Page 19

I t was late by the time Will returned to the Gilford townhouse, and despite the excitement earlier, he fell into a hard, dreamless sleep.

He’d asked his valet to awaken him at a far earlier hour than he’d ever have dreamed of during his tenure in Paris. But instead of being groggy, he was alert and eager to start the day. Whether this unusual brightness had anything to do with the fact that he had promised to call on Lucy this morning was not a question he wished to examine too closely at the moment.

Even so, he dressed with special care, and when he rapped on the door of the Penhallows’ house in Grosvenor Square a short while later, he was feeling a jolt of excitement at the prospect of seeing her again.

When he was escorted to the Penhallow drawing room, he was greeted not by the sight of the lovely Miss Lucy Penhallow waiting patiently for him.

Well, Lucy was there, of course. But she wasn’t alone.

From the leather chair Will had sat in only days before, the Earl of Cheswick rose and bowed.

“My lord, I’m so glad you’re here,” Lucy said, looking beautiful in a rose-colored muslin morning gown, with her hair arranged in a new style that framed her delicate features in such a way that made his hands itch to replace those tendrils with his hands. “The earl has just been telling me something he forgot to mention in the hubbub last evening.”

Remembering his manners, Will stepped forward and bowed over Lucy’s hand, holding a little longer than dictated by propriety. And rather than simply allowing his mouth to hover in the air over her ungloved hand, he placed a swift but firm kiss on the back of it.

He must have lingered there with her hand in his for longer than he’d thought because he heard Cheswick cough from somewhere over Will’s left shoulder.

Reluctantly, he let Lucy go and gave the other man a brief bow. “Cheswick. What are you doing here?”

Will heard Lucy’s sharp intake of breath, but his eyes remained on the earl, who only laughed.

“Lower your weapons, Gilford,” the chestnut-haired man, whom even Will had to admit was handsome as the devil himself, sounded placating but his eyes were laughing. “I have no intention of stealing a march on your pursuit of Miss Penhallow.”

“His pursuit?” Lucy echoed in astonishment as a blush rose to her already rosy cheeks. “My lord, behave yourself.”

Whether the chiding was intended for the viscount or the earl, Will wasn’t sure. It would do him no great favors in his courtship of Lucy to call more attention to his absurd jealousy, however, so he didn’t argue.

Instead, he took a seat on the settee beside Lucy and asked, “What was it you were saying about Cheswick forgetting to tell us something last night?”

Looking grateful to move on to a less volatile topic, Lucy gestured to the earl, who still looked amused, damn him.

“Perhaps you’d better be the one to tell, my lord,” she said to Cheswick with a smile. “You are, after all, the one to whom Fleetwood confessed his plan.”

His patrician features turning serious, Cheswick nodded. “As I was telling Miss Penhallow, in his remorse over the role he’d played in the abduction of Miss Blackwood, Fleetwood told me more of what Hamilton had planned for the lady. It would seem that the American was acquainted with Madame Celestina and intended to have the seer pretend to convey a message to Miss Blackwood from her late mother. The message, of course, would be that her mother wished for Vera to marry no man other than Mr. Hamilton.”

Will swore, and Lucy raised a hand to her mouth in horror. Thinking of how much he would have given for one last conversation with his late father, Will was filled with disgust for the kind of man who would stoop to such underhanded schemes. No matter how much Hamilton wished to marry Miss Blackwood, this was beyond the pale.

“However much you might have liked this man during your trip to America, my lord,” Lucy said to Cheswick, “I hope that now you recognize that he is horrible.”

“Without question, Miss Penhallow,” the earl said with a nod. “I should have known better than to trust a fellow on so short an acquaintance, but I was clearly naive. However much Hamilton might need the funds that Miss Blackwood would bring to him through marriage, he has gone about the matter in the worst way.”

Will, who felt that the mention of Hamilton needing Vera’s dowry hit a little too close to his own situation, still felt compelled to ask, “What do you know of Hamilton’s finances?”

“I didn’t wish to wait for a reply to my letter to my aunt,” the earl said tightly, “so I spoke to another friend who just arrived from Philadelphia—one I would trust with my life—and he said that Hamilton Railroad Company has lost much of its value thanks to a sell-off of its stock. He also said that in the United States the Hamilton name is tarnished now. So, it would seem that a marriage on this side of the Atlantic is his only hope.”

“Did you learn from Sir Charles Fleetwood whether or not Mr. Hamilton was able to arrange this sham séance?” Lucy asked, a little line of worry settling into the area between her brows.

Will wanted to know the answer to this question as well. If the séance had happened, then Madame Celestina might be able to tell them how the event had unfolded. If it hadn’t, the medium might still have useful information about Hamilton.

“Fleetwood spoke as if the encounter between the two women was still something that had to be arranged,” said the earl with a frown. “He spoke very familiarly about the spiritualist. Referred to her by her first name, and slipped up a couple of times by calling her what I suspect is her actual given name: Christina.”

Rising to his feet, the earl waited for Lucy and Gilford to do the same before bowing over Lucy’s hand. “I thank you for seeing me, Miss Penhallow. Knowing how much you worry for your friend, I thought you needed the information about Madame Celestina at once.”

To Will’s annoyance, the other man held on to Lucy’s hand for longer than necessary, and though he knew that he himself had done the same thing earlier, he was nevertheless glad when Cheswick stepped away. Though the earl’s smirk told him just how poorly he’d hidden his jealousy.

For her part, Lucy seemed unfazed by the byplay between the two men. “I am grateful to you for bringing the news,” she said as she escorted Cheswick to the door of the drawing room. “And so pleased to learn your wound wasn’t as bad as we at first thought.”

Bidding Lucy and Gilford a good day, the Earl of Cheswick slipped out the door of the drawing room, closing it behind him.

Since the door had been ajar when Will arrived, he was reluctantly grateful to the other man for closing it. Perhaps Cheswick wasn’t so bad after all.

Not doing anything to open the door herself, Lucy instead turned her back to it and said with excitement, “We must speak to this Madame Celestina at once. She might hold the key to where we might find Vera.”

“Do you even know where to find her?” Will asked, feeling a little like a whirlwind had just blown through the room.

“Never mind that,” she said, waving away his concern as she turned around and—much to his disappointment—opened the drawing room door and gestured for him to follow. “We must go speak to my cousin. I want to know whether the police have apprehended Sir Charles yet.”

“Surely you can just send him a no—”

But before he could get the words out, Lucy threw up her hands impatiently. “Of course I could send him a note, but I need to see him in person in his office.”

“Why?” he asked with suspicion. After all, the last time he’d blindly followed her, a man had been shot.

As if she were trying desperately to cling to her patience, Lucy said slowly, “Because there is a file there that I wish to look at that might shed some light on Madame Celestina. I should like to read it again before we confront her.”

Considering the matter, Will nodded and docilely followed her out the door.