Margo Maguire (22 page)

Chapter 22

G
avin wished he’d positioned himself closer to Chetwood’s house. Then he might have had a better idea of what had transpired there during the night.

He had absolutely no doubt that Chetwood had been responsible for his wife’s death. No intruders had entered the house. He was certain of that. One of the men watching the back had noticed a window slightly ajar, but no one had gone in or out through it. Gavin hadn’t thought much of it until now.

It was a ruse. Chetwood had set the stage for the magistrate to believe the drama he had created. No doubt the man would report some valuables missing, too.

“Why? Why would he kill his own wife?” Christina asked. The color had drained from her face, and her expression was both somber and shocked.

Gavin placed one of his hands on each of the arms of her chair, the closest thing to an embrace he could manage in her parlor.

“What?” Christina asked, her voice hushed with worry.

“The man is a member of the Hellfire Club, notorious for all sorts of offenses. Maybe his wife discovered something incriminating and threatened to use it against him.”

“I don’t understand.”

A libertine like Chetwood would have no deep connection to a wife, no matter how long they’d been wed.

“They were arguing when I first saw them at Windermere Park.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know . . .” But Lady Chetwood’s words—
You wouldn’t dare—
came back to him now. He’d assumed she meant Chetwood would not dare strike her. But perhaps she’d meant something different. He wouldn’t dare kill her? Wouldn’t dare what? Eliminate Windermere’s granddaughters?

Whatever she’d meant, they’d clearly been at odds.

He touched Christina’s chin, raising it so that she would look at him. “All this proves just how dangerous Chetwood is.”

Her lips started to quiver, but Gavin did not regret frightening her. Knowing the truth meant she would not take the threat lightly.

“My guess is that the baron sent his servants to bed, and then he used some ruse to lure his wife downstairs. The valet must have seen what happened, forcing Chetwood—”

“To murder the valet, too.” She pressed her fingers to her lips to stop the tremor.

“I’ll keep you safe, Christina,” he said. “We’ll deal with your extortionist tomorrow morning, then I’ll get you back to Windermere.”

She looked away for a moment, distraught. Overwhelmed by his theories on Lady Chetwood’s murder, and probably also by his mention of their trip to Windermere. “Wh-what are you going to do tomorrow? Do you have a plan?”

“The four men who stayed with me at Chetwood’s house last night—they are committed to helping me capture the blackmailer at the church.”

“I will pay them any sum if they can help me bring all this to an end.”

“We won’t worry about that now. These men are trustworthy and reliable. They’ll cover the stairs and entrances of the church, so there’s no chance of missing your tormenter. We could have him before services even begin, and you will find out what he knows about your brother.”

“Oh Gavin,” she whispered, wiping away the moisture that filled her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Just that the news of Lady Chetwood is so horrible.”

Gavin nodded. “She was no innocent, love. There have been tales of her cruelty . . .”

“I’d rather not know.” She swallowed and put her hand on his.

“And you might not know any more about your brother tomorrow than you do now.” He hated saying so, but she had to be aware that Norris or whoever was extorting money from her could be leading her down a blind alley. The man might know nothing at all about Lang.

Or they might find out that the information they’d received three months ago—that Lang had been killed in the explosion—was irrefutably true.

Christina bit her lip and he wanted to kiss away her worries. So much for putting some distance between them. It seemed he could not stay away.

C
hristina wished Gavin would hold her.

But they seemed to be miles away from the days of roadside inns where he felt something for her beyond getting her safely to Windermere. It was surprisingly disappointing, especially in light of the terrible news he brought her.

“You need to hire a few extra men to keep watch over the house until this thing with Chetwood is settled,” Gavin told her.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and gathered a modicum of composure around her like a cloak. “I already did. When I heard about Lady Chetwood this morning, I sent Hancock to hire two strong footmen to help keep watch over the house.”

“Good. I want to meet them before I leave,” he said, his manner firmly businesslike.

A sensation of calm washed through Christina at his words, and she could not help but lean forward and brush her lips against his, in spite of his apparent coolness. He did not withdraw, and she sensed a war being waged inside him. He was not entirely impervious to her attentions.

