Chapter 16
Sixteen
Alex glanced around the room, her attention wandering from Mr. Chandler’s report on the latest arrival of specimens from the East Indies as she searched the crowd yet again for Lord Hammerton.
Drat.
Repressing a huff of disappointment, she was about to give up hope of his making an appearance at the ball when she finally spotted him in the shadowed archway of the card room, conversing with a buxom brunette.
Alex watched for a moment, feeling an uneasy frown touch her lips, but then forced herself to shake it off.
She was no doubt only imagining that something unsettling lurked beneath the polished manners and immaculate dress.
After all, he was a gentleman, and had expressed nothing but solicitous concern for both Justin and her.
Hammerton suddenly looked up and met her gaze. He smiled, and after making a polite bow of acknowledgement, he took his leave from the lady by his side and strolled over to to join her.
“How pleasant to see you again, Miss Chilton. I have missed you this past week. Have you been well?” He bent over her hand as he spoke, performing the greeting with just the right amount of flourish.
A few young men standing nearby eyed his style with a touch of envy.
“I have been … occupied,” answered Alex.
“Well, I for one am delighted that you have found the time to grace this evening’s soiree.”
Alex couldn’t help but notice that his smile had no real warmth to it, not like …
Stop! she chided herself. There was little point in dwelling on such a thought. Indeed, it should only serve as a reminder that her judgment concerning people was not as good as she had once believed.
Forcing an answering smile, Alex concentrated on responding with the same show of flirtatious charm—no easy feat given her current feelings.
“How kind of you to notice my absence,”
“How could I fail to notice,” he replied smoothly. “I hear the musicians tuning their instruments—dare I hope that you will favor me with a waltz? ”
“I should be delighted, sir,” she murmured, and allowed him to lead her onto the dancefloor.
As she lifted her arm to place her hand on his shoulder, Alex felt a twinge of pain in her injured shoulder and winced slightly.
Hammerton didn’t miss the tiny moment. “Are you feeling unwell, Miss Chilton?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
“No, no—not at all. I suffered a silly little accident at home, but it’s merely a minor scratch.”
He inclined his head a fraction and refrained from inquiring further on the subject.
Which showed him to be a perfect gentleman, she told herself.
They exchanged pleasantries throughout the dance, but as the music was ending, Alex turned the conversation to more serious matters.
“Milord, I feel unaccountably warm. Would you be kind enough to accompany me for a short walk in the garden?” In a lower voice she added, “if I may be so bold, I wish to ask your advice on a most pressing matter.”
“I should be honored by any confidence you wish entrust to me,” he said earnestly. Taking her hand, Hammerton guided her out through the set of french doors.
Alex felt even more on edge as she walked into the cool evening with him. It was worry over Justin she told herself, trying to banish her uncharitable thoughts concerning her companion.
“I am very grateful for your concern,” she began as they turned down one of the side walkways. “I believe that I mentioned to you my fears that the mishaps befalling my brother were no mere accidents?”
Hammerton nodded.
She came to a halt by a tall trellis heavy with tuber roses that screened them from any prying ears and eyes. “I now have reason to be sure that someone means him harm.”
He knitted his brows together. “That is a serious charge indeed, Miss Chilton. May I ask why?”
“Because last week …” She hesitated and then forced herself to go on. “because last someone tried to kill me as well.”
The words seemed to shock him. He flinched, as if recoiling from a physical blow. “Perhaps—I mean no offense—but perhaps, in light of your understandable concern for your brother, you are magnifying an innocent incident—”
“A gunshot is hardly an innocent incident,” interrupted Alex, a little more sharply than she intended.
“No, it certainly is not.” He rubbed at his chin, as if in deep thought.
Alex was relieved that he appeared to be taking her seriously.
“Have you discussed your concerns with anyone else? I have noticed that Lord Branford seems to be a particular friend of yours …” He let the sentence die on a note of question.
Alex carefully schooled her features to hide any emotion.
“Lord Branford is merely an acquaintance who has a passing interest in botany. He is not someone with whom I would discuss personal matters.” She drew in a breath.
“While you, sir, have kindly expressed an interest in Justin. But if I have overstepped—”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “You were quite right to speak to me, Miss Chilton. Your brother is an amiable young man and I’m happy to be of service to you and your family in trying to resolve this nasty business.”
