Seduced at Midnight

Chapter 18

With the disturbing dream ®

"So the princess still sleeps," he murmured, pushing aside an image of Julianne in bed.

Caesar licked his chops and sent a longing look toward the door, and Gideon shook his head. "Ah, I see. You thought I was referring to your princess rather than mine." He frowned at his unfortunate choice of words. Mine was the one thing Julianne could never be.

"I'm headed to the kitchen, where I'll scare up something good for you. Then you can go outdoors for a while and smell every blade of grass you care to smell. Does that sound good?"

Caesar made a noise that sounded like a grunt of approval.

"Excellent." Gideon stood, murmured, "Guard," then made his way to the kitchen where he was greeted by Mrs. Linquist, who was very relieved to hear his report that there had been no disturbances the night before.

Gideon had just finished his breakfast of eggs, ham, and coffee when Ethan entered the kitchen. "Someone to see ye, Mr. Mayne," the footman said. "Says his name is Mr. Henry Locke. I showed him to the morning room. Are ye available?"

"Yes, thank you." Hopefully Henry had some news for him. After securing Mrs. Linquist's promise to see that food was brought to Caesar, Gideon followed Ethan from the kitchen. The footman escorted him to an elaborately decorated chamber with a distinctly feminine flare. Henry sat perched on a ridiculous little chair with a pink velvet cushion, eyeing the multitude of trinkets in the room. Gideon could almost see him running a tally in his head as to their value.

"You have news for me?" Gideon asked the moment the door closed behind Ethan.

"Yes," Henry said. His gaze scanned the room. "Quite the palace yor set up in here, Gid." His eyes glittered, and he flashed a smile. "Best ye not get used to it."

"Don't worry. I know where I come from. What have you found out?"

"Been checking the names on the list ye sent me. Nothing out of the ordinary with any of the servants. All have been with the family for over a year, some for more than a decade, except a footman named Ethan Weller, who was hired on eight months ago."

"He's the one who escorted you to this room."

Henry nodded. "Seemed a decent lad, but as ye know, looks can be deceivin'. Other than him being employed here the shortest amount of time, nothing stood out about him." He looked down to consult the list he held. "The three delivery people who were here have all been in business for years and are well respected. One of them, the coal porter, a young man named Johnny Burns, seemed a bit nervous when I questioned him, but that could be 'cause the missus just had a baby. Tends to make a man jumpy."

"How jumpy?" Gideon asked, narrowing his eyes.

Henry shrugged. "Enough so I noticed it. But ³otiidelike I said, the wife just popped out a babe. That's enough to put any man off, if ye ask me."

"What about the gentlemen callers?"

Henry's eyes lit up. "Ah, now that's where things get interestin'."

"In what way?"

Henry again consulted his list. "First, there's Lord Beechmore. Good thing the man has his looks, because he doesn't have much else. Likes to gamble, Lord Beechmore does. Unfortunately for him, he's not real lucky. Owes a lot of money to a lot people. Had some recent financial setbacks."

Information Gideon had already discovered. "So marrying a wealthy heiress would work out nicely for him."

"Based on how much he owes, I'd say it's essential he marry an heiress. As for Lord Haverly," Henry's lips flattened into a grim line, "apparently his lordship likes to rough up his women. Heard from one doxie that he hurt her pretty bad."

Gideon clenched his hands and swallowed his revulsion. "Bastard."

"Agreed. Then there's the Duke of Eastling. His first wife died a year and a half ago, after only ten months of marriage."

"How did she die?"

"Reports said suicide. She left a note claimin' she were distraught over losin' the baby she carried."

"You sound skeptical. Any reason to believe that's not the case?"

"The duchess's maid, who the duke dismissed right after the funeral, told me the real reason her mistress was upset, and subsequently lost her baby, was she found out her husband had been dippin' his wick in other wells. Lots of other wells."

Gideon clenched his jaw. He tried to dredge up some inkling of sympathy for a man who'd lost his unborn child and wife, but came up empty. The only one he felt sorry for was the unfortunate duchess who was married to the adulterous bastard. A habit the duke would no doubt continue after marrying Julianne, a fact that coated Gideon's stomach with hot fury.

