Ruined by Moonlight (31 page)

“Well done.” Alicia smiled at him, touching her napkin to her mouth in a dainty movement.

He had to admit a certain fascination with the shape of her lips. They were also a lovely color, a soft pink and tilted up at the corners.…

Back to the subject at hand. Good heavens, they were just having breakfast. “Except I am not convinced.”

Her smiled faded. “Why ever not? It makes perfect sense.”

“It makes no sense at all, my dear.”

Dark blue eyes regarded him with all due curiosity
and she pursed her lips in a way that drew his attention back to her mouth. “How so?”

The woman was far too distracting. “Because,” he informed her as he took another piece of bacon, “I’m not convinced she would be so clever, and whoever did this is clever indeed.”

He wasn’t quite sure he was willing to reveal why he thought they were clever quite yet. The bacon was as he liked it, crisp and brown, and he took a bite.

“You just said—”

“I said she has the means, the motive, and, if rumor is correct, the nature to do it, but I am not certain in any way she would know how to actually keep it such a secret.”

“I hate it when you get that moody and contemplative tone to your voice.”

Ben had to admit the comment took him by surprise. “I wasn’t aware I had a tone.”

“You know full well you have one. Pfft.” His wife sat back and apparently abandoned her breakfast. “Are you telling me this isn’t solved after all? I mean, my cousin is so thoroughly compromised by Andrews that she
has
to marry him. Surely he will ask, and I know she will be happy. A bit too happy, considering their behavior last evening, but I assume many a young lady has been kissed on a terrace in the moonlight, however usually not after her former intended has just severed their engagement in front of everyone of consequence.”

That was undeniable. Colbert had been in the ballroom when the viscount had kissed Lady Elena in full sight of most of elite society, and the volume of whispers had risen as the embrace went on for a lingering interval.

It hadn’t been a perfunctory kiss at all.

Good for Andrews
.

“If you are going to scandalize all of society, you might as well enjoy it.” He picked up his coffee and went on. “I might be wrong, but my instincts say that Maria Beret
could
be our kidnapper, but I doubt it. Think of it, my dear: besides revenge, what would she gain? Yes, Colbert is humiliated, but she’s a wealthy widow with other suitors at hand, and while she might have been piqued at his upcoming wedding, I don’t think she has the depth to be this inventive.”

“It takes depth to be vindictive?”

“No.” He decided to have marmalade on his toast though he didn’t usually, because now he had to admit he was self-conscious over hurting the feelings of the cook. “I said
inventive
. It takes someone abnormally clever to arrange to have two people kidnapped in a way that they remember nothing about the event yet are unharmed. My impression of Mrs. Beret is that she would not take such care as to hire a chef and provide them with luxurious accommodations in which to stay during their captivity. She could have spared a lot of expense to achieve the same exact effect. If the purpose was revenge on Elena, Colbert, and Andrews all in one, she was far more subtle than I would expect from what I know of her.”

“A valid point.” Alicia looked slightly crestfallen. “It seemed so logical. If she’d once had an affair with Lord Andrews and is currently Colbert’s paramour, she had the perfect motivation.”

“Motivation can be the key to solving a case like this, but all too often the most obvious suspect is not the culprit.” Almost as soon as he spoke, he wished he hadn’t chosen those particular words, but damned if he wasn’t
distracted again by the graceful way Alicia stirred more sugar into her coffee.

“I assume that statement means you’ve solved puzzles like this fairly often, my lord.”

“Once or twice.” He brushed the curious question aside by deflection. “What are your plans for today?”

“I think perhaps we should go interview Mrs. Beret. Don’t you?”

No, he didn’t. He did not work that way. The indirect approach was always better. He had every intention of interviewing the woman’s banker, the leasing agent that rented the estate where Andrews and Elena had been held and the kindhearted chef who had let them free, but not Mrs. Beret. Right now he had not one shred of evidence except Colbert’s—possibly arrogant—assumption she was fond enough of him to commit the crime.

