Jacquie D'Alessandro Page 3

“Indeed? I suppose next you’ll tell me you can read minds.”

  “Only occasionally.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth, which was set in a disdainful line. “I read your thoughts when you touched my hand.”

  “Did you? And what was I thinking?”

  “You… wished to kiss me.”

  He merely raised his brows. “It would not require any special powers to hazard such a guess. My attention was momentarily fixed on your mouth.”

  In spite of his casual reply, however, she could feel his tension, his wariness and suspicion—feelings she was well used to discerning. But underneath those, she felt something else that, in spite of her anger, called out to her.

  Loneliness.

  Sadness.

  Guilt.

  They surrounded him like a dark cloak and her heart pinched in sympathy. She knew those feelings all too well, how much they hurt the spirit, ate at the soul.

  She, too, had regrets she wished to atone for. Could she, perhaps, help him? Would that ease her own guilt?

  Determined to convince him she wasn’t crazy and that he had truly desired her for a moment, she whispered, “You wanted to kiss me. You wondered what I would taste like. You imagined leaning forward, brushing your lips over mine, once, twice. Then you deepened the kiss…”

  His eyes flickered, his gaze darkening then dropping to her mouth. “Go on.”

  Heat curled through her when she imagined what he’d thought next… his tongue caressing hers. “I believe I’ve proven my point.”

  “Do you?” Austin regarded her through narrowed eyes. It was one thing to hazard a guess that he’d thought about kissing her, but it was damned odd that her words had so exactly mirrored his thoughts.

  Jesus, what if she were right? What if William was alive? Impossible, illogical hope rushed forward with such force he nearly staggered, but sanity quickly returned. Several soldiers had witnessed William going down in battle. Even though the gunshot wound had destroyed his face, he’d been positively identified by the engraved timepiece found under his body.

  There was no mistake. William was dead. If he wasn’t, he would have contacted his family and come home.

  Unless he were a traitor to the crown.

  His mind reeled. It was damned suspicious that Miss Matthews made this claim on the heels of the disturbing note he’d received a fortnight ago, a note that confirmed his worst fears regarding William’s loyalty to the crown. Could she know something about that letter or William’s war activities? Might she know something about the Frenchman he’d seen with William?

  How had she known about the scar? William had a small scar on his upper right arm, a trophy from a childhood riding mishap. Could she have known William? Intimately enough to know his body?

  Softly illuminated in the moonlight, her disarranged hair teased by the summer breeze, she certainly did not look like a spy, a murderess, or a seductress, but he well knew that looks were deceiving. Some of the most beautiful women he knew were vicious, conniving, and heartless. What sort of person lay beneath her innocent facade? He didn’t know what game she was playing, but he was determined to find out. And if it was necessary to play along with her “visions” ploy, he would.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, she said, “I’m not playing games, your grace. I want to help you.”

  Damn. He was going to have to be very careful around this woman. While he discarded her claims of visions— what sane man wouldn’t?—she was uncannily, eerily perceptive.

  If he didn’t watch his step, he suspected she might somehow learn his secrets—secrets that could ruin his family.

  “Tell me what you know about my brother,” he said.

  “I don’t know anything about him, your grace. Until I touched your hands, I hadn’t known he existed.”

  “Indeed? How long have you been in England?”

  “Six months.”

  “And you expect me to believe that in all that time, no one has mentioned my brother?” A mirthless laugh escaped him.

  She hesitated, then said in a quiet voice, “I’m afraid I haven’t been what one would call the social success of the Season. I find I am most often talked about rather than talked to.”

  “Surely your aunt keeps you abreast of the latest on dit.”

  A wry, half smile curved her lips. “To be perfectly honest, your grace, my aunt speaks of little else but the comings and goings of London’s finest. I love her dearly, but after five minutes of such conversation, I fear I develop a bit of a deaf ear.”

  “I see. Tell me more about this, er, vision you had of William.”