Henry continued, "The maid also said that even though the duchess was saddened over the state of her marriage and losing her child, she just couldn't believe she would take her own life. And then there was the way she died. Put a pistol in her mouth and pulled the trigger. Maid insisted she'd never do that. Claimed the duchess had a fear of firearms."

Gideon mulled that over. Was it possible it hadn't been suicide? Had the duke had a hand in his young wife's demise? But why would he? The death had been ruled a suicide, a note had been left, and losing a child was certainly something that could send a woman into a deep melancholy. Gideon knew from experience that people often couldn't credit that their loved one would end their own life. But why would she shoot herself if she were afraid of firearms? Was he casting a suspicious eye on the duke because the man deserved it? Or was he allowing his personal dislike and jealousy of the man who would marry Julianne to color his thinking? He hated the thought of that bastard touching her, of cheating on her, but that didn't make the man a murderer. In truth, Gideon hated the thought of any man touching her.

Unable to come up with any answers, he instead asked, "What about Penniwick?"

"He'll apparently tup anything that stands still long enough. Has fathered a number of by-blows. Found the mother of one of them. A former mistress he deserted when she became pregnant. Apparently Penniwick refused to acknowledge he was responsible. She claims the child is his and couldn't be anyone else's. She also claims Penniwick stole two bracelets and a necklace from her."

Gideon's brows raised at this interesting piece of news. "Did she report the thefts?"

Henry shook his head. "No. The pieces were paste, although she says Penniwick didn't know they were. She decided the laugh was on him." Henry folded his paper and tucked it into his waistcoat.

"What about Lord Walston?"

Henry shook his head. "Couldn't find the slightest whiff of scandal or bad behavior about the man."

Gideon's brows rose. "Nothing?"

"Nothing. From all the praise I heard of him, he's a candidate for sainthood."

"Which means there must be something."

"Exactly. Don't worry. I'll find it. Just need to dig a bit deeper."

"And Logan Jennsen?"

"Another one I'll need to dig deeper on. Heard rumors of some scandal in America, but no details as of yet."

Gideon cleared his throat. "Anything on Jack Mayne?" He'd added the name to the bottom of list, dreading any information but needing to know.

Henry looked decidedly uncomfortable. "You, um, know he's, um…"

"A thief. Yes. Tell me something I don't know. Like what he's been up to lately and why he's in London."

There was no missing Henry's relief that he wasn't shattering some pristine image a son might have of his father. "Haven't found anything other than that, but I'll keep lookin'."

After thanking Henry, Gideon escorted him to the foyer. He then climbed the stairs, intent on checking on Caesar. When he turned into the corridor leading to Julianne's bedchamber, he halted.

Caesar lay on his back, his left back paw twitching in delight as Julianne, who knelt beside the beast, gave his belly a vigorous rub. Caesar was making sounds that Gideon guessed were the canine equivalent of Bloody hell, that feels so good. Princess Buttercup lay sprawled on her stomach, her tiny front paws set possessively on Caesar's tail.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" Julianne crooned.

Caesar made an answering sound that surely translated to I do, I do, I do. Please don't ever stop.

Gideon found himself pressing his hand against his own stomach. He vividly recalled the incredible feel of her hands caressing him there. And thinking, Please don't ever stop.

Just then she looked up, and their eyes met. Everything inside him stilled-except his heart, which seemed to hiccup then double its normal rate. Images from last night bombarded him, tying his tongue in knots, rendering him for several seconds unable to do anything except stare. And want. With a soul-deep ache.

Her gaze slid away, and he realized he'd been holding his breath. After giving Caesar a final pat, she stood and offered Gideon a formal nod and a serious expression. "Good morning, Mr. Mayne."

An acute sense of loss washed through him. Damn it, he didn't want to be Mr. Mayne. He wanted to be Gideon. He wanted to be smiled at. He wanted-

Things he couldn't have.

