Watching Sara walk out of his study had been difficult. He’d fought against the urge to call her back, even knowing that was the wrong thing to do. If she complied, then she was not leaving the study for the rest of the night, and he would do far more than kiss her.
But he let her go because he had to. Because his mother’s remarks still stung. He had no business being alone with her in his study, and yet he could no more have denied her access than he could have cut off his right arm.
There were so few people he could speak candidly to that he found he craved her presence and her quick mind. Among other things. But those other things he would not think of.
Instead of going up to his room, as he should have done, he collapsed back into the settee, which was warm from her body, and finished off the last of the whiskey. The servants found him the next morning passed out, still dressed, his head pounding.
Montgomery arrived a little while later, took one look at Ross, and smirked. “Too far into the bottle last night?” he asked.
Ross grunted. He sat on the edge of the settee, the empty bottle at his feet, the glass next to it tipped on its side, and ran a hand through his hair. “What news do you bring today?” he asked with a thick, furry tongue.
Montgomery looked at him for a moment, the smile turning into a frown. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m suffering from too much drink. What do you think is wrong?”
Montgomery’s gaze went to the tipped-over bottle and glass, then centered on something else on the carpet. Ross looked down and wanted to groan. There were three hairpins hidden almost under the settee. Leave it to the investigator to find them. Ross swept them up and deposited them in his trouser pocket. “What did you learn?” he asked a bit more harshly than he intended.
“Please tell me those weren’t Lady Sara’s.”
Ross pressed his lips together, and Montgomery swore. “Ross.”
“I don’t need your opinion, too. My mother was quite clear on what I should and shouldn’t be doing.”
“Your mother doesn’t know that Lady Sara has come to you for protection. This isn’t wise.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Ross grimaced when his voice rose. “I’m well aware.”
“Should I remove her from your protection and put her somewhere else?”
“Try it,” Ross nearly growled.
Montgomery’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t trifle with her feelings.”
Everyone was worried about Sara’s feelings, but no one gave a damn that he might have feelings as well.
“What did you learn?” Ross asked through clenched teeth.
Montgomery stared at him for a few more moments before turning his attention to the matter at hand—which was not Ross’s love life or lack thereof. “Through some questioning of your servants and a talk with our little urchin friend Thomas, I discovered who delivered the letter to your home.”
“And?” Ross perked up. Finally, a lead.
“And I found him dead. Or rather a fisherman found him floating in the Thames.”
Ross cursed, feeling sick from a combination of too much alcohol and the fact that every time they got a lead, it petered out to nothing. Now a person was dead. This was becoming more and more dangerous, and if Montgomery thought Ross would allow him to take Sara away, then he would have a fight on his hands. Sara belonged here, where he could watch out for her.
“There has been no other letter?” Montgomery asked.
“Not yet, but I have every faith there will be. He’s not done with us yet.”
“I concur.”
Ross related the events of yesterday morning and the trip to the nethersken. Montgomery had settled into the chair Ross usually sat in before he became enamored of the settee, and listened intently.
“He goes by the name of Charlie,” Montgomery said thoughtfully.
“At least when he’s at the nethersken he does.”
It was true that you couldn’t trust any information in a nethersken. People used fake names there all the time and for various reasons, the most common being that they were hiding from someone.
“Interesting that he disappeared for two years and has now returned,” Montgomery said.
“I thought so, too. Mrs. Kettles said he claimed he was on a grand tour.”
“A grand tour would indicate that he is from a well-off family. Why float in and out of a nethersken if that is the case? It doesn’t make sense.”
“He was probably lying.”
They fell silent, each lost in his thoughts, shifting around the pieces of the puzzle.
“We’re no closer to an answer than we were two days ago,” Ross said in disgust. He stood and stretched. His stomach churned and he grimaced. “I’ll try to find Thomas and tell him not to take any jobs that require him to deliver a message to my house. It seems that is a deadly occupation.”
Montgomery pushed himself up from the chair. “I have meetings for most of the day. I’ll see if I can discover whether there were similar murders on the continent. If this man truly was on his grand tour, he could have killed again in another country. It would be almost impossible to link him to the murders if one wasn’t looking for a link.”
