Jacquie D'Alessandro Page 6

  Austin stilled. “Indeed? I imagine you promptly disabused her of that notion.”

  Miles shrugged and flicked a bit of lint from his sleeve. “Not exactly. Before speaking to Lady Penbroke, I brought up Miss Matthews to several well-connected ladies. The mere mention of her name induced giggles, twitters, and eye rolling. If Lady Penbroke spreads the word that I’ve shown interest in her niece, perhaps some of the twittering will stop. Miss Matthews strikes me as a nice young woman who does not deserve to be cast out. In fact, now that I think of it, she’s really quite lovely, don’t you agree?”

  “I hadn’t particularly noticed.”

  Miles’s brows almost disappeared into his hairline. “You? Not notice an attractive female? Are you ill? Feverish?”

  “No.” Damn it, when did Miles become such a blasted pest?

  “Well, allow me to enlighten you. What Miss Matthews lacks in social graces, she more than makes up for with her lovely face, smooth complexion, and dimpling smile. Her beauty is quiet, understated, requiring a second look before it can be fully appreciated. While fashionable society decrees her height unfashionable, I find it fascinating.” He tapped his chin with two fingers, his expression thoughtful. “I wonder what it would be like to kiss such a tall woman… especially one with a lush mouth like Miss Matthews possesses. Her lips are really quite extraordinary—”

  “Miles.”

  “Yes?”

  Austin ordered his clenched muscles to relax. “You’ve wandered off the subject.”

  Miles’s face bore a mask of pure innocence. “I thought we were discussing Miss Matthews.”

  “We were. It’s simply not necessary to mention her… attributes.”

  A gleam sparkled in Miles’s eyes. “Ah. So you did notice.”

  “Notice what?”

  “Her… attributes.”

  Determined to put an end to this conversation, Austin said, “I’m not blind, Miles. Miss Matthews is, as you say, lovely. I do not intend to let that sway or influence me in my search for information.” He fixed a penetrating stare on his friend. “I trust you will not allow it to, either.”

  “Certainly not. I am not the one who is interested in the woman.”

  “I am not interested in her.”

  “Indeed?” Chuckling, Miles rose, crossed the Axmin-ster rug, then laid a hand on Austin’s shoulder. “You have me traipsing about the kingdom gathering information about her for reasons that you’ve yet to share with me although you must realize I’m burning with curiosity, and you looked positively grim when I waxed poetic about her remarkable lips.”

  “I’m sure I looked nothing of the sort.”

  “Grim,” Miles repeated, “and ready to toss me out on my very elegantly attired posterior.”

  To Austin’s annoyance, heat crept up his neck. Before he could reply, Miles said, “You look like a volcano on the verge of eruption. How very… interesting. And on that note, I shall depart for London. I’ll report back as soon as I’ve discovered anything of interest.” He crossed the room, but paused at the door. “Good luck with Miss Matthews, Austin. I’ve a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  Chapter 5

  Austin spent most of the afternoon ensconced in his study, going over the accounts of his Cornwall estate. Unfortunately, his mind was not focused on the task and the rows of numbers kept running together, refusing to add up properly His brain churned with questions. Was it possible that the blackmailer had some connection to the Frenchman Gaspard? Or perhaps the blackmailer was Gaspard. He strongly suspected so, and if so, he was most likely in England, in which case Austin hoped his Bow Street Runner would locate him. Contact me again, you bastard. I look forward to finding you. You plan to write me again in London after July first—but perhaps I’ll find you first. He wanted this settled and the threat to his family over. And he needed to figure out how Miss Matthews fit into the equation.

  In need of a reprieve, he stretched and walked to the windows. Gazing down on the lawns, he saw Caroline and Miss Matthews frolicking with Gadzooks and three other kittens whom he believed were Egad, Balderdash, and

  Fiddlesticks—although it was sometimes difficult to tell the beasts apart. It was quite possible they were Damn It All, Bloody Hell, and Blow My Dickey.

