The Scandalous Flirt Page 11

  Nevertheless, Lucas had propositioned Rory tonight. He had damn near made a fool of himself by betraying his principles. He couldn’t imagine a woman more wrong for him than Rory Paxton.

  She was still gazing at him with suspicion. “You locked the letters in a bank vault, didn’t you?”

  “No, I did not.” He looked deeply into her large doe eyes. “Rory, I swear that I don’t have your stepmother’s letters—nor did I ever. You have my word on that.”

  Lucas willed her to believe him. He knew the instant she did. Her gaze wavered and he felt a slight shudder run through her body. She released a long sigh of frustration. “But I was told … oh, never mind!”

  “Come and sit down again. You will confess everything to me.” Now that his anger had passed, he allowed a hint of humor to enter his voice. “And pray do so willingly. You owe me that much for assaulting me.”

  He steered her back over to the fireplace, and this time she did not resist. Ignoring an acute urge to cuddle her in his lap, he guided her down in one of the armchairs while he took the seat opposite her. The softly hissing fire and the shadowy room created an intimate bower that strained his willpower.

  During their tussle, her sleeve had separated from her collar, and a swath of peach-colored silk hung loose and exposed a glimpse of her shoulder. Ladies routinely wore low-cut gowns to parties, yet he could not think himself more affected by the sight of bare skin than he was now.

  He trained his attention on her profile as she gazed with a woebegone expression at the fire. “Shall we start from the beginning?” he prodded gently. “Your stepmother is missing some correspondence. What are these letters? Why are they so important that someone would filch them?

  Rory drew a shuddering breath. “They are billets-doux—a packet of letters written by … her former lover. Apparently, they are very damaging, and if published, they will land Kitty in a terrible scandal. The Duke of Whittingham will likely cry off from his betrothal to Celeste. My stepmother is being blackmailed, you see.”

  “Blackmailed!” Lucas could understand the urgency, then. At the same time, he was peeved that Rory could believe him capable of such a despicable deed. “And you thought I was the culprit. What led you to such an implausible conclusion?”

  “You were spotted in the morning room at Celeste’s bethrothal party at the time the packet of letters disappeared from there.” She paused, eyeing him cautiously. “But more to the point, the letters were written by the previous Lord Dashell.”

  His jaw dropped. His father had had an affair with Mrs. Kitty Paxton?

  The news rocked Lucas to the core. He oughtn’t be astounded. His father had been an infamous rake, romping with widows and married ladies alike. Lucas had grown up hearing heated quarrels between his parents on the matter, and he couldn’t entirely blame his mother for her bitterness.

  Rory sat watching him. He didn’t want to discuss his father with her. The subject was too painful. “Are you certain about all this?” he asked. “The blackmail?”

  “Yes.” Reaching into a pocket of her robe, she leaned forward and handed him two slips of paper. “You may read the notes for yourself.”

  There were two of them, both written on ordinary vellum. The first demanded a diamond necklace as payment, the second, one thousand pounds by the coming Saturday. The heavy script suggested a masculine hand, yet was adorned with feminine curlicues.

  He returned his gaze to Rory. “I do hope you realize this does not in the least way resemble my penmanship.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said frankly. “I found some samples of your writing in your desk. But I thought you might have disguised your hand.”

  “You hold a dismal view of my character.”

  She had the good grace to blush. “I’m very sorry, my lord. I truly believed you had taken the letters. Kitty seemed so certain of it.”

  He wanted Rory to call him by his given name. He wanted to hear her say Lucas in that breathy voice she’d used when he’d taken her in his arms. How illogical. No lady’s companion addressed her employer with such familiarity.

  Though perhaps Rory would now quit her position here. It was no longer necessary since her purpose in seeking the post had been to search his house.

  Lucas wasn’t yet ready to face having her vanish from his life again, so he turned his mind to something else. “Was your stepmother also the one who told you that my investments had … how did you put it? Gone sour.”

  “Yes. Though she’d heard it from Lady Milford. Her ladyship came to Norfolk to fetch me, you see. To tell me that Kitty needed my help.”

