“You must forget about him. Never mention this to anyone.”
“But shouldn’t their victim be warned? I didn’t hear them refer to him by name, did you?”
“Regrettably, no. But rest assured, I will look into it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And should something come to light, please understand you won’t learn it from me.”
She glared at him. “You are very difficult.”
“And you are extremely inquisitive.”
She huffed and stopped to put on her glasses which had fallen off in the scuffle.
“You don’t really need those, Miss Tothill.”
They reached the terrace and stepped into the light of braziers along the wall. His petite, elusive heartbreaker stared at him. She gasped. “You…you are a friend of Crispin Braithwaite’s, my sister’s fiancée.”
“Ashton Grainger, Miss Tothill. We have met, after a fashion. But you ran away from me then, too,” Ash said dryly. “A fondness for climbing trees, I believe.”
“I think you’re quite beastly.” Miss Tothill fussed with her hair again, although it looked perfect to him. She paused. “If we go inside together, they will think that we…?”
“Good grief, so they might.” Ash admitted the fetching young woman had distracted him. A scandal was in the making if ever there was one. “Please go in,” he urged her. “I will walk around to the front door.”
“Thank you, sir.” She stiffened her spine and strolled across the terrace and through the French doors the curious footman opened for her. Deploying the fan attached to her wrist, she waved it before her face. “So airless in the ballroom tonight, is it not? I declare I felt quite faint,” Ash heard her say.
With a grin, Ash watched her disappear into the milling crowd, then ran along the side path to the front entry. What were Farnborough and his cohorts up to? They had murder on their minds, and he must discover who the intended victim was before they carried out their plan. It was not widely known that Farnborough had lost most of his fortune to unwise and not always lawful investments. But surely, he’d refilled his coffers after the death of his wealthy wife. The bounder presented himself to thetonas a charismatic, hail fellow well met, sort. He wasn’t. What was he up to?
Chapter Two
Thea slipped intothe ballroom, where the set was finishing. Being caught in a tête-à-tête with her clearly horrified Grainger. Did he find her so unattractive? Or did he fear he’d have to marry her? She felt a little flat. Either reason was decidedly unappealing. One dark eyebrow had lifted when he asked if she knew those men while his cool blue eyes surveyed her. Surely, he didn’t think she was there on purpose to overhear them?
She hurried over to her seat, his deep, resonate voice still ringing in her ears. The crush of Grainger’s long hard body against hers, once she realized he didn’t intend to ravage her, hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. In fact, it had stirred something within her she’d tried to ignore. Her outrage was less than it might have been with the smell of fresh linens and woody soap drifting over her.
Did he, as he had said, follow her outside? Or was he there to listen to the men in that room? Whichever it was, she seemed to have blundered unwittingly into an intrigue. While she had expected something like this to be quite thrilling and perfect for her first foray as a crime reporter, she hadn’t bargained for how nerve-wracking it was to hear that man speak of murder. Had he caught sight of her before he closed the curtains? She could not see him beyond a dark shape. Her ribcage tightened. She must keep her wits about her.
She believed she could recognize Farnborough, if not by sight, by the sound of his voice. No one spoke like that: a threatening, murderous growl, which sent a chill down her spine. Thea searched the crowded room for a gentleman who might fit the picture of Farnborough in her head. She imagined him to have jet-black hair, with a cruel, thin-lipped mouth, and a devil’s slanting black eyebrows.
The smoky room was a whirl of color and movement. The gentlemen in elegant evening clothes exhibited exquisite manners as they danced with ladies in elaborate ballgowns and sparkling jewels. It was difficult to believe dangerous men lurked in this grand ballroom with its soaring painted ceiling and marble columns, the chandeliers decorating the guests with dancing lights. The atmosphere was so convivial in this polite world, but what she’d heard had changed her view of it.
Her grandmama had given up renewing old acquaintances and returned to her chair.
“Where have you been, child? Were you talking to the other debutantes? You missed the quadrille, and Mr. Lewis expressed a desire to partner you.”
“I’m sorry, Grandmama,” Thea said, her mind racing for acceptable excuses. Grandmama could be quite observant when she chose. Fortunately, it wasn’t often. “I went out onto the terrace. It was so lovely and cool outside, and it’s dreadfully hot in the ballroom.” She flushed with mortification, remembering the first time Grainger had seen her in the garden.
“Hot?It is not hot. It can be humid at these balls, but tonight…” Grandmama held up her lorgnette and peered into Thea’s face. “You are a little flushed. Perhaps we were a trifle hasty in allowing you to come to London so soon after your illness. I should write to your mother…”
“Oh no, Grandmama. Please don’t worry Mama. I am perfectly well.”
Her grandmama patted her hand. “I don’t need to, Thea, for your father is in London.”
Thea sat up straight in her chair. “Papa? Is he here tonight?”
“I just talked to him a moment ago. He went off to find you. Ah, here he comes now.”
Thea turned as her father crossed the floor, a deep scowl on his face.
“There you are, Theodosia,” he said when he reached them. He only called her that when annoyed with her. “Where were you?”
“I…I was…” Thea struggled to reply. She could never lie to her father.
