‘We can manage perfectly well on our own.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Can’t we?’
‘You’d really help me?’ Florence gave him a long, evaluating look.
‘I will. I should have offered last night, but I hope you’ll accept my help now. This is our marriage and our problem, is it not?’
‘Yes.’ Slowly, she lifted a hand and placed her fingers in his. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘Would you care for some tea, my lord?’ Lady Wadlow, sitting ramrod-straight beside her husband on a green velvet sofa, gave a pointed cough. ‘Mylady?’
Florence, sitting beside her own husband on the opposite sofa, looked down at the assortment of cups and saucers set out on the drawing-room table and wondered if the contents of the teapot might be poisoned.
As it turned out, Leo had been right. The Wadlowshadbeen at home for a marquess, although the atmosphere in the room was so horrible, her skin was actually crawling. She’d never understood that expression before, but now it struck her as the exact right phrase. She couldn’t have felt any moreuncomfortable if an entire swarm of ants were wriggling their way over her body. Both Lord and Lady Wadlow looked like two people biting their tongues so hard, they were in danger of spitting blood, their obsequious attitude towards Leo obviously warring with their blatant fury towards her. Every time their eyes so much as drifted in her direction, they ripped them away again as if she were somehow contagious. She’d never experienced such a visceral degree of loathing before and the effect was chilling. Half of her wanted to run from the room, the other half needed answers. Either way, her lips appeared to be frozen.
‘No.’ Fortunately, Leo answered for both of them. ‘Thank you, but this isn’t a social call. We’re here because we have some questions.’
‘What questions?’ Lord Wadlow sounded suspicious.
Leo tipped his head towards Florence, as if prompting her to begin, which was nice of him, she thought, just as it was nice of him to use the word ‘we’, though frustratingly her voice still seemed to be trapped.
To her relief, however, he appeared to understand the problem, giving a small cough before turning back to the Wadlows. ‘You may have heard that Lady Rainton recently suffered a head injury that resulted in some memory loss. Since she has no recollection of our engagement, we—’
‘Harrumph.’ Lady Wadlow made a disparaging sound.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Leo tipped his head sideways again.
‘Nothing. Do go on, my lord.’
‘Very well. As I was saying, Lady Rainton has no memory of your ball last month. Naturally, I’ve told her my own recollections, but she believes there may have been some kind of misunderstanding regarding what happened in the library. We therefore came to London to speak with your daughter, but, as Mrs Vaughan is no longer here, it seemed prudent tovisit you instead. In short, we’d like to ask whether you think it’s possible there was some innocent explanation for our being compromised?’
‘Ha!’ Lady Wadlow sounded like a woman who’d been holding her ‘ha!’ in for a very long time. It was so loud, it seemed to echo around the walls.
‘That would be a no, I take it?’
‘There was no misunderstanding.’ Lady Wadlow’s eyes flashed daggers. ‘You arranged to speak with my daughter in the library andshewent with the express intention of compromising you, using some ridiculous story about a message to keep you there. It was simply a ploy.’
‘But not a very good one.’ Florence protested, finding her voice finally. ‘That’s one of the things that doesn’t make sense to me. I mean, if I’d really wanted to compromise the marquess, surely I would have needed some more effective means of keeping him with me? Otherwise, how could I have been sure anyone would find us together?’
‘It’s true, we were discovered surprisingly quickly,’ Leo mused. ‘We can’t have been alone together for more than thirty seconds.’
‘She was lucky!’
‘It could have been chance, I suppose, but that would have been risky.’ Florence looked straight at Lady Wadlow. ‘What was it that made you come to the library that evening?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Lady Wadlow twisted her face to the side, as if she resented being spoken to directly. ‘It was over a month ago.’
‘Still, there must have been some reason. For the Earl and Countess of Malvern too. And Baron Paltrow and Lady Lansbury. What made so many people suddenly decide to visit the library during a ball?’
‘Are you thinking that somebody might have sent them to find us?’ Leo sounded thoughtful.
‘It’s possible.’
‘Yes, but why?’
Florence opened her mouth and then closed it again, unable to think of an answer. She was the only person who’d stood to gain from their being caught together.
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I just thought it might be significant. I mean, if we only knew who suggested going to the library in the first place, that might tell us something.’
‘It was me,’ Lord Wadlow intoned sombrely. ‘I was the one who suggested it. I wanted to show the Malverns my rare edition of Fielding.’
