Chapter 14
Fourteen
Alex was not in the best of moods. She surveyed the crowded ballroom and realized there wasn’t a soul with whom she wished to converse. Not even the group of Botanical Society members hashing over the latest lecture on flora of the East Indies held any particular interest for her tonight.
Men, she thought acidly as she made her way to a small settee screened from general view by an arrangement of potted palms. She knew it had been a big mistake letting emotion overcome reason.
A sigh slipped from her lips. The trouble was, once the proverbial cat was out of the bag, it was awfully difficult to disengage its claws and stuff it back inside.
Her eyes roamed the room once again. Branford wasn’t here tonight either. It was now five days since … The Kiss.
Her state of mind was not improved by the thought of The Gunshot as well. Any doubt that a real threat to her brother’s life existed had been shattered by the crack of a bullet—but she still had no clue as to why. Or who.
“Is something wrong? If looks could kill, you’d have done away with half the ton tonight.”
Alex’s head shot up. “Perhaps it would be no great loss,” she whispered as Justin sat down beside her.
He gave her a searching look. “What has you so upset? You’ve been in a black mood for the past few days now.”
“I—I’m simply tiring of the endless rounds of balls and routs and teas and morning visits,” she replied softly. “I would prefer to be back at home where it is possible to work without all the distractions.”
Justin regarded her with contrition. “I’m sorry. I know you’re tolerating all of this for my sake, but lately I had thought that, well, perhaps you were enjoying yourself as well.”
“The Botanical Society is interesting enough,” she answered neutrally. “But I have been neglecting my own work.”
Justin was silent for a few moments, as he appeared to contemplate the intricate patterns formed by the softly swaying fronds.
“Have you seen Lord Branford?” he asked abruptly. “There is a matter on which I wish to ask his opinion.”
“Has he not been around?” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as brittle to him as it did to her own ear. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Justin’s brows came together a fraction. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated and let out a deep sigh instead.
“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we should return home,” he said, sounding just as dispirited as she felt.
“Things appear hopeless with Anne’s father, and Viscount Adderley is beginning to pay particular attention to her.
I should just as soon not have to stand around helplessly and be spectator to their courtship. ”
Alex felt a stab of guilt. She had been so caught up in her own affairs that she had neglected to see her brother’s pain.
“How selfish of me,” she exclaimed, slipping her hand over his. “I’ve thought of naught but my own petty problems. Come, tell me why you think things are truly so bleak. Surely you don’t doubt Anne’s feelings …”
Hammerton noticed the two siblings deep in conversation. He was reminded of the note he had intercepted from Branford, and how it revealed a growing intimacy between the earl and the Chiltons that didn’t auger well for his plans. In fact, it had been a cause for concern over the past few days.
His lips pursed in thought for a few moments, then curled into a calculating smile.
He strolled to where Standish was laughing over a bawdy joke with a group of his friends. Throwing his arm casually over his cousin’s shoulder, he disengaged him from the other gentlemen and steered him toward the back of the ballroom.
“You wish to have Branford removed as an ally of the Chiltons?” whispered Hammerton. “I have an idea. Follow my lead and in five minutes they will be more than happy to stick a knife into the Earl of Branford’s icy heart.”
Moving slowly through the crowd, he circled around and came to a halt near the settee where they were hidden from view by another arrangement of trees …
“What a nasty business,” began Hammerton in a voice dripping with false concern. “I find young Chilton to be a very pleasant fellow, and his sister is charming as well. Someone should warn them of the danger.”
“Surely you exaggerate,” said Standish
Hammerton heaved a sigh. “I wish that was true. To be honest, I would not have thought even such an unprincipled rake as Branford would stoop that low.”
“Just what do you mean?” inquired Standish.
“Making sport with an innocent.”
“No!” Standish feigned shock. “No gentleman …”
“I would not have believed it either if I hadn’t witnessed it myself.” Hammerton lowered his voice just a little. “It’s right there in the betting book at the club. Imagine, he actually wagered five hundred pounds that he could—well, to put it bluntly—mount the poor girl.”
