The Secrets of Mia Danvers (15 page)

“I have to keep you out of harm’s way,” he argued.

“No, you don’t.” Though she longed for him to continue to do so. Did that make her weak? Ultimately she knew that if he did pawn her off on her sisters, it was likely she’d never be near him again. And that, for reasons she didn’t care to examine, scared the hell out of her.

“If I don’t, who will?” he countered.

“I will. I’ve lived on my own, with nothing but the assistance of Rachel and we’ve managed quite nicely without you or my sisters.” She stepped over to where she knew he still sat. Without another thought she reached out and jammed her finger into his solid chest. Whether she craved his protection or not, she’d be damned if he’d treat her as some sort of invalid. “What gives you the right to think you can order me about? Simply because you’ve inherited some prestigious title and now everyone around is to bow to your every whim? Well, let me tell you one thing, Alex Foster, your title means nothing to me. I’m not impressed by who you are, and I’m most certainly not intimidated. As far as I’m concerned, you’re no different than any other man on the street. Well, with the exception that you want to control my life.” She stopped talking long enough to realize she was actually winded.

“I
need
to keep you safe,” he said. He’d grabbed both her arms. The warmth from his body radiated toward her, urging her to lean forward and accept what he offered. It seemed his breathing was labored as well.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly. “What shall I do if this killer finds you? What the devil do I do then?”

She pulled one arm free and brought her hand to his face. He leaned into her touch, and she felt his eyelashes brush against her fingertips as he closed his eyes.

Here she’d been so angry at the thought of someone trying to take control of her life that she hadn’t stopped to think about why he’d even bother. What he must be feeling with the prospects that his brother was a vicious murderer. “Have you come to believe that Drew might be the killer?” she asked.

“No, but I believe he’s had contact with the killer.” He paused for several moments before he said, “I told him.”

“Told him what? Alex, what are you talking about?”

He shook his head against her hand, pulled away. He swore. “I told him that you were a witness to the first crime. Christ, Mia, how else would the killer know where to look for you? Either he saw you that night or Drew talked to the damned murderer.”

“Why did you tell him?” she asked.

“Because I’m a bloody fool. I didn’t tell him it was you specifically, but he’s not an idiot. He figured it out. I was trying to, I don’t know, reach him, he’s been so . . . ,” his voice trailed off. “I thought he could help with the investigation, he’s out at the clubs more than I am, is privy to more gossip than me.”

“But he knows I’m blind,” she said. “He knows I couldn’t have seen anything.”

“I’m not certain he does know that you’re blind. I didn’t know, not until I met you. The only thing we’d ever been told about you—”

“Was that I was insane,” she interrupted. “Yes, I remember that part.”

They were quiet for several moments before Mia spoke again. She could feel Alex standing a single step away from her, close enough to touch. To fight her urge to reach out to him, she clasped her hands together in front of her. “You could do it, you know,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Send me to the country. You said my sisters should put me on an estate until it’s safe for me to return to London. Since you’re so concerned with my welfare, I could live at one of your estates until all of this is over with. Once he’s caught, whoever the killer is, then I could come home.” That was if Danbridge would still be her home. Clearly she needed to start looking for a new permanent residence. He said she’d always be welcomed here, but once Alex was married his wife might have other plans for that little cottage.

“No,” he said. “I will not send you to the country.”

“Why?”

“Because here, next to me,
I
can assure you’re protected. Yes, that was my plan when I went to meet your sisters, but after their refusal and their callousness to your safety, I have to wonder what would happen to you at their hand. Because I could force them to do it, though I know it would make you very unhappy.”

“Indeed it would,” she said.

“Still I could.”

“Be that as it may, what of your own estates? Why would I not be safe there?”

“Until I know how the killer knows who you are, I won’t risk having you out of my sight. And when I can’t be here, like tonight because I have a bloody ball to attend, there will be a footman guarding over you.”

“That seems unnecessary,” she said.

“Mia, I couldn’t live with myself if—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted him. “If you’re concerned about someone getting to me here,” she repeated, “then why not send me away?”

“If the killer knows you’re under my protection, then it would be easy for him to locate all of my estates. He would find you. And I wouldn’t be there to protect you. No, you’re staying right here. In fact, I’m moving your room right next to mine.”

“It could cause a scandal, having me here this close to you,” she warned. “You do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Are you teasing me?” he asked. He stepped closer, but still did not touch her, though she could feel the warmth of his breath feather across her forehead. “We haven’t done anything too scandalous.”

“Yet,” she added.