She drew back and spoke softly. “The new men are touring the house with Hancock.”

Gavin’s gaze dropped to her mouth, as though he could not help but remember the pleasure she’d given him. She saw him draw in a tight breath, and realized she wanted him to remember. Every time he saw her, she wanted him to think of the intimacies they shared.

Averting his eyes, he stood abruptly and held out one hand to her, just as he would if he were master of the house, responsible for her and everyone else in it.

The gesture was telling. Gavin took command in a way that made her feel confident and secure.

“You’ll need to keep the extra men until I figure out what to do about Chetwood.”

She agreed. “They will stay until you tell me they are no longer needed.”

His strong jaw clenched tightly for an instant, and she wondered what he was thinking.

She touched his arm. “Gavin . . .”

The butler interrupted anything she might have said. “My lady?”

“Yes, Maycott?”

“A caller just arrived.”

“Who?” She had not expected any visitors but Gavin, and she would hardly call him a visitor, not when they were so intimately—

“ ’Tis the Earl of Everhart.”

Christina frowned. “Lord Everhart? Is here?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Who is Lord Everhart?” Gavin asked.

“He is just a . . . Well, he is a former suitor.” She felt her face heat with unaccountable embarrassment. The last person she wanted to see now was the man she’d once hoped would be her husband. The Earl of Everhart had been charming, handsome, and oh so engaging, but her father had objected to him on the grounds that he was too young, and not prudent with his money. Sunderland had believed Edward would make a much better husband.

Christina had not been in love with Lord Everhart, but she’d come very close to it. In the end, she’d respected her father’s opinion in the matter, and married Edward. And to Lord Sunderland’s credit, he’d admitted to being wrong about Viscount Fairhaven.

Her father could be forgiven, of course. There’d never been a hint of any irregularity about Edward, and Christina’s father had also felt somewhat betrayed by the manner of his son-in-law’s death. He’d promised to heed Christina’s preferences when it was time to marry again.

“Get rid of him, Maycott,” Gavin said.

“No,” Christina objected. “That will only cause speculation we do not need. I . . .” She wanted to see him. Wanted to see if the handsome young man who’d once vied for her hand still had the potential to make her heart trill with interest. He’d been very charming, and quite obviously taken with her.

Gavin stood still for a moment, that muscle in his strong jaw flexing again. “Go then. I’ll check on Hancock and the new footmen.”

He bowed, and she returned his bow, though perhaps a bit stiffly. All was as it should be, though the forced sense of detachment made Christina feel raw inside.

She smoothed her skirts and started for the drawing room, but turned back for a moment. “Perhaps he’ll have heard something more about what happened to Lady Chetwood.”

Gavin’s expression remained impassive, but he did not move when she started back to the drawing room behind Maycott.

G
avin found the footmen Hancock hired satisfactory. Turner and Chandler were solid men, who seemed to be very clear on their responsibilities. As Christina visited with her former suitor in the drawing room, Gavin spoke to the servants, emphasizing the need for caution. He could not yet speak openly of his suspicions regarding Chetwood, but the household seemed fully cognizant of what it meant to have murderous burglars afoot. The Ratcliffe murders might have taken place several years before, but the grisly killings would not soon be forgotten by any Londoners.

“Where is Theo?” he asked.

“Gone to the attics with Mrs. Wilder,” Trevor said. “They are choosing a few more toys from Lady Fairhaven’s brothers’ collections.”

Gavin thought about going up and seeing how the boy fared, but knew that if he had any sense at all, he would leave now, before his better judgment escaped him entirely. Those moments alone with Christina when her eyes filled with tears had nearly been the undoing of his resolution to keep his distance.

He found himself lingering in the back kitchen, aware there was no need for him to return to the front of the house, or stop in the drawing room. His horse was in the stable at the back, and all he needed to do was make his exit through the door adjacent to the kitchen.

But he found himself heading toward the sound of Christina’s voice.

“Oh my dear Lady Fairhaven,” Gavin heard her companion say. “I would have come sooner, but . . . I was abroad when . . . Well, I cannot tell you how sorry I am about . . . well, everything.”

