The Devereaux Affair by Adele Clee

Chapter 12

Hart Street, London

“Come in,Mrs Eden. Please sit down. I’ve asked Ashwood and Cole to join us.” Mr Daventry gestured to the two agents seated on the sofa, who both stood and inclined their heads respectfully. “With their wealth of experience, they may provide valuable insight on your case.”

Julianna pushed her nerves aside. “I welcome their opinion, sir.”

The men waited for her to sit in the chair before dropping into their seats. Mr Ashwood’s handsome countenance would leave any woman floundering, though she found Mr Cole’s dark, brooding features more disconcerting.

“Perhaps you might begin by explaining what happened at Witherdeen.” Mr Daventry retrieved a notebook and pencil from the low table and met her gaze. “Only those incidents relevant to the investigation.”

Good Lord!Did he know of her intimate liaison with the marquess? Was he a mysticfrom the Orient with the power to read minds?

Julianna’s heart thundered faster than a horse at the Derby. She told her tale, informed them of the third note and the ghostly sightings.

“There is still plenty to do at Witherdeen,” she said while the men listened, though twice Mr Ashwood and Mr Cole took to whispering between themselves. “It strikes me that the person sending the handbills and staging these alarming scenes is a frequent visitor to the estate.”

Namely Isabella Winters, though she needed substantial evidence before voicing her suspicions.

“Were the notes delivered to Witherdeen?” Mr Ashwood asked.

Relieved she could answer at least one question, Julianna said, “The person left the first two notes at the gatekeeper’s lodge at Witherdeen. No one saw who delivered them. The marquess received the third note at his London address, delivered by a penny boy who ran off before anyone could question him.”

“May we see the notes?” Mr Cole said.

Julianna handed the gentleman her portfolio, and while both agents examined the documents, Mr Daventry probed her about her sudden departure.

“Why return to town in the dead of night when you should have stayed to question Lord Devereaux’s friends?” Though he spoke bluntly, his tone held a hint of compassion. So much so, she suspected he already knew about the terrible incident with Mr Granger.

Julianna raised her chin. “A guest mistook me for my mother and presumed I was as free with my affections. He refused to accept he’d made a mistake and so acted on his impulses. Thankfully, Lord Devereaux came to my rescue before the fellow followed through with his threat.”

Mr Daventry’s jaw firmed. “Had I known Devereaux was expecting guests, I would have cautioned you about walking alone at night.”

“It was my own foolish mistake.”

“The mistake was Mr Granger’s. One that will cost him dearly.”

So he did know! Had Mr Bower revealed the rogue’s name?

“I trust the matter is in hand.” Mr Ashwood spoke like a protective brother, while Mr Cole looked ready to rip Mr Granger’s heart from his chest with his bare hands. “Should you need me to teach the man manners, just say the word.”

“He will receive his education tonight,” came Mr Daventry’s sinister reply.

The ringing of the doorbell caught everyone’s attention, as did the clip of booted footsteps in the hall. All the men pinned their gazes to the door and were evidently expecting someone.

A flutter in Julianna’s stomach told her who that someone was before Mrs Gunning opened the drawing room door and presented the Marquess Devereaux.

The men stood and exchanged greetings.

Julianna gripped the chair to gain the strength to stand.

Bennet was dressed impeccably in tan breeches and a dark blue coat, yet she saw rippling muscles and firm buttocks. He smiled at the agents, though she remembered his open-mouthed moans of pleasure.

When he faced her, she dipped a curtsey and kept her gaze rooted to the floor. That didn’t stop her core muscles turning traitor, clenching in a desperate hope he’d come to fill the emptiness.

Mr Daventry told everyone to sit.

Bennet sat facing her, on the sofa occupied by the master of the Order.

Heat pooled between her thighs when their eyes met. The corners of his mouth curled as he perused her slowly from head to toe. Was he imagining every naked curve? Was he remembering how she’d writhed beneath his hard body, gripped his sweat-soaked back and cried his name?

“Sorry I’m late. It’s been an eventful few days.” Bennet rubbed his solid thigh the way he’d palmed his manhood.

So, he must have visited Mr Daventry this morning, must have left Witherdeen before the cock’s crow. She envisioned him waking, stretching his strong limbs, dipping his hand beneath the coverlet to massage his erection, hoping he might tempt her to sin again. He must have rolled onto his side and suddenly realised she was gone.

“Might we open a window?” Julianna was so hot her cheeks burned.

Mr Cole obliged and raised the sash.

A tense silence ensued.

Was this how it felt to be Giselle de Lacy, to have every man’s eyes fixed intently on her person? She could cope with an inquisitive stare or two, but Bennet Devereaux’s gaze slid over her like a sensual caress.