She was perfectly right, putting things back on a formal level between them. Obviously she'd accepted his decision, which was good. Excellent. His mind, his common sense knew it, yet he still felt unreasonably displeased.

Caesar jumped to his feet and trotted over to Gideon, followed closely by his furry white shadow who today was adorned in a glittering collar and a pair of bright yellow ear bows. After greeting both dogs, which was returned sedately by Caesar and most effusively by Princess Buttercup, Gideon returned his attention to Julianne and said, "Good morning." He couldn't quite bring himself to formally call her Lady Julianne.

He didn't bother to ask if she'd slept well. He could see by the violet shadows beneath her eyes that she hadn't. Her eyes…bloody hell, looking into them actually hurt. They reminded him of a flame that had been doused with water-utterly extinguished of light. Indeed, her eyes held such a bleak expression it was all he could do to refrain from snatching her into his arms and telling her everything would be all right.

But that would be a lie. And no lie would change the truth of their impossible situation.

"I take it there were no disturbances during the night?" she asked.

"None."

And of course they both knew what that meant: that he would remain here to watch over her. Another awkward silence stretched between them. Finally she said, "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Mayne, I'll continue to the dining room for breakfast."

"I'll escort you."

She merely nodded and began walking. As she passed him, the scent of vanilla teased his senses, and his fingers curled inward. With a low whistle to Caesar, Gideon fell into step beside her. The only sound as they moved along the corridor was the rustling of Julianne's gown. They were halfway down the long, curved staircase when Julianne's mother entered the foyer and asked Winslow, "Has my daughter shown herself yet?"

Before the butler could answer, Julianne said, "I'm here, Mother," and hurried the rest of the way down the stairs.

"Finally," the countess said, her gaze raking over Julianne and looking none too pleased. Her attention flicked to Gideon. "Mr. Mayne. Did you capture the hooligan who tried to rob us?"

Gideon noted he was the hooligan "who tried to rob us" rather than the hooligan who'd threatened their daughter. "I'm afraid the hooligan is still at large," he said in a cool voice. "However, the good news is that no further attempt was made on your daughter's life, and she is safe."

The countess's eyes narrowed. "And you will make sure she remains so."

"Yes, I will."

Clearly satisfied that her wishes would be carried out, she returned her attention to Julianne. "Your gowns have just arrived from Madame Renee's."

"Gowns?" Julianne asked, sounding puzzled. "More than one?"

"Yes. By virtue of the exorbitant bonus I paid her, Madame was able to complete enough work on your wedding gown to send it along for its first fitting. Isn't that marvelous news?" Not waiting for an answer to what she clearly considered a rhetorical question, the countess continued, "Madame herself is here to oversee the fitting. She awaits us in my private sitting room. Come along." She turned and headed toward the corridor, clearly expecting Julianne to follow.

"Lady Julianne was just about to eat breakfast," Gideon said, stepping in front of Julianne to block her progress.

The silence in the foyer was deafening. The countess turned and looked at him as if he'd sprouted a third eyeball in the center of his forehead. If he hadn't been so irritated, Gideon would have laughed at her expression.

"I believe you've quite forgotten yourself, Mr. Mayne," the countess said coldly. "Julianne can breakfast after her fittings."

"And how long will these fittings take?"

"It doesn't matter," Julianne said, stepping around him to wade into the tension. "I'm really not hungry."

"If she doesn't eat," Gideon said, his gaze steady on the countess, "she could become weak. Ill. She might even swoon at the party tonight."

The countess's lips puckered as if she'd bit into a lemon. "We can't have that." She heaved a sigh. "I'll arrange for some biscuits you can nibble during the fitting, Julianne. Of course, if you'd arisen earlier, we could have avoided this. Come along now."

She swept into the corridor, and Julianne followed, with Gideon right behind her. When they reached the door to the sitting room, the countess stopped and frowned at Gideon. "What are you doing?" she asked in a hushed voice, her hand on the brass knob.

"I am accompanying Lady Julianne, thus insuring her safety."

"You cannot mean to come to the fitting."