“Thank you, Lord Everhart,” Christina said. Gavin walked into the drawing room just as she removed her hands from Everhart’s grasp.

Gavin looked in only to assure himself that her old friend Lord Everhart was not one of the men he’d seen with Chetwood at the Black Sheep Inn. It was not beyond the realm of possibility for Chetwood to send one of his minions into Christina’s house, though he did not think the baron would try to harm her openly.

The earl looked up as Gavin entered the room and quirked his brows at him, as though he had no right to intrude.

In that, Everhart was correct.

Christina introduced Gavin, then indicated the earl should take a seat. He did so, right across from her.

Everhart was tall and fair-haired, his skin ruddy, as though he spent a good deal of time out of doors. Gavin supposed the man was good-looking, perhaps even attractive to women. Judging by the way Christina smiled at him, she found him favorable.

Gavin found him to be no such thing. He wondered if Everhart had been one of the men whose faces he’d been unable to see at the Black Sheep Inn. Certainly not the bald fellow, but there’d been one man with light hair in the group whose face Gavin could not see. He decided to see what he could discover about the earl.

“Briggs, you say? Captain Briggs?” Everhart asked. His expression was puzzled; he looked as though there was something he ought to remember, but could not.

“Aye.” Gavin searched his memory for some recollection of the man, but he was quite sure they had never met.

“I’m sure I’ve heard the name.”

“ ’Tis not an unusual one,” Gavin remarked, concerned he might be playing some sort of charade. He might not know the Hargrove family name, but if Everhart and Chetwood were accomplices, he would surely recognize Gavin’s name.

It would not be too difficult to find out if the man had actually been out of the country as he claimed.

“To be sure,” Everhart remarked, although some puzzlement remained on his face. He turned to Christina. “My dear Christina, I’m sorry to think of how difficult these past months must have been for you.”

She nodded gravely. “It has not been easy, Lord Everhart, but I’d rather not speak of it.”

“I understand.”

He said nothing more, depending upon Christina to carry the conversation, even though his comment quite obviously caused her some distress. Even Gavin recognized the gaffe. Of course she did not want to talk about her dead husband or the loss of her brother. Even the dullest dolt would have thought of that before speaking. The man ought to have redirected the conversation.

Gavin intervened. “You were abroad, Lord Everhart? On the continent, I assume?”

The man leaned forward, his knees coming far too close to Christina’s. Gavin felt his jaw clenching almost painfully. “I was in Greece, yes.”

“Oh, what took you to Greece?” Christina asked with polite interest.

Gavin barely heard the earl as he droned on about his travels. He didn’t like the way the man’s gaze rested upon Christina’s mouth, or slid down to the fullness of her bodice.

Bloody hell.
He was
not
jealous. Gavin intended to be long gone when Christina chose her next husband. And once he settled at Weybrook Manor, their paths would not cross again.

Gavin’s mood became more sour by the minute and he knew he had to take his leave. There were things he needed to do.

He stood abruptly, causing Christina and Everhart to look up at him quizzically. “Lady Fairhaven . . .” he said.

He had no intention of making an arse of himself, but he found himself on the verge of it. “My lady, if you will forgive me, I have business to attend to this afternoon.” He glanced at Everhart, but continued speaking to Christina. “I will return later to . . . pick up the package.”

She nodded, lifting her hand for him to take, and he bowed over it.

Then he made a quick acknowledgment of the earl, more anxious than ever to take his leave. He should have gone ten minutes ago. “Lord Everhart, it was a pleasure,” he lied.

Everhart stood and shook Gavin’s hand. “Wish I could remember where I’d heard your name, Briggs.”

“Don’t let it bother you.” He turned to Christina. “Until later, Lady Fairhaven.”

Gavin had a number of things that needed to be done before morning, and watching Everhart fawn over Christina was not one of them. He wondered how serious a suitor the earl had been . . . and why Christina had turned him down. Had Everhart gone so far as to offer for her? He supposed it did not matter, since she’d chosen Fairhaven.