Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Max searched the ballroom, but there was no sign of Sophie. It was the third event he’d been to this week, and he’d not caught a glimpse of her at any of them. Tonight, Ironheart joined him. Max stood silently, observing, scanning the room in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Sophie. Ironheart, however, was anything but silent, and Max’s lack of words seemed to only invite the man to speak.
“Do you think she’ll attend this one? How many do we have to go to before we give up?” Ironheart barely paused for a breath. “And speaking of giving up, how long do I have to wait tonight until I begin pursuing interests of my own?”
Max looked to the side, glaring at Ironheart. By interests he either meant liquor or women. Those were the only two interests the man possessed. “Stop. Talking.”
Ironheart rolled his eyes. “Standing in silence doesn’t suit me.”
“I sh-shouldn’t have b-brought you.”
Ironheart shrugged. “Maybe not. But then, how will you ask after your lady?”
“Sh-she’s not my lady.” Even he could hear that his voice lacked its usual edge. The longer he went without seeing her, the more he wished to. Aside from his worry—and he was worried—he missed her face. It was a good face.
“Then why are we hunting for her? She seems tangential to the investigation at best.”
He’d written down his thoughts on the matter, but Ironheart struggled with the written word. Max had a feeling the other man hadn’t read the missive. Which was damned difficult. He’d never get an explanation like that out. It took him a long time to speak freely in front of someone, and he didn’t trust Ironheart to be kind or patient.
“Excuse me,” a feminine voice called from his other side.
He turned to see a lovely red-haired woman standing at his elbow. He was mildly relieved to realize, pretty as she was, he felt no interest in her. Somehow it was comforting to know that all of the walls he’d carefully constructed around his feelings were not falling. That was specific only to Sophie. Not that he could afford to let his guard down with her either. He’d just gone and made himself Lord Whitehouse’s target.
He met her gaze, his brows lifting.
She cleared her throat. “Right. You’re not one to talk. I’m Lady Tabetha.”
“Hello,” Ironheart said, grinning while leaning around Max to look at Lady Tabetha. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Save it,” the woman huffed. “I know who you are.”
Max smiled then, liking her a great deal more already.
Her gaze returned to him. “I’m a friend of Sophie’s.”
He jerked his chin in acknowledgment, though he’d already known who Lady Tabetha was in relation to Sophie. He’d followed Sophie to Lady Tabetha’s home last week.
“We attended a lunch together a few days ago, and she was supposed to visit me the next day, but she never came.”
His brow furrowed. What?
“There’s more,” Lady Tabetha said as she stepped closer. In hushed tones, she explained all she knew about first Lord Whitehouse and then her suspicions about the uncle.
He’d have many of the same concerns, though he hadn’t known that Allister had been a recluse. Who even knew what Allister looked like? Which meant… “Damn it.” His words came out perfectly, without a stutter.
“I’m worried about her,” Lady Tabetha looked up at him with troubled, green eyes. “I don’t know why you danced with her that night, but I have to assume that you know more about Lord Whitehouse than I do. And Sophie said that her uncle was very angry so I can only assume you’re not his friend.”
Lady Tabetha had the right of it on several facts.
“He’s most certainly not,” Ironheart confirmed. “But what is it to us if he marries her? It doesn’t help or hurt our cause either way.”
“I don’t know what your cause is, but it must not be very noble if it involves allowing a lovely young woman’s life to be destroyed.” Lady Tabetha’s chin notched up as she glared at Ironheart.
Max looked over at Ironheart as well, a brow notching. He liked this woman even more for being immune to Ironheart’s charms. Most women stopped paying attention to his character when they saw his face. And secondly, she had both intelligence and spunk. He drew in a breath, saying the next words slowly. “I will keep…” he paused, “a-an eye o-out.”
His arms crossed, his fists clenching as he straightened up. It was a reflex, to grow more physically intimidating when he revealed his vulnerability.
She didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you. I know she’ll be in attendance tonight and I’d hope to learn more, but I’m worried they won’t allow her a moment alone with me.”
“Tonight?” he asked, hope rising in his chest.
“That’s right. She told me at Lady Elsa’s luncheon that this was on the list of events she’d attend.” Lady Tabetha scanned the room, craning her neck.
“You’re far too short to see anything,” Ironheart grumbled, as though it was a pox upon her to be the height of an average woman.
“And you’re likely not smart enough to know when you’re seeing something important,” she fired back.
Ironheart cringed, his lips thinning.
Tabetha paused, cocking her head to the side. Then, she let out a small sigh. “I’ve changed my mind, my lord. Let’s dance. Perhaps if we turn about the room, we can find them.”
