More than a Masquerade by Adele Clee
Chapter 11
“Lord Meyer isat his club and isn’t expected back until late this evening. Might I suggest you visit his secretary and make an appointment?” The butler was in the process of closing the door when Mr Hunter shoved his booted foot against the jamb.
“Lady Meyer is at home.” Mr Hunter thrust the letter from the Home Office at the snooty fellow. “I must insist she grant us an audience. I would hate to tell Peel you’ve been uncooperative.”
The butler’s gaze swept over the official letter. “I’m afraid her ladyship’s delicate condition prevents her from receiving visitors. As I said, I advise you write to his secretary to make arrangements.”
“This is not a social call,” Rachel countered. “We will return with a constable if necessary.” She gestured to the elegant houses along the row. “I’m sure her ladyship would find it more distressing to have men charging into the street, clacking their rattles and beating down the door.”
“Perhaps she has another reason for refusing to speak to us,” Mr Hunter added. “Perhaps she has something to hide.”
A soft, feminine voice breezed through the hall. “It’s all right, Gibson. You may show them in. This is Mayfair, not Billingsgate Fish Market. I’ll not have arguments on the doorstep.”
“Yes, my lady.” Gibson pasted a smile and opened the door. “Please follow me.”
Lady Meyer didn’t greet them in the hall. Rachel caught a glimpse of a pale blue gown as she glided into the drawing room to await the introductions.
Gibson led them into a room decorated in garish salmon pink. He introduced them and stated their business while Lady Meyer looked on with a regal bearing. The lady was no older than thirty and was so beautiful, one couldn’t help but stare in awe.
“Won’t you sit down?” The lady gestured to the damask sofa.
The Empire cut of her gown disguised her swollen stomach. Only when she placed a gentle hand on the bump was it apparent she was with child.
Being a lady of sophistication, she preferred to discuss general topics before moving onto the serious affair of her maid’s duplicity. They spoke about the weather, about the theatre and the recent production of The Wheel of Fortune.
“Did you not think it a marvel of comedy genius, Mr Hunter?”
“I find nothing amusing about revenge, madam.”
“Did Penruddock not learn to forgive?”
“Penruddock was a weak-minded fool.”
The lady looked at Mr Hunter as if she wished to strip back every layer and devour what lay beneath. She spoke to him in a low, seductive voice that would have many a man dancing to her tune.
Mr Hunter was not dazzled by her beauty. He did not fall over himself to impress. He kept the same unreadable expression he wore with all strangers. Not once did his eyes betray him. Not once did he glance at the swell of the lady’s breasts almost bursting the seams of her gown.
His evident inattention left Lady Meyer a little at odds. She brought a limp hand to her brow and asked Mr Hunter to help her move to another chair.
“It’s less draughty here.” She gripped his hand and lowered herself down gracefully despite being so heavy with child. “Thank you, Mr Hunter. It’s reassuring to know you’re as strong as you look.”
Mr Hunter ignored the compliment. “Perhaps you’d like a shawl.”
“No, no. I shall be fine now.”
“If you’re able, I’d like to ask you a few questions about your maid, Mary Harcourt. You may find the subject distressing, but I’d like to understand the facts.”
“Of course.” Her tight smile belied her affable tone. “May I ask how you’re connected to the case? Gibson said you’re from the Home Office.”
“We’ve been instructed to inspect the work of those at the Great Marlborough Street police office.” Mr Hunter spoke in the detached voice of a government official. “We seek to examine the procedures they used when conducting their investigation.”
Lady Meyer’s gaze swept over Rachel. “To my knowledge, women do not work at the Home Office.”
“I’m not employed by the Home Office, my lady.” Rachel had no intention of revealing the true nature of her profession. She reached into her reticule and removed her pocket book and pencil. “I’m employed by Mr Hunter merely to take notes.” And to judge Lady Meyer’s reactions.
“I see.” The lady’s approving smile said she liked unconventional men.
Mr Hunter sat forward. “Forgive me if my questions cause distress, my lady. But we’re here to ensure justice is served.”
The lady seemed captivated by Mr Hunter’s muscular thighs, and it took her a moment to tear her gaze away. “Nothing is more distressing than betrayal. Had Mary come to me with her problem, I may not have thrown her out.”
Mr Hunter firmed his jaw. “Her problem?”
“Mary’s dalliance with the footman. The girl lacks morals. Her ridiculous tale about us stealing her baby stems from the loss of her own child.”
“Mary gave birth to the footman’s child?”
“No, she miscarried.”
Fearing Mr Hunter might miss the opportunity to challenge Lady Meyer, Rachel said, “If Mary suffered due to the loss of her child, surely that accounts for her mistake in taking the jewels. Grief affects people in surprising ways and often leaves them dazed and confused. Clearly, prison isn’t the place for her.”
