The Secrets of Mia Danvers (9 page)

“So you came all the way over here under the pretense of inspecting my cottage, then you proceed to degrade my humble abode, and now you’re apologizing because you and I shared one tiny kiss.” Her voice overflowed with indignation.

“It was not a pretense, your cottage is my responsibility,” he said. While the statement was perfectly true, he still lied when he said it. Hell, he’d come here partially to apologize for kissing her, but also to see if he was tempted to kiss her again. And he was. More than he’d been tempted earlier. But he couldn’t kiss her now. Not when he’d seen the truth of her situation.

She’d lived at the edge of Danbridge Hall for nearly a decade in acceptable accommodations, though they were clearly beneath her station. And he’d allowed it. He and his father and his brother before him. They’d sat over at Danbridge on their plush upholstered chairs, eating their fine dinners while Mia had resorted to stuffing a blanket beneath her door simply to keep warm.

“Tell me the truth.” She turned her body to face him, the rag half-folded in her lap. Her eyes met his and he would have sworn that she saw him, saw into him, she looked so deeply. “The real reason you’re apologizing is because you’re afraid I will cry foul and try and force you to marry me.”

He took a sobering breath. She wanted him to be honest. “I won’t lie, the thought did cross my mind,” Alex said.

“Might I remind you that I never asked you to marry me, nor do I have any desire to marry,” she said. “You or anyone else.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous, every woman
wants
to get married,” Alex said.

She was quiet for a moment, then she spoke, “You honestly believe that, don’t you? That women simply sit around waiting for some man to come along and save them from their lives of boredom and ignorance? Well, as you can see, I’m doing quite well here on my own,” she said, doing nothing to hide her anger. “Despite my broken cupboard doors.”

“Might I remind you that were it not for my family’s generosity, I don’t believe you’d have a cottage to live so well in,” he pointed out. He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but damn if she wasn’t infuriating. How could she be so bloody pompous wearing that ugly wool dress?

She came to her feet, her eyes flashed with anger. She tossed the remaining rags onto the sofa. “I will need some time, but I do believe I could find other arrangements. I should like to find somewhere that I don’t have to endure not only male advances but then suffer through their humiliating apologies afterward.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Mia, there is no need to be hasty. I was merely making a point. Women need men to care for them. There is nothing wrong with that, it is simply the way our society is structured.”

She made a little growly sound and he could have sworn she appeared about to strike him. “You want to know something?” She tossed a neatly folded rag onto the floor. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier until I was certain for fear that it would make you angry, but now I can say that I honestly don’t care. I think your brother might be the killer,” she said.

“What the devil are you talking about?” Alex asked. She was angry, he could see that, but she was talking nonsense as though she were as mad as his mother claimed.

She hugged her arms around her body. “Earlier today when he came up to me and said those vile things, he got close enough for me to smell him and there was something horribly familiar about his scent. Something that I can’t ignore.” She swallowed and Alex saw fear etched in her features. “He smelled like the killer,” she said softly. “As soon as I made the connection, I tried to think of a way to tell you.” She released an awkward chuckle. “That’s not precisely how I imagined doing it.”

She was not merely trying to retaliate, she was being completely honest.

“Drew can be an ass, I will give you that. He’s spoiled and arrogant, but he’s not violent.” But was that really the truth? Damnation, Alex didn’t really know. He didn’t know his brother anymore. And he did remember the time when Drew had gotten into a fight with some bloke at a pub. For all he knew, it happened all the time. He had come home, on more than one occasion, with a blackened eye and broken knuckles. But then Drew had moved out of Danbridge a few months before and Alex was not as privy to his brother’s comings and goings.

And he couldn’t ignore Drew’s demeanor from their earlier conversation. When Alex had confronted him in the hall, he’d seemed cold, his eyes dark with rage.

Still, violence toward a woman was a totally different matter than drunken brawls and sibling rivalry. Alex felt certain his brother wasn’t capable of hurting a woman, let alone brutally killing her.

“Are you so certain?” she asked.

“I am,” he said. He was surprised at the level of confidence in his tone. “But if it will make you feel better, I will ask him.”

“You’ll ask him? Oh, I’m certain that if he is guilty then he’ll simply come right out and tell you all about how he cut those women to death,” Mia said.

