Chapter 8
Eight
“What was your question?” Warner forced his gaze back to the Bow Street Runner in front of him with difficulty.
He was standing in the ballroom of the Crowley estate, at the fourtieth birthday party of the Countess Crowley. The room was crowded and full of music and noise. There were easily over a hundred guests, but his eyes kept being drawn back to one.
“If that is her idea of keeping away from scandal and sensationalist talk, then we are all in trouble,” Warner muttered as his eyes left the Bow Street Runner once more.
Lady Adelaide stood at the other end of the ballroom, laughing and smiling, surrounded by her widow friends. She was wearing black, as was befitting of a widow, but her dress was anything but plain.
The swooping neckline drew the eye to her collarbone. The short sleeves left most of the skin of her arms exposed. The dress itself seemed to highlight every feminine curve of her body. Warner’s scowl deepened as he saw a young man approach Lady Adelaide and ask her to dance.
“I was asking about Lord Kidlington’s relationship with his brother. Colonel Tobias,” the bow street runner repeated, and this time his question registered with Warner.
“They were as close as brothers can be. Rothwell doted on his brother, and Colonel Tobias adored Rothwell.”
“But he was the second son. He will inherit now that his brother is dead,” the Bow Street Runner insisted, his eyes sparking in the dim light. “You have to admit, he had rather a lot to gain from Lord Kidlington’s death.”
“If you think that, then you truly know nothing about the Colonel. Aside from the fact that he was not even in the country at the time of Rothwell’s death, the Colonel never wanted to inherit.
” He shook his head and sipped his champagne.
“He has a thriving military career, and that has always been where his heart lay. That is all ruined now — all his hopes and dreams.”
“But —” the Runner began, but Warner held up a hand to silence him.
His eyes had found Lady Adelaide’s. Her brown eyes drawing him in like a moth to the flame. At the same moment, a young man approached her, and she turned to face him, that dazzling smile on her face.
Warner clenched his hand into a fist. “Do try and investigate people who are actually likely to be the culprit in future. I have no wish to waste time with red herrings and wild goose chases. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to which I must attend.”
Warner’s feet moved almost of their own accord. He was so caught up in the moment, that he barely noticed the way the Bow Street Runner took in Lady Adelaide. As he approached her, the crowd parted.
He’d felt alone and cold somehow when she turned away without those flame-bright eyes meeting his. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips, his irritation rising at the way his heart pounded against his ribs.
“May I have the honour of —” the gentleman was saying to Lady Adele, but Warner pushed between them. “The lady is dancing with me.”
Lady Adele drew herself up, startled and — intrigued?
“Dance with me?” He held out a hand to her, and for a moment, he thought that she would not take it. She glanced at the people around her, and then nodded and let him lead her onto the floor. The band struck up a waltz, and he began to lead her around the room.
“It seems every eye is upon us.” Lady Adelaide’s cheeks coloured slightly, and a strand of hair fell across her face.
Warner fought down the urge to tuck it behind her ear for her. “Can you blame them? Just look at what you are wearing.”
He was relieved his voice did not sound hoarse. Lady Adele quirked an eyebrow at him. “I thought you said I deserved something beautiful for me?”
“I did say that. I am simply pointing out that you can hardly be surprised that all eyes are upon you when you look like that.” He scowled at the men who seemed to be leering at Lady Adele as he pulled her close to him, and they began to waltz.
“What are you doing here anyway? Looking like Aphrodite incarnate and attending a ball alone — a perfect way to cause a scene.”
The smell of her rose perfume filled his senses. He shook his head trying to clear it, but that only made it worse. Lady Adelaide was looking at him with reproach in her eyes.
“It is my sister’s fortieth birthday; of course, I would be here. Or would you rather I had brought one of the Widows as my companion?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “That would be quite the scandal.”
“You know that is not what I meant. None of them are men.” I must keep calm. How did she manage to get so under his skin
“I should hope not. That would make their marriages rather illegal.” She laughed softly, and he was struck by how pretty the sound was.
Focus Warner. He swallowed. “This is no time to joke. Look at the way they are looking at you, like a pack of hungry wolves.”
He saw the colour on Adele’s cheeks deepen as she realised the hungry way the men around her were looking at her.
“They will delight in breaking you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the swell of music and voices. And I will not let them.
“Careful, Your Grace; if I did not know better, I would say you are concerned for me.” Her smile was full of daggers.
“I am concerned for you,” he breathed, twirling her around the dance floor.
“Of course.” An odd look crossed her face that he could not quite read. “And that is the reason you put yourself between me and Lord Kenworth? You know, most men would ask a woman to dance rather than announce it.”
“I am not most men.” His eyes found hers. “I am not the asking type.”
“Clearly,” she replied drily. “Nor are you the kind of man who makes sense.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you told me I should not deprive myself of beautiful things, and now, you are growling at me like some angry jackal because I have had the audacity to listen to you.” She glowered at him. “Perhaps you would have preferred me to remain in my usual dowdy frock?”
“If it meant I would not have to deal with these lecherous men, then perhaps you should have.”
“How those men look at me is none of your concern.” Her tone was icy cold. “I am not your wife.”
“It is my concern — you are too innocent to know what they are like. You are far too trusting.”
“I think I can handle a few stares. I do not need your protection.” “Nor do I want it.”
“That was not what you said the other night.”
“That was different. Or do you think my looking nice at my sister’s birthday party is as dangerous as the King’s Arms?”
Yes. Especially when it makes me want to tear the eyes out of every man ogling you. He clamped the words down, refusing to let them out as he twirled her around the dance floor. “You look more than nice by a rather significant margin.”
She was easily the most stunning woman in the room — how could she not see that? He hated what it did to him. How could a dress make him so easily lose control. It is because it is unexpected. You did not think someone in mourning wear would choose something like this. That is all.
He wished he felt more convinced of his own words.
“That might sound like a compliment. Yet you make it sound like I have committed a crime.” Her tone was acerbic.
“If I did not know better, I would say you are jealous.”
“Then it is a good thing you are wiser than that.” Warner swallowed.
“You know, I have spent days trying to figure out which is the real version of you. That laughing, funny man in the pub, or the cold and bullish duke I first met, and now, it would seem I have my answer.” She shook her head. “Was it all just an act?”
No. “I have no wish to be the man I was in my youth. That man is as good as dead, and I will not bring him back. Not for some silly girl, no matter how pretty she is.” His temper flared as panic gripped him. “I will not be that man again.”
“Why are you so afraid?” She prodded him in the chest.
“Because one of us has to be. You are so damned determined to be independent, to push anyone and everyone away, that you cannot even see the danger you are flinging yourself into.” He towered over her, blood roaring in his ears.
“You are a hypocrite.”
“Stubborn —” he began, but she cut him off.
“Inconsiderate.”
“Impudent.”
“Might I have a word with my sister, Your Grace?” a voice said from behind him, and Warner gave a start.
He and Lady Adelaide broke apart, and he remembered where they were. Standing in the middle of a crowded ballroom, having an argument. Shame filled him. It had been a long time since he had lost control like this.
He turned to find himself staring into a face that was eerily similar to Lady Adelaide’s but nearly twenty years older.
“Of course.” He took another step away. “I will take my leave of you.”
He turned and left, refusing to spend another moment with the woman who loathed him more than anything else in the world. “I will leave her alone. She is entirely too dangerous to do otherwise.”