Chapter 12
Twelve
“What is she playing at?” Warner muttered to himself as he watched Lady Adele disappear out of the ballroom.
It had been a few days since he had seen the widow, and the last place he had expected to see the woman was at the military ball on his estate. He decided that whatever Lady Adele was doing, it was unlikely to be good.
Warner knew that the sensible thing to do would be to have one of his guards return the woman to the ballroom or remove her from the estate, but his feet had other ideas. Besides, she might accost my uncle, and that is the last thing he needs.
His mind made up, Warner slipped from the ballroom and caught sight of Lady Adele disappearing up the stairs. He followed her, watching as she slipped into his study. Frowning, he crept in after her, closing the door behind him.
The sound startled Lady Adele and she whirled around, eyes wide as she clutched her chest and leaned against the desk for support. “What are you doing here?”
Warner arched an eyebrow at her.
“I could ask you the same question.” He folded his arms across his chest and walked towards her, perching on the end of the table beside her. “Especially as I am not the one skulking about places I should not be.”
“I am not skulking.” Lady Adele stiffened, her eyebrows creasing as she looked at him.
“You are trying to avoid notice; why else would you be wearing that?” He gestured to the gown she was wearing.
Lady Adele threw up her hands and made a frustrated noise. “There is no pleasing you, is there? What is wrong with my dress now?”
Unlike her last dress, this gown was simpler. It was understated and plain, an unremarkable shade of pale blue silk. Her hair was done up fashionably, and it drew his eyes to the slight curve of her neck.
The necklace around it was delicate gold, and he wondered who had given it to her. He felt a stab of irritation as he imagined any number of men pressing jewellery into her hand, trying to win her affections. She would not wear such a thing; no doubt she would think it a chain.
It unnerved him just how comforting he found that thought.
He shrugged. “The last time you were at a ball, you wore a dress so fine that the queen herself would be jealous. And now, you have tried to escape notice by wearing a dress that is unremarkable and plain. Which may have worked if you were not as beautiful as you are.”
“You really are incapable of complimenting someone without also insulting them.” She shook her head, but Warner thought he saw the corners of her mouth quirk upwards.
“Perhaps I am simply out of practice.” Warner made an expansive gesture, taking in the room around them.
Her voice was teasing. “Then you should remedy that.”
“Are you offering to help?” He leaned forwards.
A faint flush of red crept across Lady Adele’s cheeks, somewhat undermining the cool tone of her voice. “If I said yes, that would be the height of vanity.”
“One could argue that it is simply a way of assisting a friend.”
“That would imply that you were a friend, Your Grace.” She gave him a mischievous smile.
He stood up and moved in front of her, towering over her as she perched against the desk. “As delightful as I find your little attempt at distraction, the fact remains that you were clearly trying to escape notice. I was simply pointing out the unlikeliness of such an occurrence.”
“You mean that it is unlikely I would escape your notice.” She gazed up at him.
“Perhaps.” He had meant the word to sound dismissive, but it came out more earnest than intended. To his satisfaction he saw Lady Adele’s blush deepen. You are playing a dangerous game, Warner. “Now tell me, Marchioness, what are you doing in my uncle’s study?”
“I need to speak to him. I had hoped I might catch him at the ball, but I could see no sign of him.” She glanced around the room. “Where is he?”
“None of your business. My uncle is grieving and does not need to be harangued.” His fist clenched as he nodded his head at her. “I know what you are like, and he is not in the state to meet your… fervour.”
Lady Adele poked him in the chest. “Just because you and I cannot seem to go more than three minutes without quibbling does not mean that I am like this with everyone else.”
“I remember, you save this just for me. And how fortunate I am.” He had caught her hand in his without thinking and hastily dropped it as he took a step away from her. “But I cannot allow you to see my uncle.”
“Your protectiveness would be endearing if it did not make you more stubborn than an ox.” He was not sure if he was imagining it, but he could have sworn he heard an affectionate note in her words. It is in your imagination.
“It seems you are taking several leaves out of my book where compliments are concerned. They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery after all.” he teased, running a hand through his hair.
She laughed softly and rolled her eyes. “I doubt that you are so desperate for flattery as that Your Grace. I have heard at least six women today wax lyrical over your dashing eyes and fine… form.”
