Robert led her to where Lord and Lady Cameron waited. The earl had a sparse head of hair, pleasant features, and twinkling blue eyes. The countess was a tiny woman, with an abundance of once auburn curls now fading gently to gray.
“You will make a handsome couple,” she said.
Sophia smiled. “Thank you, my lady.”
The older woman leaned close and lowered her voice. “Lord Cameron and I were saddened to learn of your father’s passing. Haverton was a dear friend and a brilliant man. Society can go to the devil; there was nothing ‘mad’ about him.”
Sophia’s throat tightened at the kind words.
Lady Cameron clasped Sophia’s hand. “Most believe Haverton is out of town on business. As close friends of the family, it’s acceptable for us to announce the engagement. Are you ready, my dear?”
Sophia gave a curt nod. “Yes.”
The countess waited for the last dance to end before clapping her hands and drawing the attention of her guests. “It is my pleasure to announce the engagement of Lady Sophia Merrill and Lord Kirkland.”
There was an awkward silence as the guests digested the news that the daughter of the Mad Marquess was to marry an earl. Then Lady Cameron kissed Sophia on both cheeks, and Lord Cameron embraced Robert and slapped him on the back.
Circulating the ballroom, a dozen footmen carried trays of bubbling champagne, and the guests toasted their future happiness. Members of the haute ton approached to offer their congratulations.
Robert shook outstretched hands with a cool smile, and Sophia marveled at how easily he slipped into the role of engaged gentleman.
Just what situation would unnerve him? she wondered.
Lady Cameron motioned to the conductor and the orchestra struck up a waltz.
“Come, Sophia,” Robert said.
He led her to the dance floor and placed his hand at her waist. As if in a trance, she put her hand in his and rested her fingertips on his shoulder. They stood so close their bodies almost brushed. Aware of every eye upon them, her heart beat so loudly she feared she would faint.
“Smile, Sophia. You wanted this, remember?”
Forcing her chin up, she met his eyes. “I won’t back down.”
“I never thought you would.”
He swept her into the dance. Her stomach was in knots, but he was a marvelous dancer and as he whirled her around the floor she felt like she was drifting on a cloud. Her heart continued to pound—no longer from fear—but from excitement. The dance, the music, the man…all were thrilling. For a woman who had spent the past six months sequestered in her father’s workshop, grieving the loss of her parent and obsessed with obtaining justice for his murder, dancing with him was exhilarating. She tilted her face up and found him watching her with an intent expression.
For a brief moment she imagined them truly engaged and a shiver rippled down her spine.
Stop this nonsense, Sophia! Such an attraction is perilous!
She reminded herself that they were playing a role. Deception was what he did best, what he was paid to do for King and Country. She’d be a fool to lose her heart and fall victim to a man like him.
Chapter Nine
The morning of their journey to the Delmont’s house party arrived a fortnight later. Sophia followed two footmen as they carried her valises outside her town house and set them upon the steps. Jane had arrived earlier and was waiting beside her own baggage.
“He’s coming,” Jane said, drawing Sophia’s attention to the street. A magnificent coach bearing the Kirkland crest with matching bays pulled up before them.
The door opened and Robert stepped down. Dressed in a deep blue coat that matched the exact shade of his eyes and form-hugging trousers, he looked striking. His fair hair was combed in the à la Brutus style currently popular with the dandies of the ton, but Sophia wasn’t fooled. Robert Ware wasn’t a fop, but a cunning spy.
He smiled charmingly. “Good morning, ladies. Are you prepared for our journey?”
With Jane acting as their chaperone, they would travel to the Delmont’s country property in Hatfield, twenty miles north of London.
“We’re ready, my lord,” Sophia said.
He nodded and turned to oversee the loading of the baggage, until Jane’s voice halted him.
“Is Mr. Ramsey attending the house party?” she asked.
Robert arched an eyebrow. “Not that I’m aware, Lady Stanwell. Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “You are friends and I assumed he had petitioned for membership as well.”
“While we are school friends, I studied engineering and have an interest in inventing. Gareth, on the other hand, became a barrister whose interests and legal practice focuses on…on other matters.”
Jane’s lips parted as if to ask Robert to elaborate, but then she nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer, and turned away.
Sophia waited until he resumed his task with the baggage before drawing Jane aside. “What was that about?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” Jane said.
“It sounded very much like something to me.”
“Don’t concern yourself, Sophia. As a newly engaged woman, you should be thinking only of Lord Kirkland.”
Sophia felt her face grow warm. “I hope the upcoming week will allay your concerns about us.”
“Meaning?”
“You need not watch us like a hawk,” she said.
“That’s my job as your chaperone.”
Sophia clasped her hand. “Please don’t worry so much. I want you to enjoy yourself as well.”
Robert came over and opened the carriage door. Holding out a hand, he assisted the women into the coach and settled himself on the bench across from them. His knees brushed Sophia’s skirts, and a tingle of awareness crept down her spine. He was a tall man with broad shoulders—a too-big, too-lithe male whose presence seemed to fill every square inch of the vehicle.
The driver whistled. The coach lurched forward with a jingle of harness, and the bays set off at a brisk pace through the city streets.
