A Kiss With Scandal (Scandals & Secrets 4) Page 3

  Breath clogged her lungs.

  He doubted her.

  * * *

  Buying gloves for my sister, indeed. Derek choked on the lie. But what other explanation could he give? Fortunately, Lady Charlotte seemed to believe him.

  He twirled them around the floor without thinking of the steps. His body tuned into hers, sifting through every nuance, judging, discarding information as quickly as she presented it. She was nervous tonight. More so than in the past, but that could be for any number of reasons. So far, her answers were sufficient enough for him to move onto the next lady.

  He was relieved, actually. If his best friend’s sister-in-law was the witness in this investigation, it could cause problems. And more problems were not something he wanted to deal with.

  The music drew to a close with a poignant chord. “It’s been a pleasure, Lady Charlotte. Shall I escort you back to your friends?” He inclined his head toward the group of bitty women she had been speaking with earlier.

  “Thank you, no,” she said too quickly, drawing a smile to his lips. “I’d like a refreshment before rejoining.”

  A blond curl caressed her neck as her head turned toward the table, and he had the most peculiar need to touch it. He refrained. Barely.

  Now that Lady Charlotte had been crossed off his list, he needed to find the other two ladies who had replaced their gloves, quickly, before either took their leave.

  “Allow me.” He offered her his arm, and she accepted with a small smile that dimpled her cheek. How had he never noticed such an attractive quality?

  What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to focus on his mission and not contemplate the charms of Lady Charlotte. Although, those charms were extensive, and the fact that he was only now noticing them spoke volumes about his state of mind the last few years.

  If he hadn’t already made the decision to retire from the War Office, he would have to consider ending his career. If he missed basic details of those around him, how was he expected to notice when something was amiss?

  “Thank you, but you needn’t stay with me,” Lady Charlotte whispered to him.

  His eyes glanced down to her, a brow cocked. “And I’m supposed to leave you all alone over here?”

  “I don’t mind. Truly. You seem preoccupied, and I don’t wish to keep you if you need to leave.”

  He was losing his touch. Smoothing the surprise from his face, he smiled at her. “What else could I possibly have on my mind when I am in your company? Tell me, how is your sister doing? I heard congratulations are in order.”

  She flushed prettily, and damn if he couldn’t look away. What would a few minutes more with Lady Charlotte hurt?

  “Yes. They are both quite pleased that Aubrey is expecting a child. The duke says he would be happy whether they have a boy or girl, but I think he secretly wants a girl.”

  “A duke wanting a girl first? Unorthodox, wouldn’t you say?”

  She bit her lip. “For most, maybe. But he is one of the few men I know who would love a daughter as much as a son. If only for that reason, I hope they have plenty of girls.”

  Derek chuckled. Bradford was taken with his wife. No doubt the man would love any child they made together. Besides, why wouldn’t a man love a daughter as much as a son? If he had a daughter…

  He whistled under his breath. Dangerous thoughts. If he so desired, there would be plenty of time for that as soon as this case was closed.

  “I hope that for them as well. Shall we toast them?” He signaled a footman over. “Please bring us two lemonades.” It was the drink of choice for a debutante, and although he did not favor the sickly sweet beverage, he would drink it quickly and move on.

  “Forgive me, my lord, but lemonade is not being served tonight. Lady Leatherby is serving punch and champagne. Would either of those be acceptable to you?”

  Lady Charlotte’s eyes widened before they returned to normal.

  “Punch, then,” Derek said. “Would you mind bringing them out on the terrace?”

  The servant bowed before leaving.

  Charlotte glanced sideways for an escape, but Derek did not allow her the chance. The minx had lied to him! And worse, he hadn’t known. Lemonade on her gloves, indeed. “Care for a breath of fresh air?” He took her arm and led her through the crush of guests.

  Her hand trembled, but he didn’t release her. His mind pieced facts together, reevaluating everything she’d said that evening.