Silently, Ironheart offered his elbow and the two set off onto the dance floor.
Max used the opportunity to circle the room, watching for Sophie as he stayed on the fringe of the activity. In the candlelight, it was easier to go unnoticed, even with his height, and after nearly a quarter of an hour, he stopped when he recognized Sophie’s uncle.
Was Plimpton impersonating a lord? Now that was something that Max could take to the authorities. He crouched down, staying against the wall as he moved closer. He saw Sophie next, standing between two men, neither looking as though they belonged in a ballroom.
She held her hands demurely folded together, her chin level as she stood silently.
Lord Whitehouse stood next to the man to her left. He neither looked at Sophie nor spoke as he stood one person away from her. What he did do was greet a series of men, shaking hands and talking with them as though they were friends. None of them spoke to Sophie. It was strange.
As if she sensed him, Sophie looked over her shoulder, her gaze connecting with his. Her eyes widened and then she snapped her face forward again. She must have alerted the man to her right because he grabbed her elbow and spoke in her ear.
She cringed, her chin dipping, but she nodded as though agreeing. Whitehouse flicked a finger in her direction and the man who had his hand on her arm pulled her away.
Max followed. Naturally.
Ought he have stayed and continued to watch Whitehouse? Probably. Ironheart, annoying as he was, had been right. The original intent of dancing with Sophie had been to send a message to Whitehouse that Max was watching, paying attention, and stepping out into the open. He’d gone to spy on Whitehouse’s home to learn more about the man. He’d followed Sophie to Lady Tabetha’s because he’d been curious. He hadn’t expected her to be there, and he’d wondered how she fit into the puzzle of this investigation.
But he also personally craved information about her.
The man turned down a quiet hall and stopped. “The repose is just that way. Five minutes. No more.”
She nodded again, starting down the hall and disappearing into a door on the right.
For a split second, he debated and then he moved forward, going straight for the man.
“Who are you then?” the guy grumbled, his chest puffing out.
Max, not favoring conversation, answered with a stiff fist to the jaw. He had hands like anvils and the man dropped like a stone.
Max opened the door just to his left and then stuffed the man inside, closing it again.
Pulling at his collar, he walked down the hall, waiting on the other just outside the door of the repose.
Several women came out, eyeing him with skepticism. They then disappeared with quick steps.
Finally, Sophie came out.
She gasped. “What are you doing here, Lord Maxwell?”
Both his brows rose. He had every right to be here.
“How did you find me here and where is the guard?”
“Lady Tabetha told me everything.”
Her face collapsed, her hand coming to her mouth. “I’m so frightened.”
He did something that he’d surely question later. Reaching for her, he pulled her into a hug, pressing her against his length. She folded into him, her body molding to his as her face settled into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
“What am I going to do?” Her voice broke on the words, and inside he broke a bit too.
Tabetha’s words came back to him. What kind of man was he if he didn’t protect her? His eyes closed too as he rested his cheek on the top of her head. He hadn’t been this close to another person in a long time.
Her heat and softness wrapped about him. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to marry him. Take her away from all of it. He hesitated. He didn’t open himself like that. What if she became like every other person in his life? Max's father could hardly stand the sight of him, the impairment making him a disgrace to the dukedom.
Besides, he’d put a target on his back. Now was no time to commit himself to anyone.
What if he married Sophie and…
She sniffed and that’s when he felt the wetness on his collar. She was crying.
His hands spread out on her back. “T-there must be som-someone who can take you in.”
She shook her head. “Uncle Allister was the only person my mother told me about.”
She looked at him, then, those large eyes even more beautiful shimmering with tears. “There has to be more.”
“Do you think? But how would I find them?”
“Th-there’s a book.” He pushed the words out with only the smallest stutter.
“Do you have it? This book? Could you look? Or we could ask Tabbie? My mother was the daughter of an earl. My Uncle Allister his fourth son. Surely, other people in society will know of her other relatives.”
Of course, they did. An earl’s lineage was well documented. “G-good idea. Tabbie can help.”
She nipped her lip. “I don’t know how much time I have or how I’ll escape, but first things first, I need a place to go.”
The urge to claim her as his own rose again, but his fears stopped him. “C-can you meet me in the park tomorrow?”
She shook her head. “I’m confined to the garden.”
He could work with that. “Time?”
“Afternoon repose. Four or five in the afternoon.”
Good enough. “I’ll see you then.”
“But how?”
“That is for me to worry about.” Reluctantly, he let her go. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” she whispered, her arms wrapping around herself. She looked so small and fragile. He stiffened his spine, forcing himself to turn around.
An inner battle raged, and he was afraid either way, he was losing.