Chapter 1
When a man of Society dies, it is always a tragedy. More so when it is under suspicious circumstances. A recently deceased Earl has come to the attention of all those who matter. Not only were the circumstances of his recent death quite suspicious, but the “grieving” wife he leaves behind has been in this position before. More than once, in fact. So that leaves us with the question, is this black widow going to strike again, or will what has been left to her finally be enough to satisfy whatever urges wake her in the night?
Naomi Barnaby, Countess of Walridge, shifted nervously in her seat as her carriage turned into the drive of the townhouse across from Kingscross Park. She glanced at the paper beside her and cursed as she flipped it facedown so she would no longer have to read its ugly, accusatory words. The items in the weekly gossip rag were supposed to be blind, but it never took any kind of brains to determine who they were about. In this case, it was her. So what had been mere whispers would now become a roar.
Worse, it might hurt Naomi’s chances to succeed at the duty laid out in front of her today. Unless the gentleman she was coming to call on did not receive the paper. He wasn’t titled or from a family of the Upper Ten Thousand. It was possible he hadn’t seen theScandal Sheet.
“One can only hope,” she murmured as her footman, Jarrett, opened the door for her and offered a hand down.
“I beg your pardon, my lady?” he asked as she released his fingers and stepped to the gravel drive.
She shook her head. “Nothing at all. I do not know how long I’ll be.”
He nodded and she started up the steps toward the house. It was a nice home, well situated across from the park. It wasn’t one of the larger parks, but still…the man was obviously not struggling for money. That boded well for the job she wanted to hire him for.
As she reached the top step, the door opened and revealed a butler. He was dressed in fine livery, but he also had a harsh scar that slashed across his face and a patch covered one eye. She started at the unexpected appearance of the man.
“Good morning,” she managed to squeak out.
“My lady,” he said, taking her wrap and her card. “They are expecting you. Please, come with me.”
She wrinkled her brow as she followed the man through the winding halls. At the last door on the very end of the hall, the butler knocked. A deep voice called out, “Enter” from the other side of the door, and the servant did so.
“Lady Walridge, sirs.”
He stepped aside and Naomi took a long stride into the room. It was a study, it seemed, rich with mahogany bookshelves and with a roaring fire along the back wall. Only this study contained two desks, each facing the other, and two men were rising from them as she entered the room.
Her breath caught, for it was rare to be in a room with one such specimen, but two? That was uncommon, indeed. Both men were outrageously handsome. The one on the desk to her right was well over six feet tall, broad shouldered and with thick thighs that filled out his fawn trousers quite nicely. He had brown hair streaked with blonde and dark brown eyes that were now focused on her. He was also smiling in greeting, an expression she supposed was meant to make her feel a little more comfortable.
And she needed it, for the man on the left was also staring at her. He was also tall, but not quite so much as his friend. He was dressed a bit more formally, his posture more rigid. He also had a wiry build, still strong, but not quite so thick. His face had more harsh angles and his hair was darker, almost black. As he stared at her, she was drawn in by a pair of bright blue eyes, eyes that flitted over her from head to toe. He was frowning, a dark, unreadable expression that left her shifting with discomfort. He seemed…familiar, but she couldn’t place why.
“My lady,” the taller man said, coming around with a hand extended. “Good day.”
“Good day…are you—are you Mr. Ridgeway?”
“Captain Ridgeway,” the other man corrected quietly from behind his friend.
“Captain Ridgeway,” the taller of the two repeated as he took her hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves and the butler had taken hers, so when his rough hand slid across her skin, she caught her breath.
What in heaven name was wrong with her? Her husband was not a week cold in the grave and no, she hadn’t loved him, but to feel such a jolt was unseemly at best. At worst? Well, she wasn’t going to think about that.
“Captain Ridgeway,” she corrected. “My apologies.”
“And this is my partner,” he said, turning to motion the other man closer. “The Marquess of Glenmarrow.”
Naomi’s lips parted. That was why the man had seemed familiar. She had seen him before, in the halls of Society. Dancing, brooding, glowering… She hadn’t been able to place him because a man like him didn’t belong in a middle-class home like this, the office of an investigator.
“My lord,” she said, bobbing out a little curtsey out of pure instinct.
“Verrick, if you could have the tea brought, that will be all,” Ridgeway said over her shoulder to the waiting butler.
“Of course, sir.”
As he left, closing the door behind himself, Naomi blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say partner?”
Now it was Glenmarrow who inclined his head as he stepped closer. “Yes. It isn’t something talked about often in Society circles, of course. Before I inherited, Marcus and I formed this investigative endeavor. I have not given it up.”
Ridgeway glanced toward him. “And I hope you never shall. We work better as a team.”