  “I saw a young man wearing a military uniform. He was injured, but alive. I only know his name was William, and he was important to you.” She turned troubled eyes to him. “You believe he is dead, but he is not. I’m sure of it.”

  “You make this outlandish claim, yet you offer no proof.”

  “No… at least not yet.”

  “Meaning?”

  “If we spend some time together, I might be able to tell you more. My visions are erratic and usually nothing more than flashes, but they normally occur when I’m touching something, most often a person’s hands.”

  He raised his brows. “So you’re saying that if we sit about holding hands, you might be able to see something more.”

  Her eyes clouded at his sarcastic remark. “I understand your skepticism, and for that reason I normally do not reveal my premonitions.”

  “Yet you revealed this one.”

  “Yes. Because the last time I remained silent it cost me dearly.” She frowned. “Are you not pleased to know your brother is alive?”

  “What I know is that my brother is dead. And I won’t have you mentioning this vision nonsense to anyone else, most especially my mother or sister. It would be unspeakably cruel to offer them hope where none exists. Do you understand?”

  She gazed at him steadily for several heartbeats. There was no mistaking the steely menace in his tone. “I shall respect your wishes, your grace. As you know, my aunt and I will be your houseguests for the next several weeks. If you change your mind and would like me to try to help you, I will not be hard to find. I’m very tired and wish to retire now. Good night, your grace.”

  He watched her climb the steps to the guest chambers.

  Oh, you’ll help me, Miss Matthews. If you know anything about William, you won’t have a choice.

  It took Austin several minutes to locate Miles Avery in the crowded ballroom. When he finally spotted his friend, he wasn’t surprised to see the dashing earl surrounded by a bevy of ladies. Damn it, he hoped he wouldn’t have to drag Miles by the hair to wrest him away from his adoring audience.

  He was saved from that unpleasantness, however, when Miles spotted Austin bearing down on him. Leveling a pointed look at his friend, Austin jerked his head toward the corridor leading to his private study, then made his way to the room, confident Miles would arrive close behind him. After more than two decades of friendship, they understood each other well.

  He’d barely finished pouring two brandies when a discreet knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Miles entered the room, closing the door behind him. A crooked smile curved his lips. “It’s about time you resurfaced. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Where were you hiding yourself?”

  “I took a stroll in the garden.”

  “Oh? Were you admiring the flowers?” Miles’s eyes danced with mischief. “Or were you perhaps partaking of nature’s delights in some other… oh, shall we say, lusty way?”

  “Neither. I simply took myself off in search of some peace and quiet.”

  “And was your search successful?”

  An image of Miss Matthews flashed in his mind. “I’m afraid not. Why were you looking for me?”

  The teasing gleam lighting Miles’s eyes grew more pronounced. “To give you a piece of my mind. What sort of friend are you, deserting me in such a manner? You hardly eve
r attend parties and suffer your portion of the wedding-minded virgins who pursue us, and even when the ball is in your own home, you’re nowhere to be found. Lady Digby and her numerous daughters trapped me behind a potted palm. Thanks to your departure, she foisted the chits on me. They’re all cabbage-headed nincompoops and horrid dancers as well. My poor abused toes will never be the same.”

  With a perfectly straight face, Miles went on, “Of course that group you summoned me away from just now appeared much more promising. The ladies were all but hanging on my every word. Do you see the pearls of wisdom dripping from my lips?”

  Austin regarded him over the rim of his snifter. “I cannot fathom why you find the false adoration of brainless twits so diverting. Don’t you ever grow tired of it?”

  “Of course. You know how I utterly detest it when beautiful, nubile females with ripe, lush curves throw themselves at me. I shudder with horror every time.” Miles was about to sip his brandy, but his hand arrested halfway to his lips. “I say, Austin. Are you all right? You look, well, rather peaked.”

  “Thank you, Miles. Your kind words never fail to warm my heart.” He took a long swallow of brandy, searching for the right words. “To answer your question, I’m a bit unsettled. Something has happened and I need a favor.”