Besides, while he hadn’t minded his beautiful wife talking to Lady Elena, he hardly wanted her involved in any other way. It seemed unlikely the situation was dangerous, but Andrews had been convinced at gunpoint that force might be used if he tried to escape, and he’d seen himself that the guard they encountered on the grounds was armed, so it was open to debate.

Absolutely in no way was Alicia going to talk to Mrs. Beret. The trouble was, of course, stopping her from doing as she pleased. He wasn’t despotic enough to simply order her—and not convinced she would obey anyway.

“I was wondering if you could possibly visit Lord Andrews’s aunt.”

His wife blinked. “Why?”

He took a bite of his toast, appreciatively chewed with some surprise because the marmalade was actually superb, and swallowed. “Women notice things men do
not and she shares his household and looks after his sister. If there was someone else who might have done this she could offer some insight.”

That was safe enough. Randolph Raine’s aunt was an upright woman with a reputation for seclusion.

“Good idea.” To his relief Alicia agreed with alacrity. “I didn’t realize you even considered her as part of this.”

“I don’t in particular, but she might know some small fact that she doesn’t even realize is important. She did point me in the right direction with the mention of the whiskey.”

“True. I will find out if possible.”

She would, too. He knew it, which somewhat surprised him. Her uncle’s words came back. Had he married an intelligent female on purpose? Well, certainly he wasn’t attracted to women with no intellect, but he hadn’t sat down and thought about it at length either.

It was interesting, he was discovering, to come to terms with how little he might know about himself.

At least the earl agreed to see him, but that did not necessarily mean approval as Ran learned when motioned to a chair with a dismissive wave of Lord Whitbridge’s hand.

It grated, he had to admit. Not that he had expected a warm welcome, but surely the man understood he was just as much a victim as Elena, and that aside he was here to petition for marriage, which was not easy for him.

At all.

Yet also it was perhaps the most important moment of his life. That was a paradox. The infamous viscount a beggar at the feet of a self-righteous man whose daughter
he hadn’t quite ruined but certainly compromised. And Whitbridge not able to refuse his suit, which Ran knew quite well he would have before the abduction.

This should be a most interesting conversation.

“My lord,” he said formally.

“Your behavior is quite difficult to accept, Andrews.” No preliminary greeting, just that caustic statement.

“How so?” he asked frankly, because that rankled. Though that kiss had been ill-advised, perhaps, at least it had been a public declaration of his intentions.

“A past like yours isn’t something any father can ignore.”

So the animosity was due to his reputation. Fair enough. In some ways he deserved it.

He said with as much equanimity as possible, “I am not here because of the past, but because I wish to discuss the future.”

“Go on.” The earl regarded him from under heavy brows. “Explain why you wish to see me.”

At least he wasn’t unwilling to listen. Ran took in a breath and let it out slowly, tried to pass over how he had not even been offered the courtesy of refreshment, and summoned a conciliatory smile. “I want to marry Elena.” He paused and then went on. “This is a formal offer and we can both involve our solicitors in, say,”—he extracted his pocket watch—“an hour’s time?”

“That soon?”

The sooner they married, the sooner the rumors would die down. Not to mention now that he’d decided he wished to marry her more than he wanted to take his next breath, he couldn’t stop thinking about holding her in his arms, preferably in a soft bed. “I want a special license.”

“Because you need one?” Lord Whitbridge half rose from his chair, his mouth pinched.

“Because I
want
one. Much different.”

The earl sat down again, Ran’s scathing tone obviously having an effect. He was younger, taller, and just as socially powerful, but he was not the outraged father of a ruined young woman, and so he gave the elder man due courtesy by saying quietly in the tense aftermath, “Though I hadn’t intended on marrying for some time, I do wish to make
her
my wife as soon as possible. May I?”

That was about as humble as he was capable of being. Still, he meant every word.

At least the evident sincerity got through, for Whitbridge finally nodded, looking suddenly quite resigned. “I suppose it is best after all that has happened, so I appreciate the honest offer. Colbert sent a formal letter by special messenger this morning, crying off, which Elena informed me suits her, as apparently she wasn’t all that interested in marrying him in the first place.”

