A Marquess, a Miss and a Mystery Read online

  She nodded. ‘Good point. I can remind myself of that. After all, it is but a short step from being interested in what he does from what he is, but...’

  Before she could think of any more reasons why she couldn’t do what he’d asked, he thrust her at the chair by Perceval’s side. ‘Good evening, Perceval,’ he said affably.

  ‘Devizes,’ said the man, giving him a stiff nod. ‘Miss Carmichael.’

  She shifted from one foot to the other. Bit her lower lip. Looked at her shoes.

  ‘Gauche,’ he mouthed at Perceval over the top of her downbent head. Then he helped her into her seat and, before taking his own, leaned over and murmured, ‘You will help to put her at her ease, won’t you, old chap?’

  The secretary sighed, nodded, then took his own seat with an air of resignation. Though Nick turned to his dining companion on his other side, another of Miss Underwood’s many cousins, he did not give her anything like his full attention. He was far more interested in listening to what Perceval might reveal to Horatia.

  Before long it was all he could do to keep a straight face. Just as he’d predicted, Perceval thoroughly enjoyed talking about himself and how necessary he was to the Duke. And the more he puffed himself up, the more irritated Horatia became, valiantly though she tried to conceal it.

  When it was time for him to turn and make conversation with her, he slid his arm along the back of her chair and leaned in close, in order to be able to find out what she’d managed to learn from Perceval.

  ‘Is that absolutely necessary?’ she asked, stiffening in her seat.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he assured her. ‘The level of noise round this table has reached such a pitch it is impossible to converse with you without raising my voice. Or leaning in close,’ he murmured, right into her ear.

  She sat bolt upright and held out her glass to a nearby footman for a refill. Which obliged him to remove his arm from the back of her chair. A slick manoeuvre if ever he saw one.

  But then he saw a thought flit across her face. Swiftly followed by an expression of remorse.

  ‘I do beg your pardon,’ she said. ‘We are supposed to be making everyone think we are, um...and I really don’t know how to flirt,’ she finished, going pink with chagrin.

  What other woman would admit to such a lack of wiles? And yet, in Horatia, he couldn’t consider this a flaw. It was, on the contrary, rather endearing. She was so utterly free from artifice, not only to him, but to everyone. And he didn’t want her to try to become as shallow and insincere as everyone else.

  ‘Then don’t,’ he said. ‘Receive all my advances exactly the way you did just now. With disapproval and cool disdain. Give no sign that you are succumbing to my legendary charm,’ he said with heavy sarcasm. ‘That will not put me off. It will, instead, cause me to redouble my attentions. Because everyone knows I cannot resist a challenge. That will ensure we throw dust in everyone’s eyes, while continuing to pursue the real quarry.’

  ‘And you think that will work? No, never mind, you are the expert in these matters. I must,’ she said, as though facing swallowing a dose of unpleasant medicine, ‘trust your judgement.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, since he could see that had been a considerable concession on her part. ‘But now we’ve done discussing my legendary prowess as a lover,’ he growled in his most seductive voice, which had the effect of making her grip her napkin and twist it slightly, as though she was hanging on to her temper for all she was worth, ‘you should really return your attention to the secretary. See if you can find out anything useful.’

  She pulled her lips together as though biting back a pithy retort. Gave a little sniff and turned her head from him with all the dignity of an affronted duchess. He smiled, a genuine smile, at the back of her head. Oh, how she hated having to follow his lead. Only her zeal to find the person responsible for her brother’s death could have made her do so. And her genuine belief that he, as the more experienced in these matters, knew what he was about.

  If only that were true. He had only stumbled on to the trail she’d discovered through her own intelligence. Perhaps it was time he swallowed his pride and admitted the truth. Asked her exactly what she knew about the man Herbert had been following the night he’d died. Except...

  Except, right at this moment, someone was watching him. With hostile intent. He could feel it. Lazily withdrawing his gaze from the tendrils of hair curling about the nape of Horatia’s neck, he caught his brother, the Duke, giving him the same sort of look that Nick so frequently turned upon him. As though he was some kind of pond creature.

  Because he suspected him of flirting with Horatia? That was what any onlooker would assume, who hadn’t been able to hear their words, but only follow their actions. But what if it was for some darker reason? What if, through his contacts in high places, the Duke had got wind of the fact that he was actively engaged in hunting down traitors? Well, whichever it was, the result was the same. Nick was thoroughly annoying him. Which made him smile.

  Which made the Duke look angrier than ever.

  * * *

  Horatia would have thought, with so many other people sitting down to dine, that she would have been able to simply enjoy the sumptuous meal, the way she’d done the night before.

  Trust Lord Devizes to ruin it for her.

  Though, no, he wasn’t ruining things. He was helping her to find out, or, to be more accurate, she was helping him find out who had killed Herbert. Which meant he had to push her to do things she would not normally do. Such as talking to what must be one of the most pompous, boring men she’d ever had the misfortune to meet. Not that she ought to hold that against him. She hadn’t been listening to him for long before deciding that, above all else, he was both conscientious and hard-working. Or at least, that was the image he wanted everyone to see.

