Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
D ear P,
While victory is never assured, I have been successful in the vast majority of my quests. At the risk of sounding too self-assured…
I am confident in my triumph.
Be careful with your investigations into Cattlyn. While he is not as dangerous as some lords, he is extremely intelligent and crafty. I am dealing with such an opponent right now. Constructing a plan is difficult, especially when instincts demand you take control of the situation. How do you plan to conduct your investigation? If I can assist in any way, you need only ask.
Yours,
Edmund
P.S. Do any additional letters accompany the P? Idle curiosity, of course.
It was a dream. Or a nightmare. Or both.
Bradenton was here. He heard her admit she punched a lord, complain about her failed missions and call him delicious.
Oh yes, and say his kisses made her inside sizzle.
Options:
Find a vase.
Turn invisible.
Pretend she was lost on the way to the ladies’ retiring room.
A sliver of light from the door illuminated his features. His expression was neutral, betraying nothing. “Good evening, Lady Priscilla. I trust you are well.”
“Have I turned invisible?”
His lips twitched. “I’m afraid not.”
“Is there a vase in the room?”
“Heavens forbid.”
“Would you believe the entrance to the ladies’ retiring room is under that chest of drawers?”
He folded his arms across his chest.
Her body heated, uncaring of the inopportune moment. He was muscular, powerful, extraordinary. “I suppose you heard everything I just said.”
“Every. Single. Word.” He took a step closer. “And I have some questions.”
She fought for strength. “Why are you here? Where are Hannah and Emma?”
“Your friends are in Crawford and Peyton’s most capable hands. As for why I am here, I was curious about where you keep disappearing to, and why.” He stepped forward. “So tell me, Lady Priscilla, who were you meeting?”
His scent surrounded her, and the urge to surrender to his control hit. She stood taller. “It was not for any scandalous reason. I simply had a matter to discuss.”
“What matter? With whom?”
“It is none of your concern.”
“It is if you had to resort to punching him in the nose to get past him.” His eyes flashed, as for just a moment, he showed his true power. “I would very much like to talk with him.”
Her heart stumbled. Bradenton was not a man to be trifled with. “While I appreciate your chivalry, it is completely unnecessary. Clearly you misconstrued my words.”
“Perhaps we should discuss the other things you said.”
“You heard incorrectly!”
“I’m sorry?”
“You obviously misunderstood. I said you were... mischievous.”
“Are you sure, because it didn’t sound like that? In fact, it sounded like–”
“Audacious?”
“No, it started with a D.”
“Ah, yes, disastrous.”
His voice deepened, its husky cadence flowing through her like smooth honey. “And what about your comment about our kisses? You said my kisses made your insides–”
“Fizzle.”
He let out a low chuckle. “Close, my dear, but not quite.”
She held her nose up. “That was indeed what I said.”
“Then I will have to issue a challenge.”
“A challe–”
He pressed his lips to hers.
She couldn’t fight. Not him, not her own misguided urges. Not when the handsome, kind and delicious man assaulted both her senses and her body. His intoxicating scent surrounded her, a taste of liquor and pure male. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer.
“Curtain!” A voice outside yelled.
She pulled away, jerking so fast she nearly fell. “What are you doing? What am I doing? What are we doing?”
The passion in his eyes betrayed he was as affected as she. “Would you still like to deny what you said?”
She clenched her fists, but the words wouldn’t come. Only one option remained:
Escape.
Without another word, she spun and threaded through the props, miraculously not tripping as she pushed open the door. Fortunately, no one paid her attention as she bustled back to her seat.
But her insides?
They sizzled.
“I arrange the rocks in order of importance, according to their rank.”
How did she get stuck in another dance with the Earl of Castleberry?
“I explain my reasons so there are no hard feelings, of course.”
It didn’t seem right to clobber a man who was clearly not well.
“Of course all the female rocks are the lowest status.”
On second thought, a vase might be appropriate.
A voice emerged from behind her, deep and powerful as it sent shivers down her neck. “I’m sorry to interrupt your dance, but a certain lovely lady is summoning you. She desperately needs your assistance.”
Castleberry’s eyes widened. He licked his lips as he took in the interloper’s serious demeanor. “Really?”
“Oh yes. She said she was very interested in your… rocks.”
Castleberry’s eyes darted between Priscilla and the far end of the ballroom, where lords and ladies in shimmering finery and sparkling jewels danced under the candlelight. Cattlyn’s ball was an unmitigated crush. “Lady Priscilla, would you be so kind as to excuse me? I hate to leave, but if someone requires my expertise about rocks, well, you understand.”
