“May I retrieve a glass of lemonade for you?” he asked.
“Should my fiancée require anything to quench her thirst, I will provide it,” a low voice growled from the shadows as a dark figure emerged.
“Lucas!” Gemma was startled to see him there. She’d thought he’d be arriving later, but happiness rushed through her at the sight of him. A lock of his midnight hair fell across his emerald eyes. Where many of the other men donned bright frippery to peacock for the ladies, Lucas stood out with his head-to-toe black.
He is so solid.
In the past few days, they’d had to rely only on each other as they rifled through studies and libraries in search of answers. The trust one gained when standing guard while one’s partner in crime broke into a safe was vast.
“Of course, my lord,” Peterson stammered, glancing at Gemma. She took pity on him and patted his arm.
Lucas eyed her hand on Peterson’s jacket. She wondered at his annoyance with the man. Although she was realizing Lucas was not one for society affairs, he was on generally good terms with many of the people who inhabited—or in Peterson’s case, orbited—the higher levels of society.
Could it be that he was jealous?
She immediately scoffed at the notion. That would mean he had developed some sort of tendre for her, which was impossible.
She strove to break the tension between the two men. “Thank you both, but I do not require any lemonade. Mr. Peterson, I very much enjoyed our discussion about Egypt, and the dance was lovely, thank you,” she said with a polite smile, not quite meaning it. As harmless as he was as a fellow guest, she couldn’t foresee wanting to re-experience their whirlwind on the dance floor anytime soon.
“I believe my fiancée needs some air. Pray excuse us,” Lucas said, with barely a curt nod toward Peterson. He placed a hand at the curve of her spine to direct her toward the doors, and her nerves tightened at the way he touched her so easily, as well as the idea of being alone with him.
“You were rude to poor Mr. Peterson, my lord,” she chastised as they wove their way through the brightly shimmering jewels of the ton. Fake laughter rang out amongst the clinking of glasses and the buzz of gossip. She nodded to a few acquaintances as they breezed past.
“He’ll live,” Lucas grumbled. They’d made it to the French doors that opened onto a terrace and a surprisingly large lawn in the back, considering they were in the middle of London. There was a small gazebo off to the side, shrouded in rose bushes. Lucas steered her toward it once they were outside. Except for the times when they were sneaking around in studies, they had not spent any time alone together since they’d begun their ruse of an engagement.
Would he try to kiss her again? What would she do if he did?
The cool air nipped at her bare arms, and she shivered. Lucas shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it about her shoulders; she burrowed down into it as his smell engulfed her. Unlike the heavily perfumed society set in the ballroom they’d just left, his smell was earthier, redolent of sandalwood and something else she couldn’t quite place.
They reached the darkened corner of the garden. The fragrance of spring was all around them. Gemma loved this time of year, as the gloom of winter was chased out by the hope of new life. Even the nights with a bite still in the air were invigorating to the senses. She hadn’t realized how stifling the ballroom had become until they’d stepped outside.
She took a seat, but Lucas remained leaning against the entrance of the gazebo. The darkness and isolation settled around them, even though the noise and chaos were not far away. They were in their own little world. The danger of it, the promise of it, was exciting.
“You have a plan, my lord?” Gemma asked when he did not volunteer it on his own. Lucas glanced back at the lights spilling from the house.
“The library opens up onto the terrace, so it should be easy enough to slip inside.” He paused. “I think I should search it alone this time.”
Gemma shot up. “You say that every time, and I am growing weary of arguing with you. You know that if we are discovered it is safer to say we were searching for a quiet place to be alone. If you are discovered, they will suspect the truth.”
“Are you worried about me?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said, annoyed with the question. “You’re my partner in this investigation. I must look out for you.”
Lucas gazed off into the hushed night. “You’re not like most women.”
That stung.
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. She hadn’t been raised like the ladies of the ton. When they’d been practicing needlepoint, she’d been learning from Uncle Artie how to fight with a knife; when they’d been taught the art of wielding a fan to flirt, she’d been learning survival skills in case she was ever lost in a tropical locale. It had never bothered her before. But now part of her wished she was more like the cultured ladies in the ballroom. They would never demand to be included in a crime against a peer of the realm. She made to push past him when his arms shot out, encircling her waist.
“Wait,” he voice was urgent. “Gemma, wait. That was not a criticism. The farthest thing from it.”
She searched his eyes and saw the truth there. Only then did she relax, feeling a bit foolish over her behavior.
“Uncle Artie was an explorer, you see,” she said, wanting to explain herself to him. “In his younger years he’d take off on whatever ship was in port. He went to the Indies, Africa, the tropics, everywhere. He was the younger son, so he never expected to inherit, and his brother was generous and paid for most of Artie’s adventures.
“When Nigel’s mother died, Artie began taking him along, until they ended up in an alley in China, surrounded by criminals with knives. Nigel was four at the time. They escaped, but it caused Artie to reassess his travels. He ended up settling back in the north, to wait until Nigel got older—so that he could teach him the skills he’d need to live abroad. And then I came along and squelched that plan.”