“Enough.” Alex took another deep breath. “Contrary to how it might appear, I did not come here to argue with you, nor have you hurl insults about my family.” Nor had he intended to insult her by apologizing for the kiss. Though that was most certainly how she’d taken his atonement. Most women would have taken that apology to heart and whether or not they forgave him, they would have appreciated the effort. But not Mia—she was offended that he’d regretted the kiss. What she didn’t know was that he didn’t regret it for a moment. Hell, he wanted to kiss her again, right now. But convention demanded he seek forgiveness for taking liberties with her and he complied. Society did not, however, have rules for what one should do if a lady takes offense at said apology.

“I will look into matters with Drew, but I can assure you that the scent must be nothing more than a coincidence. There are only so many hair tonics and the like that men use.” Though Alex knew Drew had none of those. He’d seen the man and he’d been filthy. Perhaps she’d smelled nothing more than the alcohol. Regardless, he would speak to his brother and find out precisely what he’d been up to.

Chapter Nine

A
lex had taken the route back to his house through the alleyway. He wanted, one more time, to walk through the area, see where Mia had hidden and where the killer had escaped. Drew hadn’t been by Danbridge that night and Alex wanted to see where his brother could have been going by traveling that alleyway. Of course he thought Mia’s accusation to be groundless. Drew wasn’t a killer. Even though Alex had not spent much time with his brother in recent years, he felt certain about that fact.

By the time he made it back to the yards leading to his house, the sun had set and darkness had settled over London. Gaslights lit the street on the front side of the house, illuminating the way to Hyde Park. Carriages and horses rumbled through the street.

He was supposed to have attended the Wakefield ball tonight. He hadn’t wanted to go and though he didn’t exactly have a legitimate excuse, he’d begged off earlier that day. His mother had not been happy, but insisted on attending in his stead and making his apologies for him. He hoped she’d already left, but as he rounded the corner to the front drive he saw her waiting carriage. She was still home. No doubt looking for him to offer one more biting bit of advice.

Hodges stood in the entryway as Alex entered. “She hasn’t left yet?” Alex asked softly.

Hodges’s lips quirked. “No, Your Grace, your mother has already left for the ball. The carriage is Master Drew’s.”

“Before he leaves again, send him into my study.” He wasn’t quite certain what precisely he intended to tell Drew, but he knew he needed to speak with him.

Hodges nodded and Alex disappeared into his study.

Alex considered Mia’s words. Something about Drew had smelled like the killer. Well, hell, Drew, no doubt, smelled like any number of wastrels in London who favored too much smoke and too much bourbon. Though Drew always began his nights drinking the more expensive brands, by the time the evening wore on and early morning approached, Alex knew the pubs would serve the cheaper varieties. And the patrons were probably none the wiser.

But surely Mia knew the smell of bourbon. He might not make such an assumption, but she had a keener sense of smell than most people. She had recognized on him the fact that he’d danced with a handful of different women. And he could not even detect one of their perfumes on his own person.

There had to be a better way of pinpointing precisely what she smelled on Drew that had reminded her of the killer.

Drew took that moment to step into the study. “I don’t take kindly to you ordering me about,” he said, his dark scowl from before still firmly in place.

“I only wish to have a word with you,” Alex said to him and beckoned with his hand. They had ended that last conversation poorly and Alex knew one thing about Drew, as long as he felt bullied he would close himself off. And Alex had already offended someone today unintentionally. So he decided to try and remain calm and merely have a discussion with his brother.

Drew fell onto the settee, boots and all, making no mind to the uncouth behavior.

Alex exhaled slowly, but did not say anything. He had more important things to discuss than Drew’s poor manners. He could critique his habits with furniture later.

“Where have you been going these last few nights?” Alex asked.

Drew eyed him warily, then shrugged. “Here and there. The club, a ball or two. The usual.” His tone was casual as was his demeanor. So far nothing had put him on edge. Alex knew he would need to probe further to get any real answers.

“Why so interested?” Drew asked. “Aren’t you too busy shopping the marriage mart to worry about my nighttime haunts?” He looked up at Alex, his expression full of arrogance.

It was a jab, but Alex refused to take the bait. Drew loved the fact that their mother spent all her time worrying about Alex’s marital status, and had yet to once mention any of it to the youngest Carrington. Of course she didn’t bother speaking much to Drew at all these days.

But none of this was answering the question Alex wanted to ask. He’d watched Drew’s demeanor to check for any signs . . . of what? Violence? Of course not. He knew Drew wasn’t the killer. He needed to merely inquire on the situation. “What have you heard about the murders here in Mayfair?” Alex asked.