  Shaking his head, he realized that if Miss Matthews and Caroline were going to entertain themselves with the cats, he’d have to warn Mortlin to adjust the beasts’ names.

  He opened the window a crack, and feminine giggles drifted up to him. Tenderness seeped through him at Caroline’s sweet laughter. It was a sound he had missed for many months after William’s death. His gaze settled on Miss Matthews and his heart seemed to skip a beat. A dimpling smile wreathed her face and bright sunlight shimmered on her glorious hair. She looked young, carefree, innocent, and impossibly lovely.

  And she’d made his sister laugh.

  A rush of gratitude warmed him, catching him off guard. He needed to remember that Miss Matthews was obviously more than she appeared. Yes, she’d amused Caroline, but what else might she be telling his sister? Hopefully she wasn’t spreading tales of William being alive or spouting nonsense about visions.

  Still, if Caroline befriended her, perhaps his sister could offer him some insights into Miss Matthews’s character. Yes, he definitely needed to speak with Caroline.

  As soon as possible.

  Austin’s first opportunity to have a private word with Caroline was in the drawing room before dinner that evening. Maneuvering her aside, he remarked in a casual tone, “It appears you’ve made a new friend.”

  Caroline accepted a glass of sherry from a footman. “You mean Elizabeth?” At Austin’s nod, she said, “We spent most of the day together. I like her very much. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “Indeed? What is so unusual about her?”

  “Everything,” Caroline said without hesitation. “Her knowledge of medicine, her love of animals. She’s amusing, but her humor is not at the expense of others. She did not utter an unkind word about anyone the entire day.”

  “That isn’t unusual,” Austin muttered, relieved that Miss Matthews had clearly said nothing to upset Caroline. “That’s a miracle.” Especially given the way the members of the ton had treated her.

  “Exactly. She possesses an interesting combination of shy awkwardness and bold intelligence, yet I sensed a sadness about her. She misses her home.”

  “Had you met her before last evening?”

  “We were introduced, but I hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with her at great length.”

  “Have you heard any gossip about her?”

  “Only that she is a poor dancer and considered somewhat of a bluestocking. I noticed that most of the gentlemen ignore her, but I believe I may have fixed that.”

  He stilled. “What do you mean?”

  Caroline waved her hand in a breezy manner. “I simply shared a few fashion ideas with her, then sent my abigail to her this evening to style her hair.” Her blue eyes sparkled with sudden interest. “Why do you ask about Elizabeth?”

  “Just curious. I observed you with her today, playing with the kittens.” He smiled at her. “It was good to hear you laughing.”

  “I cannot recall the last time I enjoyed myself so much. I believe Elizabeth and I will be the best of friends. Have you had the chance to speak with her?”

  He arranged his features into a bland mask. “Yes.”

  “And what did you think of her?”

  “I thought she was…” His words drifted off as he caught sight of her entering the drawing room. Exquisite.

  Surely this ravishing creature wasn’t the same woman whom the gentlemen of the ton ignored. How could any man who saw her not want her? Dressed in a simple gown of ivory silk, a long, unadorned fluid column of alabaster, she rendered most of the other women in the room overdressed and garish in comparison.

  Her auburn tresses were caught up in an elegant topknot. A single thick curl cascaded over her shoulder, en
ding just below her waist, an enticing streak of shimmering color against a pale background. He’d had no idea her hair was so long, and he wondered what she would look like with it unbound, falling down her back. Exquisite.

  She hesitated in the doorway, her eyes anxiously searching the guests until they lit on Caroline. A smile warmed her golden brown eyes, a look that he noticed faltered when she caught sight of him standing next to Caroline.

  “Doesn’t she look marvelous!” Caroline enthused. “I knew with the correct dress and coiffure she’d be stunning. Why, I’ve transformed her into a swan!” Caroline glanced at him, then whispered, “Stop frowning, Austin. I told Elizabeth to meet me here by the fireplace and you’ll frighten her away.”

  “I’m not frowning.”

  Caroline sent him an arch look. “Your countenance resembles a thundercloud. Shall I fetch you a mirror?”