  Oh, dear. Was working with Lord Devizes going to make her suspicious of everyone? For ever? Couldn’t people just be what they appeared to be? Did they have to be hiding secrets?

  * * *

  It felt like an age before Miss Underwood rose from her chair to signify that all the ladies should withdraw. Horatia tossed her mangled napkin on to the table with relief, allowed Lord Devizes to help her out of her seat without looking directly at him and made for the exit as swiftly as she could. Even so, Lady Elizabeth soon joined her.

  ‘You simply have to tell,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘What on earth Lord Devizes said to you to put you to the blush? Though everyone must have seen him put his arm along the back of your chair. Has he been flirting with you like that all day?’

  ‘Flirting? He wasn’t flirting,’ she said bitterly. He was informing her that it didn’t matter that she didn’t know how to flirt since he was experienced enough to convince everyone to believe whatever he wanted about them. And, lo and behold, here was Lady Elizabeth confirming what he’d said.

  ‘Oh, come. What else can you call it?’

  ‘Well, I...’ While Horatia was still fumbling for a reply, Miss Underwood herself approached.

  ‘I do hope you are not too...that is, I noticed that you did not look very happy, whenever I...and Perceval can be very trying...’

  ‘No, no, I do believe he was doing his best to, um, entertain me.’

  ‘He isn’t used to trying to amuse young ladies,’ said Miss Underwood with a sigh. ‘I recall, my very first night here, I had to sit next to him. Although he was a fount of information about all the other people staying there that night.’

  A fount of information. Lord Devizes had been correct. If anything underhand was going on at Theakstone Court, he would know. With a sinking heart, she realised she was going to have to cultivate his acquaintance.

  ‘Oh, we are nearly here,’ said Miss Underwood as they approached a set of double doors, attended on either side by yet another brace of liveried footmen.
The Duke must employ hundreds of them. ‘And I shall have to...but I did just want to thank you for all you are doing to help. There is so much to think of and this is my first real...’

  ‘Well, the meals are certainly first rate,’ said Horatia. ‘And not just to taste, but to look at, too. That dinner just now looked as if it had been created by an artist, not merely a cook.’

  ‘That is down to Oliver’s staff,’ said Miss Underwood morosely. ‘Nothing to do with me at all. And now, oh, dear,’ she said, hesitating on the threshold of the withdrawing room, which was already filling up with ladies who all considered themselves to be leaders in society, to judge from the lifted chins and frigid expressions.

  ‘Never you mind them,’ said Lady Elizabeth, taking her by her arm. ‘They are all jealous of you, that is what it is. Now, if I were you,’ she said, leaning in and murmuring into her ear.

  As the pair of them were so intent on working out a strategy to ensure Miss Underwood’s success, Horatia was able to hang back, unnoticed. And while others jostled for possession of sofas in what they clearly considered the prime locations, she looked about for a chair in a corner somewhere.

  Although, that wasn’t what Lord Devizes would want, was it? He’d want her to strike up a conversation with someone, to see what she could learn. She gazed round at the occupants of the room, wondering which of the ladies present might be worth interrogating. Who would know enough about everyone attending to be able to guess that they had been involved in passing information to France? She started chewing her thumbnail as she considered, and discarded, one after another. Miss Underwood’s cousins lived in the country and didn’t have the connections. It would be one of the higher-ranking ladies she should target. Only...would any of them deign to speak to her? They all had their little coteries, to none of which she had ever wished to belong. She’d always been happier sitting at home, working on the puzzles Herbert brought. Knowing she was doing something worthwhile. Something that not many people had the patience, or the ability, to do.

  But now, oh, now, she felt like a fish out of water.

  And then Miss Underwood’s aunt, Lady Norborough, came over.

  ‘I know you are in mourning, but some of us will be playing at cards later on and I wondered if you would consider it appropriate to join in?’

  Put like that, Horatia felt she had no choice but to refuse. ‘I am sorry, but as you say...’ She indicated her black gown.

  ‘Oh. Well...’ Lady Norborough made as if to move away.

  ‘But...’ Horatia put out a hand to stay her. This lady, Miss Underwood’s aunt, was so involved in organising the wedding, she must at least have a working knowledge of the guest list and probably knew many of the people by reputation, if not well enough to suspect them of treason. ‘I would... I mean, thank you for trying to...’ She took a breath. This was an opportunity she must not waste. ‘That is, I should very much like some introductions to...erm...well, anyone really. If it would not be too much trouble?’

  Lady Norborough’s face broke into a smile. ‘Of course not, my dear.’ She held out her arm. ‘Come along. No time like the present.’

  Horatia took it. And prepared to take note of every single word every person to whom she was introduced might say. And to watch for other tell-tale signs that they were not what they were pretending to be. She could do it. For this was not an attempt to make friends, or fit in.

  This was setting her mind to solving a puzzle. A different sort of puzzle from the ones she was used to, but a puzzle none the less.

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time Nick got to the withdrawing room, his younger sister, Lady Anmering, was at the piano, playing one of the dreary dirges she favoured. Trust her to put a damper on the evening.