“Mrs Eden’s work at Witherdeen is incomplete.” Thank God for Mr Daventry’s comment, else she would likely combust. “Experience tells me one of your friends has a part to play in this, Devereaux. I presume they’ve all returned to town, bar Granger, who’d better be in Brighton.”

“That’s why I’m late. To my knowledge, Granger journeyed south, though I cannot attest to the fact he reached the coast.”

With luck, he’d broken his neck in a carriage accident en route.

“Everyone else is in town,” Bennet confirmed. “I did what you asked and have spent the best part of two hours reluctantly making amends. I blamed Granger for my angry outburst and for banishing them from Witherdeen, though I begrudge entertaining any of them again.”

“Sometimes, a man must accept he’s been living a lie.” Mr Cole sounded as if he’d once come to a similar conclusion. “Lowbridge is a self-serving prig. A man needs a friend who challenges him to be the best version of himself.”

Bennet thought for a moment. “He wasn’t always that way. People change. Sadly, human nature leaves us clinging to what’s familiar.”

Overcome by the urge to defend Bennet, she said, “Strong men admit their mistakes. What matters is how one moves forward. And I believe Lord Roxburgh is a good friend.”

“Indeed,” Mr Cole agreed.

“Did you call on Miss Winters?” Mr Daventry said.

Hearing the woman’s name sent another rush of blood to Julianna’s cheeks. Miss Winters truly was the ex-mistress now, because Julianna had inadvertently taken her place.

Bennet shifted in his seat. “No one seems to know if she is in town, though I’d rather suffer more threats than be seen in her company.”

“Because you believe she is guilty of tormenting you?” Mr Daventry glanced at Julianna. “Or is there another reason you wish to avoid seeing your mistress?”

“As you know, Miss Winters is no longer my mistress.”

“May I ask what prompted the sudden change of heart?”

Bennet’s brief look in her direction spoke volumes. “I meant to sever ties long ago. As Cole rightly pointed out, a man is often forced to accept he’s living a lie.”

“No doubt it’s for the best,” Mr Daventry replied. “You’ll be looking to marry soon. Lady Perthshore said you can have the pick of the crop.”

Jealousy twisted like knots in Julianna’s stomach. Oh, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“How did you fare with Mr Mullholland in my absence?” she quickly blurted. “A man who lost a substantial sum at the races might well set fire to a stable block.”

“Mullholland is not our man.”

“What makes you sure?” Other than Miss Winters, Mr Mullholland was the only one with any real motive. Who else had a reason to hate Bennet Devereaux?

Mr Ashwood snorted. “Are you sure you want to hear the details?”

“I bumped into Mullholland in the alley behind the Blue Jade.” Mr Daventry’s eyes darkened. “He was extremely forthcoming with information.”

“But you said he’s not our man.” Bennet seemed confused. “And even if he was guilty, the scoundrel would never confess.”

“Oh, he confessed. He spilt his guts and piddled his trousers. While he despises the ground you walk on, Devereaux, he is not the person responsible for the cowardly attacks. Mullholland paid his jockey to lose the race. His brother thought there was more money to be had betting on your horse.”

Bennet shook his head. “The threats, the fight, it was all a ruse?”

“Indeed.”

A sense of pride enveloped Julianna as she listened to Lucius Daventry’s escapade. The man carried himself with such confidence, was so skilled at gathering information, he must have seen something worthwhile in her when he offered her the position.

That’s why she could no longer remain silent. The life of an enquiry agent was not for her. Having lived with liars and deceivers, she wanted an honest means of earning a crust. Manipulating people to get to the truth might have appealed to her mother, but Julianna had a conscience.

She cleared her throat. “Sir, it has become apparent during the last few days that I am not equipped to work as an enquiry agent. I accepted the position in desperation, but it would be unfair to deprive someone else of the opportunity. Miss Gambit is eager to prove her worth, and I’m sure she will be of great help to Lord Devereaux.”

“I have other plans for Miss Gambit.”

Bennet sat forward. “I hired you, Mrs Eden, not Miss Gambit. I’ll not waste time relaying the facts to a stranger.”

Mr Daventry considered her through narrowed eyes. “Does this have anything to do with what happened at Witherdeen?”

Oh, it had everything to do with her loose morals. Not that she regretted what happened. She would throw herself into Bennet’s arms in a heartbeat. But it was better to part now before she lost sight of reality altogether.

“I refer to the incident with Mr Granger,” Lucius Daventry clarified.

“In my case, men will always presume the worst, but I cannot bear the lies.”

“And where will you go?”