Lady Meyer smirked. “Mary is a liar and a thief.” Her mouth twisted in disgust. The expression saw a beautiful woman become an ugly hag. “Dishonesty must be punished. You may fight against convention, my dear, but those of us in the upper echelons must set an example.”
“And yet one cannot reach the highest realms without understanding compassion.”
Mr Hunter smiled. “You quote Socrates, Miss Gambit.”
Rachel shrugged. “In a fashion.”
“Are we not digressing?” Lady Meyer sneered at Rachel yet moistened her lips for Mr Hunter. “Are you not here to assess whether the constables at Marlborough Street followed protocol?”
“Indeed.” Mr Hunter fixed her with his impenetrable stare. “Again, I ask you to forgive my blunt manner, but nowhere during the early proceedings did you mention Mary’s indelicate situation.”
“I mentioned it to Sir Oswald, the magistrate at Marlborough Street. He took a little too much port and may have forgotten to record the details.” A frustrated sigh left her lips. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. It’s a simple case of theft.”
Forgotten to record an important piece of evidence? Highly unlikely.
“Mary claims she gave birth to your husband’s child.”
Lady Meyer’s mocking snort rang with insincerity. “That’s preposterous. Have you seen Mary? She’s short and dumpy and is as dull as a winter’s morn.”
Rachel interrupted again. “Why would Mary hide the jewels under the boards? Why not take the first mail coach out of London? From the report, they’d been stolen a week before they were found in Mary’s room. What prompted you to search there?”
Lady Meyer looked at Rachel as if she were something foul stuck to her shoe. “I thought you were here to take notes, not impress your colleague. Let me give you some advice. Men dislike interfering women, Miss Gambit. A lady should attract a man’s eye, not test his patience.”
“Yet I value her opinion,” Mr Hunter replied. “There is nothing more attractive to a man than a woman with a keen mind and honest heart.”
Heat filled Rachel’s chest. Mr Hunter was a remarkable man, though she would have liked him to say she was as beautiful as the goddess sitting opposite.
“Please answer her question,” he pressed.
“I cannot begin to know the workings of a criminal’s mind. I can only presume she meant to persuade the footman to leave, too.” Lady Meyer gestured to the pocket book. “Write this down, Miss Gambit. If Mary admits to the crime, admits she lied about the baby, I’m willing to press for transportation rather than the noose.”
Oh, the lady was a conniving devil. They’d have no option but to put the proposal to Mary Harcourt. When facing a choice between a dangerous voyage and the scaffold, the maid would be easily swayed.
“No judge in the land will permit your interference,” Mr Hunter said.
Lady Meyer’s smile dazzled. “Men always bend the rules to please me.”
“Not all men,” came Mr Hunter’s sharp reply. “Might you summon your footman, James Tinsley? We wish to ensure his statement is watertight. Confessing to a constable is slightly different from confessing to a bench of miserable men in periwigs.”
“The footman in question is away at present, visiting his sick mother in Lincolnshire.” The lady gripped the gilt arms of the chair and pushed slowly to her feet. “He’s not due to return until next week. Kindly leave your direction, Mr Hunter, and I shall send word when he is free to attend you.”
How convenient. The only person to verify Mary Harcourt’s story had probably been bundled away under cover of darkness. She’d not be surprised to find the fellow dead in a ditch.
Mr Hunter stood. “Then I shall make an appeal to the magistrate and issue a warrant should he fail to return. A key witness in a case should be available for questioning.”
“Sir Oswald agreed he might go. James hasn’t committed a crime.”
Rachel slipped her pocket book into her reticule and stood, too. A thought struck her, and she intervened one last time.
“It’s common knowledge you choose your footmen for their handsome appearance.” It was just an assumption, but based on the way she looked at Mr Hunter, Lady Meyer sought constant male attention.
Lady Meyer stared down her pert nose. “Appearance is everything.”
“Then one wonders why your footman was so taken with Mary. Did you not say she is short and dumpy and as dull as a winter’s morn?”
The lady’s arrogant bearing faltered. “Who can say what brings two people together?” Her bottom lip quivered. “When one is deprived of affection, one lowers one’s standards.”
“In court, they may decide the same is true of your husband.”
Lady Meyer bristled at the accusation. “What poppycock! You’ve outstayed your welcome. Gibson will see you out.” She flounced from the room in a huff of pale blue satin.
Gibson appeared, to throw them out and warn against returning without an appointment.
“It’s fair to say the Meyers have a less than perfect marriage,” Rachel said, settling into the black leather seat in Mr Hunter’s carriage. “The lady has a courtesan’s charm and is far too amorous in her attentions.”
“The lady is so hungry for affection she’d throw herself at anyone.”
“You caught more than her eye.” A stab of jealousy hit her between the ribs. “She hoped you would satisfy more than her curiosity.”