“It’s not your fault he settled down, Gemma,” Lucas said. She shouldn’t be surprised that he had focused on the thing that haunted her the most. The guilt used to roil her stomach. There had been times when she was younger where she felt the need to prove herself worthy of her uncle’s time. He’d given up so much just to raise her, and she would do anything to make him proud. “He had no business traipsing around dangerous locales with a young child, let alone two.”
“I know. I tell myself he was happy raising us in that old rambling country mansion. He taught us all sorts of things, although none of them are particularly applicable to navigating society.” She gave a rueful laugh. “Except perhaps the art of deception.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “You want to travel?”
He really was one of the most perceptive gentlemen she knew
“I do, yes. I’ve read about so many fascinating cultures and civilizations. It would be lovely to be able to see them in person.”
“Have you enjoyed the academic societies in London?” Lucas asked. “There are plenty you could get involved with in some capacity.”
“Yes. I have found some of them quite stimulating. I was just talking with Mr. Peterson about that before he whirled us around the dance floor. He enjoys travel with a bent toward the historical. He told me about a lecture tomorrow with the Ancient Civilizations Society that I might find interesting.”
“Did he?” His arms dropped to his side as he glanced toward Perry’s house. “I think we should make our move,” he said, an abrupt subject change. “We’ve delayed long enough.”
She sighed as he led her from the gazebo. She refused to ponder if the sudden chill coursing through her was due more to disappointment, or the loss of his arms holding her.
…
It wasn’t so much that Lucas had been a spy, but that he’d been tapped for favors by the government. He knew a surprising amount about chemistry, and during his year on the Continent following his schooling at Oxford, he’d managed to pick up a few
useful skills that served him well. Now, as his boots sunk into the soft grass of Perry’s garden, he was grateful and impressed that Gemma seemed to have similar finesse in the sneaking-about business. They were just two shadows slipping across the lawn.
They made it to the library’s terrace doors, and he tested the handle. Unlocked. Gemma was close behind him, and they were quickly inside. She immediately crossed to the heavy door that was the main entrance of the study, pressed her ear against the solid wood, and tried to listen for any surprises. In the past few days they’d established a routine. Lucas trusted her, and so put her out of his mind while he scanned the room.
Something was off about the study—for one thing, there were only a few books on the shelves. Lucas knew that Perry didn’t spend much time in town, preferring his country seat in the south. The desk was a delicate thing, with intricately carved flowers on skinny legs. The furniture was light and feminine. This wasn’t Perry’s room, he could feel it. Lucas thought of Lady Perry, a vivacious and charming hostess who spent most of the season in London. This was hers, it must be. If they were to find anything on Perry it wouldn’t be in here.
He did a quick pass over common spots but quickly confirmed his suspicions. There wasn’t even a safe in the room.
He looked over to see Gemma studying his movements. “There’s nothing here,” she said, more a statement than a question. He shook his head anyway.
“I need to get into his bedroom,” Lucas said and braced himself. He needed her not to come with him, but knew it would be near impossible to convince her to wait in the ballroom. The scandal that would emerge if they were found in a bedroom together would be impossible to come back from. Let alone the safety risks if Lord Perry or any of his guards caught them in the act. If Perry was the blackmailer, he’d proven that he had no compunction about killing witnesses who got in the way.
“I believe there’s a set of servants’ stairs back toward the kitchen. I saw them when I pretended to go to the ladies’ withdrawing room,” she said without flinching. He found himself reluctantly admiring her courage. She never wavered, no matter how daring the task. Still, allowing her to come with him could be disastrous.
“Gemma, I need you to stay downstairs while I do this. Worrying about you will be a distraction that we cannot afford,” he said, attempting to appeal to her logical side. For all that she wanted to be an equal partner, she would also listen to reason.
“Well, I suggest you get past that,” she said, already reaching for the door. Before he could react, she’d stepped out into the hallway and headed toward the back of the house.
“Bloody hell,” Lucas muttered, and hurried to follow.
…
The hallway was dim, as guests were not intended to be this far back toward the kitchens. Gemma decided speed took precedence over stealth. If she was stopped at a brisk walk, she could say she was looking for the withdrawing room. Being found skulking in the shadows would take a lot more explanation
She heard a soft scuff of boot on carpet and trusted it was Lucas coming up behind her. For a brief moment she had worried he would stew in the library. Men so often became stubborn when they didn’t get their way with the ladies in their lives.
Not that he would leave her to snoop around by herself. He was a gentleman to his fingertips. But while he meant well, in his own overbearing, protective way, he needed to get it through his hard head that they were partners in this. Working together would yield far better results. It’s what was best for the case.
She glanced back as she started up the servants’ stairs. He was close, his features made starker by the sporadic candlelight. When he glared up at her she simply smiled and continued. Short of making a scene, there was nothing he could do.
At this point, they’d have to be more careful. She tried to step lightly, but every few stairs the wood would creak and settle. Somehow Lucas didn’t seem to be having the same problem—he moved with the grace of a hunting cat, with nary a groan slipping from the trodden wood. She felt both jealous and impressed.
