Into The Hall Of Vice. Anabelle Bryant

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ his invitation was impetuous, Gemma gathered her winnings from the ivory damask tablecloth to deposit neatly inside her reticule. ‘Nary beyond a moment, milord. I’m on a winning streak.’

      ‘I will endeavour to abide by your rules if for once you will address me as James.’

      ‘Good heavens, he’s persistent,’ Lady Bendolin grumbled in an undertone, the older woman visibly affronted. ‘You best go with him so we can resume the game upon your return.’ She gestured in the general direction of the hallway. ‘I feel parched. Where is the footman with refreshments?’

      Gemma stood and hurried around the table to accept Winton’s elbow and follow him onto the terrace towards the rear gardens. He did not pause until they’d travelled a good distance over the slates, away from the house, where any shared conversation would not be overheard. She glanced to her right, aware he’d also advanced sufficient distance so any objection would go unnoticed.

      A few paces from where she’d stopped, Winton stood with his eyes on the inky sky. Outlined in moonlight, his profile depicted an attractive gentleman, but what did she truly know of his character? The extent of his past history with her father was unknown to her. Winton turned then, as if he’d caught her observation and divined her guarded scepticism.

      ‘Why are you here, lovely Gemma?’ His voice dropped low and silky with the question.

      Did he speak in the broader sense or did he refer to their present situation? She could not know. ‘I did not give you leave to use my given name.’ She achieved a tart tone.

      ‘Let’s not bother with the inconvenient rules of polite society when we are here in the garden, just the two of us. His Grace isn’t present to disapprove.’

      ‘I don’t give a fig about my brother’s opinion.’ She took a step closer. Perhaps she could read Winton better if she looked him straight in the eye. She wasn’t afraid to do so. What could he possibly want?

      ‘Silly girl, of course you do. He’s a duke, the most distinguished and highest-ranking peer in England aside from the Prince Regent, and my reach does not extend to Prinny. Besides, most convenient of all, Kent is your older brother and in charge now.’

      Winton chuckled in a dismissive masculine manner that caused her fingers to curl into fists. She swallowed against immediate emotion, her father gone only two years and her heart still tender from the unexpected tragedy.

      ‘This leads me to my original question of your faithful attendance here at this mind-numbing, stodgy little card party, when you surely possess more spirit. What motivates you to return week after week when you could be dancing at a soiree or blushing in a ballroom corner with an attentive suitor? You are a diamond of the first water, a rare bloom for some fortunate gentleman to pluck.’

      Her heart pounded with a beat of panic as he stepped closer. She had no desire to be plucked. At least not at the moment, and never would it be Lord Winton who accomplished the plucking. ‘I could ask you the same.’

      ‘I’m flattered by your high opinion.’

      She wrinkled her nose at his vainglorious misinterpretation but remained silent. Only two paces separated them now. He searched her expression and she purposely kept it bland. The stone wall at his back had an unlatched wrought-iron gate where she could escape if need be, but she doubted Winton would exercise poor judgement. By his own admission, her brother was a powerful man and she knew Winton curried his favour.

      ‘I wonder, lovely Gemma,’ he gentled his tone and advanced a step, ‘if His Grace would be interested to learn you attend this gathering to ferret out information concerning your father’s untimely death.’

      Caught by surprise, she inhaled a sharp breath, though she recovered soon after. ‘Nonsense, and I take offence at the mention of my dear father’s passing.’ Her voice quivered with emotion.

      ‘Come now. You don’t believe me obtuse.’ He shook his head in the negative. ‘I’ve overheard your discreet enquiries and noticed several endearing attempts to steer conversation in an interesting, though particular, direction. I only mention it so I may be of service.’

      He offered her a half-smile that brought to mind a wolf who invited the sheep to join him for dinner. Something was amiss. Had Winton watched her weekly? Every word, each suggestion? Whenever she’d grown uncomfortable with the weight of his stare, she’d assumed it was his lascivious nature and nothing more. How much did he know and could he be trusted? Desperate for any scrap of information, there could be something learned if she heard him out, but would he in turn report her activity to Kent? Above all things, her brother could never know the true reason she attended Loo like it was religion class. He’d already caged her in under the guise of protection. What horrid Fate would life become if Kent lost trust in her altogether?

      ‘What do you want?’ She couldn’t be more direct, anxious to return indoors where happenings proved more predictable.

      ‘Straight to the point.’ He slanted her an appreciative glance. ‘All I wish is the chance to know you better. To spend time in your company.’

      Befriend my brother, no doubt. Advance your social standing. Align your ambitions. Increase your reputation. But she didn’t voice these plentiful conclusions and instead set her lips in a firm line to keep the accusations captive.

      ‘Oh, I know the wheels are spinning inside your lovely brain, but the longer we stay outside, the more opportunity we offer those indoors to speculate about our absence and conjure unsavoury gossip. Let’s keep this simple. I’ll kindly tell you something I’ve learned of that evening in exchange for a kiss.’

      He couldn’t have surprised her more had he doused her with a bucket of cold water, his proposition the last thing she’d expected, and her expression must have revealed the shock.

      ‘Don’t look surprised. Surely you own a pier glass, Gemma. You are a fair-haired beauty beyond compare. I find, despite my best efforts, you occupy my thoughts.’

      His voice had gentled considerably; still, better sense took hold, warning his flattery could only be intended as subterfuge in service of a greater goal.

      ‘How do I know you will tell me the truth? You offer me a bit of information that I have no way of pursuing until after I grant your request. I’m not so blinded by your flummery that I would make a bargain with the devil.’ She held his gaze with the question, her chin notched higher.

      He chuckled this time, long and thoroughly, as if bemused at how easily she’d turned the tables. ‘Very well then.’ He eyed the house to secure no one watched from a window or ventured outside. ‘I will extend you a boon, this first bit of information gratis. When you discover I tell the truth, be prepared to remit payment next Friday and do wear the pink gown with the white embroidery. It brings out the green in your eyes like a right English rose.’ He stepped towards the slate path, his back turned for less than a moment. ‘Your father visited Miss Devonshire in her home on the corner of Edith Avenue in Charing Cross the night of his death.’ He nodded, assured and self-congratulatory, as if he wished to lock the information into her brain. ‘I will see you next Friday night.’ Then he left and she stared after him, bewildered by the rapid turn of events, intrigued by the first clue she’d gleaned concerning her father’s unnatural departure, and anxious to devise some way to learn more.

Chapter Two

      Cole locked Charlatan’s stall, housed СКАЧАТЬ