They engaged in polite conversation to pass the time, and after an hour there was a lull.
Robert stifled a yawn. “Traveling always makes me tired,” he said. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’d like to take a brief nap.”
“Of course,” Jane said.
He leaned back, shut his eyes, and folded his hands in his lap. Minutes later, he appeared to be sleeping, but Sophia wasn’t convinced. There was a coiled tension in his sinewy frame that hinted of alertness.
Jane continued to talk and attempted to pick topics that she believed would interest Sophia, but Sophia found herself distracted. She continually stole glimpses at Robert, and more than once she stirred uneasily on her seat.
The problem was that despite her assurances to him, she had not conquered her misgivings about working together. She wondered just what her assignment would entail. Wendover had told her to speak with the wives in order to glean useful information. He understood that as the daughter of an inventor, she would be able to relate to the women. Her father had exhibited what many members of society considered eccentric behavior, and she knew he was not alone when it came to his endeavors. Most inventors were deemed peculiar by outsiders.
As for Robert, she pondered how often she would see him over the course of the week. Propriety dictated that Jane accompany them at all times. No one knew better than Sophia that Jane was observant and intelligent. Then how was she to pass along any useful information to him? Come to think of it, how was she to question the wives without arousing Jane’s suspicions?
The scenery outside the window changed from crowded city streets to rural farmland, and the coach jostled across isolated country roads. Hours later, they stopped at a posting inn for the night. Robert made himself scarce in the taproom, and Sophia and Jane shared a repast of hot roast beef, boiled potatoes, and tea in a private parlor before retiring for the evening.
They resumed traveling early the follow
ing morning, and Sophia spent the remainder of the journey thinking of Viscount Delmont and how badly she wanted the blackguard to pay for his sins. She recalled how shattered her father had been after being evicted from the Inventors’ Society. She imagined the physical pain he must have suffered the night he was murdered. He had been dosed with opium. Had he been alert and aware?
Had he cried out for her in his last moments?
Her hands clenched her skirts. She turned to Jane, but her cousin had stopped trying to engage her in polite conversation. Jane’s head lolled against the side of the coach, and she dozed.
At last, the coach came to a long, winding drive lined with towering oak and spruce trees. Sophia woke Jane, and they looked out the window at Delmont’s vast property. The grounds were meticulously kept with boxwood hedges, a large herb garden, and rose bushes, which filled the air with their sweet fragrance. A small orchard of peach trees, their boughs bursting with flowers that would soon bear heavy fruit, dotted the perimeter.
Sophia gasped as the country manor came into view. With white stone walls and four miniature crenellated turrets, it looked like a small castle from a fairy tale. Sunlight glimmered off a lake with a working fountain.
“It’s lovely,” Jane said.
Sophia stilled. The manor was beautiful, but it housed the enemy. Her unease increased as the carriage wound closer to the manor home. Now that she was minutes away from seeing Viscount Delmont in the flesh, could she go through with their plans? She wanted this, she told herself. She wanted to help catch her father’s killer.
But unlike Robert, she was not a professional spy, trained to disguise her rioting emotions.
The carriage rounded the circular drive and halted by the front door. Her heart pounded.
I can do this! She had to find the courage to face the viscount. He’d probably be occupied with his fellow inventors during the week and pay the women little or no attention.
A strapping footman came down the granite steps and opened the carriage door. Robert stepped down and helped Jane and Sophia alight. The baggage was unloaded and the guests ushered into the house where a butler took their cloaks.
A crystal chandelier holding dozens of candles hung in the center of the vestibule. The floor was polished, black-and-white Italian marble, and gilt-framed artwork of horses by sporting artist George Stubbs lined the walls. Sophia didn’t miss Jane’s flinch at the numerous colored stallions depicted in rampant splendor. Charles’s stables had been full of horses.
Beyond the entrance was a winding staircase with an ornate balustrade leading to a second floor, gold-leafed balcony. Footsteps echoing off the marble floor drew Sophia’s attention. Her chest tightened as Lord Delmont arrived in the vestibule to greet his guests.
“Welcome.” Edward Black, Viscount Delmont, shook Robert’s hand. He appeared to have gained two stone in weight since the masquerade party two weeks ago. His massive frame dominated the room. His brown eyes appeared small and beady in his beefy face.
Delmont turned his attention to her. “Lady Sophia. The last time I saw you, you were a scrap of a girl. It’s been years.”
Not as long as you think! She was thankful he remained completely ignorant of her presence the night of the masquerade.
His intense brown eyes raked her from head to toe with ill-disguised interest before he raised her hand to his lips. “I’m sorry for the loss of your father. Lord Haverton was a good friend.”
She understood that several members of the Inventors’ Society knew of her father’s death, but not the specifics regarding the opium or the brothel in St. Giles where his body was found. The Marquess of Wendover was powerful enough to keep the details secret.
But Delmont would have known everything.
“Thank you, my lord.” Bile rose in her throat, and she felt strangely light-headed.
Dear Lord! Don’t faint! She’d never passed out in her life, and it took all her self-control not to rip her hand from Delmont’s grasp as his lips made contact with her glove. Her skin crawled beneath the satin.