  The humor instantly vanished from Miles’s eyes. “You know you have only to ask.”

  A pent-up breath he hadn’t realized he held escaped Austin. Of course he could count on Miles, just as he’d always been able to. The fact that he kept secrets from this man who’d been his closest friend since childhood filled him with guilt. It’s for his own good and protection that he not know the circumstances surrounding William’s war activities. “I need some discreet inquiries made.”

  Interest kindled in Miles’s intelligent ebony eyes. “Regarding what?”

  “A certain young woman.”

  “Ah. I see. Looking to hang yourself in the matrimonial noose?” Before Austin could correct him, Miles plunged on. “Can’t say I envy you. There’s not a woman alive I’d care to see across the dinner table every day. The very words Till death do you part send chills of horror down my spine. But I suppose you must do your duty to the title and you’re not getting any younger. I thank God every day my cousin Gerald can inherit the earldom from me. Of course, Robert can inherit the dukedom, but we both know your younger brother wants the title as much as he’d relish the pox. In fact—”

  “Miles.” The single brusque syllable halted the flow of words.

  “Yes?”

  “Not that sort of young lady.”

  A knowing grin touched Miles’s lips. “Aha. Say no more. You need information regarding someone who is… less than suitable. I understand.” He tossed a broad wink at Austin. “Those are the most fun.”

  Frustration welled up and Austin fought to keep his temper in check. “The young lady I wish to know about is a Miss Elizabeth Matthews.”

  Miles’s brows rose. “Lady Penbroke’s American niece?”

  Austin schooled his features into a blandness he did not feel. “You’ve met her?”

  “On several occasions. Unlike some unsociable sorts we know, I attended dozens of balls this Season—balls Lady Penbroke and Miss Matthews attended. In fact, Miss Matthews is here this evening. Do you wish me to introduce you?”

  “We met, earlier, in the garden.”

  “I see.” Although a dozen questions clearly flashed in Miles’s eyes, he merely asked, “What do you want to know about her?”

  Everything. “As you’ve met her, tell me your impressions.”

  Miles took his time before answering, settling himself in an overstuffed wing chair by the fireplace, then swirling his brandy in his snifter with a leisure that had Austin gritting his teeth with impatience.

  “I think,” Miles finally said, “that she is a fine young woman, intelligent, with a clever wit. Unfortunately, she’s somewhat awkward in social situations, tongue-tied and shy one moment, outspoken the next. In truth I thought her rather a breath of fresh air, but based on the gossip I hear, I possibly stand alone in that opinion.”

  “What gossip? Anything scandalous?”

  Miles waved his hand in dismissal. “No, nothing of that sort. Indeed, I don’t see how the woman could find herself caught in a scandal when nearly everyone shuns her.”

  An image of a disheveled, smiling woman flashed in Austin’s mind. “Why is she shunned?”

  Miles shrugged. “Who can say how these things start? The women twitter behind their fans at her awkwardness on the dance floor and her lack of conversation. Several branded her a bluestocking after she engaged a group of lords in a discussion regarding the benefits of herbal healing. The instant one person labels her unacceptable, the rest follow.”

  “Doesn’t Lady Penbroke lend her niece support?”

  “I haven’t paid particular attention, but no doubt the worst snubs are conducted away from the countess’s sharp eyes. But even her formidable support cannot singlehand-edly ensure gaining the ton's favor.”

  “Do you know how long she’s been in England?”

  Miles stroked his chin. “I believe she arrived soon after Boxing Day, so she’d be here about six months.”

  “I’d like you to find out exactly when she arrived and on what ship. I also want to know if this is her first trip to England.”

  “Why don’t you simply ask her?”

  “I did. She claims she arrived six months ago and that this is her first visit here.”

  Miles’s eyes sharpened with interest. “And you don’t believe her? May I ask why?”

  Forcing nonchalance into his voice, Austin said, “It’s possible she may have been acquainted with William. I want to know for certain. If she was, I want to know how, when, and where they met.”