  He forced his facial muscles to relax. “No.”

  “That’s better. You never finished telling me your impression of Elizabeth.”

  Austin watched her making her way across the room, pausing to chat with her aunt. His hands clenched when he noticed that every damn man in the room was watching her as well. She glanced in his direction and their eyes met for several heartbeats before she raised her chin a notch, then turned away.

  Warmth crept up his neck at her obvious dismissal. With his gaze still fixed upon her, he said, “Miss Matthews struck me as unusual, no doubt because of her colonial upbringing.”

  “Unusual?” Caroline repeated softly. “Yes, I suppose that would explain it.”

  “Explain what?”

  “Why you haven’t been able to take your eyes off her since she appeared in the doorway.”

  He snapped his head around and encountered Caroline’s amused blue gaze. Leveling his best frigid glare on her, he said, “I beg your pardon?”

  Reaching up, she gently patted his cheek. “Austin, darling. You know that icy stare doesn’t scare me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll join Elizabeth and Lady Penbroke.”

  She sauntered off, and Austin tossed back his champagne in a single gulp. His gaze again settled on Miss Matthews as she greeted Caroline with an inviting smile curving her lips, and he wondered how it would feel to have her greet him in such a warm manner. The very thought sent a tingle through him, thoroughly annoying him.

  Caroline’s words echoed in his mind. You haven’t been able to take your eyes off her since she appeared in the doorway. Couldn’t take his eyes off her? Ridiculous! Of course he could. And he would. As soon as she turned away and he could no longer see her smile. Or her mouth. Or that fascinating single curl flowing down her dress.

  Until then, he needed to watch her, to observe her, to find out all he could about her.

  For investigative purposes only, of course.

  At dinner, Elizabeth sat between her aunt and Lord Digby. To her surprise, Lord Digby conversed with her at length, engaging her in conversation about American farming techniques. She knew next to nothing about the subject, but listened politely, nodding encouragingly, while she enjoyed the sumptuous ten-course meal and dodged her aunt’s peacock feathers.

  While Lord Digby waxed poetic about sheep-shearing procedures, her attention wandered to the head of the table where the duke sat. Resplendent in black evening wear, he all but took her breath away, a fact that irritated her to no end. She did not want to find that pigheaded man attractive.

  He chatted easily with the guests seated around him, but she noticed that he rarely smiled, a fact that pushed her irritation aside and tugged at her heart.

  A troubled soul lurked beneath his polished exterior, but he hid it well. If she hadn’t touched him, she would have seen only what he presented. She wouldn’t have known his sadness or loneliness or guilt. Or sensed the danger threatening him.

  She hadn’t realized she was staring at him until their eyes met. His silvery gaze locked onto hers and her skin tingled under his intense look. Heat suffused her, and she knew she should look away, but she couldn’t. She wanted so much to help him. If only he would listen to her.

  Dear God, she wished she’d been able to see more, to know what menace threatened him, and when. Would harm befall him this very night? If so, what could she do to prevent it?

  His gaze penetrated her, heating her as if he’d touched her. She forced her attention away from that disturbing stare, back to Lord Digby, but she’d already made a decision.

  She would do whatever was necessary to see that the duke remained safe.

  Austin approached the stables a little after midnight, restless, unsettled, wanting only to ride Myst and work this annoying, unnamed frustration out of his system.

  It had started the moment he’d seen her in the drawing room doorway, looking achingly beautiful, smiling at everyone… everyone except him. As much as it irked him to admit it, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her all evening. Even when he’d managed to focus his attention elsewhere, he’d been aware of her every minute, knew whom she was speaking to, what she ate. And when their eyes had met across the length of the dinner table, he’d felt as if someone had punched him in the heart.

  Her presence had distracted him all evening, and he’d breathed a sigh of relief when she’d retired shortly before eleven. But his relief was short lived because he couldn’t get the damn woman—her eyes, her smile, her luscious mouth—out of his mind. It galled him that he had to keep reminding himself that she knew things she shouldn’t know, couldn’t know, without a reason other than the “visions” explanation she’d given him.

