Love Between the Lines (23 page)

Lizzy tucked away the
scrap of paper with her address and turned her attention to the man who’d attacked her. “Mr. Smith, if you should come up with more information, I want you to send word to me at the newspaper. I will pay.”

Gideon groaned. He leaned close to her. Under her small straw hat, her earlobe was so close he could nibble it, lick the curve of her ear, listen to her hiss of surprise.

“Listen,” he whispered. “This fool manhandled you, and you’ll simply allow him to leave?”

“
Wouldn’t you? And then, after you released him, you’d follow him perhaps? I’ll get Oyster to keep after him.” Her whispered words were warm against his cheek.

She was right, of course
. “Let me follow him. You keep Oyster for protection.”

“
Don’t be silly. You have to go back to your life and your work, Sir Gideon. I promise to return to the office after our visit to Petersly.” Lizzy drew in a long breath then backed away from Gideon.

“
I need to go to work,” she said in a loud voice and rubbed her forehead. Now she seemed upset. She turned to the ruffian. “Remember where you can find me, and if you find more information, seek me out, but with less drama next time? Thank you for delivering the message, Mr. Smith.”

He gaped at her.
“All right,” he said cautiously. “I’ll be going, then?”

She waved a hand at him
, and with one look back at them, Smith hurried off down the alley.

Oyster looked at her
, and she nodded and mouthed the words,
See you later
. He grinned and took off down the alley.

After the traumatic events, Gideon announced they would take a cab. Lizzy didn
’t protest. On the ride back to Petersly’s house, Lizzy seemed distracted. She pulled out her little notebook and jotted words in it. But her eyes were grim. Perhaps Smith’s attack on her had finally struck home.

“
What are you thinking about?” Gideon asked.

“
Miss Miles. That brothel. The usual.”

But he could tell that she was hiding something from him.

“What did Smith tell you before I bowled him over?”

She shook her head.
“Nothing worth mentioning.” And now he knew she was lying.

Lizzy discovered Lord Lutton lived very close to Petersly when she saw Lady Edith standing on the pavement, absently twirling a pale parasol on her shoulder, not far from where they alighted.

“
Sir Gideon? Good morning, have you come to call? What a delightful surprise.” She sounded surprised but not delighted. “Ah,” she added when her gaze met Lizzy’s.

“
How do you do?” Lizzy said when Gideon failed to say more. He really could use some lessons from Mr. Brinker.

“
Of course, Miss Drury. You are Lord Petersly’s cousin,” Lady Edith said, her posture relaxing somewhat. She would make a good diplomat’s wife, with that amiable manner and the ability to recall names.

At
that moment, Petersly himself rounded the corner, swinging a cane. “Good morning to you all,” he said. “Lady Edith. This is a pleasant surprise. Have you come to call?”

“
My father forgot his hat and returned inside to fetch it.” Lady Edith gazed at the shabbiest house on the square composed of fashionable Georgian buildings. “We are about to take a stroll.”

“
You must join me for a cup of tea,” Lord Petersly said. “You too, Lutton,” he said to the portly gentleman just strolling up to join the group. “Tea. Fifteen minutes of pleasant company.”

Langham, Lutton
, and Lady Edith looked surprised, and Lizzy wondered if such casual invitations to tea were frowned upon. Or perhaps these four had some shared history. Her turn to pry into Sir Gideon’s personal life.

The butler appeared at the door
, and Lizzy suddenly realized why this visit to Petersly’s house was not a good plan.

Petersly
’s manservant had to recall her presence the night she’d frantically knocked on the door. She pulled out a handkerchief and pretended to cover her face for a sneeze. As she walked through the front door, she kept her handkerchief pressed to her face.

“
Miss Drury,” Sir Gideon was at her elbow. “Are you weeping?”

No, not really
, though she felt close to tears. “I’m avoiding gossip. I spent several minutes with the butler that first night in England when we ran into each other in front of this house.”

“
Of course.” He sighed. “I seem to have lost the ability to think, Miss Drury. I am inclined to blame you.”

Lord Petersly led them into a drawing room. Lizzy
chose the sofa where Gideon had lain on the night he’d been slammed over the head.

Gideon had entirely forgotten
about the repercussions of that damned incident. He was usually good at retaining and tallying details but they rushed past him now, leaving him gaping and befuddled. He blamed the confusion created by incessant desire and the remaining unpleasantness of that attack.

“
Ah, what a tangled web we weave,” he said to Lizzy as he picked a chair next to the sofa. He had to say something other than
sorry
.

“
It’s your web and you wove it. If I stay in this godforsaken job,” she murmured, “I will write nothing but obituaries after this.”

He
’d thought their sotto voce remarks wouldn’t reach any other ears, but he had forgotten about Lady Edith’s wonderful hearing. She sat more than ten feet away, but of course she’d be watching, and listening to them. Gideon supposed he wore a guilty, hangdog expression. And Lizzy sat too close.

“
Oh! No!” Lady Edith rose. With a squeak and scratch of chairs, the men politely stood. “I believe I understand at last. You are a writer? A newspaper writer?” Lady Edith said, almost shrill. “And she has pretended to be your cousin, Lord Petersly?”

Did the woman have to be so loud? And now everyone watched Lady Edith
, who stood with her delicate arms folded over her chest. She was rather magnificent. In her low, musical voice, she said, “I had no notion that the life of a newspaperman, or should I say woman, was full of deceit and violence.”

“
Every day.” Lizzy looked positively relieved to be exposed. “Deceit, violence, and deadlines.”

Lady Edith glared at her.
“Why on earth did you attend the ball?”