He grabbed her hands and held them above her head as she pressed her body against his. “Damnation, Mia, I’m doing everything I can to do what’s right where you’re concerned. Don’t tempt me.”

“And I’m doing everything I can to tempt you,” she spat back.

“You are a seductress,” he said.

“I am trying.” She tilted her head up for a kiss, but she did not lean in. She would make herself available to him, but she would not beg for his affection. “You wanted me close,” she said, “to keep an eye on me.” She put her hands on his chest, felt the firmness of his muscles beneath the linen of his shirt.

He chuckled, deep in his throat, the sound so rich, so sexy, she nearly swooned.

“Are you going to kiss me or should I take myself off to my room?”

His hand slid into the hair at the nape of her neck as he slammed his mouth down on hers. Desire poured over her, a warm and heavy rain of passion. She clung to his coat, the fine fabric plush and warm beneath her fingers. Their heated kiss grew more frenzied and his free hand ran up her body, starting at her waist and moving to her breast. His touch was firm and seductive and she arched into his caress, wishing it were his palm against her bare flesh.

As if he’d read her mind, his fingers slipped into the top of her gown, not far enough to cup her entire breast, but enough to flicker against the sensitive nub. It hardened at his touch and Mia moaned into his mouth. She had never imagined it could be this way between a man and a woman, had never thought a simple caress could evoke such a response. As if she had been an unmolded lump of clay and beneath his masterful hands she had been formed into a fully fleshed woman.

His mouth left hers and trailed down the long column of her neck to nip at her collarbone. And still she could only cling to his coat. She longed to explore his body as he did hers, but her hands were frozen in place. She feared if she made a move, she would break the spell and he would pull away. Come to his senses and remember that he was nearly betrothed to another.

He kissed the top of her breast that barely rose above her sensible gown. His hand withdrew from her dress and he held her to him, his warm breath whispering against her ear.

“Mia, I do want you. More than I have a right to.” And with that, he left the room.

Chapter Fifteen

The following day, Alex had decided to call upon the tobacco shop where he knew Drew purchased his specific blend. He knew it would not be the most proper thing to bring Mia into such an establishment, but her keen sense of smell would come in handy. And it wasn’t as if he were bringing her to a gentlemen’s club, this was merely a shop.

He was waiting for her in the hall near the stairs and had asked one of the ladies’ maids to accompany them to act as chaperone. It was unnecessary, but frankly he wanted someone in the way to prevent him from taking liberties.

She came down the stairs, her long fingers trailing the length of the banister as she walked. She was beautiful despite her brown wool frock that did nothing to accent her lithe figure.

“Are you ready?” he asked as she reached the bottom of the steps.

“Yes. I am most eager, I must confess, as I’ve never been to a tobacco shop before.”

“I’ve asked your lady’s maid to accompany us in Rachel’s stead,” he said. He led her to the door and down the steps to the drive.

She smiled, but said nothing in response. More than likely she knew precisely why he’d made such a gesture. They rode quietly to the shop, the three of them. Rickman’s Tobacco and Supplies sat in an alleyway behind Piccadilly Square. It hadn’t been too difficult to determine where Drew purchased his tobacco, all Alex had had to do was check where the bond notes had been sent.

The maid stayed in the carriage and waited for them and Alex helped Mia down to the street. It was then that Alex noticed that Mia’s hands were bare. “Do you not own a pair of gloves?” he asked.

“I had a pair when I was a girl, but I outgrew them several years ago.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’ve never seen the need to purchase another pair.”

Most women he knew owned more than one pair. Hell, he’d wager his mother owned more gloves than she did hats or dresses. She had ones that buttoned all the way up to her elbow and some that fastened just above the wrist. She had lace pairs and satin and mink-lined. And yet Mia did not even own a single pair to keep her hands warm on chilly days such as today.

He opened the heavy wooden door and held it ajar, allowing Mia to enter before him. A tiny bell rang above their heads as they breached the entryway.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” a man said from the opposite side of the store. He had a grizzled voice, deep and gravelly.

Alex kept his hand at Mia’s elbow. She inhaled slowly.

“Recognize anything?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Plenty of different scents in here. I had never realized how fragrant tobacco is, how many different directions each blend can take. It’s quite fascinating.”

He certainly had never considered such a thing; he had always assumed that tobacco was tobacco. Though perhaps a foolish thought, he knew very well that wasn’t the case when it came to brandy.