  Lady Milford!

  Frowning, Lucas sat back in his chair. The woman was a leader of society. She also could be meddlesome and had a reputation as a matchmaker. What the devil was she up to now?

  “If these letters are published,” he said, “they will bring shame onto my family, too. Did that not occur to you?”

  “Of course. But … society will excuse a nobleman of his peccadilloes far more easily than a lady. So Kitty thought…” Her voice trailed off and she gave him a contrite look. “It does sound rather flimsy now, doesn’t it?”

  He was glad that at least Rory recognized her folly. It still galled him to know that she’d considered him to be a soulless villain.

  The last thing he wanted was for his father’s bawdy letters to be smeared across the tittle-tattle newspapers. Alice Kipling already was suffering doubts about their courtship, and a scandal might prompt her family to decide she was better off seeking a husband elsewhere. He didn’t dare take that risk.

  He folded the notes and tapped them against his palm. “Well. The next payment is due in a few days. We haven’t much time.”

  Rory raised a dark eyebrow. “We?”

  “Yes, we. You cannot continue this quest alone. It’s far too dangerous. Henceforth, I intend to assist you in finding the blackmailer.”

  Chapter 10

  How like a lord to bark orders and expect obedience!

  —MISS CELLANY

  The next morning, Rory stepped into the entry of her childhood home and greeted the butler. In a glance, she took in the familiar black-and-white marble floor, the pale green walls, the staircase with its wrought-iron banister-rail. So much had happened since she’d arrived here from Norfolk two days ago. In particular, she had formed a reluctant alliance with Lucas Vale—the very man she had suspected of vile deeds.

  Accordingly, she had come here on a mission.

  Grimshaw’s narrow face wore its usual superior expression. “It is too early for callers. I shall check if Mrs. Paxton is awake yet.”

  Untying her old straw bonnet, Rory dropped it onto a chair. “Of course she’s awake. It’s ten o’clock, so she’ll be in the breakfast parlor. And there’s no need to bother with formalities. I’ll announce myself.”

  “It is my duty to escort you there.”

  As she started toward the staircase, Grimshaw made haste to lead the way. His resentful look spoke volumes. It was clear he thought her unworthy of being treated as a family member due to her fall from grace.

  Clutching her blue skirts, Rory mounted the steps and frowned at the butler’s back. Grimshaw was a busybody who knew everything that went on under this roof. Was it conceivable that he had spied the letters stuffed into Kitty’s sewing basket?

  Could he be the blackmailer?

  She wouldn’t be surprised. Only look at what he’d done to her eight years ago. But she had more pressing things to consider than the past.

  The previous night, she and Lord Dashell had discussed the possible suspects. He had stated his belief that the culprit was likely someone close to Kitty. Someone who had access to the house, perhaps a servant, a friend, a relative. There was no definite proof, after all, that the deed had been done by a guest at Celeste’s ball. Since Kitty had secreted the letters in her sewing basket two days prior to the party, they might have been stolen earlier.

  Rory saw the logic in his reasoning. Yet she’d balked
at accepting his aid because it hadn’t been an offer, it had been a command. Dashell had overridden her objections, insisting he had the right to help recover the letters since they’d been written by his late father. How like a lord to bark orders and expect obedience!

  She pitied Miss Alice Kipling. The innocent girl had no notion of what lay in store for her, marrying such a tyrant. In fact, Rory been inspired to write a column about that very topic.

  Too agitated to sleep after the encounter with him the previous evening, she’d sat at the desk in Lady Dashell’s dimly lit bedchamber and composed a scathing denouncement of aristocratic marriages. On the way here, she had dropped it in the post to the office of her London publisher, The Weekly Verdict.

  Not that Lord Dashell would ever read it. She doubted he paid any heed to radical newspapers that disagreed with his stuffy beliefs.

  Rory followed Grimshaw along the upper corridor. She had come here today because Dashell had peppered her with questions that she hadn’t been able to answer. Odd that, for during their one dance in her debut season, she’d scarcely been able to drag a word out of him. But last night, he’d had plenty to say. And he’d whipped up a maelstrom of emotions in her—rage, resentment, need.