Sir Gideon
cleared his throat. “That was my idea. I wanted her to get a view of every aspect of London society. I recently hired her and—”

“
A female reporter? If it came out that she was associated with you, that would be the end of all our plans. No one could or should forgive such impertinence.”

Lizzy looked at him with
I told you so
all over her face, but Sir Gideon had no interest in dealing with her triumph.

Lord Lutton gave a weak chuckle.
“Now, my dear. It caused no harm for Miss,…er, to attend the ball.”

Lady Edith
turned on her father and started to speak, but Gideon interrupted. “It was a business decision. I don’t need to justify myself.”

“
I rather thought you valued your reputation as a gentleman. Perhaps I thought wrong. Not only was this deception indelicate, but it was…ungentlemanly.” She might have said “satanic.”

She was correct of course, but Gideon had c
ome to realize that he hadn’t done a very good job of civilizing himself. Holding a knife to a man’s cheek had awakened him to that particular reality.

“
I’m not sure about that,” protested Lord Petersly. “I knew all about Sir Gideon’s scheme and thought it was a lark. I passed her off as my cousin, after all.”

For the first time
, Lady Edith seemed confused. Lord Petersly was an authority on what constituted correct behavior. Perhaps his word carried more weight than Gideon had guessed. Lady Edith settled in her chair, and the men followed suit.

Petersly told her a version of the events
that led to what he called “the lark.” He was discreet enough to leave off the fact that the accidental attack occurred late at night. Gideon didn’t interrupt—he could feel both women watching him.

Edith listened, occasionally biting
her lower lip. With her aristocratic nose reddened with emotion, she was almost beautiful. Gideon wondered if she’d call off the engagement. He should have cared more, and perhaps he would later, but at the moment he only wanted to get out of here, and find out why Smith had attacked Lizzy and if she was in danger. He’d seen that picture of the dead woman in Maida Vale, and she looked too much like Lizzy.

Lady Edith had calmed slightly but
by the end of the explanation was rising to her feet—and of course Gideon and the other men automatically rose. She said, “I am not at all sure I would want to associate with a woman who engages in subterfuge and smashes people over the head. And what she’d write—”

“
The article about the ball was perfectly innocuous,” Lizzy said. “It ran in
Milady’s Parlour
, this morning’s edition.”

All of the starch left Lady Edith.
She blinked and settled back into her chair. The men sat again too.

“
Ah, indeed? I’m fond of that publication. I should have recalled it is under the Langham House aegis. Heavens, I read that! I even pointed out the description of the ball to my brother. You wrote it?” Lady Edith’s porcelain forehead wrinkled into a frown. “It was lovely.”

Compared to what Lizzy could write
, it was drivel, Gideon thought.

Lizzy smiled.
“Thank you.”

“
If this is what you do”—Lady Edith drew in a very deep breath—“I must apologize. I misjudged the situation.”

No, you didn
’t
. Gideon felt a sudden surge of dismay. Lady Edith might forgive him after all.

“
That’s quite all right,” Lizzy said. She’d lost her smile and looked down at her hands.

Gideon remembered her telling him of coming
face-to-face with her family’s old friend, the corrupt banker, while he stood in the defendant’s box. He imagined she’d be defiant and self-righteous when faced with people she’d written about, but perhaps he’d only wanted her to act that way. He’d forgotten she had a heart.

The butler came into the room bearing a silver tray. Lord Petersly took the card and nodded at the butler.
“Of course. Show him in.” He waggled the card at Lady Edith. “It’s your brother.”

For some reason, Lizzy started and gasped. Gideon murmured,
“He’s harmless, Miss Drury. No need to worry about him.”

Lord Ernest b
ounded into the room.

Petersly said,
“Miss Drury, this is Lord Ernest, Lady Edith’s brother.”

“
We’ve met,” she said.

Ernest
didn’t appear to hear. He beamed at his host. “I’ve got the coach out front. We must shake a leg, Pater, Edie. Have less’n an hour to get ready for the thingummy at the Settles.”

“
That’s in two hours, Ernest,” Lady Edith said. Her brother’s entrance might have sent Lizzy into some kind of panic, but it seemed to have restored Edith to her usual calm poise.

“
Ah. Yes. So it is.” Ernest beamed at them all. “Quite a good joke on me, eh?” His gaze passed over Lizzy without stopping, and it didn’t pause at Langham either. But perhaps he wasn’t as dull as Gideon supposed. “Why do you all look so Friday faced? Might as well be at the funeral,” Ernest said.

“
You’re imagining things, Ernest.” Lady Edith rose from her chair. And once again, the men all scrambled to their feet. “Such a vivid imagination. Don’t you think, Sir Gideon?”

The sudden shift back into the amenable Lady Edith, fiancée
, convinced him that she felt ready to forgive him. Drat, as Lizzy would say.

“
Certainly. I shall call on you soon,” Sir Gideon said to her quietly.

“
Oh.” Lady Edith’s smile showed her teeth for once. “I can’t think why you sound so serious, Sir Gideon. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.” She’d forgiven him everything, but her wide smile spoke of pure nerves.

That was the same smile Lord Lutton wore every t
ime he caught Gideon’s eye. Lutton wasn’t the only one counting on money—Gideon suspected his wife-to-be must be worried as well if she forgave him so quickly and with such an apprehensive air. The thought disturbed Gideon.

He
’d thought Lady Edith above that sort of concern, but of course she was ambitious. That had been her appeal to him, after all. He’d bring the money, and she’d bring toplofty connections. Ambition required capital…and he had no idea why this understanding made his heart sink.

It had been a long morning.

As if to confirm his suspicion, Lady Edith put a hand on his arm. “I hope you forgive me for growing upset. I dislike being lied to, Sir Gideon. I hope you will recall that when we are married.” She smiled, her normal sedate manner restored.