It had been missing since Alice came to live with us. He leaned down and whispered in my ear. "I won't tell Fitzroy that you adore me."
I thumped his arm. "I said your sense of humor, not you. Now go, before he catches us and gets the wrong idea. I like your face the way it is."
It was a joke, and we both knew it. Lincoln wouldn't get jealous of Seth exchanging whispers with me.
"Thank you." He kissed my forehead. "Tonight was a triumph. They'll talk about you and your dinner party for years to come. Decades!"
"Go away before I feel compelled to advise Alice to avoid you at all costs."
I couldn't sleep, so I waited for Lincoln in the private sitting room adjoining his study. I stoked the fire to life and added more coal from the scuttle then stretched out on the sofa, a blanket covering me. I breathed deeply, drawing in the faint scents of smoke and Lincoln's cologne. I'd once lain in this room with a knife hidden beneath me. Lincoln had known I had it, of course, but he had let me believe I was in control of the situation until the moment I'd woken up without the knife. That night seemed so long ago.
The fire's warmth must have lulled me to sleep because I awoke to the sound of Lincoln's rumbling voice. "Charlie."
I opened my eyes to see him crouching before me. "What time is it?" I sat up and yawned.
"Two. Why are you in here?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"Your snoring implied otherwise."
"I do not snore!"
He sat at his desk and rested his elbows on the chair arms. "You should go before anyone realizes you're in here."
"Nobody's awake. And besides, I'm your fiancée." I got up, padding over to him and sitting on his lap. "Nobody minds if an engaged couple spends time with one another in private."
"The sort of people we had to dinner tonight mind." He rested his hands on my waist, but before he could push me off, I threw my arms around his neck.
I leaned in and brushed his lips with mine. He had no scent, as if the fresh air had blown away the smells of smoke, cologne water and brandy. "Then I don't wish to be their friend anymore. Your good opinion is the only one that matters," I murmured in a voice thick with desire.
He suddenly stood, dislodging me. He caught me before I hit the floor like a sack of potatoes and held me until I regained my balance. "Then stop teasing me."
"I'm not teasing you," I said hotly. "I only want to kiss you. A proper kiss," I said when he reached for my hand. "On the mouth. Passionately."
He cleared his throat and settled his hands on my waist again. Light and shadow sharpened his cheekbones and emphasized the intensity in his gaze. A gaze that did not meet mine. He pressed his lips to mine and planted a chaste kiss.
I drew back. "That's a terrible kiss."
"Are you an expert?"
"I would not have thought so." I dug my hands through his loose hair and stood
on my toes. I pressed my body against his, relishing the feel of the hard muscle beneath his clothing, and kissed him with abandon.
It took only two seconds for his arms to circle me. His lips and tongue tasted me and his heart skipped to an erratic rhythm. Well, that had been easier than I expected. And now I found I could not stop. I wanted to abandon all common sense and fall into bed with him. I wanted to drag his shirt off and remove my nightgown to feel skin against skin. I wanted to—
He suddenly pulled back and let me go. His chest rose and fell with his deep breaths and his hair had become tangled where my fingers played with it. He watched me with eyes as deep and black as two wells.
"Goodnight, Charlie."
"Goodnight, Lincoln." My voice sounded ragged, yet his had been quite normal. Damn him. "I hope your dreams will be sweet."
"I doubt they will be."
I left and it wasn't until I lay in my own bed that I realized I hadn't asked him what he'd learned from Gawler.
I remembered to ask him the following morning on our way to Leisl's house. He paid me very little attention as we drove to Enfield, preferring to stare out the window. Had our kiss disturbed him that much? Or was it because he really did fear for my virtue when I was alone in his room in the middle of the night? Perhaps I shouldn't feel so pleased about the effect I had on him, but I couldn't help it.
"Gawler claimed not to know anything about another pack," he said without taking his gaze off the dreary streetscape. "Apparently there was a rumor some time ago, but nothing came of it. He didn't tell me the first time I asked because he assumed it had been untrue. King never mentioned another pack to him."
"He still should have told you about the rumor," Alice said. It was just the three of us inside the carriage with our new coachman, Tucker, up front. Gus and Seth had been ordered to remain at the house, much to the annoyance of both.
A thought struck me. "Perhaps the toff pack financed King." While we'd never proved that someone had paid King to impersonate the queen's deceased husband, we strongly suspected it. He'd risen from the slums to Bloomsbury very quickly and splashed his money about. A great many people would have paid handsomely if they'd known about his talent for shifting into the shape of different people, not just a creature like the rest of the pack. But very few had known.