  If it had not been for that blasted footman, he would have moved on and perhaps lost this opportunity. Astonishing, really. This had to be the only ball where lemonade was not served.

  He could only imagine what Charlotte was thinking.

  It couldn’t matter to him that she was his best friend’s sister-in-law. He had a job to do.

  They stepped out into the cloudless night. The air was crisp, but the heat from the ballroom kept the flagstone terrace warm enough to linger. He released her, remaining silent. Watching. Observing. Waiting.

  Had his fascination with her prevented him from noticing other details? Nerves, agitation, darting eyes. Classic signs. All indications she had something to hide. He was a damned fool.

  She didn’t speak as he expected her too. Most ladies would have broken down by this point, confessed their lie, perhaps unburdened themselves with what they had seen or done. But not Charlotte. Although she appeared nervous, her chin notched up, her shoulders squared.

  She’s a fighter. Admiration warred with frustration.

  He’d dealt with more filth in the ton than he cared to think about. As a culture, they praised modesty and control, but underneath they were just like other humans with vices, demons, and cravings. Everyone had their secrets. In the end, most people were cowards. Loyalty fell by the wayside, partners turned on one another, and people ultimately only cared for themselves. Unfortunately, very few people garnered his respect.

  He eyed her determined stance a moment before leaning against the rail, his eyes piercing hers. “It’s a shame they aren’t serving lemonade tonight.”

  Chapter 4

  Charlotte gulped, the moisture in the air mixing with a salty tang in her mouth as Derek’s gaze scorched her. He knew she lied about spilling lemonade on her gloves, but he didn’t know more than that. Sweat pricked her neck, and she took several shallow breaths, hoping to calm herself without him noticing. “It is a shame.” She shrugged, hoping it looked casual enough. “I must have been so dehydrated earlier I didn’t realize I drank punch instead of lemonade.”

  “Yes. That can happen at balls. I’m surprised you did not remember the color though. A punch stain is much more noticeable than lemonade.”

  “Exactly,” she rushed. “There was no way to conceal it on my gloves. Lady Leatherby is an angel.”

  “She is, indeed.” He smiled at the footman, and he and Charlotte each took a glass off his tray. “To Lady Leatherby, and of course, the Duke and Duchess of Wathersby.”

  She murmured her agreement and clinked glasses, relieved he’d switched topics. Gulping down punch with unladylike haste, she didn’t care what he thought of her in that moment. She needed to get away from him, from his searching comments and contemplative stares.

  She choked, spluttering punch into the cup. “Forgive me, my lord, but I believe I have promised the next dance to another.” She shifted under his gaze.

  He passed the glass between both hands a moment before setting it on the balustrade. “Lady Charlotte, I apologize, but there is no other way I can ask this. Is it possible you misplaced your glove instead of spilling punch on it? I would understand if there were reasons for keeping the truth to yourself.”

  Lead pooled in her stomach, rooting her in place. “Of course not. Why would I need to tell a falsehood if I had lost my glove? There is nothing wrong with that.”

  A breeze tousled her hair. The perspiration on her skin froze. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Even if he hadn’t been in that sitting room, if she told him, if she told anyone what
she’d heard, it was possible that they’d confide in someone else, and from there she would be found out. If she kept it to herself, she would be safe.

  His jaw clenched before he looked out to the garden. “Forgive me. I did not mean to upset you.” He bowed in apology. “Allow me to escort you inside.”

  Why was he backing off so easily? “Thank you.” She hesitated giving him her hand, but there was no way to refuse without being rude. Doing so would only further his curiosity.

  For the next few hours she would dance, laugh, eat, and be merry. She would be the affable debutante everyone knew her to be. And when she arrived home and locked herself in her chambers, she would fall apart. But only then.

  With a final bow, Viscount Lawrence left her near the refreshment table and walked away without looking back.

  He would never know what she’d witnessed. Neither would anyone else.