“The two servant girls?” Again Drew shrugged. “It’s all everyone is talking about. Society is all abuzz about the poor chits. Frankly, it’s getting rather tiresome to hear about it. Tragic, yes, but the stories and the theories have grown tedious,” Drew said.

“You do realize that one of those girls worked here in this house. Her older sister still does work here, and the girl hasn’t stopped crying for a week,” Alex said. “And her murder happened on Carrington property.”

Drew sat up on the settee. He braced his elbows on his knees and gave Alex a crooked grin. “Is this what you wanted to talk about? You know if you went out more, you’d hear all the same stories I do.” Then he chuckled. “Perhaps not all of the stories with all the sordid details, your friends do tend to be a tad more straight than mine.” He leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. He still seemed unfazed by the direction of the conversation, not at all suspicious of Alex’s inquiries.

“Is there any discussion for who might be the one killing the girls?” Alex asked.

“No. Well, I suppose there are those who say that Jack the Ripper bloke has moved himself uptown to do his dirty work with our servant girls. Hell, the police don’t even seem to know who he is.”

Alex had to admit he was rather surprised Drew had spent any time considering the murders and who the criminal might be. Perhaps his brother did do more than drink and carouse. “It’s a logical conclusion,” Alex agreed. “London had never seen murders so gruesome, and these are not much different.”

Drew laughed then. “Oh, and I’ve heard some say they think it’s someone in Society,” Drew said. He shook his head in an exaggerated fashion. “A crazed aristocrat.”

Alex frowned. “Who says that?”

“Me.” He waggled his eyebrows. “That’s who I think it is.” He withdrew his pocket watch and glanced at the time.

“Since when are you interested in murder investigation?”

“I’ve always found that sort of thing of interest.” He clasped his fingers together, then braced them behind his head. “Consider, this bloke is right here in Mayfair. Not simply on the street, though our alleyway would certainly count as such, but that other girl was in that party. He’s moving around us without being noticed. That says something.”

It had been so long since Alex had had a legitimate conversation with his brother that he’d almost forgotten what he was like. Drew was intelligent and clever and sharp-witted and once upon a time they had been close, true brothers as well as friends, sharing secrets and strategies. And then Drew had discovered the truth of his birth and everything had changed. But here in this moment, Alex remembered and knew that regardless of what Mia had said, there wasn’t any possible way Drew could be the killer.

Shame nipped at Alex for even entertaining such a foolish idea, especially since it was introduced to him by someone he had barely known a handful of days. He had allowed his own attraction to her to distract him from the truth of the situation. There might have been some odor she recognized, but more than likely it was simply that she was still experiencing fear and Drew had been an ass to her.

“It’s an intriguing theory,” Alex said.

“It seemed logical to me,” Drew agreed.

Then it occurred to Alex that Drew was in a position where he might prove quite useful to the investigation. Since Drew was often in the heart of London Society, he was in a far better place to gather information. If he was right and the killer was, in fact, a member of Society, then he could relay those details to Simon. But in order to convince Drew to assist he would need to give him some intelligence to invite him into the fold, as it were. “What if I told you there was a witness to the first murder?”

At that, Drew sat up. He leaned forward on his elbows and eyed his brother. “A witness to the murder here? Who?” His eyes narrowed. “You?”

“No, not me,” Alex shook his head, “had I seen anything I would have . . .” Then he paused. He’d assured Mia that had she intervened she would most certainly have been killed. But what about himself? Would that same logic stand for him if he had been the witness? He did not normally carry weapons with him when he went about town, he didn’t even wield a cane. “No, it wasn’t me,” he repeated.

Drew sat back. “Who, then?”

“It doesn’t matter as to who,” Alex said.

“It was that girl, wasn’t it? The one who was here earlier?” Drew smiled slowly and the ending result was nearly sinister. “The one you fancy.”

“I do not fancy her,” Alex said before he could keep his mouth shut. His compulsive need to answer the accusation so quickly proved what he hadn’t yet been willing to admit to himself. He did, in fact, fancy her. Well, more to the point, he found himself quite attracted to her.

“No one gets that angry over something so harmless as an invitation. I didn’t assault the girl, merely gave her an invitation, but your reaction . . . ,” Drew said.