Could he hear her heart racing, she wondered as they reached the top. If they were caught, there would be serious consequences. She stopped, less sure of her movements now that she’d reached the upper hallway.
Lucas laid a hand at the small of her back, and the warmth seeped in like comfort. His lips grazed her ears. “We need to move. Now.”
The upper floor was well lit, leaving them no safe place to linger. They needed to find Perry’s bedroom immediately.
They opened the first door to a small, Spartan room they didn’t even need to investigate. Not his. They moved on to the next one.
She let out a hum when they walked through the door. The room was large, with a heavy dark bed in the center. The wallpaper was deep burgundy, and there was a solid leather reading chair near the fireplace, a thick book put aside on the low table beside it.
Lucas scanned the room, as well, with a satisfied expression. They were in agreement, it seemed: they’d found Perry’s room.
Lucas crossed to the paintings on the wall, and she watched as he checked behind each, a move she’d now seen him complete many times. He didn’t look at her when he finished, just shook his head. She swung in a slow circle, thinking of what she’d learned in the past couple of weeks and looking for the hiding place. Her eyes landed on an old globe. She assessed that it would be big enough to hold a small safe. She locked gazes with Lucas and nodded her head in its direction. He glanced over, eyes narrowed. He strode to it and prodded the equator.
A low click broke the sharp silence. She tried not to look smug when he pushed open the top half of the globe and revealed the safe. Lucas dipped into his pocket to retrieve his lock picks and went to work. She loved watching him this way. She let her eyes trace the hard line of his jaw, set in concentration. His five o’clock shadow made him look more dangerously attractive, and she ached to stroke his face and then run her hands through his thick shock of hair. She thought of him leaning closer, his lips seeking hers, and then jolted herself out of her fantasy. This was not the place, she laughed in her own head. For heaven’s sake, they were in the middle of Lord Perry’s bedroom.
He exhaled once, pocketed his tools, and eased open the door of the safe. She hurried over to peer inside and narrowed her eyes at the contents: pound notes stacked from top to bottom in two rows, a small bag of jewels, an expensive-looking gold pocket watch, and a leather journal. Her heart jolted at the sight of the timepiece. She took it with an unsteady hand, holding it up to the low light. The piece was old and intricate, but it was not Nigel’s. She shook her head, replaced the watch, and reached for the journal while Lucas palmed the bag of diamonds.
There were only four lines written in the whole book: locations, dates, and amounts of money stood out starkly against the white page. Lucas replaced the diamonds before looking over her shoulder. She felt his entire body tense when he saw what was written.
“It’s the house party where Nigel was…where Nigel was shot,” she whispered, and she traced a finger over the words, her stomach pitching as if she’d been punched. She tried to collect herself. “Do you recognize any of these locations?”
He nodded once and pointed to an address in an area close to the docks. “I had to leave the payment there after the first letter.”
“You think he’s the blackmailer?”
“This does not look good for him either way. Come, we must go. We’ve pushed our luck quite enough tonight.”
“Yes,” she said, memorizing the information to write down later, then replacing the journal. “And we finally have a lead.”
She couldn’t deny the excitement that rushed over her, potent even through the stab of pain at thinking about Nigel’s death. This was the first time she’d felt like they were truly headed in the right direction, rather than on a fool’s errand.
Lucas closed the globe and did a final sweep of the room. She knew he wasn’t looking for another hiding place, but rather making sure the
y hadn’t left anything disturbed. She’d watched him perform this ritual after each search, but it was especially important tonight. If Perry thought someone was nosing around, he might destroy any evidence and flee town, and then they’d be nowhere.
Nigel’s killer. Lord Perry could be Nigel’s killer. They might have solved the case. Could this really be over? So soon? Lost in thought, she didn’t listen for footsteps before opening the door to the hallway and stepped directly into the path of a man. Surprise stole her breath.
He was a hulking brute, with short dark hair and beady eyes. Between his stature and the fact that he wasn’t dressed for the ball, she had to assume he was one of Perry’s guards Lucas had warned her about. His eyes narrowed, darting between her and the door. Recovering, she shut it with as much nonchalance as she could muster, sending up a quick prayer that Lucas would realize she was better off without him dashing to the rescue.
“Oh, thank heavens, I am so turned about. Could you help me, sir?” she asked, flashing him big innocent eyes.
“What were you doing on this floor?” His voice was harsh and unrelenting. She nibbled her lip and realized he wasn’t going to buy the lost lady routine. She pivoted back and burst into noisy, ugly tears.
“He’s meeting…with…her,” she sobbed. “I just…just…know it!”
The guard took a small step in retreat, so she pushed on harder.
“He snuck out of the ball.” She gulped in air. “I am…so…humiliated.” She added a wail to the last word to really drive it home. “Just let me be, sir. Please.”
“You’re not s’posed to be up here, miss,” the guard said gruffly, looking unsure what to do with his hands.
She clutched her stomach in defeat. Was she overdoing it? In her experience, men tended to think women were always on the verge of a hysterical breakdown, so she might be safe.
“I’m so foolish,” she whispered. “I thought if I caught him… I don’t know what I would have done but…” She trailed off. “I am sorry.”
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