Beneath a Silent Moon (34 page)

"We're looking for Lord Valentine," Charles said. "Is he here?"

Stephen's gaze moved toward the slate fireplace. "Y—er—no, he left some time ago."

"Damn it, Stephen." Charles nearly grabbed his old friend by the collar of his coat. "I don't care how many doxies he's with. I need to see him."

Someone let out a coarse laugh, quickly smothered. Stephen flicked a surprised gaze at Mélanie, then jerked his head toward the stairs. "First room on the right. But—"

"Thank you."

"Charles," Stephen said as they turned to go.

Charles looked back at him, one hand on the doorframe.

"We heard the news about Miss Talbot. I'm sorry."

Charles had an image of Stephen helping a ringleted, muslin-skirted five-year-old Honoria over the rocky cliffs down to Dunmykel Bay. He nodded, not sure he trusted himself to say more, not sure what more there was to say. Then he strode up the spiral stairs, Mélanie at his heels, and pushed open the first door on the right.

Grunts and the smell of brandy greeted them. Val had a fair-haired young woman pushed up against one of the spooled bedposts, her bodice unbuttoned, his mouth against her breasts, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her bottom.

Charles crossed the room in three steps, seized Val by the back of his shirt, and hurled him against the scarred deal wall.

He turned to the woman, who was pulling the flaps of her bodice closed over her red-marked skin. "My apologies for the intrusion, madam. I trust Lord Valentine will make it up to you later."

Val pushed himself upright. "You bloody, interfering—"

"There are ladies present, Val." Charles held the door open for Val's fair-haired friend. The young woman did up the last button on her bodice, cast a glance at Val, and swept from the room, head held high.

Charles slammed the door shut behind her. The heavy brass knocker rattled in its oak frame. "How long have you and Honoria been playing at
Les Liaisons Dangereuses
?"

"What?" Val was trying to do up the buttons on his trousers.

"Don't tell me you haven't read it. You and Honoria may not have reached Valmont and Merteuil's level, but you came close. You dared each other to seductions and collected trophies as proof of your success."

"That's ridiculous."

Charles grabbed Val by the throat and pushed him up against the wall. A pewter candlestick thudded to the floor. "I'd like nothing better than an excuse to thrash you within an inch of your sorry life. Now unless you want us to tell your father, you'll answer all our questions truthfully. Then there's a chance I won't break every bone in your body."

Val's fair skin drained of color. The smell of sweat and fear radiated from his body. "What do you know?"

Charles took a step back and glanced at his wife. "Mel?"

"You gave your mistresses' letters to Miss Talbot," Mélanie said, "presumably as proof of your success. You challenged Miss Talbot to seduce Simon Tanner and she failed. Miss Talbot went to your room last night and you bedded her yourself. The only thing I'm not sure of is whether or not you killed her afterward."

Val slumped against the wall, eyes wide and glazed. "How—"

"Logic and deduction," Mélanie said, her voice as cool as a steel blade. "Well? Are you going to fill in the rest of the details?"

Val put his hand to his throat where Charles had grabbed him. "It's not the way you make it sound. Not exactly. The first time we—I didn't force her. I've never forced a woman in my life."

"Commendable." Charles barely restrained the impulse to throttle him again.

"She wanted it as much as I did. At least she did before I bedded her. Afterward she threw a tantrum."

"How old were you?" Charles asked.

"I was sixteen, she was fifteen. She wasn't my first."

"But you were hers?"

"What? Oh, yes. Of course." Val pushed his sweat-drenched hair back from his forehead. "She got angry afterward, the way girls do. But Honoria isn't—wasn't—like other girls. Everyone thought she followed the rules, but actually she made her own. After her first fit of playing the wounded virgin, she said that if she told Father what had happened, he was sure to believe her side of the story. I'd have to marry her and she'd see to it her money was tied up so I couldn't touch a penny of it. She said she wasn't in any more of a hurry to get married than I was. Instead we'd keep each other's secrets."

"And so your game began," Charles said.

"If you want to call it that."

"You dared each other to further conquests."

"Not exactly, not at the beginning." Val smoothed the rumpled superfine of his riding coat. "When I brought a school friend home for the holidays, Honoria made me help contrive things so she could seduce him. That was all her idea."

"You weren't jealous?"

"No. Well, yes, a bit, but I was pursuing the wife of one of our neighbors at the same time. We—er—compared notes."

"Quite an erotic game in itself," Mélanie said.

Val's gaze flickered toward her, wide with surprise.

Mélanie returned his gaze without blinking. "That was when you began daring each other?"

Val nodded.

"And then you went to Lisbon with David and his father," Charles said. "And you dared Honoria to seduce me."

"That was Honoria's idea. I warned her you'd insist on marrying her. She said she might rather like to be married to you. I don't think she ever quite got over her pique at not succeeding with you. She had more than half a mind to try with you again now you were back in England. I told her you were a lot safer now you were married."

Charles drew a breath. The smell of sweat and brandy in the room was not as foul as the rank stench in his mind. "I can see you ignoring the risks, but didn't Honoria know she was playing with fire? Getting caught would have been awkward for you. It would have meant ruin for her."

"She only took men who had more to lose than she did if the truth got out. She used to complain because she had to pretend to be Miss Prim and Proper and I could flaunt my reputation. But she liked the risk. It was—"

"An aphrodisiac," Charles said.

Val's brows lifted. "Yes."

"Suppose she'd found herself pregnant?"

"She was careful about the times. And she—" Val broke off. For all he'd already admitted, this last seemed to make him too uncomfortable to voice.

"I expect she used sponges," Mélanie said.

Val stared at her as though she had stumbled through a portal from another world. "It worked very well until—"

"We know she was with child," Charles said.

