Page 26 of Black Widow

“It could be the truth, but it doesn’t mean there wasn’t an affair. Your cousin might simply have been ignorant ofit.”

Gideon nodded, acknowledging the possibility. “Martin always was a bit naive when it came to the darker side of men’s natures. He tended to believe the best of people,” he muttered, adjusting his cravat. “One last thing. Find out if Amelia is warming Worthing’s bed now if youcan.”

Something in his voice must have alerted Manning. “Err…I thought you were convinced shewas.”

“So goes the gossip, but I’m no longer certain,” he admitted as Manning straightened hiscoat.

“I will do my best to learn whatever Ican.”

“Good.” Gideon nodded at him. After a few more minutes of conversation and adjustments to his attire, he headed back downstairs fordinner.

Despite the upheaval of his emotions, it wasn’t too difficult to pretend he was like all the other male guests—a privileged and jaded nobleman seeking to relieve his boredom with country entertainments. Interminable cases of ennui were a popular affectation among his class, and for a former spy of his experience, easy toemulate.

At dinner, he was seated directly across from his hostess—too far from Amelia and Worthing to even consider conversing with them. Normally being situated so far from the subject of an investigation would have been enough to annoy him, but in this case, he used the opportunity to shore up his resistance to Amelia’scharms.

If only there weren’t so many damned charms.His quarry was looking especially lovely tonight. She wore a lovely silk damask dress the color of deep violet. The creamy silk of her skin seemed to glow in the candlelight. It was a challenge not to stare at her—one other men did not seem to mind failing. One man, a young and gangly baron name Bruxton, was practicallydrooling.

Amelia pretended not to notice the attention. She conversed with Worthing and her neighbors, only occasionally peeking toward the head of the table to look at him and theirhosts.

After dinner, the women retired so the men could enjoy their port. After, the two groups met again for cards and subdued conversation in the main salon. Gideon thought he’d acquitted himself quite well until later that night after Amelia and most of the other women hadretired.

The men drifted into the billiards room. Gossip and spirits flowed freely. At first, Gideon was hopeful Worthing would soon be in his cups. Unfortunately, his nemesis decided to focus on the game instead of hisdrink.

“I was surprised to see you here,” Worthing confided as he leaned over the table to align hisshot.

Gideon stood near the other end, cue in hand. “I wanted to speak to our host,” hesaid.

“Mmm-hmm.” Westcliff gulped the brandy he was drinking. He made an approving sound in the back of his throat. “Yes, we are partners in a new consortium. Flint here had a few questions about it. Came to me to clear them up,” he said, managing to sound more paternal thanboastful.

“Your expertise in the matter was enormously helpful,” Gideon assured him, bending to align his cue when Worthing’s ball bounced on the bumper, missing thepocket.

Gideon sank his ball effortlessly and walked around for the next shot while their hostpreened.

“How fortunate that your business with Westcliff coincided with his seasonal house party,” Worthing said, not bothering to inject any enthusiasm in hisvoice.

“It was lucky, wasn’t it?” Gideon said blandly, sinking the next ball neatly. With a vindictive little flourish, he proceeded to clear thetable.

“Congratulations,” Worthing said with a courtly bow better suited to a drawing room—and directed at a femalematriarch.

Gideon acknowledged that with a nod. The glitter of something gold on Worthing’s breast caught hiseye.

It can’t be.He narrowed his eyes, staring at the small ornament in the shape of a key on Worthing’swaistcoat.

“That’s an interesting pin,” he said, a hollow feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. “Where did you getit?”

Worthing stiffened. His hand went to his waistcoat, covering the key in an abrupt instinctive move. “My father gave it tome.”

He was lying, and they both knew it. “Did he? Was he very good atmaths?”

“Maths?”

Gideon could see the small flicker of panic that crossed Worthing’sface.

“Why yes, he was quite good at them. This is a schoolprize.”

Except that pin is given as the classics prize at Abingdon—not mathematics.Martin had been inordinately proud of it. Literature was the one field he excelled in. He’d been a miserable mathematicsstudent.

The realization that Amelia had given Worthing one of Martin’s most prized possessions settled in his gut like a leadweight.

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