It was a tiny shop with virtually no displays except that of the glass cabinet in the center. Behind that hung a curtain in a doorway that presumably led to the back where the shopkeep currently hid. The entire store was covered in dark paneling. And the limited lighting did little to afford them great visibility. Even the two windows on the front of the shop were covered with heavy draperies. Alex didn’t know if the man was attempting to mimic how he imagined a gentlemen’s club would appear. The wood paneling struck a resemblance, but the room was so tiny and so dusty that the charade was incomplete.

“Now, then,” the grizzled voice said. The curtain moved and a man walked from behind into the room with a significant limp. He had a cane with him, though he carried it more than used it for assisting with his steps. He was short in stature, smaller than Mia and wore thick spectacles over his large brown eyes. His hair, what remained of it, was white and sat on his head right above his ears like tiny wings that sprouted out of his skull. The rest of his head was completely bare. The deep rusty voice seemed out of place with the diminutive man: “How can I help you?”

The bespectacled man looked up then as if to notice the people standing at his countertop. Surprise briefly crossed his face, but he quickly recovered himself. Evidently it wasn’t common at all for a woman to enter his shop.

“We are looking for a specific blend of tobacco,” Alex said. He slid his calling card across the glass counter.

The man picked up the card, pocketed it and nodded. “However I can serve you, Your Grace.”

“My brother purchases it here from you. I would like to know who else buys the same blend.”

The shopkeep reached down behind the glass cabinet and retrieved a large ledger book. He plopped it on top of the counter and it landed with a loud thud. He looked up at Alex over his thick glasses. “Your brother, my lord?”

“Andrew Foster,” Alex said. So far Mia had said nothing, but stood quietly by his side waiting for what would come next. He reached down between them and grabbed her gloveless hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

The old man flipped through the large pages, the parchment scratched across his sleeve with each turn. “Ah, here we go. Yes, he buys a rather uncommon brand. One that comes in from the Americas.”

“I need to know who else, besides him, buys that particular brand,” Alex said again.

The old man eyed him for a moment before he retrieved a piece of parchment and began to scratch out names. He paused, looked up again.

“Is there a problem?” Alex asked.

“Her Majesty,” the man said.

“I beg your pardon,” Alex said.

The shopkeep cleared his throat. “Her Majesty is on this list. She is, of course, merely the account name. It is not her purchase but rather that of her husband.”

“My good man,” Alex said. “Prince Albert has been dead for twenty-eight years, nearly all of my own life. Are you telling me that our queen still buys tobacco for her deceased husband?”

The old man looked back at the book, then up at Alex. “It does appear that way. A shipment of this tobacco goes to Buckingham Palace every two weeks. I cannot be certain what our monarch does with it, though.” He wrote her name down on the parchment, then handed the list to Alex. “This is all of them.”

Alex glanced down at the list, then folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

“Might I see some of that tobacco, sir?” Mia said, her voice sounding deliciously feminine amidst such a masculine environment.

The old man eyed Alex and when Alex nodded, he bent to the case below him and opened it up. He returned with a wooden box which he placed on the counter, then opened the lid. “My lady,” he said.

She bent forward slightly, closed her eyes, and inhaled. She reacted almost immediately with a twitch of her head and a step backward. “That’s definitely it,” she whispered.

“Very good,” Alex said. “That will be all, thank you for your help.” And with that, he led Mia out of the shop and back into their waiting carriage.

“Now what do we do?” Mia asked.

“I will look into the people on this list and hopefully one will lead us to the real killer. Someone who isn’t my brother.”

Once they arrived back at Danbridge, Alex touched Mia’s arm. “Would you join me in my study? I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

Mia nodded.

He motioned the maid away, then led Mia into the study. This went against all his better judgment, yet he simply could not stop himself. Two parts of himself were at war: his duty to his title against his personal honor. He knew he should set aside his personal wants and needs, and yet, he could not. He could not stop what he was about to do anymore than he could bring his elder brother back to life. Damn Stephen had gotten himself killed and had made Alex the Duke. He would do his duty to the title. In every way but this. When it came to Mia, he simply could not make himself walk away.

“What is it?” Mia asked once they were inside the room.

“Do you wish I would call for some tea?” he asked.

“No, I don’t require any refreshment at the moment.”

He paced the length of the rug twice before he stopped. “I was never intended to be the Duke, as you well know. But my foolhardy brother saw fit to get himself run through and left the task up to me. I take my responsibility to my family quite serious.”

Mia found a chair and lowered herself into it. She nodded as if encouraging him to continue.

“There are expectations of me,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, looking for the right words. “There is already a woman selected for me to marry. But it would seem that regardless of all of that, I want someone else. You were not meant to be a duchess, Mia, but I find myself wanting you in my bed with such ferocity that I can’t not ask you to be mine. We will, of course, make the necessary concessions to assist you in household management. You certainly wouldn’t be expected to do such things on your own. And, of course, Rachel can stay on with you.”