“And you did not see fit to join them?”
“I had better things to do.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and fixed him with a determined stare, her jaw set. “Now are you going to let me speak to your uncle or not?”
“No.”
She threw her hands up in frustration. “Have you ever considered that your efforts to protect him are in fact doing the opposite?”
“How?” Warner’s brow creased and he took a step towards her. What game is she playing?
She shot him a withering look. “What if it was not Eric who was the target of the poison? It would have been far too easy to mix up the drinks. Or perhaps the killer was trying to send your uncle a message.”
“And what better way to do that than to kill his heir.” Warner’s eyes widened as he rubbed his jaw. “That is not a thought that should be ignored.”
“You could just say that I am right; it is far less words.”
“Your idea has merit, but that does not mean it is correct.” He stiffened.
“I thought you said you wished to practice compliments? That was a rather poor attempt.” Her tone was teasing, and it made his heart stumble in his chest.
“And you said you did not wish to help me.” He replied silkily, canting his head towards her.
“No, I said it would be the height of vanity to accept. That did not mean that I had no wish to help you.” She grinned at him. “Besides, I want to hear you say that I am right.”
“I — what was that?” He whipped his head towards the door.
“Really the lengths you will g—” Lady Adele began but Warner cut her off. “Shhh. Listen.”
The sound of footsteps rang out. “Blast! It sounds like they are getting closer.”
Lady Adele’s eyes widened, and she glanced from him to the door. “If they find us in here, like this… Goodness only knows what they will think.”
“They will not find us. Come with me.” He tugged her towards the thick curtains by the window.
Her soft skin was warm against his hands as drew the curtain around them, pressing them both as flat against the wall as it was possible to be. The smell of roses filled his senses, and he could not tell if the wild heartbeat he felt was his or hers.
Her breath tickled his neck as he looked down to check their feet were hidden from view. The movement made him all too aware of her body pressed against his. His mouth was suddenly dry.
“Stay still,” he whispered.
“You hardly need to tell me that.” Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear it over the pounding of his heart and the roaring in his ears.
The feel of her breath against his skin set every hair on his body on end. Gooseflesh covered him, and he swallowed.
The footsteps had stopped. Warner forced himself to take deep but quiet breaths, trying to ignore the feeling of Lady Adele’s heart against him.
He heard muffled voices outside of the study and recognised one of the voices as Mr. Harris, one of the Bow Street Runners.
“What are they saying?” Lady Adele whispered.
“We might be able to hear better without you talking.” He arched an eyebrow at her.
She scowled at him but did not say another word.
Mr. Harris’ voice was muffled, but Warner caught the end of his sentence. “After my little visit you mean? Oh, I am more convinced than ever that that little vixen did it.”
“Why are you so certain it was the Widow Kidlington?” his companion asked.
“Have you seen the way she behaves? What married woman would be able to carry on as she does?” Mr. Harris replied. “No husband would permit a woman to behave like that.”
“She is rather wild. And rich too.” Lady Adele’s eyes narrowed at the man’s words.
“Exactly. And of course, there is the fact that she and the Marquess never even had their wedding night. She probably killed him to keep herself unspoiled for her next marriage.” Mr. Harris chuckled to himself, and Warner remembered the way the men in the gentleman’s club had said similar things.
I can hardly blame Lady Adele for not wanting to marry. He felt Lady Adele tense against him but barely heard the sharp intake of her breath over the thundering of his heart.
“But we need proof. Something like a confession.”
“I am confident we can encourage a confession.” Mr. Harris sighed. “The widow is like a wild horse. She needs to be tamed. To be broken.”
“Quite the ride, a chit like that.” Warner could picture the Bow Street Runner licking his lips.
Warner’s jaw was clenched so tight, he thought his teeth might break. He had moved without realising, but the feeling of Lady Adele’s fingers around his arm stopped him. He glanced down at her, panic and… was that shame on her face?
It tore at his heart, and he turned to face the door. “Absolutely not.”
“No!” her voice was a strangled hiss. “If they discover us, it will only make this worse.”
Warner took a steadying breath. He knew she was right. And then he heard Mr. Tibble’s next words.