Chapter 11 #3
Clio didn’t miss the wave of heat washing over her as Grey watched from across the room. She tried and failed to dismiss the image of him naked in a tub of steaming water. How fascinating to have glimpsed the hard and raw man hidden beneath a finely tailored suit and expertly tied cravat.
As soon as Cynthia saw Clio, she squeezed the duchess’s hand and extricated herself from the group of fawning debutantes and rakes to join Clio near a beautiful portrait of a much younger Lady Langley and her brother.
Clio squinted at the painting, trying to superimpose the ghostly Viscount Beachley with the boy in the picture.
It was far more challenging than imagining Grey naked.
A scandalous thought and one that brought colour to her cheeks.
‘You look positively marvellous! What a daring dress.’ Cynthia leaned closer.
‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to help you settle in.
I know you are investigating a murder, but the only one at risk of an untimely death here is me.
I forgot how singularly demanding Lady Langley can be.
I do love her, but the woman can suck all the air out of a room. ’
Before Clio could reply, a staid gentleman in black and white entered the parlour and announced dinner was ready.
Grey joined his sister and Clio with Lady Langley at his side.
‘I hate that painting.’ Lady Langley frowned at the portrait.
‘Cynthia, darling, you simply must sit next to me at dinner.’ The sly woman turned her eye to Grey.
‘You can sit on my left, but mind your feet, sir. I won’t have you trying to seduce me with your toe delving beneath my skirts.
’ She winked, leaving no one in doubt of exactly what she hoped he might manage.
Thankfully, the duke was nowhere near the quartet.
He looked deep in conversation with a portly gentleman on the opposite side of the crowded room, though Clio wondered if he would care about who hitched his wife’s skirts as long as it was not him.
Grey’s cheeks darkened, and he clenched his jaw before executing a perfect bow. ‘I would never dare take such liberties, Your Grace.’
She pursed her lips and shrugged. ‘More’s the pity for me.’ Sighing heavily, she took Cynthia’s arm and led them into the opulent dining room.
‘May I?’ Grey moved closer to escort Clio to dinner.
Not seeing any way to avoid the offer without being extremely rude, Clio nodded.
But she refused to touch his bare skin. She ignored his expectant hand, instead claiming the crook of his arm.
The brushed wool of his dinner jacket was rough and warm against her tingling fingers.
‘You look rather well this evening.’ His words were mild, but his growled tone made her toes curl in her heeled slippers. ‘I never realised women could wear corsets quite like that. What a revelation.’
‘Women can wear whatever they like, however they like it.’ Clio kept her gaze forward.
‘Lady Godiva would wholeheartedly agree.’ Grey leaned closer, the heat of his body seeping through her gown.
Clio did turn then, because he so effortlessly stoked her fire. Of course, he would compare her to a blonde beauty who held no resemblance to Clio whatsoever. Not that it mattered. She didn’t want Grey picturing her naked any more than she wanted to see him bare and glistening in firelight.
Damnation!
Her mind was relentlessly clever at remembering details. She’d never had cause to despise that gift until now.
‘Lady Godiva was willing to set aside her own modesty to fight for her townspeople. If her husband hadn’t been such a greedy tyrant, perhaps she would not have been forced to such drastic measures.’
‘I wholeheartedly agree. Although her methods seem to reward rather than discourage such behaviour, wouldn’t you say?’
‘As the only tyrant I know, you would be a better judge of that than I.’
Grey paused next to her chair and pulled it out. ‘First, your bird claims I’m a bastard, now you call me a tyrant? I won’t challenge Sir Robin, but I will call you out, madame.’ He whispered the threat into the shell of her ear.
Clio shivered. Not from fear. From anticipation. Which was far more unsettling.
‘Name the time and place, sir. Pistols or swords?’ They were back to flirting when she should have been fighting him. How did he so easily blur the lines between conflict and seduction?
She sat before he could answer. When he took his seat next to her, he dropped his napkin and used the excuse of retrieving it to lean closer.
‘Tonight. The library. Once everyone is abed. Bring only your wits.’
Clio couldn’t stop the rush of desire flooding through her veins, made all the more potent by her vision of him. The candles on the table flared in unison.
‘There must be a draught,’ Lady Langley declared before waving over a footman.
‘Check all the windows, Geoffrey.’ Her hand lingered on the servant’s arm, his neck reddening as she whispered something.
Straightening abruptly, the poor boy nodded quickly and made a show of checking all the windows. Not an easy feat in such a large room.
‘I say, we weren’t introduced.’ The man who had been talking to the duke sat on Clio’s right and winked at her. ‘Viscount Beachley. The new one, not the dead one.’ He guffawed loudly. ‘Poor Arthur. Always had the rottenest luck. In cards and in wives, it would seem.’
Ah. The cousin set to inherit. What a delightful man.
Clio glanced at Lady Langley to see how she would react to such an insult against her deceased brother. The duchess was too interested in pinching the bottom of yet another young footman as he served her the creamed onion soup.
‘I am so sorry for your loss.’
Before Clio could say any more, the new viscount waved her words away with a soup-coated spoon and narrowly missed spraying the woman to his left with the first course.
‘Bah. We were never close. Though I feel sorry for the poor little nipper he left behind. Her father dead. Her mother, God only knows where. Without Lady Langley, the urchin would be bound for the orphanage. Lucky little thing to have such well-appointed relatives.’
It seemed a waste of time to point out the glaring contradictions in his speech.
Thankfully, the new Viscount Beachley was far more interested in hearing himself talk than listening to anything Clio might have to say.
The only benefit to his incessant chatter was having an excuse to keep her back turned to Grey.
While the topic of his many accomplishments spun out endlessly over the seven-course meal, Clio kept returning to Grey’s proposition.
