Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“Isee,” Leo replied coolly. “And now you choose to share his secret. What has changed, I wonder?”
His wife’s admission stung more than he cared to admit. The realization that she had withheld such significant information while he had been laboring to protect her reputation and his family’s honor ignited a spark of genuine anger that he carefully contained behind a mask of indifference.
“Westbury’s interest,” she answered simply. “It suggests the stakes are higher than mere social impropriety.”
Leo rose from his chair and moved toward the fireplace, positioning himself so that the flames illuminated his features from below. The deliberate movement allowed him a moment to gather his thoughts, to leash the unexpected surge of…
Was it betrayal?
Such an emotion seemed disproportionate to their arrangement, yet he could not deny the peculiar hollowness her words had created.
“The Gilded Lion,” he repeated, committing the name to memory. “I shall locate this establishment, and with it, Miss Finley. Perhaps she knows about Philip’s whereabouts.”
He turned to face her fully, noting how the firelight caught the rich brown of her hair, transforming the simple coiffure into a crown of burnished copper. The observation was unwelcome, a distraction from matters of greater importance.
“You’re angry,” Beatrice observed, her perceptiveness once again catching him off guard.
“I am… disappointed that our partnership has been compromised by incomplete disclosure,” he corrected, the careful phrasing masking a deeper wound than he cared to examine. “But what’s done is done. We move forward with the information now available.”
Her eyes, luminous in the study’s amber light, searched his with uncomfortable precision. “I could not betray Philip’s trust without cause.”
“And yet now you have done exactly that,” Leo pointed out, taking a measured sip of his cognac. “One wonders what other secrets you’re hiding, Duchess.”
She flinched slightly at that, the first genuine crack in her composure he had witnessed this evening. “I have none that would impact our arrangement.”
“Our arrangement,” Leo echoed, rolling the phrase around his tongue as though sampling a questionable vintage. “A curious term for what has become a rather more… complex entanglement.”
Beatrice straightened her back, setting her barely touched cognac on a nearby table. Leo could not help it; his gaze drifted to the seductive swell of her breasts.
“I shall make inquiries regarding Miss Finley first thing tomorrow,” Leo continued, forcing his thoughts back to the matter at hand.
“The Gilded Lion is likely situated in one of the less salubrious quarters of London, which explains why Philip’s involvement remained undetected by Society at large. ”
“I wish to accompany you,” Beatrice said unexpectedly.
Leo’s eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. “That would be entirely inappropriate, Duchess. The establishments in which Miss Finley might be found are no place for a woman of your station.”
“A woman of my station has already been compromised by association with this matter,” she countered, her voice taking on that particular tone of quiet determination he was beginning to recognize.
“Besides, I am more likely to gain Anna’s confidence than you; she certainly knows about my character through Philip. ”
The logic of her argument was undeniable, though Leo found himself reluctant to concede the point.
The thought of exposing his wife to the questionable environs of London’s gaming establishments…
it triggered an unexpected protective instinct that had little to do with social propriety and much to do with a sense of responsibility he had not anticipated.
Beatrice was supposed to be a stranger bearing his name, after all.
“We shall discuss this further tomorrow,” he said finally, unwilling to engage in a protracted debate when the hour was late and his thoughts were unsettled by the evening’s revelations.
“For now, I suggest we retire. The morning will bring clarity to matters that seem overly complex in the small hours.”
Beatrice hesitated, as though she might press the issue, before offering a slight nod of acquiescence. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
The formality of her address, after the momentary ease of their exchange, struck Leo as oddly disappointing. He watched as she moved toward the door, the rustle of her silk gown providing an auditory counterpoint to the visual spectacle of her graceful departure.
“Duchess,” he called, halting her retreat. “Why did you agree to marry Philip if you knew his heart belonged to another?”
The question had escaped without conscious intent, emerging from some deeper curiosity that Leo had not realized he harbored.
Beatrice turned to face him, her expression momentarily unguarded in a manner that revealed the complexity beneath her composed exterior.