  “Again, why don’t you simply ask her?”

  Austin suppressed the urge to rake his hands through his hair in frustration. “I cannot say until I know more. I also want to know about her past. Why she left America. Her financial situation. Her family status. Anything you can find.”

  “Perhaps you should hire a Bow Street Runner. They—”

  “No.” The razor-sharp word sliced off Miles’s suggestion. He’d already engaged a Runner a fortnight ago to locate the Frenchman named Gaspard—the man he’d seen with William that last time… the man Austin suspected knew something about the letter now locked in his desk. He had no wish to involve Bow Street in this matter. “I need complete discretion from someone I trust. Now, will you make the necessary inquiries? You’ll most likely need to travel to London.”

  Miles studied him for several long seconds. “This is important to you.”

  An image of William rose in his mind. “Yes.”

  A silent look passed between them, a look born of years of friendship. “I’ll leave in the morning,” Miles said. “In the meantime, I’ll begin investigating immediately by feeling out some of the party guests about the lady in question.”

  “An excellent idea. Needless to say, I want any and all information as soon as possible.”

  “Understood.” Miles finished his brandy and stood. “I suppose you know that Miss Matthews and Lady Penbroke are staying here for the next several weeks as your mother’s guests.”

  “Yes. By sending you to London, I am able to remain here and keep my eye on Miss Matthews.”

  Miles quirked a brow. “Is that what you intend to keep on her? Only your eye?”

  Austin chilled his already frosty expression to a narrow-eyed iciness. “Are you quite finished?”

  Miles wisely took note of the suddenly arctic air. “Very finished.” His expression sobered and he placed a comforting hand on Austin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my friend. Between the two of us, we’ll find out everything there is to know about Miss Elizabeth Matthews.”

  After the door closed behind Miles, Austin slipped a silver key from his waistcoat pocket and unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. He withdrew the letter he’d received two w
eeks ago and reread the words that were already burned in his brain.

  Your brother William was a traitor to England. I have the proof, signed by his own hand. I will remain silent, but it will cost you. You will go to London by July first. You will receive further instructions there.

  Chapter 3

  Just before dawn the next morning, Elizabeth tiptoed from her room carrying her knapsack.

  “Where are you off to so early, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin. “Good heavens, Aunt Joanna, you startled me.” She smiled at the woman who had opened her heart and her home to her without question. “I thought I’d walk the grounds and do some sketching. Would you care to join me?”

  A horrified expression crossed her aunt’s plump face. “Thank you, dear, but no. The early morning dew would completely wilt my feathers.” She lovingly patted the long ostrich plumes protruding from her chartreuse turban. “I’m going to read in the library until breakfast.” Aunt Joanna cocked her head to one side and Elizabeth leaned back to avoid the feathers. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “His grace informed me last evening that you’d retired due to the headache.”

  Warmth crept up Elizabeth’s neck. “Oh! Yes, I’m feeling much improved.”

  Her aunt eyed her with open curiosity. “Obviously you had an opportunity to speak with the duke. What did you think of him?”

  He is devastatingly attractive. And lonely. And he thinks I’m a liar. “He was very… charming. Did you enjoy the party, Aunt Joanna?”

  An unladylike snort erupted from between her aunt’s lips. “I was having a merry time until Lady Digby and her dreadful daughters surrounded me and I couldn’t escape. Never in my life have I encountered such a gaggle of twittering fools. I’ll be stunned if she manages to marry off even one of those buttertoothed harpies.” She reached out and patted Elizabeth’s cheek. “She is green with envy that my niece is so lovely. We won’t have any trouble finding you a husband.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Aunt Joanna, we can barely find me a gentleman to dance with.”

  Her aunt waved a dismissive hand. “Pish posh. You’re simply unknown. No doubt some gentlemen are put off because you’re American, what with last century’s Rebellion and this most recent series of skirmishes. But things have settled down again, so it’s only a matter of time.”