"I most certainly do."

The countess's eyes flashed, and she sizzled a look at him clearly meant to incinerate him on the spot. "Well, you cannot. A man at a fitting is completely beyond the pale. Besides, if you were there, Madame would have nothing but questions, and we want to keep this unpleasantness as contained as possible."

Gideon had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her that she was clearly the authority on "unpleasantness." He personally didn't care if Madame asked questions or if the countess was displeased. But as he didn't want to make things any more unpleasant for Julianne, he turned to her and said, "I'll be right outside this door. If you need anything or have a problem, you call for me."

"I won't have you skulking in the corridor, Mr. Mayne, where anyone might see you," the countess said, looking down her nose at him-quite a feat as he was easily a foot taller than her. "It is ridiculous to think any harm could come to Julianne during the fitting." She nodded toward the next door. "You may wait in the library. There is an adjoining door between the two rooms should an emergency arise." Without another word she grabbed Julianne's arm, opened the door, and propelled her daughter inside. She then followed like a ship under full sail. As she proclaimed in a singsong voice, "Here is the bride-to-be, Madame," she closed the door in Gideon's face.

Gideon glared at the oak panel with enough heat to set it ablaze. Then he pulled in a deep, calming breath and set about his business. After giving Caesar a brief respite outdoors, Gideon entered the library. Crossing the fancy carpet, he grasped the back of a chair and carried it with him, setting it close to the wall. Then he turned the knob of the adjoining door and cracked it open. A French-accented feminine voice drifted through the crack "Zee gown, eet is perfection."

Satisfied, he settled in his chair, Caesar at his feet. Princess Buttercup jumped onto his lap and, after turning in several circles, found a comfortable spot and snuggled in. With his fingers lightly petting the small dog, Gideon leaned closer to the door to listen. And wait.

Two hours later, during which time the weather had been discussed at length and the countess had plied Madame Renee with countless questions regarding her exclusive clientele, the dressmaker and her seamstress finally took their leave. To which Gideon could only say thank God. A soft knock sounded on the cracked door, and it was pushed slowly open. Julianne stuck her head through the opening and offered him a rueful smile.

"You managed to remain awake through all that?" she asked.

"I did," he said. Barely, which he didn't add. He glanced down at the tiny dog asleep on his lap. "Princess Buttercup, however, isn't made of such stern stuff."

"That's why she's named Princess Buttercup, as opposed to Captain Canonball."

"I see. What is next on your agenda for today?"

Before she could answer, the door leading from the corridor opened, and the countess entered. "Lords Penniwick, Beechmore, and Walston are here to see you," she said to Julianne, completely ignoring Gideon, who scooped up Princess Buttercup and stood.

Julianne frowned. "Me? Whatever for?"

Annoyance flashed in the countess's eyes, eyes Gideon noticed were the same stunning blue as Julianne's. But her mother's lacked warmth and kindness and any hint of vulnerability-all the things that made Julianne's eyes so extraordinary.

"They are suitors, Julianne," the countess said, her voice laced with impatience. "Naturally they're going to call upon you."

"Even though I'm to marry the duke?" Hope flared in her expression. "Or am I not to marry him?"

"Of course you're going to marry the duke. However, until the papers are signed and the formal announcement is made at our party next week, the other suitors are not to be discouraged." A cunning look settled over the countess's features. "It is good for His Grace to know that other gentlemen remain interested. And besides, if some tragedy were to befall the duke before the final arrangements were in place, we wouldn't want to have discouraged all the other suitors prematurely."

In spite of the fact that Gideon could easily name a number of tragedies he wouldn't mind befalling the duke, his stomach turned at the cold, dispassionate sentiment behind the countess's words.

The countess turned to Gideon. "I can see by your expression that you think to be present during Julianne's visit with her suitors."

"Yes. Especially since one of those suitors could be the man we're looking for."

The countess looked affronted. "Ridiculous. They're gentlemen. And I'll not have you interfering."