Her eyes narrowed and a frown furrowed her brow. “You are proposing to me? Marriage?” Mia asked. She shook her head. “Even though you freely admit that I am not duchess material.” She came to her feet. “I suppose I should be flattered, but I am not. That was a terrible proposal and I kindly decline. Good day, Alex.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left the room.

Alex wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him. He should be thankful that Mia had enough sense to decline his offer. But he wasn’t relieved or thankful, instead he felt something alarmingly close to disappointment.

***

Mia wasn’t even certain she took a breath until she was safely ensconced in her borrowed bedchamber. She leaned against the door listening to the heavy sounds of her own breathing.

There had been part of her that had wanted to say yes. To ignore the crude words of the proposal and agree to be his wife. But she could not ignore such words. He still thought her lacking in some capacity. No, she was not meant to be a duchess, she knew that, but she certainly felt if given the right tools she could manage a household.

She would be no man’s second choice or reluctant choice or whatever that had been. He had admitted his desire and heaven knew she felt the same for him, but that was all there was to be between them. She might allow herself a brief affair with him, but she would not subject herself to that kind of marriage. Desire waned, so while that might be why he wanted to marry her now, one day he’d wake up and realize he’d made a terrible mistake. Where would that leave her?

***

That afternoon whilst working over the ledgers in his study, Alex heard the following as he perused a column of numbers. “Alexander, do tell me what I’ve heard the servants gossiping about is utterly false,” his mother said as she breached his study door. Her flair for the histrionics never ceased to amaze him. She swept into the room and flounced onto the settee in the sitting area in front of the hearth. He half-expected her to whip out a fan and begin cooling herself to complete her theatrics, but she respected the chilled weather and instead just sighed loudly.

After the morning he’d had, he was not particularly interested in having an argument with his mother. But she’d obviously heard a rumor. More than likely a servant had heard his conversation with Drew regarding the murders. “I am unofficially assisting in the murder investigation as best I can considering it was one of our staff members who was killed,” he said, not bothering to set his ledger book aside. He’d tried to do something of normalcy after the way things had ended with Mia. It had taken every ounce of control not to go after her, peel off that wretched wool dress and lave her body in hot kisses. Show her precisely how much he wanted her.

She shook her head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m not talking about that. Though I find it repulsive to think of you assisting in such messy business. It is not your fault the girl got herself killed.” She tapped her nails on the arm of the settee. “Do put that away and give me your attention. It is the least you can do.”

For what
?
He wanted to ask, but he refrained from going to battle with her. He knew from experience that never did anyone any good. Drew still fought with her when he bothered to speak to her in the first place, but Alex had given that up, for the most part, when he’d left for the army. Arguing with his mother was about as productive as swimming in mud.

“What is this I’ve heard about the room next to yours being used for a guest,” she asked. “Precisely what is that all about? What guest?
I
was not notified of any guests.” She pointed to her chest. “There are protocols to take, Alex. If we have guests, we should host a party to properly welcome them. A dinner party at the very least.”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” he said.

“And why not? Precisely who are these guests?”

“Miss Danvers and Miss Webster will be staying here for a while,” he said.

“Have you completely lost your senses?” she shrieked. She sat up, her plump body looked positively squeezed into her gown, as if her maids had had to tie her flesh up to pour her into the dress. He shook his head.

“She is staying here? Why? Her cottage is more than acceptable for her,” she said.

It was on his tongue to tell her of all the repairs that the cottage needed, but getting into that discussion with her would only prove frustrating for him. So instead he would merely tell her about Rachel’s injury. “Miss Webster injured her ankle and the doctor suggested she stay put for the time being.”

“And that requires that the Danvers girl sleep in the room next to yours? Why ever would you put her there?” She took a breath, but did not stop talking. “We have perfectly acceptable rooms in the servants’ quarters, which is where she belongs,” his mother said indignantly.

“I beg your pardon, Mother, but I do believe the daughter of an earl deserves something much more than being hidden in the servants’ quarters.” He glanced back at his ledger, not truly focusing on the numbers, but in an effort to let his mother know he found her argument weak and uninteresting. He knew it was scandalous to have Mia sleeping in the room next to his. Yes, he should have put her somewhere else. There was an entire floor of bedchambers that were generally held for guests. But he’d wanted her close. Wanted to know precisely where she was so he could protect her. Especially until he knew for certain whether or not Drew had any involvement, even the slightest, in the killings.