Far away from all temptation. “I have enough money to reach Paris and know someone who—”

“Paris! Good God!” Bennet shot out of his seat as if the cushion were ablaze. “Don’t just sit there, Daventry. Put her mind at ease. Tell her she’s wrong.” He swung around to face her, confusion and panic warring in his handsome brown eyes. “They’re not lies in the normal sense.”

Mr Cole came to Bennet’s defence. “We fight for the truth, for those who’ve suffered a great injustice. Lord Devereaux may be a man of power and means, but this deception is complex. I doubt he’ll uncover the culprit without you.”

“Three days,” came Mr Daventry’s cryptic reply. “Assist Lord Devereaux for three days. Do what is needed to solve the case, and then you may leave the Order with money enough to cover a year’s rent in Paris.”

Three days!

Heaven help her! During the two days at Witherdeen, she’d gone from pretending indifference to gripping Bennet’s buttocks and panting his name.

Three days would be a true test of her resolve.

Like Mr Mullholland’s horse, she would likely fall at the first hurdle.

* * *

Julianna had been torn away from him one stormy night, had escaped in the early hours the second time, but Bennet would be damned if he’d let her flee again. His heart still hadn’t recovered after waking and finding her gone. This time, he wasn’t restricted by age or lack of resources. This time, he’d been hot on her heels.

“You’re confident we’ll find the culprit in a few days?” he said.

“Less if we all work together.” Daventry sounded optimistic. “It’s imperative we solve the mystery before the villain discovers Mrs Eden is an enquiry agent.”

In helping him, had Julianna placed herself in danger, too? Surely the culprit was out to torment him, not murder him in his bed.

“That’s another reason why I think you should see this case to the end, Mrs Eden,” Daventry continued. “If you’re to leave for Paris, I’d rather you do so knowing no one bears a grudge.”

“It seems I have little choice, sir.” Julianna’s shoulders slumped with the weight of her burden. “I’ll not spend the rest of my days fearing a reprisal.”

“We do have a problem, one that might make you reconsider.” Bennet had to be honest with her, though he feared she’d have every reason to run now. “Lowbridge told his sisters what happened with Granger. They cornered me when I arrived this morning and begged to hear how I thumped their cousin for attacking my mistress.”

“Your mistress!” Daventry did not look pleased.

Julianna paled.

“You denied the fact, surely,” Ashwood said.

“Of course. I explained we were old friends.” Though after their rampant night of passion, his tone had carried a distinct lack of conviction.

“I’m afraid it’s all my fault,” Julianna confessed. “While attempting to deter Mr Granger, I said I was Lord Devereaux’s mistress. It never occurred to me the devil would admit to behaving so disgracefully, let alone explain every sordid detail.”

“When it comes to gossip, young ladies are rarely discreet,” Cole said.

True. Lowbridge’s sisters thrived on spreading tales.

“It may yet serve as an advantage.” Daventry took up his notebook. “Let’s begin again. Tell me everything that happened at Witherdeen, including the ghostly sightings.”

The men of the Order listened to the tale. Bennet added relevant information regarding the third note, the clothes worn at the masquerade, of the monk he saw entering the abbey and how he beat Granger when in truth he wanted to murder the bastard.

“And you left Witherdeen after your encounter with Granger,” Daventry stated. “Bower said you were crying when you woke him and begged him to bring you back to town.”

Julianna failed to look Daventry in the eye. “Is that not to be expected after suffering a trauma?”

Bennet’s heart thumped fiercely. Why had she not woken him? Had their lovemaking been so disappointing she’d decided to run? And yet she’d kissed him like he was the air she needed to breathe. Had writhed beneath him like she would die without his touch.

“Based on the facts, who do you think sent the notes to Lord Devereaux?”

Julianna thought for a moment. “Evidence suggests Miss Winters and an accomplice, a man. Her coming to stay at the coaching inn in Bramley rouses suspicion, yet her motive is weak. Too weak to make sense.”

“People do foolish things in the name of love,” Ashwood added.

Julianna glanced at Bennet, her mind most definitely occupied with thoughts of them naked together in bed. Had her love for the boy she’d lost caused her to behave recklessly with the man she’d found?

“Isabella Winters doesn’t give a damn about me,” Bennet said. The woman cared about money and grasping any opportunity to rise above her station. “While Granger confessed to bringing her to Bramley, I’m convinced my housekeeper saw her at Witherdeen two days before the guests arrived.”

“Then we need to focus our attention on Miss Winters to either prove or disprove your theory.” Daventry turned to Cole. “Ride to the coaching inn in Bramley today and find out how many times Miss Winters has stayed there during the last month. Ask if anyone came to visit her at the inn. And call at Witherdeen and inspect the ruins. Devereaux will give you a letter to present to the housekeeper.”