  The bodily attraction disturbed her the most. Over the past eight years, she had learned to leash her natural passions. She had transformed herself from a headstrong girl into a disciplined woman. Yet in one encounter, Lucas Vale had resurrected all those dangerous desires.

  Nevertheless, his assistance might prove useful. This morning, he was investigating the possibility that the culprit could be one of his father’s old cronies, many of whom were gamblers in desperate need of funds. She would be foolish not to acknowledge that he had certain connections she lacked.

  The one thing Rory hadn’t told him about was the reward. With the deplorable state of his finances, he’d likely demand half of the thousand pounds as his share. But it was her dowry money, not his!

  Grimshaw stepped through an open doorway. “Miss Paxton, madam. She insisted on seeing you.”

  Rory entered a cozy breakfast parlor to find Kitty seated at a table by the window. Clad in tangerine muslin, she was sipping tea from a porcelain cup. A dish containing pastry crumbs lay before her.

  To Rory’s surprise, another lady occupied the chair to Kitty’s right. The visitor looked to be in her late thirties and wore a smart plum silk gown trimmed in cream lace. An artful arrangement of chestnut ringlets framed her handsome features.

  Kitty’s blue eyes widened on Rory. Clearly anxious for news, she glanced in consternation at her companion, then gave a little wave, her gold rings glinting in the sunlight. “Aurora, my dear! Why, this is most unexpected. Do come in and sit down. Grimshaw will bring you a dish of tea.”

  Proceeding to the table, Rory took the seat opposite the other guest and set down her reticule. The butler placed a cup in front of Rory, rattling the china to indicate his displeasure at being obliged to serve her. Then he stalked out of the breakfast parlor.

  Kitty gave Rory a warning stare and slid a look at her friend, as if to convey the message that the woman knew nothing of the blackmail scheme—or Rory’s employment at Dashell House. “Nadine, do allow me to introduce my stepdaughter, Aurora. She is visiting from Norfolk. Aurora, this is Mrs. Edgerton.”

  Mrs. Edgerton appeared cognizant of the gossip about Rory, if that keen hazel scrutiny was any indication. “Ah, Miss Paxton. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She extended an elegant, gloved hand for Rory to shake. “How long will you be in London?”

  “For a short while,” Rory said vaguely. “I’m sure my stepmama can tell you all about it.”

  “Oh, there’s little to tell!” Kitty released an artificial laugh. “It’s merely a quick visit to help me plan dear Celeste’s wedding. Alas, Aurora has duties back home and shall be unable to attend the nuptials.”

  Rory would see about that. “Speaking of the bride, is Celeste still abed?” she asked, stirring a crumble of sugar into her tea.

  “Yes, which means it’s the perfect time for us to consult on the arrangements.” Her stepmother nervously toyed with the gold button on her sleeve. “I fear the poor girl is overwhelmed by the many details. She has deferred all the decisions to me—and to her half sister, of course.”

  Taking the hint, Mrs. Edgerton rose gracefully to her feet. “I can see that you two have private matters to discuss. Kitty, I shall return this evening. Oh, and don’t forget, I’ve decided to forgo Tinsley’s ball tomorrow night in favor of Newcombe’s card party.”

  “Will you see your new suitor? Oh, I do wish you’d tell me his name.”

  Mrs. Edgerton smiled like a cat licking cream from its whiskers. “All in due time. If you’ll excuse me now, I must pick up that new bonnet from the milliner’s.”

  Heading toward the door, the shapely woman walked with a sensual slither that surely made her popular with the gentlemen, Rory assessed. Was she a frequent visitor here? Could she be the blackmailer?

  If so, she had gall to enter the house of her victim.

  As Mrs. Edgerton disappeared from sight, Rory murmured, “She must be a particular friend since you received her so early in the day.”

  “Yes, we are both widows and she’s quite lively company. But never mind her.” Leaning across the breakfast table, Kitty hissed, “Tell me, do you have the letters already? Is that why you’re here? My, that was fast work! Are they in your reticule?”

