Page 36 of A Duchess of Mystery (The Mismatched Lovers #3)

But he was not destined to be allowed to travel far down the lanes of nostalgia.

From up ahead came the sound of voices, the low rumble of a man’s, and the higher cadence of a woman, her tone demanding.

He glanced about himself, anxious not to be found alone down here.

Who knew what the consequences might be?

To his left, along a short path, lay the old summerhouse.

The moonlight glinting across its windows caught his eye.

The voices drew closer. With nowhere else to go, Richard retreated down the path, but didn’t go into the summerhouse.

Instead, he edged around behind it to where a small shed, overgrown with creepers, had used to nestle.

It had been used by the gardeners for their tools as well as a spot to eat their meals while on duty, and he and Dora had spent many a happy hour chattering to them in there as children.

It was still there, a little more dilapidated, but in place. He didn’t go inside, but retreated into the shadows behind it, the summerhouse on his left, the shed on his right.

Just in time. The door of the summerhouse opened, and whomever he’d heard talking went inside. As it was summer, all the higher windows were propped open, and their voices carried to him with clarity. He couldn’t help but overhear them.

“You’re certain no one is about?” came the man’s voice, a little rough around the edges. Not one he recognized. Well, it wouldn’t be, unless it was Atkins, as everybody here tonight was new to him. And it wasn’t the measured, polite tones of his butler.

“Quite certain,” snapped the woman. Something about her voice sounded familiar.

It was terse and sharp, but nevertheless, he’d heard it before somewhere.

Whoever it was, though, it was neither Isabella nor Dora, both of whom he would have recognized in a heartbeat.

That was a relief. At least he wasn’t going to have to eavesdrop on a tryst involving either of them.

That would have been far too embarrassing.

The man grunted. “I don’t like this sneaking about.” He was not a gentleman, that was certain. So he couldn’t be a guest, could he? Richard had met everyone present, and none of the men had struck him as not being gentlemen.

“You think I do? I might be missed at any moment. I’ve taken a risk to come out here to meet you.”

The man snorted. “Excuse me, your ladyship, but if I’m caught in the gardens someone is bound to ask questions.

I’m supposed to’ve stayed with the carriage.

That driver’s going to notice if I’m gone long.

” Was this a lady on an assignation with one of the male servants?

A groom or footman perhaps? If only he could see through the back summerhouse wall.

The woman sighed. “You worry too much. What did you find out?”

Find out? This didn’t sound like an assignation any longer. At least not one that involved a couple of illicit lovers.

Another grunt from the man. “Almost everyone’s tight as a clam. So far, no one in the servants’ hall’s been ready to talk. I couldn’t press anyone much. I didn’t want to make them suspicious.”

What? Someone, a servant of one of his guests, had been in the servants’ hall asking questions of his staff? About what, he didn’t have to wonder. But was this idle curiosity or something more?

“That’s not good enough. What am I paying you for?”

“I know, I know. No need to get up on your high horse. You know I’m the best, and I’ll get the information for you somehow.

Just not tonight. If it’s there, I’ll find it.

You can be sure of that. There just might be one servant I can get to talk.

To say what you want to hear. Seemed as if they had a grudge they might want to act on. ”

“The longer I have to wait, the more likely it is she’ll get away with it. You know that. She’s got away with it this long. It has to stop. You have to get that servant to talk.”

Richard caught his breath. Not just idle curiosity at all. “She” had to be Isabella. This was someone out to find evidence to condemn her. Someone convinced she had murdered her husband. But whom? A woman. A woman who was paying someone else to do her dirty work.

“I can’t force people to talk.” The man sounded annoyed. “They needs persuading.”

“Pay them then.” Her voice hissed out, heavy with venom.

This was a woman on a mission. A mission to topple Isabella.

“I have plenty of money for that. You’d be surprised what people are ready to say if you grease the wheels of their memories.

I’ll supply you with the necessary. And you will return and continue your enquiries.

Make promises to the servant you’ve found.

Offer them more than they could ever earn. ”

Another grunt. “Very well, your ladyship. If that’s what you want.”

“And if they still won’t say what you want them to say, offer them more money until they do.

You know what I want to hear. I’ll see that smug bitch hanged and damned in hell if it’s the last thing I do.

She killed my Marcus and she’ll face justice for what she did, or I’ll die trying. Whatever it takes, do it.”

“Yes, milady.”

“Now go. Get back to the carriage before you’re missed. We can’t be seen together.”

The door of the summerhouse opened and closed, but the grass muffled whatever footsteps there were and Richard couldn’t be sure if both of them had left or not.

Not wanting to run into the mysterious woman, he remained where he was another ten minutes, mulling over what he’d heard.

Whoever was paying this man wasn’t only after proper evidence.

They were already convinced of Isabella’s guilt, and it sounded as if they weren’t averse to paying for someone to give false witness.

It was a good thing he’d waited, because, just as he was thinking of moving, he heard the door of the summerhouse a second time.

Peering around the corner he spotted the blur of a figure hastening up the path back towards the house.

Impossible to tell who it was at this distance, although the rustle of skirts told him it was the woman.

He gave her another ten minutes just to be on the safe side, put his coat back on as he was by now feeling chilly, and started back up the path to the house.

Entering through the French doors from the terrace, he found everything in the ballroom was much as he’d left it, with the dancing still going on.

None of the women he could see showed any hint of having been the woman he’d overheard in the summerhouse.

All of them were either involved in the present dance, cheeks pink with the effort, or clustered in small groups, chattering together.

No one had the cloak of guilt about them.

But she’d come this way. She was not a servant but a guest. So she had to be here.

“Richard, where have you been?” He almost jumped out of his skin.

Isabella was standing beside him. “I was looking for you as I’ve been saving a dance for you all night.

I was just about to give in and let Lord William Cholmondeley have it, when I saw you return from the terrace.

Is that where you’ve been hiding?” She batted her long lashes at him, which in her was a far more alluring prospect than when Lady Dangerfield had done it.

Richard couldn’t help but smile. “I was overcome by the heat and needed some fresh air. I’ve been here all night, doing my duty, as I saw you were with all our male guests.”

“Oh, those gentlemen who were pressing me for favors?” She laughed.

“It’s always that way for me. I find myself the center of attention without ever having to do anything.

” She sounded complacent, but was she, or was it all an act?

Perhaps. Her voice held that brittleness again.

Was one of the men here her lover? Somehow, he doubted it.

She didn’t have the air about her of a woman with a secret lover.

Richard might never have been in love himself, but he’d seen enough of his fellow officers when they’d been infatuated to recognize a lack of infatuation in her.

“You said you’d saved me a dance?”

She nodded. “The very next one. Shall we?” The orchestra were striking up again.

Richard looked down into her face. Was it the face of a murderer?

Could a murderer be that beautiful, that ingenuous, that fragile?

For fragile he saw she was. Beneath her outer shell of incorrigible flirt and devil-may-care duchess, there lurked a frightened little girl.

More frightened even than Dora. He took her proffered hand.

“I would be honored to dance with you, Isabella.”

And he spun her out onto the dance floor.