Priscilla fought to keep a straight face. “Of course, my lord.”
He gave a short bow and hurried away.
Bradenton stepped into his place. “May I?”
Even as she shook her head, she put her hands into position. “You know I can’t refuse in front of everyone.”
“I was counting on it.”
They started to dance, immediately falling into perfect rhythm. “I suppose I owe you for relieving my suffering. I am curious, though. Did a lady truly ask for his expertise?”
“Of course.” He swung her around. “And she was indeed a beautiful woman. She was also a great-grandmother.”
Priscilla couldn’t stop the smile. “If he wasn’t about to share his views on the inferiority of female rocks, I might feel sorry for him.”
“I have no remorse,” he rumbled. “He made the decision to leave the most beautiful lady at the ball.”
She swallowed, peering down at the pale blue satin slippers that matched her dress. “Do not start telling untruths, Your Grace.”
“I never say anything I don’t mean.” He pulled her closer. “You are extraordinary.”
She blushed.
“It is fortunate there are no vases nearby,” he whispered.
“Quite fortunate for conniving dukes.” Yet truthfully, she had no desire to clobber him. Kiss him? Yes, please. “Tell me, Your Grace, how fares the hunt for a bride? And if you’d like a count, two hundred and fifty-two ladies are currently watching you.”
“My endeavor is progressing well.” His eyes were serious. “I have no doubt all will turn out as I hope.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Are you certain?”
His fingers tightened. “Absolutely.”
They twirled again, and she looked out over the sea of people. She may have jested, but many of them watched, the men with smiles, the ladies glaring. Something sour swirled in her stomach. “Your number of admirers grows by the minute.”
He smiled, as if he knew the path her thoughts had taken.
“Who are you considering for a bride?” She clamped her mouth shut. “I’m sorry, that was impertinent.”
“It’s quite all right. You shared your suitors with me. I am considering many, including Lady Betty Thompson, Lady Rachel Butler and the Carlyle sisters.”
“They are completely unsuitable.”
Surprise, then quickly amusement, lit his gaze. “You don’t say? What in particular is objectionable about them?”
Really, nothing. They were all diamonds of the first water. Yet, somehow completely, utterly, most definitely wrong for Edmund. “They talk to rocks.”
“Do they now?” He chuckled lightly. “I’ll keep that under advisement.”
The song ended, yet instead of exchanging farewells, he looked at her speculatively. “Do you have a partner for the next dance?”
She should lie, or at least make up an excuse. She shook her head instead.
“Excellent. Then I shall take another.”
Of course he commanded instead of asked, yet she was powerless to resist. Every minute in his presence courted danger, yet something compelled her to remain.
The next dance was a waltz, and she moved even closer to him. A comfortable silence ensued, as she enjoyed simply being in his arms.
“Tell me about your family,” he asked conversationally. “I haven’t seen your brothers. Have they returned to London?”
“Not yet. One of our cousins is recovering from a serious illness, and they are helping with his estate.” Although she normally enjoyed her brothers’ presence, their absence now was a blessing. They liked and respected Bradenton. No doubt they’d be pressuring her to marry him immediately.
“Do you get along well?”
“I love them, and they love me. They have always been kind and affectionate.”
He cocked his head to the side. “But something bothers you.”
She hid her surprise. She was adept at hiding her dissatisfaction, yet somehow Bradenton saw through her facade. “They don’t realize I’m a grown woman. They treat me like I’m still in the schoolroom.”
“I’m sure they are just trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
He smiled softly. “A big brother remembers his sister’s first smile, her first steps, the first time she said ‘I love you.’ He remembers a tiny thing in braids following him around, giggling at every word. He wants to shield her from all the dangers of the world.”
She softened. Undoubtedly he was thinking of his own younger sisters. “Are you close with your siblings?”
He nodded. “I would do anything for them. I’ll admit to being overprotective, but it’s just because I love them. They are beautiful, kind and smart, sometimes too much. In fact, they remind me of you.”
Priscilla smiled. She had only met them a few times, because they had not launched yet, but she remembered sweet, precocious little girls.
“Even as children, they were sneaky little things. They even managed to trick me for an entire summer.”
This she had to hear. “Do tell.”