  She reached for the small bag, but Rory pushed it aside. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I haven’t been able to find the letters. I’m beginning to think Lord Dashell doesn’t have them at all.”

  A frown wiped away Kitty’s elation. “What do you mean? Of course he has them. He must! You did not search thoroughly enough.”

  “I had a close look through his study and also his bedchamber last night while he was out at a ball. But the letters simply aren’t there.”

  Rory said nothing about Dashell catching her in the act, or that she had accused him of being a thief. The moment of seeing the stark truth on his face resonated in her memory. His gray eyes had been penetrating and intense, his shock too genuine to be fabricated.

  She’d known in her heart that he was not the blackmailer.

  However, they’d agreed to keep that development from Kitty for the time being. Given her high regard for Lady Milford’s judgment, Kitty would be loath to acquit Dashell of the deed. It was better to let her go on thinking he was the villain so that she didn’t interfere with the investigation. Otherwise, Kitty might inadvertently tip off the real blackmailer through some chance remark.

  Rory glanced at the open doorway. If the guilty party was someone in this household, perhaps he or she was out there right now, eavesdropping to find out if they were close to identifying the culprit.

  Cup in hand, she quietly arose from her chair. “I’ve something to discuss with you,” she murmured to her stepmother. “But first I’d like to freshen my tea.”

  Instead of going to the sideboard, Rory poked her head out into the corridor. Grimshaw stood there with his head cocked and his ears perked. Upon spying her, the butler made haste to straighten one of the paintings on the wall.

  “Careless maidservants!” he blustered, redness creeping up his neck to darken his narrow face. “They leave the pictures crooked when they dust.”

  “Then perhaps you ought to go have a word with them. At once.”

  Muttering under his breath, the middle-aged man turned on his heel and marched toward the staircase. She waited until his black-clad figure vanished before shutting the door. Then she poured her tea and returned to the breakfast table.

  “What was all that about?” her stepmother asked in confusion.

  “Grimshaw was lurking in the passageway. I’m sure you don’t want him to overhear our conversation.”

  “Dear heavens, no! Though of course I trust the man implicitly. I’m sure he wouldn’t listen in on purpose.”

 
Rory doubted that. Grimshaw had always been a snoop. No one knew that better than her.

  “Well?” Kitty prompted. “What is it you wish to discuss? I do hope you haven’t come to inquire if you may quit your post. Not when my letters are still missing.”

  “Of course not. I intend to keep searching.” She and Dashell had agreed she would stay on as his mother’s companion for a few more days. The arrangement would make it easier for them to compare notes. “I was able to steal away this morning while the doctor visits Lady Dashell for her weekly therapy. There’s something I must clarify with you.”

  “Clarify?”

  In the wee hours of the morning, Dashell had grilled her about the illicit affair between Kitty and his father. But Rory knew little of the particulars. Her purpose today was to gather clues that might help them identify the criminal.

  “Since time is short and the next payment is due on Saturday,” she said, “I believe we should consider the possibility that the blackmailer may be someone other than Lord Dashell.”

  “Impossible. If Lady Milford believes he is guilty, then you may be certain it is true!”

  “Regardless, I’m hoping you’ll provide me with some information. For one, did anyone else know of your affair with Dashell’s father? Other than Papa, of course.”

  Kitty puffed up with indignation, her cheeks turning rosy. “Certainly not! We were extremely discreet.”

  “Perhaps Grimshaw saw you together. And what about your lady’s maid?” Rory recalled meeting the plain, nondescript woman the other day. Nothing in her timid manner would suggest a criminal bent, but appearances could be deceiving.

  “Foster? She knew nothing of the matter. Why would I confide such a thing to a mere servant?”

  “How long has she been with you?”

  “Nearly five years now. But if you’re implying that Foster might have filched the letters, that is utter nonsense. She is perfectly loyal to me. And far too much the mouse to commit such an offense.”

  Rory wished she herself could be so certain. “When exactly did the affair take place?”