Gideon's gaze pierced hers. "And I'll not have anyone preventing me from doing the job I was hired to do. Clearly you need to be reminded, Countess, that if any harm comes to Lady Julianne, there won't be a wedding at all. To anyone."

The countess looked as if she wished to argue further but instead said, "Although I'd planned to use the drawing room, I suppose I can have the gentlemen shown into my sitting room next door. You may remain here, out of sight, and keep the adjoining door ajar as you did earlier. I will remain with Julianne throughout the visit." She raised her chin. "And that will simply have to do, Mr. Mayne."

Gideon's gaze didn't waver. "Only on the condition that Caesar remain in the sitting room, next to Lady Julianne, throughout the visit."

The countess shot Caesar a dubious look but acquiesced. "Very well. Come along, Julianne."

They entered the sitting room through the adjoining door, and Gideon followed with Caesar. After giving the dog instructions to guard, he returned to his chair in the library. A moment later, Winslow announced the three gentlemen. After the initial pleasantries were exchanged, one of the men, whose voice Gideon recognized as belonging to Penniwick, said, "I say, Lady Julianne, that's quite a large dog you have there." A nervous laugh. "He looks capable of biting off a limb or two."

"He's actually capable of ripping out one's throat," Julianne said, sounding so cheerful Gideon had to smile. "We thought it best to have some extra protection, given the rash of crimes lately, didn't we, Mother?"

"Oh, um, yes." The countess adroitly changed the subject to the weather, and for the next quarter hour Gideon listened to blah, blah, weather, blah, blah, fox hunt, blah, blah, party. Good God. It was all so excruciatingly polite. So excruciatingly boring. No wonder Julianne chafed against the stringent class rules that confined her. He looked over at Princess Buttercup, asleep on a satin pillow near the fireplace, oblivious to all the blah, blah. That was one damn lucky dog.

Just when he thought he would have to endure more meaningless blather, Julianne asked, "What do you gentlemen think of these dreadful murders and robberies? Have you any theories as to who might be responsible?"

Gideon moved quickly and applied his eye to the crack in the door. All three gentlemen looked surprised at the question. Penniwick, Gideon noted, appeared… fidgety?

"Really, Julianne," the countess said with a false-sounding laugh. "No one wants to discuss such unpleasantness."

"I don't mind," Beechmore said, making Gideon wonder if he was also deathly bored of speaking of the weather. "Obviously the culprit is a very clever fellow not to have been caught so far."

"He's a fool, if you ask me," said Lord Walston. "Surely he must know he'll get caught eventually."

"Not if he's careful," said Penniwick in a brusque voice.

"No clues have been found, no suspects named."

"Perhaps there have been clues found that the authorities haven't reported," Julianne said.

Gideon watched all three men's reactions. Beechmore seem surprised, Walston confused, and Penniwick again fidgeted.

"That's enough of such a dreadful subject," the countess broke in with an exaggerated shudder, shooting her daughter a warning look. "Would you gentlemen like tea?"

They refused, and a few moments later took their leave. As the countess showed them out, Julianne approached the adjoining door. "Did you glean anything from their reactions when I mentioned the murders?"

"Perhaps. That was clever of you."

"I'm not the nincompoop everyone seems to think I am."

"I've never thought you were a nincompoop." His lips twitched. "I thought you were a spoiled princess."

A grin lurked around her lips. "Yes, I know. Although you'd best be careful, as such flowery words might swell my head."

"I said I thought you were a spoiled princess. I no longer do."

Although it looked as if she wanted to question him, she merely murmured, "I'm glad."

Just then the countess sailed across the threshold and fixed her angry gaze on her daughter. "Really, Julianne, you are such a trial. Why on earth would you bring up the murders?"

"I thought it would be helpful to Mr. Mayne to hear how the gentlemen responded."

"And it was helpful," Gideon added. "Thank you, Lady Julianne."

"Well, I won't have it. Lord Haverly is here, and there will be no talk of murders or robberies during his visit. He's brought that American, Mr. Jennsen, with him. I suppose we'll have to entertain him as well, although why he's here, I cannot imagine. He certainly couldn't think himself in any way suitable for an earl's daughter."