  But every time he tried to convince himself she was up to something with her talk of visions, that she might be involved with the blackmail scheme and couldn’t be trusted, all his instincts rebelled. There was a kindness, an innocence, and, damn it, a trustworthiness about her that kept trying to stomp down his suspicions every time they cropped up.

  Was it possible that she was merely placing too much credence in her own undeniable intuitiveness, calling it “visions”? Could her words and actions truly be no more than what she claimed—an attempt to help him?

  He entered the stables, making his way toward Myst’s stall, but halted when a subtle scent wafted to him, a scent out of place with the smell of leather and horse. Lilacs.

  Before he could react, she emerged from the shadows and stepped into a shaft of moonlight. “Good evening, your grace.”

  Much to his annoyance, anticipation skittered down his spine. She still wore the cream silk gown she’d worn to dinner, and that same long, tempting auburn curl drew his gaze. “We meet again, Miss Matthews.”

  She stepped closer to him, and he noticed her expression. She appeared distinctly annoyed.

  “Why are you here, your grace?”

  “I might ask the same of you, Miss Matthews.”

  “I am here because of you.”

  And I am here because of you… because I cannot stop thinking about you. Crossing his arms over his chest, he contemplated her with studied detachment. Damn it, he wished he knew what to make of this woman. “What about me draws you to the stables at such an hour?”

  “I suspected you might plan to ride.” She raised her chin a notch. “I’m here to stop you.”

  He couldn’t contain his bark of disbelief. “Indeed? And how do you intend to do that?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. I suppose I was hoping you’d be intelligent enough to heed my warning about danger befalling you should you choose to ride at night. Clearly I was mistaken.”

  Bloody hell, who did this woman think she was? Approaching her slowly, he didn’t stop until only two feet separated them. She didn’t retreat so much as an inch, just stood her ground, watching him with a single raised brow that irked him further.

  “I don’t believe anyone has ever dared question my intelligence, Miss Matthews.”

  “Indeed? Then perhaps you weren’t listening, your grace, because I just did that very thing.”

  Full-blown ange
r struck him like a slap. He’d had more than enough of this damn woman. Before he could give her the scathing set down she deserved, however, she reached out and pressed his hand between both of hers.

  A tingle sizzled right up his arm, effectively cutting off his angry words.

  “I still see it,” she whispered, her eyes huge, trained on his. “Danger. You hurt.” Releasing his hand, she laid her palm against his cheek. “Please. Please do not ride tonight.”

  Her soft hand lying against his face ignited his skin, overwhelming him with the desire to turn his head and brush his lips over her palm. Instead, he grasped her wrist and pushed her hand away from him.

  “I do not know what game you’re playing—”

  “I am not toying with you! What can I do, what can I say, to convince you?”

  “Let’s start by you telling me what you know about my brother and how you know it. Where did you meet him?”

  “I never met him.”

  “Yet you knew about his scar.” He allowed his gaze to roam over her in an unmistakably insulting fashion. “Were you his lover?”

  Her eyes widened with shock too real to be forced. Relief swept through him, a reaction he did not care to examine.

  “Lovers? Are you mad? I had a vision about him. I—”

  “Yes, yes, so you’ve said. And you can read minds as well. Tell me, Miss Matthews, what am I thinking right now?”

  She hesitated, her eyes searching his face. “I am not always able to tell. And I’d need to… touch you.”

  He held out his hand. “Touch me. Convince me.”

  She stared at his hand for several heartbeats, then nodded. “I’ll try.”

  When his hand was firmly pressed between her palms, he closed his eyes and purposely focused his thoughts on something provocative. He imagined her in his bedchamber, backlit by the golden flames dancing in the hearth. Reaching out, he flicked open the pearl-encrusted clip holding her hair in place. Silky tendrils tumbled down into his hands, falling over her shoulders, down, down—

  “You’re thinking about my hair. You want to touch it.”