The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(85)
“Men are forgiven their scandals,” Maggie gently reminded. “You know that. It’s much different for women. And he will come to resent me for it.”
“Do not underestimate yourself or Simon. And I would throw Colton’s considerable weight behind the two of you as well. We would be a formidable force, all of us together.”
Not when the world discovers Lemarc’s true identity, Maggie thought. That piece of news went way beyond an average scandal. If the blackmailer had his way, Lemarc would be unmasked and sent to prison for a long time. And even if this particular threat passed, there would forever be another one, someone else trying to ruin Lemarc. How could she allow Simon—as well as her friends—to be embroiled in her dramas time and time again? Better to leave while she still could.
Nevertheless, she did not want to argue with the duchess. “Let us speak of more interesting topics. You’ve never told me about meeting Colton in Venice. Tell me how you were able to get the Depraved Duke to fall in love with you.”
Chapter Twenty
“No sign of him, my lord,” Hollister said, striding into Simon’s study after being announced.
Simon grit his teeth in frustration as Colton said, “It’s as we expected. He’s gone into hiding.”
“Probably watched us chasing the delivery boy this afternoon and realized Sir James would be caught,” Quint noted.
They had split up after dealing with Sir James in order to find Cranford. Hollister and Colton had taken the more disreputable locations Cranford had been known to frequent, while Quint and Simon had searched the clubs and West End haunts. It was after midnight, however, and failure hung over them like a dark cloud.
“Unless he’s still in Paris,” Colton said. “There’s no way to know for sure. I’ve been hunting him for weeks. If he were in London, I would have smelled a whiff of him by now.”
“Not necessarily,” Quint said, lowering his cup and saucer to the table. “He could be languishing in an opium den for all we know.”
“And still managing to pull Sir James’s strings? No, I do not believe so.” Simon stood up to stretch his legs, his mind turning over to find a solution. “What do we do now?” he asked no one in particular.
The room remained silent until Quint said, “Tell me again what Cranford said to Maggie in Paris?”
Simon rubbed his temples and tried to remember all Maggie had told him. It had taken some persuasion to get the full story from her several days after the fact. “She asked him to reveal himself and he refused, telling her he would do so in good time. He admitted he knew her to be Lemarc, and also told her that I would use her.”
“I stand by my hypothesis that this is personal about you, Winchester,” Quint said. “And those remarks only confirm it. What does Cranford have against you?”
Simon shrugged. He never had understood it himself.
“Nothing from school or university that I recall,” Colton said. “Cranford was a few years older than us and I hardly remember him.”
“That day, at Brooks’s, you looked ready to throttle Cranford,” Quint said to Simon. “What did he say to make you so angry?”
Simon had mostly forgotten that conversation. “He warned me away from Maggie—veiled as friendly concern, of course—and poked fun at Sir James.” At the sideboard, he poured a fresh glass of claret.
“What doesn’t fit is the attack on the girl at Madame Hartley’s,” Quint said. “Cranford is a thief and a liar. A swindler. He doesn’t strike me as a murderer.”
“He did attack Maggie during her debut,” Simon pointed out. “Made advances and got rough when she rebuffed him.”
“I want to talk to Maggie,” Quint said, coming to his feet. “Perhaps she can recall something more about what Cranford said on the balcony.”
Though the hour was late, Maggie found herself strangely awake when the duchess departed. The guard remained at the front door, and the idea that she was a prisoner in her own home made her edgy and restless. She decided to return to her studio.
After dismissing Tilda, she climbed the stairs to her haven, a lantern in hand to light her way. The studio dark, she took a moment to light several lamps around the room. When she finished, a shadow in the corner caught her eye. Maggie turned and strained to see if something lurked there.
Just as she took a step closer to investigate, a form emerged from the blackness. She froze in horror as the light slowly revealed Lord Cranford’s face.
His expression was chilling, with dark eyes glittering in her direction. Maggie bit back a gasp. “Wh-what are you doing here?” she choked while edging away.
“Am I not invited? I thought this was one of your infamous parties.”
“You are never invited here for any reason.” She flicked a glance toward the only door. Unfortunately he stood closer to it.
“Thinking of running?” He shook his head. “You’ll never make it in time. Though I would enjoy subduing you.”
A shiver flew down her spine. She thought of Cora, the girl from Madame Hartley’s that had nearly been killed. Was Cranford capable of such brutality? He had been rough that night in the Lockheed gardens, but he hadn’t hit or injured her. Still, the possibility of violence kept her from lunging for the door.