Cole nodded.

“Say you’re an artist, sir, come to sketch the abbey. Mrs Hendrie is expecting my colleague, and in a panic, I gave your name.” Julianna paused. “There are two other possibilities I think deserve a mention.”

“We are all ears, Mrs Eden.”

Julianna shifted in her seat. Nerves saw her catch her lower lip with her teeth. Eventually, she said, “What if my mother is alive? What if her mind is so fractured she’s come to punish her old lovers? It sounds far-fetched, I know, but when I questioned Mrs Hendrie about the ghost, the likeness to Giselle is uncanny.”

Daventry frowned. “I am more inclined to believe the housekeeper has a vivid imagination. Or Miss Winters did not arrive with Granger as stated. How could it be your mother when she left the gold dress behind? I can send word to Paris, but it will take weeks to receive a reply.” He paused. “I will send for confirmation if it will settle your fears.”

“Yes, I would like to know for sure,” she said so quietly and with such sorrow in her eyes, Bennet wanted to cross the room and hold her hand.

“And the second possibility?”

Julianna cleared her throat. “Mr Weaver, the steward who preceded Mr Branner, was dismissed due to discrepancies in his bookkeeping.”

“Mr Weaver had been purchasing goods at inflated prices for years, splitting the profits with his supplier.” Bennet had also discovered deliberate accounting errors, stolen sums amounting to a few thousand pounds. “My father chose not to prosecute. What man wants to appear foolish amongst his peers?”

“And where might we find Mr Weaver?”

“He had family in Farnborough, but that’s all I know.”

Silence descended while Daventry consulted his notes.

Bennet looked at Julianna. While part of him wished he could go back to the moment before she’d found the bangle in his coat pocket, wished he would have kept his cock in his trousers because it would have given him more time to forge a friendship, he longed to know her intimately again.

Now he feared it was too late.

How could they be friends when the need to touch her proved maddening? What was the point of trying when she would be gone from his life again in a few short days?

Daventry, in his infinite wisdom, decided to take charge of the problem. “Ashwood, where should Devereaux and Mrs Eden focus their attention?”

Ashwood cleared his throat. “They should spend the afternoon reading through the journals Mrs Eden brought from Witherdeen. Checking for anything that may seem pertinent. They need to provoke a reaction from Miss Winters and should do so by flaunting the fact Mrs Eden is Devereaux’s new mistress.”

Julianna inhaled sharply. “If Miss Winters doesn’t care about the marquess, why would it matter?” She looked like she would rather do a stint in the Marshalsea than be seen about town on his arm.

“We need to know if that’s true,” Daventry said. “Men invariably underestimate women’s emotions. What other motive could she have for visiting Witherdeen?” He gestured for Ashwood to continue.

“They should attend Lord Newberry’s Winter Ball tomorrow evening. With the information you hold on Newberry’s nefarious deeds, it won’t be difficult to secure Mrs Eden an invitation. Devereaux should encourage his friends to join them. Mrs Eden can ply the women with punch, coax them for information about Miss Winters, Lowbridge and Roxburgh.”

“Devereaux should confide in Roxburgh,” Cole added. “Explain someone is trying to kill him and see how the lord responds. If Roxburgh is innocent of any wrongdoing, the evidence should support his claims. If he’s guilty, he will try to throw Devereaux off his trail.”

Daventry clapped his hands in agreement. “You will both attend Lord Newberry’s Winter Ball tomorrow evening. Let the gossips have their day. Let everyone believe you are following in your father’s footsteps and have taken Julianna de Lacy as your mistress.” He raised a hand when Julianna opened her mouth to protest. “You’ll be gone from London in a few days, Mrs Eden, leaving Devereaux to deal with the aftermath. Let’s do everything we can to put an end to his torment.”

After some thought, she sighed. “Yes. Lord Devereaux’s happiness is of the utmost importance. I only hope it won’t hinder his plans to find a wife.”

Find a wife!

Did she honestly think that was his priority now?

Daventry rubbed his jaw. “There is a slight problem. I cannot have the villain following you back to Howland Street. With Devereaux’s permission, you will move into his London home for a few days, until you leave for Paris. Protecting the ladies in Howland Street must be a priority. Surely you see that.”

While Julianna blanched, Bennet resisted the urge to throw himself at Daventry’s feet and pay homage to the genius. He had three days to—to do what? Bury himself so deep in her body she’d never want to leave? Beg her to stay and become a permanent part of his life?

Either way, his plan was flawed.

He didn’t want her as his mistress.

She was worth a damn sight more than that.