He sighed, but a smile played on his lips. “One day, they tiptoed past me, munching on apple tarts and carrying a bag almost as large as them. They looked so guilty, I demanded they show me the contents of the bag. Yet when I looked, it was only their art supplies. The next day, the same thing happened, two little tart-munching girls with a big bag. This time it held their dolls. When it happened again the third day, I let them pass, to fool them, but then I checked the next day. This time the bag was filled with their toys. Every day for the whole summer, they did the same thing. Sometimes I checked, sometimes I didn’t, but the bag never held anything that wasn’t theirs.”
An image of a flummoxed Bradenton amidst two mischievous little girls flashed in her mind. It was endearing. “Did you ever figure out what they were up to?”
“Oh yes,” Bradenton grinned. “Turns out they were indeed smugglers.”
“But you said everything in the bag belonged to them.”
“Indeed.”
“Then what did they smuggle?”
“Apple tarts.”
Priscilla chuckled. “They carried the bag to distract you.”
“Exactly. Cook was beside herself over how she misplaced two tarts every single day.”
She laughed again. “So what did you do? March them to the constable and demand he lock them up?”
“Not quite.” His eyes shined. “I told them that next time, they should include me in their scheme. I loved Cook’s apple tarts.”
She blinked in surprise. “You didn’t get them in trouble?”
“No. I probably should have, but Cook was such a mean curmudgeon. She hated children and never let them have any sweets. I considered it a little taste of justice.” He chuckled lowly. “Plus, they were simply adorable when I caught them.”
She shook her head. No one would believe the duke let his kid sisters get the better of him. Maybe he wasn’t as harsh as she imagined.
“Soon I will have to choose their husbands.”
Or perhaps she was right all along.
“Choose their husbands? Don’t you mean they will choose?”
“Of course.”
Yet something about his tone wasn’t quite genuine. He would give them some freedom, yet when it came down to it, he would make the final decision. It was why she could never surrender herself.
But she did not want to break the contented mood, so she told him about her good-natured rivalry with her own brothers, including the time she hid under blankets and pretended to be a ghost. They were both smiling widely as the dance ended.
“You have a lovely laugh, Lady Priscilla.”
“As do you, Your Grace. You should use it more often.”
“Perhaps I should.” He gazed steadily at her. “You must admit our discussions are more enjoyable than a conversation on rocks.”
“Of course not,” she teased. “I’ve been waiting for you to mention rocks this entire time. In fact, right now I’m going to go outside and talk to a rock.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
They both laughed again. And as they bowed, she didn’t miss all the stares, from the ladies, from her parents, from the entire ton.
She was in trouble.
“You’re smiling.” The words were spoken with surprise, astonishment even. Especially since Edmund just put down a losing hand, surrendering a small fortune to Crawford.
The money was of little consequence. Yet he was shocked at how easily he was showing his other hand, his satisfaction with Priscilla’s courtship. “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”
Crawford collected his earnings. “Usually you trounce me, but today I’ve won everything but your favorite horse.”
“It’s not as dire as all that.” He never wagered what he couldn’t afford to lose, and he could afford to lose much.
Peyton leaned in. “So what were you thinking about? And by that I mean who were you thinking about? And by that I mean how is Lady Priscilla?”
Edmund couldn’t even find the motivation to growl. “She’s fine. I appreciate you helping with Lady Emma and Lady Hannah the other day.”
“It was no chore,” Peyton said. “Lady Emma is a calm and timid lady.”
“Not Lady Hannah.” Crawford grinned.
Edmund gave his friend an inquisitive look, but Crawford didn’t elaborate.
Peyton shuffled the playing cards and dealt another round. “How is your other hunt? Any luck finding your mysterious informant?”
Edmund palmed his cards. “That endeavor is as frustrating as ever. He is immune to all my efforts, and I’m no closer to discovering his identity than when I started. He could be any lord of the ton. ”
“No more clues in the letters?”
“Nothing blatant.”
“It’s too bad you can’t watch him investigate.”
“Exactly.” Edmund looked at his cards, but the symbols blurred before his eyes. Slowly, he put them down. “Maybe I can.”
Peyton looked up from his hand. “Maybe you can what?”
“Maybe I can catch him in the hunt.”
“How? I assume he doesn’t tell you the location of his investigations.”
“Not where,” Edmund grinned. “But whom.”
Crawford shrugged. “Even if you know where, that doesn’t tell when. You can’t catch him a month after he searches.”
“No, but I may be able to deduce it.” Edmund’s excitement grew. “Think about it. If you wanted to investigate a lord, would you break into his home?”
Crawford frowned. “Probably not. The risk of discovery would be too great.”