“You were crude. You frightened her,” Alex argued. But perhaps there had been some truth to what his brother said. Had he seen Drew approach any other woman would his reaction have been as visceral?

“Tell yourself what you need to believe, brother, but I know what I saw,” Drew said knowingly.

Well, even if Drew was right, it didn’t matter. Alex could not have Mia no matter how much he wanted her. He had a responsibility to his family to marry well. That woman, the one who would become the next Duchess of Carrington, had all but been selected for him. And Mia was not her.

That being said, if Drew, in his inebriated state, could sense Alex’s attraction to Mia, then anyone else would be able to see it. He needed to be far more careful when in her company. From here out, he would make a much better attempt to keep his eyes to himself and his mind from imaging all the things he would like to do to her.

“I think you should be concentrating on your own behavior, Drew,” Alex said, knowing fully that his blatant attempt to change the subject was, well, blatant. “You’re living far too recklessly these days and it has gone on long enough,” he continued.

“My life is not all that different than plenty of the men in London,” Drew said. “And I hardly see how it concerns you to begin with.”

“Be that as it may, you are nearly seven and twenty, it’s past time for you to start acting like a grown man. I will be forced to take action if you are not more careful.”

Drew stood. “Oh, I need to watch myself? What are you going to do, big brother, disown me? Tell the whole world the truth of my birth?” He flipped his hand dismissively. “Go ahead, I don’t give a damn who knows I’m a bastard.” Then he turned and walked out of the study.

For a while there, they had actually had a conversation. No matter how it had devolved. But Alex couldn’t ignore what needed to be said simply because it would infuriate Drew. So he had said what had to be said. Drew needed a reminder to stop living so recklessly before he got himself into significant trouble. He’d only meant to hold some financial assistance over Drew’s head to get him to live more responsibly. Alex would never tell anyone the truth of Drew’s birth, it was the Carrington secret most closely guarded. And it wasn’t Alex’s secret to share.

As for Mia, the urge to go to her then and apologize again for his brother’s behavior was strong. But Alex had to admit that wasn’t his true motivation. No, he wanted to see her because he wanted to admire her lovely face, her stunning eyes. He wanted another excuse to touch her, to kiss her. To do more than kiss her. Hell, he wanted her, wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman. But he couldn’t have her and damn if that didn’t make him angry.

If she wasn’t a Danvers, if she wasn’t from a good family, would he disregard protocol and pursue her anyway? Would he seduce her and let the consequences be damned? He honestly didn’t know. The whole thing would be easier if he could simply avoid her. But that wasn’t an option, not when a killer was on the loose. Not when her life might be in danger.

He knew he would see her again, but not tonight. He would figure out a way to help her identify what it was about his brother that felt so damned familiar to her. And in those moments when he was next to her, he’d have to fight every urge he had to pull her to him and kiss her senseless.

***

The following evening, Alex stood at the edge of the ballroom at the Travers townhome. It would seem he was safe from the temptation that was Mia Danvers. At least for tonight. It wasn’t a particularly large affair, and he wasn’t all that interested in being here. But he had responsibilities to see people and be seen and he had the little business of a courtship to attend to.

She was here tonight, the pretty Juliet Beckinsale, and he was already on her dance card. Once he’d spent the appropriate amount of time with her, enough to show his interest without appearing forward, he could leave.

“You look so pensive, Alex, one might mistake you for intelligent.” It was his friend Edward Simms, the Earl of Fairbanks who’d come to stand at his side.

“You’ve ruined the image by speaking to me. Now people will believe me to be as ignorant as you,” Alex quipped.

Edward laughed jovially. “Still bride hunting?”

Alex nodded. “Still hell-bent on seducing every skirt in London?”

Edward held up his glass in a mock toast. “Someone has to do it.” He scanned the ballroom. “Not much worth seducing here, though.”

Juliet picked that precise moment to walk up to them. “Your Grace, I believe this is our dance,” she said.

“Try and behave yourself,” he mumbled to Edward. Then he took Juliet’s gloved hand and placed it on his forearm and led her out to the ballroom floor. As the music swelled, he swept her into the waltz.

“Aside from that cold snap two days ago, we’ve had unusually warm weather, wouldn’t you agree, Your Grace?” she asked.

“Yes, it has been rather mild.” Alex had a flash of this precise scene twenty years from now as they danced and talked about the weather. But was that not what Society marriages were made for? Companionship and for the betterment of the families involved?