“I believe, Your Grace,” she replied after a moment’s consideration, “that you yourself would agree that convenience serves both parties better than passion. Goodnight.”
With that, she departed, leaving him to contemplate the curious parallels between her arrangement with his cousin and the one she now had with him.
Both marriages of convenience, both lacking the conventional foundations of matrimony. Yet one had dissolved before it could be formalized, while the other had somehow transformed into something more than either participant had anticipated.
What kind of woman had he married? And why did the question suddenly seem far more significant than it had mere hours ago?
Leo stared at the empty space where his wife had stood, her enigmatic words lingering in the air like the faint scent of her perfume.
The crackling fire cast restless shadows on the study walls, mirroring the unsettled thoughts that now occupied his mind.
He drained the remainder of his cognac in a single swallow, welcoming the burn as it traced a path down his throat.
“Convenience rather than passion,” he murmured to the empty room, testing the concept as one might test the edge of a blade.
The following evening found Leo striding purposefully through the gaslit streets of London, his greatcoat collar turned up against the damp chill that permeated the air.
The directions he had obtained regarding the Gilded Lion led him toward a section of the city where respectability began to fray at its edges. Not quite the rookeries, but certainly distant from the manicured squares of Mayfair.
“Leo! By Jupiter, is that you skulking about like a common footpad?”
The familiar voice halted Leo mid-stride. He turned to find Adrian approaching, elegant despite the lateness of the hour, his walking stick tapping a jaunty rhythm against the cobblestones.
“What remarkable timing,” he remarked drily, his expression suggesting he found the coincidence anything but fortuitous. “One might almost suspect you of following me.”
“Following you? Preposterous notion,” Adrian declared, falling into step beside him with practiced ease.
“Though I admit I was intrigued when your butler mentioned you had departed on foot rather than by carriage. Most unusual for a man of your station and general disinclination toward pedestrian exertion.”
“Your interest in my habits is noted,” Leo replied curtly. “And unwelcome. I have private business to attend to.”
Adrian’s eyebrows rose in exaggerated surprise. “Private business? In this particular quarter of the city? My dear friend, you wound me with your secrecy. Especially when the said business clearly promises to be far more entertaining than Lady Melbourne’s interminable whist party.”
“This is not a social excursion,” Leo insisted, quickening his pace in the vain hope of discouraging his persistent companion. “I am seeking information regarding Philip’s disappearance.”
“Even more intriguing!” Adrian exclaimed, matching his stride with irritating ease. “A mystery, a missing marquess, and a midnight expedition. I insist on accompanying you. My observational skills and general charm have proven invaluable in similar circumstances.”
Leo halted abruptly, fixing his friend with a glacial look that had intimidated far more formidable men. “This is a family matter, Adrian. Not entertainment for your amusement.”
“Family matter or not, you’re venturing into areas where an additional pair of eyes might prove useful,” Adrian countered, his tone shifting from frivolity to genuine concern. “Besides, I’m intimately familiar with every gaming hell of consequence in London. My knowledge could prove invaluable.”
“I require no assistance,” Leo maintained, though with marginally less conviction.
“Come now,” Adrian persisted, his expression settling into lines of uncharacteristic seriousness. “You forget I’ve known Philip since he was in short-coats. If he’s in trouble, I would consider it a personal failing not to offer my assistance.”
The sincerity in his voice gave Leo pause.
Beneath the cultivated facade of careless indolence, Adrian possessed both intelligence and loyalty in measures often underestimated by casual acquaintances.
And there was merit in his argument; the areas they would need to search presented risks that a solitary gentleman, even one of Leo’s imposing stature, might be ill-advised to confront alone.
“Very well,” Leo conceded with evident reluctance. “But this is not one of your light-hearted adventures, Adrian. There may be genuine danger involved.”
“Danger! How thrilling,” Adrian replied, his solemnity immediately giving way to renewed enthusiasm. “I shall endeavor to comport myself with appropriate gravity, I assure you.”
Leo sighed, already questioning the wisdom of his capitulation. “See that you do. The establishment we seek is called the Gilded Lion. According to my informant, it lies two streets hence.”