Confessions at Midnight (9 page)

Sarah nodded. "Ah, at Matthew's house party. 'Tis a shame he's so set against marriage. He's a very fine man."

Carolyn's brows shot up. She'd always considered Sarah an excellent judge of character. And Lord Surbrooke was nothing more than a shallow, albeit charming, rake. Just a handsome exterior covering a pleasure-seeking shell. "You think so?"

Sarah's vigorous nod sent her spectacles sliding down her nose. "Oh, yes. He's been Matthew's closest friend for years. From everything Matthew's told me, Lord Surbrooke is loyal and honorable and very kind." She waggled her brows at Carolyn. "And he certainly isn't difficult to look at."

"No, he certainly isn't," she concurred, for to do anything else would have sparked Sarah's lively curiosity. She bit her tongue to ruthlessly squelch the barrage of questions about him that begged to be asked. She knew everything she had to-that he wanted to bed her-and she wasn't going to fall in with his tempting, er, unacceptable plan.

"Based on the way Lord Surbrooke is smiling and laughing, he and Julianne obviously aren't discussing the topic on everyone else's lips."

Lips… yes, his lips… those perfect lips. That had kissed her so… perfectly. His lips… his lips… damnation, she'd once again lost the thread of the conversation. "I beg your pardon?"

Sarah shot her an odd look. "They don't appear to be discussing the murder."

"No." What
were
they discussing? She glanced across the room once more. Humph. Surely a chat about the weather wouldn't cause that twinkle in Lord Surbrooke's eyes. And what was this? He was leaning forward, as if to whisper something in Julianne's ear.

At that precise moment Mrs. Amunsbury, Lady Walsh, and Lady Balsam approached, blocking her view. "Heavens, you both look so serious," said Lady Walsh, her curious gaze bouncing between Carolyn and Sarah. She lowered her voice and asked, "Are you discussing the murder? Why, it's nothing short of a public outcry. Everyone is outraged and frightened for their safety."

Before either Carolyn or Sarah could answer, Mrs. Amunsbury, quizzing glass raised, said, "They weren't the discussing the murder. Anyone can see they're discussing the very handsome Lord Surbrooke."

"Yes," agreed Lady Balsam, "who is now leading Lady Julianne onto the dance floor."

Carolyn's gaze flew across the room. Lord Surbrooke and Julianne, both of them smiling, approached the parquet dance floor. Where he would hold her in his strong arms. And gaze at her with his beautiful blue eyes. And Julianne would experience the heady pleasure of whirling around the room with him. Of his attention fixed upon her. Know the feel of her hand clasped in his. His hand resting on the small of her back.

An unpleasant sensation gripped her midsection and she dragged her gaze back to her companions.

"He's been quite busy today," Lady Balsam murmured.

"Indeed," agreed Lady Walsh, a half smile playing around the corners of her mouth. She turned her attention to Carolyn. "First a call upon you, now a dance with one of your closest friends. I wonder who will be next?"

Mrs. Amunsbury lifted a perfectly arched brow and a knowing smile curved her lips. "No doubt the scoundrel saw half a dozen women between this morning's call upon Lady Wingate and now."

"Lord Surbrooke called upon you?" Sarah asked, her brows hiked all the way up.

Carolyn cursed the flush she felt warming her face. "Just briefly, to make certain I was all right after hearing about the murder."

"Very
gentlemanly
of him," Lady Balsam said, her catlike gaze fixed on Carolyn.

Another flush washed through Carolyn. There was no missing the insinuation in Lady Balsam's words, nor the speculation in her eyes. Raising her chin, she replied calmly, "Yes, it was a kind gesture. We
are
neighbors, you know."

"Yes, dear, we know," said Lady Walsh, her tone ripe with amusement. Her gaze shifted, then she said, "We've been searching for Lord Heaton everywhere and I've just now spotted him. Will you excuse us?"

She moved off, Lady Balsam and Mrs. Amunsbury following in her wake. Carolyn watched them melt into the crowd and tried to push away her uneasiness.

It seemed clear they suspected Lord Surbrooke's visit this morning had been less than innocent. She involuntarily raised her hand and brushed her fingers over her lips while a mental image of him kissing her flickered through her mind.

Fine. It
had
been less than innocent. But it wasn't as if they were having
an affair
.

"There you are!" came Emily's voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Have you ever seen such a crush? People say they're concerned about a murderer lurking about, yet rather than staying safely at home they're all here, talking feverishly about the crime." She turned to Sarah. "You might want to rescue your husband. My aunt Agatha has trapped him near the potted palm in the corner and he's far too polite to escape."

Sarah craned her neck in the direction of the potted palms. "I wouldn't worry. He's very adept at such situations. Besides, if he suffers a bit, it's no less than he deserves for not yet sending me the time and place
Memoirs
note."

Carolyn's gaze involuntarily shifted to the dance floor. Lord Surbrooke was smiling down at Julianne as they waltzed in perfect unison. Julianne, her beautiful face flushed a delicate pink, smiled in return. A lump seemed to clog Carolyn's throat and she gave herself a mental slap then forced her errant attention back where it belonged.

"There's speculation that Lady Crawford's death wasn't the result of a botched robbery, but a deliberate act," Emily said. "Perhaps committed by a past or current lover."

"Who told you that?" Carolyn asked.

"I've spoken to so many people. Lord Tolliver perhaps? Gossip has it that Lord Warwick was her latest paramour and that he's been questioned by the magistrate and a Runner."

"Everyone who attended the masque is being questioned," Sarah said.

"Yes," Emily agreed. "But
special interest
is being paid to several people, Lord Warwick among them, although I've heard that he has an alibi." She lowered her voice and confided, "If you ask me, they should question Mr. Jennsen."

"Why do you say that?" Carolyn asked.