The two men separated, Montgomery to his duties and Ross to his, which was first to take a bath. Then he was off to the palace to see if he could meet with the queen. There was still the matter of India to discuss and his plea to return posthaste. Returning seemed less and less important now that Sara needed him. Nevertheless, he had to meet with Her Majesty.
His mother cornered him just as he was leaving the house. He dearly wanted to slide out the door and ignore her, but she would find him some other time and he would have to pay for that slight as well as whatever else she wanted to say to him.
“Will you return by this evening?” She looked far too innocent for his peace of mind.
“Why?”
Her gaze shifted and she refused to look at him, which caused his already protesting stomach to cramp. “Mother.”
“I have accepted an invitation to the Plainfield ball. For all three of us. I thought it would be good for Sara to attend a few balls while she is in town.”
It was one thing for Elizabeth to drag Sara around to balls and teas against her will—and he had no doubt it would be against her will—but to accept an invitation on his behalf was beyond the pale.
“I don’t attend balls.” The thought of all those women circling him, wanting their daughters to be his duchess, or wanting him for themselves, made his skin crawl. He was entirely disgusted and finished with that life and had hoped to avoid it. However, he was pragmatic and knew that in order to find a wife, he would have to reenter society. Just not now. Now wasn’t a good time.
The duchess raised her chin. “Well, it’s high time you did.”
“That is not up to you, Mother.”
“Nevetheless, Lord and Lady Plainfield are expecting you. You cannot let them down.”
“I haven’t attended a ball in over two years.” She was well aware of that and knew precisely what she was doing. It seemed the Duke of Rossmoyne was back in circulation—much to his disgust. “What time do I need to be back?” he bit out. His only consolation was that Sara was going, against her wishes, too, most likely. He could spend time with her, and he could be there to protect her if need be.
His mother’s smile was bright, not with victory but with excitement. “No later than ten o’clock.” She stood on her toes and bussed his cheek with a motherly kiss. “Thank you, Gabriel.”
Ross found Thomas loitering outside the Langham, sizing people up as they passed him. His blackened eye had taken on a yellowish cast and was no longer swollen.
“Good day, guv.” He smiled impishly at Ross.
“Good day, Thomas.”
Thomas peered behind Ross. “Where’s the lady?”
“I needed to speak to you alone.”
Sara need not know that someone was dead at the hands of the letter writer. Of course, they didn’t know that for certain; whoever had delivered the missive had no doubt been involved in other nefarious duties, but Ross was taking no chances.
“If someone approaches you and asks you to deliver a letter to Lady Sara at my home, I want you to refuse.”
Thomas nodded solemnly.
“No matter how much they say they will pay you.”
Thomas frowned, clearly not liking the idea of giving up some blunt.
“Promise me, Thomas.”
“Why?”
He should have known the lad would not blindly follow his commands. What was it with the people in his life suddenly not listening to him? “Because it’s dangerous. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“How much blunt he be offerin’?”
“I don’t know, but I will double it if you don’t accept the job.”
Thomas’s eyes went wide. “Yes, sir, guv.”
“And keep your eyes open. We’re still looking for our man.”
Thomas saluted him. “Yes, sir.” He scampered off and fell in step behind a finely dressed lady who was about to have her dangling reticule snipped from her arm.
Ross knew he should stop Thomas, but he didn’t. Not that stealing was right, but he knew that Thomas’s family lived on what he brought home.
Much to his disgust, but not at all surprisingly, Queen Victoria was not willing to see him today. He was told this after cooling his heels for a few hours. Frustrated, he left the palace and spent the rest of the day at his club, reading the papers and talking to friends. He kept an ear to the ground for word of any young noble who had just returned from a grand tour. It was a long shot. Surely someone of the nobility had not murdered Meredith. And yet he found he couldn’t dismiss this Charlie’s claim too easily, so he listened and watched and asked discreet questions. At least he hoped they were discreet questions. It had been many years since his own grand tour, and it would be odd to take too much interest in someone else’s at this point, but he tried.
He ate a light meal with Lord Hastings and another good friend, Lord Newsom. It had been a while since Ross had spent time in White’s. He’d been in India for most of the past year, and before that had been too soon after Meredith’s death. He discovered that he missed the gentlemanly atmosphere and told himself that he needed to come more often.
He was heading out the door when, on a whim, he stopped and did something he hadn’t done in far too long. Something well overdue.