Robert appeared by her side, and propriety demanded the viscount release her hand.
“Lady Sophia and I are engaged to be married,” Robert said.
Surprise flashed across Delmont’s face before the smooth smile was back in place. “Congratulations, Kirkland,” he said, stepping aside. “The men are in the library smoking cheroots. Come join us while your bags are delivered to your room. My wife will see to the ladies.” He motioned for Robert to follow him just as his wife descended the grand staircase.
Vivian Black, Viscountess Delmont, came forward and smiled at Jane and Sophia. In contrast to her husband’s height and girth, she was a thin, small-boned woman with dyed-red hair and a heavily painted face. She was dressed in flamboyant yellow silk with a jeweled-and-feathered turban.
“Welcome,” she said, kissing the air around Sophia and Jane’s cheeks with flourish.
Sophia forced a smile, and with iron determination kept her eyes from straying to the other woman’s tall turban, adorned with yellow feathers and large tiger-eye stones.
The viscountess waved a hand. “I have planned an exciting week of entertainment. No ordinary musicales or boring poetry readings will take place, I assure you. I’m certain you will both enjoy yourselves. Lady Abagail Maxwell and Lady Beatrice Falk have already arrived.”
Sophia knew both women, and their husbands had been acquaintances of her father. They were also business partners and official stationers for the Regent, and they had each recently been bestowed with a baronetcy.
“Mrs. Stuart, my housekeeper, will show you to your rooms,” the viscountess said.
A plump woman with a steel-gray bun came forward, a large wire ring of keys dangling from her fingers.
Sophia and Jane followed her up a winding staircase and down a long hall. They passed more than a dozen doors, and Sophia wondered just how many chambers existed in the mansion.
The housekeeper selected one of fifty keys in her key ring, opened a door, and ushered them inside. Two four-posters stood side by side, each with a sheer silk canopy of lavender. The walls were a darker shade of purple and the furnishings a rich mahogany. An adjoining sitting room door stood ajar.
“I hope it is to your satisfaction. Should you need anything, the bellpull is in the sitting room. Dinner will be served at seven,” Mrs. Stuart said before departing.
Jane whirled around, her mouth agape. “It’s a beautiful room.”
Bitterness struck Sophia. The country residence was a display of Delmont’s wealth and security. The guests would admire him; they had no notion of his criminal acts.
“It’s almost too lavish,” she said, a note of mockery in her voice.
Jane eyed her, a frown marring her brow. “What’s wrong?”
“Forgive me,” Sophia said. “It must be the travel.” Pushing aside a fistful of lavender silk, she sat on one of the beds. “How long have you known the viscountess?”
“At least five years now. Since Charles joined the Inventors’ Society.” Jane opened a trunk that had been delivered and shook out a morning dress.
“The viscountess strikes me as a bit…how can I phrase it?”
“Odd,” Jane finished.
Sophia arched an eyebrow.
“Vivian is a self-proclaimed medium,” Jane said.
“A medium?”
“She claims to have communed with Cleopatra, Mark Antony, and Caesar in an attempt to clarify one of history’s most famous love triangles.”
Sophia stared at her. “That’s ridiculous!”
Jane shrugged and pulled another dress from the trunk. “Vivian’s eccentricity is overlooked because of her marriage to the viscount, the respectable head of the Society, and her impeccable bloodline, which can be traced back to Queen Elizabeth.”
Sophia was struck by just how difficult a task Robert was undertaking. To arrest and successfully prosecute a peer of the realm—an influential leader of the Inventors’ Society to boo
t—required solid proof. Viscount Delmont was no fool, but a cunning criminal who had evaded suspicion.
She stood and went to the door. “I need to stretch my legs.”
Jane dropped the dress in her hands and turned to her. “Don’t you want to change from your traveling gown? Dinner is—”
“I’ll be back in time,” Sophia promised.
Without further explanation, she left the room. Her immediate destination was the gardens where she could fill her lungs with fresh air and calm the chaos within her. Although her resolve had returned, she was still disturbed and shaken after seeing the viscount face-to-face.
Reliving his odious touch in her mind, she clenched her teeth and closed her eyes tight. Her intense physical reaction had been as disturbing as it had been out of character, and she berated herself for her weakness. If she was to successfully assist Robert in the investigation, then she would have to do much, much better.
She was halfway down the hall when a door swung open and a strong hand grasped her arm and pulled her into a dark room. Her back pressed against a solid chest, and a hand clamped over her mouth.
“Shh.”
Instantly she knew it was Robert. His voice, his scent…even the feel of him was becoming intimately familiar.
She nodded, and he removed his hand.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Are you all right?”
She turned and tilted her head up at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He eyed her speculatively. “You looked pale as death when Delmont greeted us.”
“It had nothing to do with Delmont,” she lied. “I don’t travel well.”
“Listen, Sophia. It’s one thing to act as my betrothed at the Cameron’s ball and another entirely to continue the charade under Delmont’s roof. Will you be able to carry out your part or do you need to leave?”
“I’m made of sterner stuff, my lord.”
“Nonetheless, avoid being alone with the viscount. I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
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