“I imagine any breathing male would suffice.”
“You do yourself a disservice, Mr Hunter. Not only are you loyal and dependable, you’ve a rugged appeal any woman would find attractive.” Rachel cleared her throat and quickly sought to change the subject. “And thank you for defending my character. I may not have Lady Meyer’s allure, but an honest heart is the true measure of one’s worth.”
A sinful smile touched his lips. “Lady Meyer is ugly inside and out. You steal my breath whenever our eyes meet.”
The air suddenly thrummed with an intensity that overpowered the senses. Amorous thoughts filled her head, thoughts that had her staring at his mouth, had her yearning to taste him again.
“You know how to soothe my insecurities, sir.”
“It’s time we dispensed with the formalities. Call me Eli.”
Eli.
She whispered it silently, aware the sound stirred something deep inside.
“And you must call me Rachel.”
“Rachel.” He spoke her name as if it were a mystical word with the power to weave miracles. “You’ve a logical mind, Rachel. Perhaps you might explain something I’m having difficulty understanding.”
“I’ll help if I can.” She loved hearing her name on his lips.
He straightened, stroked his hand down his thigh. “We have much to discuss. Lady Meyer is lying. The Beltons are lying, too. We’ll need our wits if we’re to prove they all have something to hide. I cannot trust my brethren, and we’ll need the luck of the gods to find the traitor.”
Rachel frowned. “Yes, so what troubles you?”
“We have a mammoth task ahead, yet every moment we’re alone, you’re my only focus. How is it a man who’s locked his heart away in an impenetrable chest at the bottom of the ocean can suddenly feel it beating?”
Rachel sat there, struggling to take air into her lungs. “You’ve become my priority, too. It’s been so long since you let anyone in, Eli. You’re bound to suffer these odd emotions. We’ve become friends, and you didn’t plan for that.”
“Friends? This morning you wished to conduct an illicit affair.”
She shrugged. “I’m curious by nature. Something exists between us, something I’ve never felt before. After what I’ve experienced, I should be the least trusting person, but I have unwavering faith in you.”
“Would it not be foolish to partake in a relationship that had no future?”
“Like you, I might have died many times.” She’d not drowned off the Dorset coast or suffocated in a coffin in the cellar, but the Hanaways had nine months left to achieve the task. “I’d be a fool to live for anything but today.”
“How do you know I almost died?”
“When you stalked me around your bedchamber, half-naked, I saw your scar. Did it happen during your work for Themis?”
“No.” His deep sigh spoke of unpleasant memories. “The months after I left Chichester are a blur. Most days, I consumed more than my weight in wine. I was staggering through an alley in the rookeries when Daventry called for me to stop a thief. The blackguard lashed out with a butcher’s knife.”
“That’s how you met Lucius Daventry?” The master of the Order had a knack for appearing at just the right time.
“Indeed. I could have throttled him, but he saved my life in more ways than one. It’s the reason I agreed to meet you at Vauxhall.”
Mr Daventry had been quick to come to her aid, too.
“If you’d had a Skean Dhu in your boot, you might have fought back.”
He smiled. “Remind me never to confront you in a dark alley.”
“If you did, I doubt we’d be fighting.”
“No?” Mischief danced in his eyes. “What would we be doing?”
“Talking.” She gave a coy shrug. “Kissing.”
Never had she been so bold, but lust clawed in her veins, and she had to do something to ease the infernal ache. The need to feel his tongue thrusting into her mouth proved a strong incentive, too.
Said tongue slipped over his lower lip, reminding her how masterfully he’d devoured her mouth. “I’m tired of playing the hunter. With you, I have an overwhelming desire to be the prey.”
Rachel swallowed. No doubt many women longed to have Eli Hunter at their mercy, to have him in their bed. The man was all muscle and brooding glances, but it was his loyal character and their undeniable connection that made her heart race.
“You want me to capture you in my snare?” she teased.
“I need to know you want me, Rachel.”
“But I don’t know the first thing about pursuing a man.”
“Improvise.”
“How do I know my attentions will be reciprocated?”
He laughed. “Trust me. You’ll know.”
She studied him, not knowing where or how to begin. Somehow, she couldn’t help but think this was another test. A means for him to learn to trust someone again, a means of opening his heart.
“Thank you for making your position clear.” Battling the urge to kiss him, she settled back in the seat. “An expert hunter uses the element of surprise, captures his prey unawares. I shall contemplate my next move carefully.”
His blue eyes darkened with disappointment. He must have hoped she’d scramble onto his lap, slip her tongue over his and mate with his mouth. But she would bait him first. Lure him with her womanly wiles.
“So, you mean to make a plan of action.” His gaze raked slowly over her, leaving a scorching trail in its wake.
Rachel smiled. “I plan to follow your advice and improvise.”
