Chapter 45
W hen Jasper returned to the main house, he found Frankie pacing on the lawn. Several men stood with her, and he assumed Houndsbury had assigned them as protection. The moment she saw him she pushed through two broad pairs of shoulders and ran toward him. She almost threw her arms around him before apparently remembering where they were, and instead stopped toe-to-toe and said, “What happened?”
Jasper wanted to squeeze her tight and reassure himself that she was all right. If he hadn’t felt the telltale burning of eyes on the back of his neck in the forest, she might be dead this very moment. He would have tugged her closer regardless of decorum, if she were not impatiently waiting for answers along with everyone else. So instead of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to his room, where he could lock her up safe forever, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the back of his neck. “Bloody dogs.”
Frankie blinked. “Pardon me?”
“Some of the hunters were heading back, and their dogs were chasing a rabbit. In a twist of misfortune, I got caught in the melee. By the time I made it through the pack, the shooter was gone.”
“Did you see any footprints?”
Houndsbury appeared in the doorway at that moment, spotted Jasper, and hurried over. “Well?” he barked.
“The shooter eluded me, Your Grace.”
“No footprints?” he asked, unknowingly echoing Frankie.
“The ground is too dry, although there were broken plants where he stood.”
“Blast! He got away with murdering one man on my property and nearly another. I want him found!”
“He left something behind.”
Frankie and Houndsbury stilled. Jasper shifted so that his back was to the steps and only Frankie and Houndsbury could see what he held in his fist. He opened his fingers, and lying crumpled on his palm was a scrap of sapphire-blue silk. “This was caught on the bark of the tree where he stood.”
Houndsbury stared at the sapphire silk, his mouth tight with fury. He knew as well as Jasper that shades of blue were currently in fashion for men. “From a vest? A piece of his handkerchief? I’ll have every closet turned inside out.”
“That is, of course, at your discretion, Your Grace, but I wonder if it would tip him off? He would dispose of the clothing before we ever got to his chamber, whereas if we wait, we may catch him inadvertently wearing this less-popular sapphire color.”
Houndsbury’s jaw worked, but he nodded in agreement. “Perhaps it would be wiser to have my servants quietly search the guest chambers during the ball. Have you shown anyone else?”
“Only you and Miss Turner.”
“Keep it that way. I have ordered the stables and carriage house closed. No one is to leave the property until the inspector arrives from London.”
“How are the guests reacting?”
“Women are fainting with the vapors left and right, and the men are either angry or uneasy.”
“One of them is playacting.”
Houndsbury adjusted the cuffs on the red hunting coat he still wore. “Yes. Among us walks a murderer.”
“Miss Turner is in danger,” Jasper said flatly. “I request that she be allowed to leave.” And by request , he meant demand . She would be leaving whether Houndsbury liked it or not. He had been willing to stay before the direct attempt on her life, but there was no way he was allowing her to brush shoulders with the person who’d shot at her.
“You are not a man someone says no to, not even a duke, so I will ask you to consider what I am about to say.” Houndsbury met his gaze with more quiet assurance than half the men who frequented his club. “If you leave now, when the party disbands, Miss Turner will once again be in danger, except then she will be on the London streets where the perpetrator could disappear in a heartbeat. If you remain here, you narrow down the suspects and the avenues of escape. You have a small window of opportunity to eliminate the threat to your betrothed. I suggest you take it.”
Jasper’s pulse beat in his throat.
“Does the betrothed have any say?” Frankie asked.
“No,” Jasper said automatically, but at her scathing look he paused, took a deep breath, and amended his statement. “Yes, of course you do.”
Houndsbury chuckled. “Marriage will suit you just fine, Mr. Jones.”
“I am staying,” Frankie said plainly. “I will not be run off, especially now that I know how much my presence upsets the murderer.”
“You are an extraordinary woman.” Lord Houndsbury studied her as if she fascinated him. “But I must caution you against going off alone. Do not allow yourself to be singled out by anyone, not even those you may consider friends. You will be safest among the other guests.”
Frankie nodded. “That is sound advice I intend to follow.”
Houndsbury glanced toward the steps where several guests hovered, speaking in hushed whispers. “Her Grace wishes to proceed with the ball tonight, and perhaps she is right to do so. It may calm everyone’s nerves to return to normality.”
It was late afternoon, which meant preparations for the ball were already well underway. It seemed absurd to host a ball after what had transpired that day, but Lady Houndsbury had a keen understanding of the delicate sensitivities of her own class, and Jasper suspected she was right to march onward with the festivities. The only thing worse than a frightened aristocrat was a bored aristocrat.
Houndsbury was called indoors to attend to an urgent matter, and Jasper led Frankie to her chamber. Once they were safely locked inside, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, breathing in her delicate scent of roses and resting his chin atop her silky blond head. “I almost lost you.”
He released her, and she adjusted her spectacles. “But you did not. You saved my life, Jasper.”
“As long as I am breathing I will do anything to keep you safe, Frankie. I do not need marriage vows to make that promise.”
“And I will keep you safe.”
Jasper traced his thumb down the side of her face. “I am starting to think you have already saved me.”
“From a lifetime of scheming mamas and torrid affairs?”
Jasper didn’t laugh. “From a lifetime of loneliness.”
Frankie reached up and pulled his mouth to hers. Her kiss was soft and so sweet that he nearly wept.
At last she pulled away and said, “I need to dress for the ball.”
He hated that he could not simply lock her and Cecelia up safe like his greatest treasures, but he knew Frankie would never stand for it. Besides, Houndsbury was right: It was paradoxically safer for them to be among the other guests.
He left her with a final quick kiss, needing to dress as well. His attire would conceal a few lethal surprises, because tonight he would be on the hunt for a killer.