Val's eyes darkened to cobalt. "Yes, damn it, and it was my baby. She had no right to go off and marry someone else."

"Are you saying you wanted to marry her yourself?"

"I suppose so. Eventually. I'd always assumed—but I'd have married her straight off because of the baby. Only she had to go and promise herself to your father."

"Why?" Charles asked.

"She said he could give her what she wanted."

"What did she want?"

"God knows what women ever want."

"Power?" Mélanie said.

Val stared at the cracked looking glass above the chest of drawers for a moment. "Perhaps." He shook his head. "We had a terrific row when I found out about the engagement. I went to Father, because I was sure he'd see sense—"

"You told your father Honoria was carrying your child?" Charles said.

"I was sure he'd insist she had to marry me. It's not very sporting to foist your son's bastard off on your best friend. But Father told me if I ever breathed a word of it, he'd strip me of my allowance and send me to the plantation in Jamaica." Val sucked in his breath, as though realizing he'd done precisely what his father had ordered him not to.

"But her betrothal didn't end your game?"

"Honoria said it didn't have to. She seemed to think it would add an extra thrill. What could be more of a challenge than to deceive her betrothed under his own roof while he thought she was a spotless virgin? And I thought—"

"That this would be a way to hold her," Mélanie said.

"No. That is—oh, what does it matter. The point is, that was when I challenged her with Simon Tanner. I said it would be her greatest coup if she could pull it off. And he'd never talk—I mean, how could he risk David knowing he'd been unfaithful with David's own precious cousin? Besides, no one would take the word of an upstart playwright over Honoria's. I actually thought she'd pull it off, too. If any woman could tempt him, Honoria could."

"If any man could tempt another man, I'd think Simon could," Mélanie said. "Could he tempt you?"

"What? No, of course not. But it's not the same thing at all."

"Isn't it?"

Val snatched up the open brandy that stood atop the chest of drawers and took a swig. "Anyway, she had to admit she failed with Simon. She was quite cross about it. So I said what about Thirle, your father's steward."

Charles's throat closed. "Go on."

"Well, Honoria was keen to try. Thirle has a strength about him, this unshakable air of doing what's right—"

Charles felt his mouth tighten. "Andrew's a good man. We forgive you the praise."

"Honoria had already gone riding with him a few times before the business with Tanner. Thirle seemed intrigued, but not too intrigued. So it was still a challenge. Then last night Honoria came to my room and told me Thirle wouldn't work."

"Why?" Charles asked.

"She wouldn't say. She snapped at me when I pressed her."

"And?" Charles said.

"She left. That was all."

"All?"

"Well, we—er—spent some time together."

"You had intercourse." Charles saw no reason to use a prettier term for it.

"She was already pregnant. We didn't need to worry—"

"Didn't you wonder how she meant to pass the child off as Kenneth Fraser's?" Mélanie asked. "The wedding was two months away."

"She said she'd have to slip into his bed before too much longer. She didn't seem very worried about it."

"And you?" Charles said. "Surely you hadn't got over your anger at the thought of your child being passed off as another man's."

"Between them, Honoria and Father had made it clear there wasn't much I could do about it."

"Not even argue with her? If the woman I loved was lying in my arms, I'd certainly avail myself of the opportunity to try to win her back."

Val clunked the brandy bottle down on the chest of drawers. "Damn it, how do you do it? It's like witchcraft. Yes, all right, last night I tried to talk her into breaking with your father and marrying me. We had a rip-roaring quarrel, not for the first time. But I didn't kill her, if that's what you're thinking."

"What time did she leave your room?"

"A little past one."

"Did she eat or drink anything while she was with you?"

"We had a drink. Before the quarrel."

"What sort of a drink?"

"I had whisky. I keep a bottle in my room. Never know when you'll need it at family affairs. Honoria doesn't like whisky. She had brandy."

"Which you also kept in your room?"

"No, she brought it with her."

"Where's the bottle now?" Charles asked.

"In my wardrobe. She left it when she flounced out after the fight."

"Did you and Honoria experiment with opiates?"

"Er—I did once get some stuff from a fellow at my club. It was supposed to heighten—" Val looked at Mélanie and glanced away. "Honoria quite liked it. But if she was doctoring her brandy, she didn't tell me about it. Mind you, if she was going to slip into your father's bed last night, she might have wanted double Dutch courage."

"Where did she keep the brandy?" Charles asked.

"In her dressing case."

"Who else knew it was there?"

"How the devil should I know? Honoria didn't flaunt it, but she didn't go to great lengths to hide it, either. Anyone who made a cursory inspection of her room would have found it."

"What did you do after Honoria left you last night?"

"Went to bed."

"Did you know she'd gone to my father's room?"

"Not for a certainty, though I knew she meant to do so soon. But what could I do? I've already told you what my father threatened if I let slip the truth." Val shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "See here, Fraser—"

"I'll have to question your father about Honoria's pregnancy. There's no way round that."

"But—"

"The woman you claim you wanted to marry is dead, Val, along with your unborn child. I wouldn't think much else would matter to you besides finding the killer."

To Charles's surprise, Val met his gaze and gave a slow nod. He was pale, but his eyes hardened with determination.

"One more thing," Charles said. "My sister."

"You mean what are my intentions?" Val's mouth curled. "Don't worry, Charles. I was more apt to run risks when I was younger. I know to avoid seducing wellborn virgins now. Gisèle's a tempting morsel, I'll grant you. I've begun to wonder—a fellow has to get leg-shackled at some point."

"You so much as dance with my sister and I'll make sure not only your father but my father and Aunt Frances know every word you've told me. After I've torn you limb from limb. Are we clear?"

"Steady on, Fraser. I told you I wouldn't—"

"Are we clear?"

Val swallowed. "Yes."