A Marquess, A Miss And A Mystery. Annie Burrows
on your side, but...’
Lord Devizes managed to let Miss Underwood know that she’d seriously offended him by letting his smile slip just the tiniest bit and doing something with his eyes that made them look positively freezing. ‘Bad feeling?’ The tone of his voice matched the iciness of his eyes.
‘Oh, um, I see Peter coming over with the table,’ said Miss Underwood, wrenching her gaze away from Lord Devizes and turning to the footman as though he was her saviour. After flapping about for a minute or so placing it in a position that meant Horatia had both cup and plate comfortably to hand, Miss Underwood scurried off with her footman at her side.
Leaving Horatia alone with Lord Devizes.
‘That was a bit unnecessary,’ she said.
‘Possibly,’ he conceded. ‘But I gathered, from your little demonstration in the chapel earlier, that you were desperate to have private speech with me.’
‘Well, yes, I am, but...’
‘Then why waste the few moments we have in questioning my methods? We probably have two minutes, at most, before somebody comes to break up our tête-à-tête. Here,’ he said, holding out the Bible she’d been worrying about. ‘My pretext for approaching you.’
Gone was his fatuous smile and the lazy droop to his eyes. Even his voice had changed. Now she could see the man her brother had worked with. The man whom very few people ever saw when they were in the presence of Lord Devizes.
‘What is so important that you needed to accost me in that fashion?’ he said, in a tone of voice that finally persuaded her that he could really have run the kind of organisation Herbert swore they’d been involved in. ‘Money, is it? I know Herbert supported you.’
‘He did not!’ She was fortunate enough to have a small competence of her own. Along with Aunt Matilda’s jointure, the two ladies managed to rub along in their little house very comfortably, in a financial sense, at least. ‘And if I was in that sort of difficulty, do you really suppose I would apply to you for help?’
‘Then the sketch you tucked in the pages of your Bible really was a message. Herbert must have been speaking out of turn,’ he said, half to himself. ‘What more,’ he said, applying himself directly to her again, ‘do you know about the business beside my code name?’
‘Probably a sight more than you do, since I was the one who unravelled all the ciphers you gave him.’
‘You?’ He looked at her as though he’d never really seen her before, in a searching, piercing way that made her want to wriggle in her seat.
‘Yes, me,’ she said, feeling her cheeks flush. Though why they should do so she could not think.
Or perhaps she could. This was the first time he’d really turned his full attention on her. And it was having a most remarkable effect. She could now see why he was so attractive to so many women, even though she’d never cared for his wispy fair looks before. He had a great deal of...presence, that was what it was. She could not call it charm, since he couldn’t be less charming, insinuating she couldn’t have possibly done so much of Herbert’s paperwork for him. Well, whatever it was about him, it was a bit galling to discover that she was not immune to it.
‘Surely,’ she pointed out, reminding herself that she was a rational, intelligent creature who was in the middle of a very important conversation, and, therefore, had no business melting into the chair, let alone noticing that his eyes were blue, not grey as she’d previously thought, ‘you cannot really think he had the time to work out some of the earlier ciphers he brought to me with all the carousing he did with you? Or the brains, come to that. You knew him at Oxford, didn’t you?’
‘Herbert was clever...’
‘In some ways, yes. But he didn’t have the patience to sit down and work through the thousands of possible permutations each cipher could represent. Don’t you have any idea how many hours such work takes?’
‘I truly sympathise,’ he said in his more typical lazy drawl, his expression suddenly assuming that mask of fatuous insincerity that he’d briefly dropped. And then turned to face the Duke, who was, Horatia saw, approaching them with a look of dark intent on his face. ‘Well, well, if it isn’t my exalted half-brother, His Grace the Duke himself. Deigning to grace us with his presence.’
The Duke came to a halt. His brows lowered still further. ‘I have not come to quarrel with you.’
‘No? You have not come to inform me that I have insulted your poor deluded little bride? Even though, not two minutes after she reported our conversation to you, you come over here when hitherto you have exchanged barely two words with me.’
Horatia got the peculiar sensation that she’d just become invisible. For all the notice either brother was taking of her, she might as well be.
‘I wonder you accepted my invitation to my wedding at all, if that is your belief,’ growled the Duke.
‘Perhaps it will give me more pleasure to be a thorn in your side in person, than to merely express my dislike of you and all you stand for by staying away,’ replied Lord Devizes.
Oh, Lord. Was there anything more uncomfortable than being caught in the middle of what she knew to be a long-standing family feud?
‘I suppose that now you are going to accuse me of, what, upsetting Miss Carmichael? Or attempting to compromise her over the teacups?’
The Duke’s eyes turned to chips of black ice. ‘You had better not attempt anything of the sort,’ he said, evidently taking Lord Devizes’s throwaway remark as some sort of threat.
‘It would be useless to explain, I suppose,’ said Lord Devizes, his own eyes gone as cold as his brother’s, ‘that I was a very close friend of Miss Carmichael’s brother. That I was offering my condolences. And that if it appeared as though I had upset her, it was hardly surprising, his demise being so recent, and the manner of his departure from this life so particularly unpleasant.’
The Duke, who looked as though he’d been robbed of the pleasure of taking his younger brother by the neck and heaving him through a window, muttered his own condolences, before nodding his head and walking away.
‘I suppose that will grant us another minute or so,’ said Horatia, watching the Duke retreat to his fiancée’s side. ‘Even if it was a pack of lies.’
‘It was no such thing.’
‘Oh, please,’ she snorted. Which she knew was a very unattractive habit of hers when talking to men and no doubt contributed to their universal failure to offer for her hand in marriage, but which she simply could not stop. ‘We both know why you have come here. And it has nothing to do with annoying your brother. I apologise for underestimating you.’
‘Apology accepted,’ he said with a smooth smile.
‘Then you are on the trail of Herbert’s killer? I wasn’t sure Herbert had managed to pass on that last note I deciphered for him. I had thought that was why they killed him, to stop you getting it, but since you are here...’
‘That’s enough,’ he said firmly. ‘Good God, woman, have you no sense? You don’t blurt out words like...in public, when anyone can hear.’
‘No, no of course not, I’m sorry, I just...’ She swallowed. ‘And you are right. One of the people in this very room could be...’ She glanced round her nervously. Nobody was standing close enough to overhear their conversation, she was fairly sure. And Lord Devizes had angled his body so that nobody could see all that much of her at all, so they couldn’t even guess what she might be saying. Though it had been careless of her to blurt out what she knew. Particularly after vowing she was going to be more cautious. ‘I know I am not much good at this side of things.’ She was never at ease in groups of people. She was no good at hiding what she felt, or keeping her opinions to herself. Which made her rather unpopular. ‘I just got a bit...that is, I’d thought I was going to have to do it alone.