He paused and regarded her with a strange intensity. “Tell me, have you any idea why anyone would want to harm either of you?”
“No—that what’s so alarming!” she said, her voice turning shaky with fear and frustration.
Hammerton patted her arm …
Alex was tempted to flick his fingers away.
She knew he meant it kindly, and yet his touch was oddly repellent.
“I …” She hesitated, and then decided not to mention her father’s strange letter.
If someone as skilled as Branford couldn’t make sense of it, there was no point.
“I haven’t a clue as to who it could be. ”
“Never fear, Miss Chilton. I am happy to investigate this matter for you,” he said. “I shall begin making discreet inquiries immediately and will keep you informed as to what I discover.”
Alex breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared her trepidation concerning Hammerton was as misplaced as her earlier trust in … a certain other gentleman.
“Thank you, sir. I am very much in your debt.”
“Be assured that I will do my utmost to bring this distressing matter to an end,” he replied. “And now perhaps it would be wise for us to return to the ballroom before any idle tongues are set to wagging.”
Feeling a bit guilty for her unkind thoughts when clearly Hammerton was a true gentleman, Alex let herself be led back into the glittering lights and festive mood.
Cecilia Ashton marched up the front steps of the magnificent townhouse and after seizing the heavy knocker, she hammered out a brusque announcement of her arrival.
Bang! Bang! Bang.
Tapping her foot in impatience, she waited for Branford’s butler to answer the summons.
When the fellow finally arrived, he merely cracked the door open a few inches—and looked shocked at seeing an unaccompanied lady.
“Kindly stop gawking and allow me to come inside,” snapped Cecilia. “I’m in no mood to tarry here on the doorstep all evening,”
For a moment, the man looked utterly nonplussed by the demand. Then, recovering his equilibrium, he replied in a stentorian voice. “I am sorry, Madam, but Lord Branford is not at home.”
“Fustian!” With the point of her neatly furled parasol, she pushed the door wide open.
The butler moved to block the entrance.
“Madam!” he intoned, though his inflection indicated his doubt as to whether she deserved such polite address. “I repeat, Lord Branford is not receiving visitors.”
The parasol whacked hard against his shins.
With an undignified yelp, he recoiled sideways, allowing Cecilia to sweep past him.
“Is he in the library?” She was already poking her head into the darkened room. “Ah, I see he is not. That must mean he’s in his bedchamber?”
The butler let out a strangled sound.
“You needn’t fear any repercussions,” she said airily as she ascended the stairs. “I shall inform Branford that you had no choice in the matter.”
At the top of the landing, she hesitated. On the right, a door was ajar and the faint light of a single candle was barely discernable. She entered very quietly.
Branford lay under a light coverlet, and appeared to be asleep. His nightshirt was open at the throat, and the white linen accentuated the pallor of his skin. Without opening his eyes, he gave a faint smile.
“Poor Hawkins was no match for you, I see.”
Cecilia dropped her parasol and came to the edge of the bed. “Oh, Sebastian.” She smoothed a tangle of hair from his brow and leaned in to brush a quick kiss to his stubbled cheek.
He shifted slightly, which drew an involuntary wince.
“Are you badly hurt?” asked Cecilia s she moved the coverlet down to expose his chest. Through the fine weave of his nightshirt, she could see the heavy bandage wrapped under his breast.
“No vital organs are damaged—just a nick to the ribs. The doctor says that I’m lucky.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I wish I could feel the same.”
Cecilia moved a chair around so that she could sit by his side. “My dear, dear friend,” she said softly, taking up his limp hand and cradling it between her palms. “You were there for me in my time of need. My sister and her child would not be alive if not for you—”
“I only did what Henry would have done,” he interjected.
“But Henry wasn’t there! You defended her from that blackguard,” she replied. “Now, it’s you who are in need. Please—let me help.”
“I am beyond help,” he said bleakly.
“Ye gods, you sound like some bird-witted heroine in a horrid novel!”
Branford allowed a reluctant chuckle … though it caused another spasm of pain.
“Of course you’re not beyond help,” continued Cecilia. “Though how a man of your intelligence managed to get himself in such a coil is beyond me.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Now, kindly explain this ridiculous bet.”
Branford’s eyes flew open. “How the devil …”
“Justin Chilton is no match for me either,” she shot back. “He is, by the way, feeling quite wretched about wounding you.”