  * * *

  Derek studied Lady Charlotte from a column along the edge of the ball. She appeared as every young lady should. No one would find anything wrong with the way she held herself, danced, flirted. But Derek saw what others didn’t. Candlelight from heavily laden chandeliers softened her features. Below the sweetly curved lips was strain. Behind twinkling eyes, worry. She glanced over her shoulder for the third time during her dance with Lord Harold, assessing the floor like a hunted creature.

  Oh, yes. She had been in that sitting room. She’d heard something that scared her. And she should be scared. He knew what these people were capable of. He had seen too many lifeless bodies, too many lives destroyed because of their deeds.

  His fists clenched. He had witnessed the misery a handful of people could spread to dozens. Husbandless wives, fatherless children. Statistics, mere numbers to the War Office. But not to him. He had seen too much for detachment. He had seen those lives torn apart. The horror of knowing you would never see a loved one again.

  He was done with that, with this life. And Lady Charlotte was the key. He was sick of knowing what others hid behind a thin veneer. Once he locked away those responsible, he would be free.

  But he’d made a mistake tonight. Coming to her so directly, blatantly asking about her glove spooked her. He’d calculated the risks, acted, but it had not yielded the results he’d expected. He needed her trust, but fear held her back. He had to push past that. Only then would he get what he needed.

  Assured she was partnered for the next set, he slipped into the library, confiscating a crisp sheet of vellum and a quill before scribbling a note. No arrests. We have a witness. He sealed the note with his ring, knowing his news would disappoint, but at least there was a glimmer of hope.

  His servant and friend, Henry, found him outside the library, pocketing the letter without a word. Derek had learned long ago to have a trusted man with him at all times. With the corrupt vein that ran through the ton, he sent messages at all hours of the night from any number of places. Most were time sensitive. Tonight was no exception. “Meet me once you’re done. George will tell you where.” His driver could be counted on.

  With only a few minutes wasted, he returned to the ballroom and waited. Ah. And there it was. Lady Charlotte made her way to her mother, fanning her face. After all the dancing she’d done that night, everyone would believe she was fatigued.

  Her mother nodded quickly, searching the crowd for her husband. Within a few minutes, they gathered up their party and said good-bye to their host.

  He trailed the group, exiting a moment after them. From now on, he’d protect Lady Charlotte. Whether she accepted it or not. Her knowledge was too valuable to be left vulnerable.

  Ever ready, George, his driver, perched atop the carriage.

  “Follow that coach. Not close enough they’ll notice, but enough so we can get to them if anything happens,” Derek ordered before vaulting into the chaise.

  The carriage jerked forward as the horses maneuvered around parked vehicles. Derek didn’t watch her conveyance through his window. He couldn’t risk exposing himself. His driver was well trained and knew what the stakes were if he failed to follow them. They all did.

  Turning down a side street, George slowed the horses, allowing Derek to jump out. The shadows hid him as he turned the corner, blending with the building. Skulking down the sidewalk, he leaned into an alcove deep in the darkness and watched Lady Charlotte and her family descend the coach and make their way into the brightly lit house in Mayfair.

  It was quiet this time of night. Rain had watered the streets recently, and the fresh scent lingered. The streets glistened from lights reflecting from the row of townhomes before him. Every window blazed, warding away the dark. Or more aptly, the miscreants who roamed the night.

  He wasn’t a vagrant, but neither was he only a peer of the realm. He had seen too much, done too much, to ever go back. His callused knuckles attested to the backstreet brawls he engaged in. Scars marred his body—a testament to failed attempts on his life. A bullet had grazed his shoulder, but the knife to his abdomen had almost killed him during his first year with the War Office. He’d made the mistake of trusting the wrong person only once. Trust was now a liability.

  Life filled Charlotte’s house, but it resembled other homes in this part of town. Clean, expensive, classy.

  Movement in one of the second-floor windows drew his eye. He couldn’t make out who it was, but he didn’t need to see them to know. He felt her.

