Sir Robin hopped from the chair to Clio’s shoulder. ‘Bastard!’
Clio blinked as the spell weaving around them shattered. Had he just called her a witch? She pulled her hand free and turned, pausing at the door. ‘Don’t be a fool, Grey. I told you not to trust me. I meant it.’
‘And I told you I would uncover your secrets. Are you braveenough to show me, Clio? Are you like Lady Godiva or will you slink into the shadows?’
She certainly wasn’t going to strip bare and ride through the town naked. Although the idea of removing her shields and showing Thomas her true self was alarmingly tempting and terribly frightening. No. She didn’t think she was courageous enough. Not by half. So, she turned and walked away.
12
Thomas had a new suspect to add to their list. The living Viscount Beachley. Lord Bartholomew Cuthbert. Berty to his friends, of which Thomas was very much not a member. The fat little toad of a man stood in a cloud of cigar smoke, the Duke of Devon on one side of him, and the Earl of Plinth on the other. While he was all bluster and no blast at the dinner table, once surrounded by his cronies, Berty found false bravado as he sent Thomas yet another blistering glare.
Thomas was alone by the hearth, watching the fire lick hungrily over a large piece of pine. The flames mesmerised him, but he still felt Berty’s angry regard and heard the comments rising from the corner of the room. The pompous fool became bolder with each tumbler of whisky.
‘You heard the rumours. The bounder couldn’t even keep his marriage together. What kind of bastard deserts his wife? And he fucked his way through every whore house in London. No wonder the courts saw fit to grant the poor woman an escape.’ Berty spoke loud enough for half the room to hear him. There was no questionwho he spoke about, even though he wasn’t quite soused enough to name Thomas.
‘Lower your voice, man. He nearly called you out before. You keep this up, and you’ll be facing him at dawn with pistols. I, for one, will not be your second. It’s bad enough my brother-in-law was murdered. I won’t have any more scandalous deaths tied to my name.’ The duke kept shooting worried looks at Thomas. But Thomas remained focused on the flames, pretending not to hear.
‘There’s another bastard for you.’ Berty’s guttural voice rose above the murmuring of gentlemen. The crack and pop of fire hitting sap nearly drowned out his next words. ‘His death was the best thing to happen for all of us.’
The duke hissed something before calling over a footman. ‘Kindly escort Lord Cuthbert to his rooms.’
‘I’m not tired,’ Berty slurred, nearly toppling over as the footman rushed to take his arm and support him. ‘This is no way to treat a viscount!’ He raised his fist, forgetting he still held a glass of whisky in his pudgy fingers. The amber liquid arced through the air, landing in a splatter on the rug.
‘This way, my Lord.’ The footman, apparently used to escorting inebriated guests, deftly steered the portly lord out of the door towards the stairs.
‘Shall we join our fair companions in the drawing room?’ Lord Langley exuded false cheer as he addressed the room at large. He walked over to Thomas and clapped him hard on the back. ‘Don’t mind Berty. He’s never held his drink well.’
Thomas forced a smile. ‘Oh, I don’t mind the opinions of men like Berty.’
But the fool had opened up raw wounds. It was infuriating to be reminded of every way Thomas had failed his wife. Every way he would fail another woman if she were unlucky enough to find herself bound to him.
As he walked with the duke into the drawing room, Clio looked up from where she was playing whist with Lady Langley and his sister. A forbidden image of her as naked as the famed Godiva they discussed flashed in his mind, so vivid, he sucked in a harsh breath.
The duke followed his line of sight, seeing Lady Langley at the table. ‘She’s a wanton creature, my wife. She thinks I’m too addled to notice her liaisons, but I’m just too tired to care any more. A rake like you is exactly what she’s looking for, Grey. Don’t worry yourself on my account, but a word to the wise. Use a French letter with that one.’ The duke had mistaken his reaction, thinking it was Lady Langley who had caught his eye. Before Thomas could correct the man’s misunderstanding, the duke was pulled into a heated conversation by two gentlemen discussing a new proposal being brought to the House of Lords.
Lady Langley caught his eye and licked her bottom lip. Thomas’ belly tightened, not in desire, but in preparation to flee. He turned and found a trio of gentlemen sipping port and discussing horse breeding. A far more enticing option than the lascivious lady of the house.
If he could not pursue the one woman claiming all of his attention, perhaps he could instead apply himself to the investigation and pursue the next suspect on his list: Lord Bartholomew Cuthbert.
Thomas joined the group of equine enthusiasts and deftly led the conversation in a different direction. After fifteen minutes, he knew Berty held a grudge against his deceased cousin for a land deal that had not ended in Berty’s favour. A plot of lush farmland that, because of the former Viscount Beachley’s death, now belonged to Berty. Interestingly, the Duke of Devon also seemed to hold no love for the unfortunate Arthur Beachley. Though nothing was said outright, it seemed the deceased viscount had few friends among his family. Considering his relations, Thomaswas reasonably confident that was a mark in the dead man’s favour.
The gentlemen changed topics once more and spent the remainder of the evening discussing their favourite bawdy houses in London. Thomas’ reputation as an established rake had them looking to him for his expert opinion. An opinion he was disinclined to give.
He excused himself from the group and found his sister blessedly free from Lady Langley’s company. The duchess was flirting outrageously with a young earl who looked a bit like a hare caught in a trap.
‘What a ghastly group.’ He inclined his head to his sister by way of greeting and turned so his back was nearest the fire behind him.
‘I forgot how dreadful Lady Langley’s set of friends are. In truth, I forgot how tedious she can be when she’s on the hunt for a new paramour.’ Cynthia spared her friend a withering glance before returning her focus to Thomas. ‘You were certainly in fine form at dinner. Showing such filial loyalty to our dear cousin nearly brought a tear to my eye.’ Her smile took some sting out of the sarcasm.
‘The new Viscount Beachley tempts any man to shut him up. I was merely the closest to his vicinity at the time.’
Cynthia raised a knowing brow. ‘Really? I can’t recall you being so swift to defend the honour of a lady since… well, since I’m not sure when.’
‘That hardly paints me in a flattering light, sweet sister.’ Grey forced his tone to remain flippant.
‘I just mean it’s been an age since you’ve shown interest in anything, Thomas. But something has changed. It’s like watching a flower come back to life after a long winter.’
‘First I’m a cad who doesn’t defend ladies, now I’m a wiltedflower? You certainly know how to boost a man’s confidence, Cynthia.’