“The blackguard!” exclaimed Standish.
“Quite. But it’s deucedly awkward to broach such a delicate subject to Chilton. I don’t quite know him well enough.”
“Yes, I see your point,” replied Standish.
“Well, I shall try to think of some way to alert him. It would be ungentlemanly to let such behavior go unchecked. I should never forgive myself if the young lady came to any harm.”
With that, Hammerton motioned for them to move off, a look of malevolent satisfaction spreading over his face.
Alex fisted her hands in her lap, her nails nearly drawing blood as they dug into her palms There was a dull roaring in her ears and she found herself wondering if, for the first time in her life, she was going to succumb to the utterly ridiculous feminine weakness of fainting on the spot.
But she had never been one to wilt in the face of adversity, she reminded herself grimly. Her shock quickly turned to a seething anger. She gritted her teeth and imagined slicing up a certain portion of the earl’s anatomy—inch by inch.
“Alex …” Justin’s face was white with concern as he searched for words.
“You needn’t worry that I’m about to fall into a fit of girlish hysterics.” Her voice was under rigid control. “At my advanced age, I have few of the illusions of a young miss and am not so naive as to the ways of the world. If Lord Branford, for whatever reason, wants to play … ”
“We don’t even know if it is true,” pointed out Justin in a near whisper.
Alex compressed her lips as she brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “I thought it was you who expected the worst from him.”
Justin colored. “It’s just that now I … I just don’t believe he would do such a thing,” he said in a near whisper. “Do you?”
Alex didn’t answer his question. “You know very well that I sought out the earl for my own reasons. I am fully aware of his reputation. If he chooses to amuse himself with his own little games, that is his concern, not mine.”
She forced a smile as Justin’s eyes bore into her. “Ah, I see that Anne is looking for you. I expect you are promised for the next set.”
“But Alex …”
“Put the whole thing out of your mind. That’s what I intend to do.” She looked away, though the crowd was a mere blur of muddled colors. “It’s not as if I’ve been silly enough to form a tendre for the dratted man—or have imagined he has any such feelings for me.”
She shrugged. “I think I shall see if Aunt Aurelia is ready to leave, I find the evening has become exceeding dull.”
Branford gave a snort of frustration as he folded the sheets of paper and put them back into his coat pocket.
Alex’s father had clearly been a very complicated and unconventional thinker, which made his code that much more difficult to break.
Adding to the difficulty were the strange little symbols —they looked like hatchets—interspersed among the random letters?
Damnation. Unraveling the logic of a professional soldier was child’s play compared to that of an introverted scholar.
To add to the mystery, the servant who had been hovering on his deathbed had unfortunately passed away before Branford arrived in East Anglia, leaving him with only fragments of a jumbled story—and a very odd one at that.
From the account Simms had given him, the man’s mind was already wandering.
What was truth and what were mere figments of a dying man’s imagination was difficult to discern.
All in all, it had been a waste of nearly a week.
As Branford shifted impatiently against the squabs, the crackling of a very different sort of paper caused him to amend his assessment.
The trip hadn’t been complete waste, he corrected himself.
He had been close enough to Riverton to stop and attend to one other important matter.
The local bishop had been more than happy to comply with his request for a special license, handing it over with unctuous wishes for the quick arrival of an heir.
The journey had also provided him with many long hours of contemplation.
Mental arguments had raged back and forth.
But in the end, all the careful reasonings and rigid logic were no more than meaningless words.
The essence of it all was that his life would be sadly flat—and yes, lonely—without Alex.
He was tired of living within a carefully constructed shell of emotional armor The thought of watching her eat toast and jam at breakfast … of seeing her paint-smudged face furrow in concentration as she worked … of sharing laughter and arguments brought a poignant smile to his lips.
And the thought of her in his bed every night …
Miss Alexandra Chilton had somehow found a chink in his defenses.
And yet he was more than willing to make himself vulnerable. She had trusted him from the beginning—trusted that he was more than the monster painted by the gossips … trusted that he would never hurt her.
That meant everything to him.