Page 15 of Silence of Deceit
“I was inappropriate. You are within your rights to—
”Don’t be absurd. I have not told the duke anything because there is nothing to tell. You did not kiss me.” Heat flooded her almost instantaneously. Why had she used that word?
“What would he do if I had?”
She tensed her brow, the air in the carriage turning hot. “How do you mean?”
“Would he call me out?” He was not acting flippant or playful. His questions were as direct as they had been when he’d been questioning Mrs. Simpson.
“Call you out? Of course not,” she answered, but then considered. “Although he might be angry. He does not think you are suitable.”
As soon as she spoke, she wished she had not. Hugh’s rich brown eyes narrowed. “Not suitable for what?”
Her cheeks warmed. “Let’s not speak of it, please. It doesn’t matter anyhow. Nothing …happened.” Though only because they had been interrupted.
She expected him to continue pressing for an answer if only to tease her, and perhaps if they had not arrived at the Bow Street offices, he would have. She would have undoubtedly given in and explained that the duke had warned that the officer could never be a suitable lover for a duchess. Until Philip had given that warning, she had not even allowed herself to imagine that Hughcouldbe her lover. She and Philip had agreed from the outset that they would each allow the other to associate outside the normal confines of a marriage—if they discussed it first. Philip had already broken that promise and had seen another man, Lord St. John, secretly. He’d apologized profusely, and Audrey had forgiven him. But she had no plans to go behind Philip’s back. And though she hated to even think it, a Bow Street officerwouldbe an unsuitable prospect for a duchess’s lover.
Hugh exhaled and nodded stiffly, clearly not happy to relent. “Very well.”
She paused, waiting for him to provide a caveat. But he only sat forward and opened the door, beating Carrigan to the task. “Thank you for the lift. AndIwill call on Lady Rumsford, Your Grace.”
His order was clear—she was not to involve herself again.
Audrey inclined her head as he jumped down to the pavements outside number four Bow Street and adjusted the collar of his coat against the new drizzle of autumn rain. She said nothing, refusing to verbally agree. Carrigan shut the door on Hugh’s scowl. He knew her game: She would call on the viscountess with or without his permission.
ChapterFive
The woman’s shrill laughter was beginning to grate on Hugh’s last nerve. He clenched his back teeth and raised the snifter of whisky to his lips as Thornton attempted to lift his voice above the incessant giggling. They were settled in Thornton’s sitting room after the dinner he’d hosted for his brother’s birthday celebration. Not Lawrence, the heir to the Lindstrom marquessate, or Harold, the spare.
“They are far too important to attend such a lowly celebration,” Thornton had joked when Hugh inquired if they would make an appearance. No, the revelry was for the third son of the Marquess of Lindstrom, James. Thornton, the fourth son, was closest to James and hosted a birthday rout every year for his favorite brother. The house on St James’s Square would be packed to the cornices with everyone fromdemimondeto working class. Artists and actors, courtesans, merchants, landed gentry, and maybe even a noble or two.
Hugh looked forward to the bash every November, however tonight, he had a difficult time relaxing. A longing to excuse himself and return to his own residence was oddly intense. The din of conversation—and that blasted woman’s laughter—was agitating him more so than usual.
He blamed it entirely upon the Duchess of Fournier.
He wished to god he hadn’t said anything to her about the intimate moment they’d shared back in Hertfordshire. The flush of her cheeks had only made him want to leap across the carriage and kiss her properly this time. Being alone with her again had tied a knot in the base of his stomach, and without her needing to confess it, Hugh knew she had been trying to avoid speaking of the incident. He should have matched her effort.
For the rest of the day, he’d had trouble focusing on the investigation into Delia Montgomery’s murder. To make things more complicated, Sir Gabriel had been skeptical of Hugh taking on the investigation.
“She might have bashed her skull when jumping into the river for all we know,” he’d said, throwing up his hands. “The woman was a prostitute. She has no family, no one at all to give a damn about her death. Why are you so keen on this?”
To mention the duchess would have only inspired questions from the chief magistrate. He’d not only demand to know how Audrey knew the dead woman, but he’d bring up the all too evident fact that once again, Hugh was involving himself with the Duchess of Fournier. He’d vowed to keep Audrey’s history at Shadewell a secret, and he would go to his bloody grave with it. Protecting her from any questioning, any doubt, any harm, burned like a fire in the very center of his soul.
“Did you hear me, Marsden?”
Thornton’s voice cut through his thoughts. Hugh swallowed his whisky and focused on his friend, although he was unable to confirm that he had, in fact, heard him.
“I’m having trouble hearing anything beyond that baying,” he murmured, inspiring a few knowing grins from the two other men he and Thornton were standing with.
“It’s not like you to be so uncharitable, Marsden,” one of the men, Mr. Jefferies, said, though his smirk indicated his comment was all in good humor. Mr. Jefferies stiffened as the source of the baying laughter trained her attention upon their small circle. He and the rest of them straightened their postures as she cut toward them, a glass of wine in hand.
“And why so many sullen faces in this corner?” Miss Martha Devereaux asked as she joined them. As a popular member of the demimonde, Miss Devereaux maintained a reputation that would have scandalized the ladies of the peerage. It did not matter that she maintained close relations with various lords of theton—she was not “quality” and she reveled in it. Not all women wished to be of peerage ilk. In fact, Hugh could see why the looser, less restrictive numbers of London’s “half-world” usually appeared more content.
“If we seem sullen, it is only because we’ve been left out of your revelry, Miss Devereaux,” Thornton replied, employing the charm that tended to net him an over-abundance of female company.
Hugh could not fault his friend for it; after losing his beloved wife and infant daughter in childbirth several years ago, Thornton had succumbed to a dark place. He’d been lost to the world, including to Hugh, for a long time. He’d crawled out of his lonely abyss of grief eventually, but he had no intention of marrying again. Instead, he accepted the comforts of women like Martha Devereaux. No ties. No requirements. No expectations.
It was not very unlike Hugh’s arrangement with Gloria, although he didn’t imagine Miss Devereaux restricted her liaisons to just with Lord Thornton. At the thought of Gloria, Hugh waited to feel the longing for her company, as he once used to. Before, waiting all week to see her had built up a need within him, and lately, their increased meetings had been a fire unable to be extinguished, kindling just underneath his skin. However, though he waited for the tightening in his groin and the clench of desire, it eluded him.