And since his daughter had been repudiated in such a public manner, this would avert more scandal. But the acquiescence was more gracious than he expected, so Ran simply nodded and stood. “Shall we let our solicitors handle the rest of it, then? I’ve no need of your money, but if you wish to give her dowry directly to her, please feel free to do so.”

“She’s a woman,” Elena’s father objected.

“I have noticed. And gifted with a brain that functions perfectly well. Give her the money or put it in trust for our children.”

He spoke before he knew what he was going to say, and the words caught him off guard. The idea of children was startling, and yet…most certainly they would have
a family, for he was looking forward beyond measure to conceiving them. Lucy would be delighted also in small nieces and nephews.…

Life could change quickly in the most interesting ways.

Whitbridge grudgingly said, “Maybe you’ll muddle along fairly well together, then, if you feel that way. My daughter is very independent.”

“If we can marry quickly, I intend to take her to my country estate and let the gossip die down.”

“A reasonable idea. I will see to the formalities. One of my good friends is a bishop and I am sure he can help. The expediency is unseemly, but maybe in this case wise.”

“I’d like a short word with Elena alone if possible.” Ran knew he still needed to ask her properly. She was being deprived of the fanfare of a grand wedding but she still deserved a true proposal.

“I don’t see why not at this point. It is a bit late for propriety.” The Earl of Whitbridge’s voice was dry. “I advise you keep it very short, because once I inform my wife of this change in plans there will be a great deal of female fussing over gowns and flowers and whatever else would be involved in planning a wedding in such a short time.”

When Ran was shown into a small salon a few minutes later, his wife-to-be was already there, her hair simply tied back with a white ribbon. Dark blue eyes regarded him with open question. “I was surprised when I received your card. It is rather early for a formal call, my lord.”

“I confess I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Neither did I.” Her voice was hushed.

She was refreshingly candid, which he’d found enchanting from the beginning. “Were you perhaps thinking of me?”

“You might have entered my mind once or twice.” Her smile was teasing but still a little wistful and he couldn’t help but admire how composed she was for someone whose life had been recently turned upside down. While he had the benefit of financial autonomy and an indifference to the opinion of society that his rank and title afforded, she had none of that.

“I was thinking of
you
.” He moved toward her and took her hand, much as he’d done on the terrace the evening before. “It seems pointless for us both to have sleepless nights, do you not agree? If we shared a bed, I predict we’d sleep quite comfortably. Lady Elena, I wonder if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

There was no part of him that thought he deserved the joy in her face, but it did something interesting to his heart, the tightening in his chest maybe a result of holding his breath. Elena laughed. “Trust an infamous rake to couch a proposal with a mention of the bedroom. However, I agree: we did seem to sleep mostly soundly in our tower.”

Their tower
. He supposed it was, or at least he would always think of it that way.

“Is that a yes?” He tugged her closer.

“I am rather notorious, you know.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “Utterly ruined, jilted, and I believe just last night I behaved with shocking impropriety at a fashionable ball, no less.”

“I adore reckless ladies with inappropriate tendencies. You will suit me perfectly.”

“Are you sure? I am well aware of your attitude
toward marriage. There is no need to be noble on my account.”

“No?” He looked into her eyes.

“No.” She looked back steadily.

“Perhaps I wish to be noble. Besides, the question of my nobility could be debated, darling. Kiss me to seal the pact because I need to be on my way. I’ve a rather busy day planned as I am getting married very soon. Tomorrow, if possible.”

“Tomorrow?” It was a gasp. “Ran, how could I possibly…? We can’t…”

His smile was deliberately dangerous. “We can and we will. Might I point out I am very much looking forward to resuming our lessons.”

J
anet Raine frowned, walking in long, slow strides, her hands clasped somewhat mannishly behind her back. “Yes, she denies it by all accounts, but my nephew seems to believe that Mrs. Beret is the likely culprit. When I think of it, it is such a perfect opportunity to get revenge on two people at the same time. It is a terrible tragedy your cousin was in the middle of it all, but such things have a way of working out for the best.”