Page 22 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

Suddenly, a hard hand gripped her arm as if to steady her. Cartwright drew her around to face him, and not gently.

“Dash it all, Miss Bromley! What in God’s name are you doing here?” He sounded as if he’d clamped his teeth.

Her heart beating hard, she shook herself free of his hand, determined not to let him see how rattled he made her. “I was enjoying the peace and the night air, until you came and spoiled it, sir. I planned to stroll over the lawns, but there are people in the gazebo, and I didn’t wish to disturb them.” She glared at him. “What gives you the right to manhandle me? And what might you be doing here, Mr. Cartwright?”

His face partly in shadow, enough light revealed his rigid jaw and deep scowl. “I knew you’d be trouble. I’m beginning to wonder if you are who you say you are.”

“It would not be hard to find out all about me,” Letty said. “I have no secrets. You, on the other hand.…” She raised her eyebrows.

“You are entirely too inquisitive. I wonder why?” He gripped her sleeve again and pulled her into the deep purple shadow cast by a high hedge.

She tried to resist, not quite sure what he had in mind for her, her heart skipping a beat, but her slippers skidded over the grass and she was obliged to grab hold of his arm.

“Sir!” Once she’d regained her balance, Letty released him with a gasp of indignation.

He ignored her protest, his presence so close that she inhaled his familiar spicy cologne and was compelled to step back. She could feel the sharp prickles of the hedge against her spine through the thin fabric of her evening gown. “Ow! Do you mind?” She moved away, fearing her gown might rent.

“Be quiet. Explain, yourself. Why are you following me?”

“Do you want me to be quiet or explain that I’m not following you?” She glared at him. “I can hardly do both.”

“Don’t get cocky with me,

miss,” he said grittily.

“I wasn’t aware the gardens were exclusively yours,” she said smartly, fairly confident he would not hurt her.

He cursed under his breath. “What a minx you are, Miss Bromley.”

“Please don’t mind me,” Letty said with a frown. “Curse all you like.”

“Are you going to explain your presence here?” There was no trace of irony in Cartwright’s voice now. He sounded very cross.

“The rooms are so crowded and hot,” she said in a beseeching tone. Suddenly very conscious of being alone with him in the dark, she began to edge toward the welcome light flooding out the French doors. “But I believe I’ll go inside.”

She had gone two steps when Cartwright moved to block her way to the terrace. He arched an eyebrow and studied her for a moment. “An excellent idea, Miss Bromley.” A hand against her arm, he gave her a gentle push. “Let’s make sure you do. Please proceed. I shall see you safely inside.”

“You are no gentleman, Mr. Cartwright,” Letty said over her shoulder as she hurried up the path.

Outraged at his ordering her about in such a careless manner, her face hot with embarrassment, she reached the terrace, then turned, but he’d disappeared. Where had he gone? He was nothing better than a rake and mixed up in goodness knew what. But she would have to get better at this spying business, for she felt sure Arietta would expect her to continue.

Candlelight and chatter flooded out through the open doors. Bracing herself, she entered and searched over gentlemen’s heads and the ladies’ waving feather headdresses, then wended her way to the adjoining salon where guests played cards at tables set up for the purpose. What would she tell Arietta? Cartwright hadn’t done much worth mentioning, except for his clandestine meeting with Fraughton’s wife, and his obvious interest in Fraughton. He’d been defensive, too, and wanted her to stop following him. Perhaps Arietta would assume it was a romantic liaison. Should she mention the letter? It could be anything. Letty was torn with indecision, and struck by a puzzling sense of loyalty to Cartwright, who certainly didn’t deserve it.

“There you are,” Arietta linked arms with her and guided her into the supper room where a tasty array of food was served.

Letty discovered herself in need of sustenance. Shadowing Cartwright made her hungry, and she needed some strengthening before she faced Arietta’s questions. She ate a portion of delicious tender chicken and sliced beef, and two rout cakes, which were sweet and richly flavored with fruit.

“I saw you follow our quarry into the corridor. You must tell me everything later,” Arietta said, sotto voche, as they drank wine. “I hope it’s something that will aid poor Kendall’s memory,” she said. “He wasn’t buried in his family’s crypt, you know.” Her gaze over the rim of her glass looked desperately sad.

Letty caught her breath as the inner struggle to keep faith with both of them tightened her ribs.

“But the night is not yet over,” Arietta continued. “You might discover something more. Come and meet my friends, and when it is prudent to do so, you can slip away.”

The tart wine went down the wrong way, making Letty cough. “Yes, of course,” she said feebly. Arietta had obviously not given up.

Once Brandon made sure that Miss Bromley returned to the house, he entered the shrubbery. He circled the gazebo and came up behind it, hidden from view by the broad trunk of a chestnut while close enough to hear what was said. He feared he was too late to glean much. They had stamped out their cigars and were preparing to depart.

“Lavalette’s wife might know more than we think,” Fraughton said. “She could be persuaded to reveal it.”

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