With that, the countess swept back into the sitting room with an imperious, "Come along, Julianne."

Gideon watched through the crack in the door for the duration of Haverly's and Jennsen's mercifully brief visit. Jennsen didn't say much, and Gideon found himself very curious as to why the American was here. And with Haverly. His curiosity was satisfied within moments of their departure from the sitting room. Gideon planned to wait in the library until Haverly and Jennsen left, but a moment later, a knock sounded. At his bid to enter, Winslow entered.

"Mr. Jennsen would like to see you. Shall I send him in?"

"Please. But first, where is Lady Julianne?"

"The dining room, with the countess, for their midday meal. Caesar is with them."

Gideon nodded. Jennsen entered a moment later and crossed the room to extend his hand to Gideon. "I waited for Haverly to leave before I asked to see you," Jennsen said.

"I know you arrived together. I didn't realize you two were friends."

"We're not. However, I've learned that it's useful to remain close to those you are suspicious of."

"Why are you suspicious of Haverly?"

"I simply added one plus one and arrived at two. It was his snuffbox you found beneath the window at Daltry's party. Less than twenty-four hours later, Lady Daltry was discovered robbed and murdered. Which makes me believe the snuffbox, and therefore its owner, could somehow be involved in your investigation. Unfortunately, I didn't learn anything of interest from Haverly, but I intend to keep at it."

"While I appreciate your efforts, I prefer not to involve outsiders in my work. Especially as it could be dangerous."

Jennsen nodded. "Understood. And a very noble sentiment. But you are going to have to set it aside in this case, as I'm not letting go of this. In fact, what I've come to tell you is that I spent the morning in a meeting with Lords Surbrooke and Langston. As you can imagine, both are very concerned for their wives' safety, as well as Lady Julianne's. The three of us are therefore offering our services to you."

"Thank you, but-"

"You might as well accept it, Mayne, because you're not going to deter us. Certainly not Surbrooke or Langston, who are like rabid dogs when it comes to any thought of their wives being endangered, especially as they both suffered through dangerous situations in the past several months. Therefore, we've determined that we shall be three extra sets of eyes and ears in the ton for you. Fists, knives, and pistols as well, if needed. That being the case, it would be helpful to know if there's anyone in particular we should be watching. Aside from Haverly."

Gideon kept his gaze steady on Jennsen. He knew very little about this man. Certainly not enough to completely trust him. Especially since Jennsen had visited the house the day of the evening Lady Julianne was attacked. Yet his instincts told him Jennsen wasn't the man he sought. Still, if Jennsen were the guilty party, it couldn't hurt for Gideon to lead him to believe his suspicions lay elsewhere.

As for Langston and Surbrooke, he didn't know them well either, although he couldn't deny there was something to be said for men who clearly loved their wives as much as those two did. And Surbrooke especially had proven himself more than capable during the murder investigation two months ago during which his wife had nearly lost her life.

Except when directed to by his superiors, Gideon preferred to work alone. What about Henry?his inner voice asked. You often rely on him for help. True. But Henry was a trusted informant he'd known for years. Still, having a few members of the ton on his side could prove useful. And bloody hell, he'd do anything, anything, to keep Julianne safe.

"Three extra sets of eyes and ears might be helpful," he admitted.

Jennsen nodded. "Good. Now, who should we concentrate them on?"

"I'm currently looking at everyone who was in or entered this house the day before yesterday."

Jennsen's expression didn't change. "I was in the house then."

"Yes, I know."

"So I'm a suspect." A statement rather than a question.

Based on him being at the house that day, he was. But Gideon couldn't dismiss his instincts that insisted Jennsen wasn't involved. "I'm satisfied you're not the man I'm looking for."

Jennsen flashed a grin. "Although you don't sound as certain about that as I'd like, I'm delighted to hear it."

"There are others, however, who have not yet been cleared to my satisfaction. Some who I expect will be at the duke's party tonight. Therefore, in addition to Haverly, if you, Langston, or Surbrooke were to observe Lords Penniwick, Beechmore, Walston, or the duke himself saying or doing anything suspicious, I would like to know."