  He spotted Horatia almost immediately. She really stood out amid the other females present. And it wasn’t only because she was dressed head to toe in black, either. There was an intensity about her that the other, more fluttery creatures lacked. Although, he probably noticed it more because he knew she was on the hunt for a killer. But, no, on second thoughts, she was definitely not preening and posing, trying to attract the attention of males, or to outshine the other ladies. She never had done. Not even during those few weeks when her duenna had attempted to launch her into society. At the time, seeing how fresh and open she was in her manner, he’d decided that the best thing he could do for Herbert’s sister was to stay well away from her. Someone so bright and clever was not for the likes of him. Besides which, she’d have seen through him in next to no time and withdrawn, disappointed to find there was nothing but an echoing empty shell beneath the surface charm.

  But now, for perhaps the first time in a room full of society’s most shallow, frivolous specimens, she didn’t look as though she’d rather be somewhere more interesting. He smiled to himself. She’d really got the bit between her teeth, by the looks of it.

  He strolled over to where she was standing, with none other than the aunt of the bride, Lady Norborough, apparently being introduced to one of her daughters. Not the one his sister had outmanoeuvred at dinner, however. It was the other one. The taller, freckled one.

  ‘Good evening, ladies,’ he said, making his bow.

  Horatia whirled round with an air of suppressed excitement. She’d clearly discovered something she was dying to tell him. It could be their undoing, that open expression of hers. Unless the other ladies mistook it for signs of infatuation. Thank heavens he’d set that little line of subterfuge in motion already.

  ‘Miss Carmichael,’ he said, giving her one of his most seductive smiles. Which acted on the other ladies present the way it did on ladies from London to York. They both simultaneously lit up and melted.

  Horatia merely said, in a rather impatient tone of voice, ‘Yes?’

  It made his smile turn from a practised one to something far more genuine.

  ‘If it would not spoil your enjoyment of this evening, I really do think we should discuss the treasure hunt we have agreed to organise for the children.’

  ‘No, of course it wouldn’t. Spoil my enjoyment, I mean. Of course we need to get on with, er, the clues and such,’ she said, half to him and half to Lady Norborough and her daughter.

  ‘If you will excuse us?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Lady Norborough, eyeing the way Horatia had just linked her arm with his, as though they were old friends. ‘I have to oversee the setting up of card tables, anyway.’

  Horatia gave her one of her brisk nods. ‘Thank you for introducing me to so many of the ladies. It was good of you to take me under your wing.’

  ‘Not at all, Miss Carmichael,’ said Lady Norborough. ‘It was my pleasure...’

  But Horatia had turned her back and was tugging him away from them before she’d even finished.

  ‘So keen to get me to yourself,’ he teased her.

  ‘Yes. Because we need to get on. It is only a few days to the wedding and every day more guests will be arriving. And I want to know how you plan to flush out the...the one we are looking for,’ she said, leading him to a table set between two tall windows. Which was as far from all the other sofas and chairs dotted about the room as possible.

  She’d clearly been thinking ahead.

  As had he. From an inside pocket of his jacket he produced a sheaf of papers, which he tossed on to the table top.

  ‘Do you happen to have a pencil about you?’ he said as he helped Horatia into one of the two chairs set on either side of the table.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, delving into her reticule.

  ‘It never ceases to amaze me,’ he said, picking up the chair that had been placed on the opposite side of the table and setting it right next to hers, ‘how much ladies manage to pack into such tiny, frivolous-looking items.’

  ‘Well, I was surprised at how you managed to have all this paper tucked in your pocket without it spoiling the
fit of your coat.’

  ‘My tailor is an expert, now, at fitting concealed pockets into all my clothes. It is often necessary to carry all sorts of things I do not wish anyone else to suspect I have about my person.’

  She eyed his coat intently. ‘He must be an expert. I would never have guessed that it was not moulded to your...erm—’ She broke off and flushed.

  ‘My manly frame?’

  ‘That’s enough of that,’ she said in the tone he was coming to think of as very nannyish. ‘We should get down to business. What is this?’ she asked, pulling one of the papers out from the others. ‘A map of the house?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, simultaneously glad she was being so businesslike, while mourning his decision to tell her she didn’t need to try to flirt with him. He had a feeling that after only a little tuition, she’d become very skilled at it. As skilled as she would become at anything she set her mind to learn.

  Though, no, he ought not let his mind stray on to all the things Miss Carmichael could become an expert at with a little tuition. She was Herbert’s sister. An innocent.

  He cleared his throat. ‘I mentioned earlier that I’ve already started thinking about the route the treasure hunt should follow. I’ve chosen rooms that give easy access to places we need to search. From the portrait gallery, for example,’ he said, pointing to the long gallery that ran along one whole side of the house on the second floor, ‘there is a door that leads to the corridor where most of the female guests have been put.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ she said, scanning the simple plan he’d sketched of Theakstone Court, which was roughly a U shape.

  ‘I have already come up with a few clues, in verse, for the first few locations I think would meet our requirements.’