“Exactly. But when could you search a lord’s home with far less risk and a better chance of explaining yourself if caught?”
Crawford stared at him for a moment, then slowly grinned. “A party.”
“Precisely!” Edmund sat back. “If my informant is already in the house for a party, he could easily slip away to conduct some sleuthing. If someone catches him, he can simply claim he got lost.”
A foggy thought infiltrated the back of his mind, as if he were forgetting something important.
“Lord Cattlyn doesn’t usually vote with us. Is he on your list?”
Edmund started. “Not only is he on the list, but he was the last target Lord P mentioned.”
“Which means…”
“He could investigate tonight.” Edmund ran a hand through his hair. Lord P could be out there, putting his life in danger this very moment.
“If your informant investigates during the party, when would he make his move?” Peyton asked. “He couldn’t spend all night wandering the house.”
“True.” There had to be a way to narrow down the timeframe. “He wouldn’t attempt it during dinner. Someone would miss him.”
“And he wouldn’t do it at the very beginning or end,” Peyton offered. “The crowd is far thinner then.”
“Which means he’d probably search at the height of the party…”
“Which is right around now.”
“What are you waiting for?” Crawford gestured to the cards. “Fold and head out!”
Edmund picked up his cards. “I’ll do this instead.” He placed down a royal flush. As the others groaned, he collected all he’d lost and then some. “Hopefully I’ll have as much luck finding my mysterious informant.”
Crawford threw down his cards. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”
He was counting on it.
“You’re going to get caught.”
It was a distinct possibility. The question was who would catch her. Lord Cattlyn?
Edmund?
“I have no choice,” Priscilla whispered to Emma, who was trying to convince her to abandon the investigation, and Hannah, who wanted to join her. “I haven’t gotten any good information in weeks. I have to find something.”
“So talk to Cattlyn,” Emma implored. “Maybe he’ll slip.”
“I already tried.” Priscilla looked across the ballroom, to where the loud and garish lord was simpering at ladies half his age. “He’s not as careless as he seems.”
“So let’s discover his secrets and blackmail him.”
“Hannah!”
“We already agreed blackmail is not an option,” Priscilla said firmly.
“I didn’t agree,” Hannah grumbled.
Priscilla ignored it. “But a quick look around the house is worthwhile. With this crowd, no one will notice if I slip away. But I need to hurry. My parents will realize if I miss dinner.”
“What about Bradenton?”
Priscilla swallowed. How could the simple mention of his name produce such unease? “What about him?”
“You danced multiple sets with him, and your carriage ride was… unusual.”
Priscilla held back a sigh. Everyone had heard of her “adventure,” which now included Edmund besting a dozen men and carrying her away as she swooned. “He considers me a challenge, nothing more.”
“Are you sure?” Hannah frowned. “Because the way he looks at you…”
“Is nothing special.”
“What about the way you look at him?” Emma asked softly.
Priscilla swallowed the truth. “Edmun– Bradenton is unsuitable for me, and that will never change. I must go.”
Hannah hesitated for just a moment. “Just in case, we’ll keep watch while you’re gone.”
Priscilla nodded. She took a deep breath…
And walked into the unknown.
Someone lurked in the shadows.
Edmund couldn’t see his face, or even his outline, but the signs were there. Doors left ajar, imprints in otherwise perfect rugs, objects that looked as if they’d been recently disturbed. But the most telling sign of all: the soft cadence of footsteps ahead.
He’d searched for minutes before he heard them. He followed the sound, quickly encountering the open doors and other clues. The hallways he walked through were dark and quiet, making the lurker unlikely to be a servant or member of the family. The areas led to the private areas of the home.
Exactly where his informant would investigate.
Of course he could be wrong, and it could be someone with a perfectly legitimate reason to be skulking in the shadowed halls. Or it could also be someone with a darker ulterior motive. Yet there was a distinct chance it was his informant. He was so close.
And getting closer. The footsteps had grown louder, the rustling heavier, in the darkened hallway. He moved with stealthy speed, careful not to make any noise. So far, he’d been quiet enough to avoid detection. He pushed open a door.
It creaked.
Suddenly the noise ahead of him stopped. No more rapid tattoo of footsteps, no rustling and no shuffling. He could imagine his target frozen, as he discovered he had been followed.
The subterfuge had been compromised. The prey knew he was being chased, the predator revealed his presence. Whoever roamed the halls was not supposed to be there.
Edmund’s heart thundered, flooding his muscles with strength. Time to discover the identity of the mysterious Lord P.
He sprinted down the hallway.