How to Dance With a Duke (36 page)

“Cecily,” he said, turning to face her, “while I am here, I wish to have your promise that you will not proceed with any sort of investigation into Will’s death.”

She frowned. “Yes, of course, but you must know that—”

“Promise me, Cecily,” he said sternly, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep and fatigue. She wished that he would allow her to take care of him through this miserable time. It weighed on her conscience that she might have eased his burden in one respect, but in the end she knew that it would be kinder not to offer him false hope.

Aloud she said, “I promise. And you must promise me to look after yourself, Your Grace.”

But he waved off her concern. “I am well enough. Once I can convince my mama to go to her sister in Bath, and the repairs to the tenant cottages are completed, I will return to London with all haste.”

She knew that his mother was uncomfortable in the opulence of Winterhaven, especially given her past residence in the modest parsonage that served the nearby village of Snowden. It had taken no persuasion at all to ensure that William’s wife, Clarissa, had gone back to live with her family, but it seemed that Lucas’s mama had taken it into her head that she owed it to her son to stay with him at the country estate. Even after Cecily had announced her intention of going back to London.

“After all, my dear,” she had told her newest daughter-in-law, “you must surely be missing your own family. And since Lucas is forced to remain here, I will see to it that he is made comfortable.”

If Cecily had not known better, she would have thought her mother-in-law was trying to make her son choose between his wife and his mother. She knew, however, that such a consideration had never crossed Lady Michael’s mind. Instead, she was simply clinging to the one man in her life that was still living. With both her husband and her younger son gone, she was feeling vulnerable to the capricious nature of fate. And having experienced such worries herself, especially given her mother’s death when she was a child, Cecily could not blame her for it.

“Please do return to us in London as soon as you wish,” she told the older woman as she accepted a heartfelt hug. “If you find anything at all unpleasant about your sister’s household in Bath I will be only too glad to welcome you back to Winterson House.”

Lady Michael laughed at that. “I shall manage my sister, my dear. Do not mind that. Besides, I must leave the two of you alone so that I may hold a grandchild before too much longer has passed.”

Cecily gave a brisk laugh and hurried downstairs. Where she currently stood in her husband’s arms. She inhaled the scent of him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, which made him smile. Keeping his arms around her, he lowered his mouth to hers and took her lips with a tenderness and longing that had her eyes welling up.

“I will see you soon,” he said, letting her out of his arms as he handed her into the carriage.

From the carriage window, Cecily watched him there—a tall figure dressed in unrelieved black, dwarfed by the enormous Doric columns that flanked the front door of the neoclassically designed estate. The image stayed with her; visible in her mind’s eye as she closed her eyes and let the exhaustion that had threatened to overtake her earlier finally claim her.

And she slept.

*   *   *

Lucas pulled the collar of his drab greatcoat higher and the hat he’d borrowed from his groom lower as he pushed into the Sergeant’s Arms, a dark, dank tavern on the edge of Whitechapel. The clientele of the establishment was made up of the impoverished, desperate people who lived in the surrounding neighborhood, but the owner had been one of his men at Waterloo and given an arm in service to his country. Sam had been more than ready to offer his former commanding officer a room and a pint, and needing a place to stay while he conducted his investigation, Lucas had taken him up on it.

He had been back in London for three days now, and being so close to Cecily without being able to see or hold her was maddening. But it was for her sake that he had embarked on this solitary quest. Now that he knew Will had been murdered to protect the thief’s identity, Lucas had no doubt that such a person would have little compunction about killing anyone who got in his way. And, though she would be loath to admit it, Cecily was more vulnerable than he was to an attack. Just the thought of anything untoward happening to her sent a chill through him, and though he knew she would not thank him for it, he was determined to keep her out of harm’s way until this murderer was caught.

Thus it was that he found himself hurrying through the taproom of Sam’s tavern, his eyes skimming the tables for one face in particular. In the corner table, his back to the wall, he finally saw him.

Plunking down his mug of ale, Christian looked up and offered a slight wave to him.

