The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(18)

As she recovered her confidence and her spirits the niggling awareness began to grow that she did desire something more, that she was a healthy young woman and not naturally inclined to celibacy. Close contact with a man as virile and attractive as Jared Hunt did nothing to soothe those feelings but neither was she tempted to do anything indiscreet. Augustus had rescued her from a bad situation, she had made her marriage vows intending to keep them and she owed him her absolute loyalty.

He loved to see her dressed up and wearing the jewels he had lavished on her, bless him, and she fully intended to do him proud tonight and take their minds off the looming menace of her unknown attacker.



‘Jared, how nice to see you.’ Her Grace the Duchess of Calderbrook uncurled herself from the sofa in one corner of her husband’s bedchamber as Jared tapped on the door and let himself in. He submitted to a kiss on the cheek and an inspection –‘Are you feeding properly?’ – and wondered at the transformation time had made in Sophie’s attitude towards him.

At first she had thought him sinister and unlikeable and had not troubled too hard to hide the fact, but fighting for her husband’s life together the night he had been poisoned had marked a turning point and now she treated Jared like a brother.

‘I was hoping for a word with Cal.’ He settled beside her on the sofa.

‘He and Flynn are debating a waistcoat,’ she said with a grimace and a jerk of her head towards the dressing room door. It was just ajar and the soft Irish tones of Michael Flynn the Duke’s valet could be heard raised in plaintive lament.

‘…more than my professional pride will allow.’

Cal’s deeper rumble was less audible until the door opened and he stalked out. ‘I like it and that’s that. Besides, it was expensive.’

Michael followed him out holding a silk waistcoat in shades of deep purple and plum between thumb and forefinger. ‘The cost is no matter. Expensive it might be, but it looks as though you’re a bishop on his way to an orgy,’ he protested. ‘Hunt – look, tell Cal this is hopeless.’ Almost seven years of racketing around the world together, often guarding each others’ backs, had developed a closeness between the three of them that ignored rank.

‘It looks perfectly all right to me,’ Jared said. ‘It is purple – so what is wrong with that?’

‘You never wear anything but black,’ Flynn said bitterly. ‘What would you know?’

‘There is no need to jump down my throat,’ Jared said mildly. ‘I bow to your exquisite taste, but don’t ask me to cross Cal this evening. I have come to ask him a favour. I have one for you too, come to that.’

‘I will ring for tea,’ Sophie said, leaning over to tug at the bell pull. ‘I sense a story.’

Jared trusted these three people as he did himself and he respected their intelligence too. When they were settled with tea cups and jam tartlets he said, ‘Firstly I need the entré to Lady Fulborne’s ball this evening. I assume you are attending?’

‘We are. And I am wearing that waistcoat,’ Cal said, ignoring his valet’s snort. ‘Do you want to go alone, with someone else, or with us?’

‘With you, if you do not mind.’

‘That is no problem. I’ll send a note round to Amanda Fulborne,’ Sophie said. ‘I will tell her we have an unexpected guest and may I bring him? She won’t mind, she’s the most easy-going creature and another gentleman is always welcome.’ She got up, waving the men back into their seats, and perched at Cal’s desk in the corner to write. ‘What is after the firstly?’

‘This.’ Jared tossed the valise he had stuffed his rumpled evening suit into across to Flynn. ‘Can you rescue that for this evening?’

‘Of course.’ Flynn tipped it out onto the bed and clicked his tongue at the crumpled heap of black fabric. ‘I love a challenge. When are you going to get yourself a valet?’

‘Soon. I need a gentleman’s gentleman, I suppose. Someone to look after the apartment as well as my clothes, cook meals, supervise the cleaning. Going to the agency is high on my list of things to do.’

‘Anything else on the list of things you need from us?’ Cal asked. ‘You aren’t having Flynn, by the way.’

The valet grinned and batted his eyelashes stagily at Jared who, used to him, ignored the teasing.

‘I do not want him, thank you very much. But I need you to keep your ears peeled for anything you might hear about Lady Northam.’

‘The old Viscount’s young wife? A Spring and Winter match that one. What’s the problem? Is he afraid she’s misbehaving with some virile young stud?’

‘He is afraid someone is trying to kill her,’ Jared said.

‘Ah. Not so amusing then. How are you involved?’

‘Lord Northam has engaged me to find out who is behind it. This is strictly between us, of course.’ The others nodded.

Sophie held up a hand. ‘Just a moment while I send this. Ring the bell will you, Jared?’ A footman came and was despatched with the message and Sophie returned to curl up on the sofa. ‘Tell all.’

Jared described the incidents and attacks and the apparent lack of motive. ‘Does anything strike you?’

‘That is a very peculiar murderer,’ Cal observed.