Hardly! There was no offer. Only a demand.
One she felt compelled to meet. What battle of wits might he devise? And what stakes would they be playing for? Her nipples tightened beneath her corset as her face grew warm.
‘I see you are as passionate about swine as I am. It is so rare to find a female whose mind is capable of grasping such concepts.’
‘Oh, I assure you, I am well acquainted with all manner of pigs, Viscount Beachley.’
‘Fat, dirty pig!’ Sir Robin, who had perched himself on the back of Clio’s chair, fluffed his feathers. Viscount Beachley nearly choked on his dessert.
Grey coughed loudly beside Clio as Lady Langley looked up from her custard-covered plum pudding. ‘Clever boy!’ she called over the hum of conversation. ‘Do you know who would love that bird? Anna. It would be just the thing to cheer the poor cherub up.’
Clio’s heart raced. She schooled her expression to remain calm. This was the perfect opportunity to interview the girl. ‘I would be more than happy to introduce Sir Robin to her if you think it might help. He’s wonderful with children.’
‘You can see her tomorrow. I’ll inform her nurse to expect you. The girl wakes at ghastly hours. Far too early for me. But I’m sure you’ll be fine.’
Clio had to bite her lip to stop the wide grin.
The fates must have taken pity on her. With any luck, she’d have enough information to find the killer by noon on the morrow.
She could leave this house party before teatime and never see Grey again.
Which should have filled her with relief. Unaccountably, it did not.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Lady Langley.’ The new Viscount Beachley glared at Sir Robin, who merely clacked his beak. ‘The girl’s family is dead. A feathered rat isn’t about to help her forget that.’
Before Sir Robin could retaliate against the insult, Clio twisted in her seat, reaching up to stroke his sleek feathers and willing him to remain calm. ‘I must disagree. Sir Robin has been an endless comfort to me during difficult times.’
The viscount’s pudgy cheeks reddened as his eyes narrowed. He did not react well to being contradicted by a woman. ‘That only proves how feather-brained you are, silly girl.’
Sparks flared in her belly as her power spiked.
‘Or perhaps she is highlighting your lack of education in animal therapy, Viscount Beachley. My cousin has spent several years studying with Florence Nightingale. Her opinions on the therapeutic benefits of animals are widely respected in the medical community. Are you suggesting Florence Nightingale is wrong?’ Grey leaned over to better skewer Viscount Beachley with a stare rivalling the most terrifying devil.
‘Or are you merely insulting my cousin’s intelligence? ’
The viscount’s mouth dropped open as the table grew quiet.
‘I-I merely suggested… that is… I would never think to—’
Grey cut in, his green eyes flashing dangerously. ‘No. I should hope not. I would hate for your new title to pass on so quickly to the next in line.’
Silence descended in the dining room as tension pulled tight between Grey and the new Viscount Beachley, whose face had turned an unhealthy shade of crimson as he spluttered.
Cynthia burst into a gale of shrill laughter. ‘Oh, brother. You do have such a funny sense of humour.’
Lady Langley looked from Grey to Viscount Beachley, her eyes gleaming with hunger for more drama.
Cynthia dropped her spoon with a clatter, reclaiming some attention from the rest of the table.
‘I say, is it time for the men to smoke their smelly cigars? I, for one, am dying to play a game of whist. Lady Langley, I haven’t forgotten what a card shark you are, but you won’t beat me this time.
I swear it.’ She stood, forcing the men at the table to join her or risk their reputations as well-bred gentlemen.
Clio spared Grey a wide-eyed glance as he rose. Why on earth would he risk so much to come to her defence against a stupid comment by an even stupider man? If Viscount Beachley weren’t such a blustering coward, Grey could have found himself in a real duel.
Lady Langley, seeming to think the fireworks were over for the present, stood as well.
‘Of course! We’ll leave the men to their whisky and whisperings while we ladies partake of far more civilised entertainment.
Do mind you don’t start any wars in my drawing room, Lieutenant General Grey.
Save that for when you join us in the parlour. ’
Tittering from the ladies and laughter from the men dissolved the simmering promise of violence as the guests began moving to their separate rooms. Clio waited until only she and Grey remained in the dining room.
She stood and gripped Grey’s wrist, ignoring the current passing between them as her bare fingers touched his pulse.
‘Don’t do anything rash. He’s not worth the effort,’ she murmured.
‘You are worth the effort.’ The words fairly singed her as he pressed his lips together, his eyes holding her captive for a breathless moment. She would bet her share in All Things Bright and Beautiful he hadn’t meant to say that.
I’m not. I can give you nothing. I want nothing from you.
But it wasn’t true. She wanted a great deal from Thomas Grey. More than she was willing to admit.
‘I can take care of myself, Thomas.’ His name came out unbidden.
Something hungry flashed in his eyes.
‘I know.’ He turned his hand to capture her fingers and brought them to his lips, pressing a kiss against her palm as sparks danced in the space between them. If any of the guests remained in the dining room, they would have wondered at the marvel. ‘You are a clever witch, Clio.’
Sir Robin hopped from the chair to Clio’s shoulder. ‘Bastard!’
Clio blinked as the spell weaving around them shattered. Had he just called her a witch? She pulled her hand free and turned, pausing at the door. ‘Don’t be a fool, Grey. I told you not to trust me. I meant it.’
‘And I told you I would uncover your secrets. Are you brave enough to show me, Clio? Are you like Lady Godiva or will you slink into the shadows?’
She certainly wasn’t going to strip bare and ride through the town naked. Although the idea of removing her shields and showing Thomas her true self was alarmingly tempting and terribly frightening. No. She didn’t think she was courageous enough. Not by half. So, she turned and walked away.