  Her body stilled as she gazed out into the night. For a second, he thought she must have seen him, but she didn’t call for help. Surely if she saw a stranger staring at her through the window, she would alert someone.

  Her body leaned closer to the glass. Yearning.

  He relaxed against the stone, unable to look away. What did she yearn for?

  In the eyes of society, she was perfect. Perfect manners, perfect physique, perfect station, wealth, temperament. She held the ton in her palm. His eyes traveled over her silhouette as pleasant warmth settled in his gut.

  Intriguing.

  Why was she unmarried?

  He had seen Lady Charlotte more times than he could count over the years, but he’d never had such a reaction to her.

  He frowned. He’d never had that reaction to anyone in society, now that he thought about it. Bollocks. Of course I have. But as he tried to recall someone, anyone he’d desired, he came up empty.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. Not that he’d been a monk, but the women he’d been with were in the lower class. Just a moment of mutual pleasure where both walked away satisfied. That’s how he’d always managed his affairs.

  Affairs. That’s all his life had been up until this point. That’s all he’d ever been able to manage with his responsibilities to queen and country. A string of useless affairs.

  But now life evolved. He could change. His future held endless possibilities. Those possibilities included attachments to women in his own class.

  Familiar footsteps echoed toward him and he shut his thoughts of Charlotte and the future away. “Was the note delivered?”

  Henry stepped beside him. “Yes. I placed it in the War Secretary’s hand myself.”

  “Good.”

  The wiry man beside him waited, his limbs loose, relaxed, but Derek knew what lurked beneath the calm. The man could kill with an arc of a blade.

  “I want you to watch the woman in that house,” Derek said. “Do not lose her. Blond, petite, early twenties. I’ll send someone to relieve you in the morning.”

  He didn’t wait for Henry’s confirmation before leaving. Almost out of view, he turned for a last look, wondering if she remained in the window.

  She was gone.

  But even with her absence, she remained in his mind.

  Chapter 5

  Rats scurried by Derek’s boot, rustling into the trash pile next to him. His gaze never strayed to the rodents. He hadn’t seen Charlotte in twenty hours, and he’d only wait for his informant ten more minutes before leaving.

  He peered down the dim alleyway he oc
cupied. If not for the perpetually wet cobblestones, the lights from the main road wouldn’t have a chance to reflect down this hellhole. But with moisture came mildew and all its corresponding odors.

  Derek finally heard what he’d been waiting for. “You’re late,” Derek said in the still night.

  “Oy. Now. You couldn’t ’ave ’eard me,” the man said, his cockney accent as thick as his stench.

  Benny Lark was a thief and a snitch, and while he was relatively good at his profession, he wasn’t a match for Derek. “Of course. Now, what’s happening tonight? Which items have the biggest tags?”

  “Oh. This an’ that.” He coughed weakly. “But I’m so thirsty. Might be easier to speak if I ’ad a bit o’ drink in me.”

  It was always the same, this song and dance they played. Derek dealt with it because it was expected, but tonight, he didn’t have the patience for it. The Morrisons’ ball had started ten minutes ago, and he needed all the time he could get to corner Lady Charlotte and convince her to trust him. He had every confidence that once she was comfortable with him, she’d divulge details of the Black Dahlia. She couldn’t do that if he was stuck in a decaying alley with his informant. “You’ll get your due as soon as you tell me what I want to know.”

  Benny licked his split, dirty lips and grinned. “Word is the Black Dahlia is looking for something special this time.”

  Derek’s ears perked, but he forced his voice to stay uninterested. “How so?”

  Benny leaned forward, glancing over his shoulder. “She’s lookin’ for a woman.”

  A ball of lead hardened in Derek’s stomach as he thought of golden tresses. “What woman?”

  Benny spit in the gutter. “A fine lady. Young. Apparently she over’eard something they didn’t want her to ’ear. Left her glove. Poor chit. I can only imagine what they’ll do to—”