"Interesting group," Jennsen murmured. "Consider it done. I'll see you this evening."

Jennsen took his leave, and Gideon headed toward the kitchen for something to eat, passing by the dining room on his way. He observed through the open door that Julianne and her mother were still inside, and he continued on. He enjoyed a bowl of hearty stew, then made his rounds through the house, rechecking all the windows. Afterward he headed outdoors and walked the perimeter of the house and grounds. The day was sunny, with the barest hint of chill in the air. And nothing seemed amiss at the Gatesbourne mansion.

After he completed his rounds outside, Winslow opened the double oak doors for Gideon, and he paused just inside the threshold. The duke stood in the foyer, removing his gloves. He barely spared Gideon a look, then jerked his gaze back. And narrowed his icy blue eyes. "What are you doing here, Mayne?"

Recalling Lord Gatesbourne's directive that the duke not know about the attack on Julianne, and not wishing to do anything that would cause Julianne's father to dismiss him, Gideon answered, "What I've been doing all along: investigating the murders and robberies."

"Here?"

"It is necessary that I interview everyone who knew the victims. What brings you here?"

The duke's gaze chilled. "That's hardly your concern."

"I disagree. Until this criminal is caught, everything is my concern."

His Grace slapped his gloves into Winslow's hands. "I'm here to call upon Lady Julianne."

"I see. Before you meet with her, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you."

"I don't see why. I've already answered your questions and told you everything I know."

"These questions are regarding your deceased wife."

The duke stared at him for a full ten seconds before replying. Then he turned to Winslow. "Mayne and I would like to converse in private. May we make use of the library?"

"Of course, Your Grace." Winslow escorted them down the corridor.

After being shown into the library, the duke said to the butler, "After Mr. Mayne leaves, I'd like to see Lady Julianne."

"Yes, Your Grace."

As soon as Winslow withdrew and closed the door, the duke turned to him. "I can't imagine what you would want to ask about my dead wife."

No, but you're apparently curious enough to find out and make sure we had privacy when the questions came. "Let me first say I am sorry for your loss." When the duke's only reply was a frosty glare, Gideon continued, "I understand Her Grace committed suicide."

"Yes."

"She was distraught over miscarrying a child."

"Yes. Unless you can explain why questions about her death are necessary, I refuse to listen to any more of this." He started toward the door.

"I've received reports of rumors she didn't die by her own hand."

The duke stopped as if he'd walked into a wall. He slowly turned. The gaze he leveled on Gideon was the coldest he'd ever seen. "And I suppose it is your duty as a Runner to dig up those filthy, untrue rumors?"

Gideon's gaze didn't waver. "It's been my experience³n me f that rumors oftentimes are true, or at least partially true."

"Clearly you've been listening to the whispers of disgruntled servants who were dismissed after my wife's death. Not the best source for the truth." His gaze drilled into Gideon. "You think I killed my wife?"

"Did you?"

"Let me ask you a question, Mayne. My wife was young, desirable, and beautiful. What possible reason could I have for killing her?"

"That is indeed a very interesting question. Here's another one: Why would a woman with a deep fear of firearms choose to end her life with a pistol?"

There was no mistaking the anguish that flickered in the duke's gaze. For several seconds he looked like an empty shell. A man who'd lost everything. A man who'd deeply loved his wife. Certainly not the expression of a man who would have killed her. Then his face hardened, and he looked Gideon over as if he were something he'd scraped off the bottom of his expensive boots. "I don't know. And I'll thank you to never mention this painful subject to me again. As there is nothing more to say on the matter…" He finished crossing the room and opened the door. "On your way out let Winslow know I'm ready to see Lady Julianne."

"Very well." Gideon quit the room then returned to the foyer, where he delivered the message to Winslow. As soon as the butler headed toward the dining room, Gideon strode down the corridor and entered the sitting room next to the library. He positioned himself near the adjoining door, which remained ajar.

And waited.