As Lucas took the seat opposite, he felt his friend’s scrutiny. “What?” he asked, after he had told the scrawny little barmaid he’d also have ale.

“Just wondering what would make a peer of the realm hide out like a common criminal when he has a nice comfy bed and a sweet little wife to keep him warm in it.”

“Who says I’m not going back to that warm bed every night?”

“Well, your sweet little wife, for starters,” Christian said, raising one blond brow in mimicry of Lucas’s. “She says that you have been detained in the country on estate business.”

“Yes, I disliked telling that bouncer, but you know how she is. Too smart for her own good.”

“Ah, then you are hiding from her?”

“Not precisely,” he began, but then with a noise of impatience, he added, “Yes, I am hiding from her. Though again it’s for her own damn good. Do you know how difficult it is to keep any secrets from a clever woman?”

Christian laughed. “Well, yes, that is why I only offer my favors to silly ones. Though they’re devilishly bright when they need to be at times.”

“You have no idea what a bright woman can do until you’ve crossed wits with Cecily,” Lucas said with a frown. “It’s as if the woman has some sort of sixth sense and can read my bloody mind. It makes it dashed difficult to do anything on one’s own.”

“And what are you doing on your own? You who have only been married a month or so?” Christian demanded. “And do not tell me that you’ve got some other woman on hand for I will not believe you. You’re not the type.”

“Nothing like that,” Lucas said dismissively. “Cecily is more than … well, just no, there is no other woman.”

His friend smothered a laugh. “Then what?”

“I am looking for Will’s killer.” He watched as all the humor fled from his friend’s expression. “And I do not want to put Cecily in any danger. If something were to happen to her, I’d never forgive myself.”

The other man nodded. He sat back as the barmaid brought them more ale.

“I’m getting close, Christian,” Lucas continued, grateful for the noise in the room that kept their conversation relatively private. “Whoever this bastard is, he’s been damned smart, but I am smarter, and more determined.”

Christian listened as Lucas explained what he and Cecily had learned up until this point. Ending with the discovery of Will’s body and the blue cat.

“So you’re looking for this blue cat. But you don’t even know what it is?”

Lucas nodded. “It’s got to be some sort of statue or hollow box or something that will allow one to hide papers inside. At least that is my guess. I have been to every secondhand and antiquities shop in London and none of them has any record of a blue cat ever passing through their hands.”

“I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that the blue cat is in storage at the Egyptian Club,” Christian said, his brow furrowed in thought. “Which you cannot possibly have access to given that you are not a member.”

“Yes,” Lucas said. “But it’s not there either. Or, it wasn’t a few weeks ago. Cecily and I … ahem … well, I just know, that’s all.”

His friend’s eyes brightened with mischief. “Winterson, you do lead such an exciting life, I must say.”

Turning serious, he continued. “So, what is your next move? While you are away from your wife, I suppose you had best do all that you can to unravel this puzzle. You cannot pretend to be in the country forever, you know.”

“Yes, and that is why I need you, Christian. I need you to distract Mr. David Lawrence while I search his office for the blue cat.”

“What? You mean the fellow at the British Museum?”

“Yes, that’s the one. I got the feeling when Cecily and I were questioning him that he knows more than he’s telling about this business. He was already lying to his employers at the museum. What’s to stop him from lying to me or Cecily?”

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with the fact that he jilted your wife?”

“Certainly not. I am grateful to him for doing it, else I’d not be married to her myself.” Lucas smiled. “But I will not deny that I would like very much to catch him out in a lie, just on the off chance that she still harbors any sort of feelings for the man. And if he should discover me searching his rooms and become violent? Well, let us just say that I would not be sorry if my fist were to accidentally smash into his smug face a few times.”

Christian shook his head in wonder. “I had no idea you were capable of all this … this passion, Winterson. You were always the most levelheaded of us all. I don’t know what’s come over you!”

But Lucas had a suspicion about that. And it had everything to do with his love for a certain dark-haired Amazon with a sharp tongue and a tendency to high-handedness. He was well and truly hooked. He only hoped that she was not the sort of angler to throw her biggest catch back into the pond.

Eighteen

Cecily had fallen back into her own routine at Hurston House with shocking ease. Violet had put it about that, still overcome by her brother-in-law’s death, she had returned to her father’s home while her husband stayed behind in the country. Which was the truth, of course, but that did not stop the more biting of the
ton
wits from speculating as to the real reason for Cecily and Lucas to be living apart.

Being back home had afforded her the opportunity to spend some time with her father as well. He was improving bit by slow bit, but there was little chance of him returning to the active life he had enjoyed before his attack. It was difficult for Cecily to see him in such a humbled state, though there was something tender and vulnerable about him that had been missing before. Perhaps it had something to do with the way that his every emotion lay so close to the surface now. His speech had not returned, nor had his ability to write, and his frustration about those failures often left him in tears. Something that she was certain he would not have wished others to see, were he in his right mind.

What astonished her about her father in his present incarnation, however, was the ease with which he showed affection. Whenever she visited, he was quick to take her hand in his and squeeze it. And there was a wealth of feeling in that small gesture. Something that had been missing from their relationship since her mother’s death so many years ago. Now, when she read aloud to him from the newspapers, and even from his own travel diaries, she spent the entire time with one hand firmly clasped in his.

He had just fallen into a fitful sleep, the third day she’d been back in London, when she saw his chamber door open to admit Lord Geoffrey Brighton. He was a frequent visitor, and often timed his arrival to coincide with the conclusion of Cecily’s time with Lord Hurston. She was not sure if he did it to relieve her or so that he might have a word. It was difficult to know what motivated her father’s old friend, but she was nonetheless grateful to him for the reprieve. Spending time in her father’s company often left her exhausted and she was always grateful for the break.

Today, however, Lord Geoffrey did not come to his old friend’s side as he normally did, but gestured for Cecily to follow him into the hallway outside.

“Good morning, my lord,” she said, once they had shut the door to her father’s room so as not to disturb his sleep.

“Good morning, Cecily,” he returned. His normally tidy appearance was a bit disheveled today, with his shirt points slightly wilting and his cravat tied in a simple knot that seemed to suggest he had tied it himself, rather than allowing his valet to do so. “There is something I must discuss with you. And I hope you will hear me out.”

“Of course,” she replied, wondering what this could possibly be regarding. “Please feel free to discuss whatever you wish.”

“Cecily,” he said with a sternness she had never heard from him before. “It has come to my attention that your husband has been seen in a rather disreputable part of town.”

This was so ludicrous as to make her laugh. “My lord, you must be mistaken. Winterson is still in the country dealing with some estate business. And when he is in town he might visit such areas. I believe he goes there to visit those of his men who have been down on their luck since the end of the war. But it is certainly nothing to cause you such concern.”

“My dear.” Lord Geoffrey’s eyes were kind. “He has been seen with a woman.”

Cecily tried to make sense of what Lord Geoffrey was saying. “Who?”

“It is Neddy Entwhistle, I’m afraid.”

Cecily could not stop her gasp. “What?”

“I know he told you that he would be in the country this week, but even this morning I saw him emerge from her house in Bloomsbury.”

It was absurd, of course. Cecily did not believe for one minute that Lucas was involved in any sort of amorous liaison with Neddy, but he could very well be questioning Neddy about her relationship with Lord Hurston. She was furious! How dare he sneak back to London and conduct an investigation behind her back!

Misinterpreting her anger, Lord Geoffrey patted her on the shoulder. “Now, my dear, do not fault him too much. Young men will have their little peccadilloes.”

Unable to remain while Lord Geoffrey heaped consolation upon her, she quickly excused herself and raced upstairs to her room, and instructed her startled abigail to begin packing for their return to Winterson House at once. If Lucas was indeed back in London, then he could very well deal with having his own wife in the house with him.