Emily raised her brows. "Am I the only one who's noticed the number of strange happenings that have occurred since his arrival in England?"

"Don't be absurd," Sarah scolded. "Just because you don't like the man-"

"I don't," Emily agreed, "and-" Whatever else she was about to add was lost when she suddenly stiffened and puckered her lips. "Botheration, here he comes. If you'll excuse me, I'd rather stare at the wallpaper than make conversation with that man."

With that she turned and stalked away, quickly melting into the crowd.

Carolyn blinked. What was that all about? Emily was normally very genial and good-natured. Could Mr. Jennsen be one of the many people to whom Emily's father was deeply in debt? Could that be the source of her uncharacteristic animosity?

"Good evening, ladies," Mr. Jennsen said, stopping in front of them. His gaze flicked in the direction Emily had just gone, then he offered them both a smile and a formal bow. "I am clearly the luckiest man in the room to find myself in the company of not one, but two such lovely women."

"Don't be fooled," Carolyn said in a loud, teasing whisper to Sarah. "I'm certain he has said that to every group of women he's joined this evening."

"I've done no such thing," Mr. Jennsen said, his dark eyes gleaming.

"Which means he's only just arrived," Sarah whispered loudly to Carolyn.

They all laughed, then after exchanging a few pleasantries, Sarah fanned herself and said, "There are so many people, and it's so warm in here… if you'll excuse me, I need a bit of fresh air."

Carolyn studied her sister, noting her pale cheeks, which should have been flushed, given the heat of the room. "I'll go with you," she said.

"I'd be happy to escort you both," Mr. Jennsen added.

"Thank you, but you two stay and chat," Sarah said with a wave of her hand. "Matthew is standing by the doors leading to the terrace. I'll rescue him from his current conversation. Besides, I want to mention the
Memoirs
note to him again." She mumbled the last, and Carolyn wondered if her sister even realized she'd spoken the words out loud.

"
Memoirs
note?" Mr. Jennsen asked as Sarah walked away.

"Oh, nothing," Carolyn said lightly. Yet the half-knowing, half-amused look in Mr. Jennsen's eyes made her wonder if he knew about the latest rage.

His gaze swept over her pale aqua gown with unmistakable appreciation. "You were lovely as Galatea, but you are even more stunning as yourself."

"Thank you," she said with a smile, and wondered why she felt so relaxed in his company. Although not classically handsome, he was undeniably attractive-masculine and powerful-and possessed a darkly sensual edge. So why didn't
he
render her breathless? Why wasn't she imagining
him
naked with her in the bath? Surely if her current flustered state was merely the result of the
Memoirs
, then any attractive man would do.

"I suppose you've heard of Lady Crawford's death," he said.

"Yes. I'm stunned and saddened."

"I'd only just met her at the masquerade."

Recollection tickled Carolyn's memory. "She was the costumed wench admiring your pirate garb. You spoke to her after we talked."

He nodded. "Yes. She was laughing, so vibrant. I can hardly believe she died only a few hours later. I hope you're taking care not to venture off alone."

The music ended, followed by a round of polite applause. Carolyn's errant gaze once again shifted to the dance floor and riveted on Lord Surbrooke escorting Julianne toward her mother. He glanced in Carolyn's direction, but rather than looking at her, his gaze riveted on Mr. Jennsen. She watched him bestow a kiss upon Julianne's fingers-a gesture that sizzled an uncomfortable sensation down her spine-then he started making his way toward her. Or perhaps toward Mr. Jennsen, as that's who his attention seemed fixed upon.

Since she had no desire to speak to Lord Surbrooke in front of the very observant Mr. Jennsen, she hastily said, "If you'll excuse me, I see a friend I've been looking for."

Mr. Jennsen made her a bow. "Enjoy your evening, my lady."

Carolyn quickly made her way into the crowd, then circled around, intending to head for Julianne. Enjoy her evening? She hoped to. Because thus far she most certainly had not.

"
A moment of your time, Jennsen?" Daniel asked, stopping in front of the American. The question came out in a much more brusque tone that he'd intended, but damn it, he hadn't liked seeing Carolyn standing next to the other man. Hadn't liked the way Jennsen looked at her-in a way that made it patently clear he liked what he saw. Hadn't liked the way Carolyn smiled up at him. No, he hadn't liked any of it.

With the party noises buzzing around them, Jennsen studied him with an unflinching gaze that Daniel suspected didn't miss very much. "Of course. In fact, I was hoping to see you this evening. I've some further information regarding that business matter we discussed several weeks ago."

Business matter? It took several seconds for Daniel to realize he must mean the investment Lord Tolliver had wanted him to make in his shipping venture. It wasn't at all what he wished to discuss with Jennsen, indeed he'd quite forgotten about it, but he supposed it was as good an excuse as any other.

"Shall we retire to a quieter, more private spot?" Daniel suggested.

"Good idea."

Daniel led the way to the French windows and outside into the cool air, where they moved toward the far end of the terrace. There, Jennsen asked without preamble, "Did you invest in Lord Tolliver's shipping venture?"

"No. After reviewing the information you gave me, I decided against it." Daniel tried to dredge up some gratitude but it was damn difficult while recalling the heat in Jennsen's eyes while he'd looked at Carolyn.

"A wise decision, especially since I've just learned that Tolliver's financial situation is even less stable than I thought. Plus, I had the opportunity to examine his materials for building the ships. They're inferior."

Daniel raised his brows. "How did you happen to have such an opportunity?"

Jennsen shrugged. "I hardly see how that matters."

Daniel's jaw tightened. Obviously Jennsen was a man who didn't mind bending-or breaking-the rules in order to get what he wanted. "Have other potential investors besides me backed out?"

"Yes," Jennsen said. "Looks as if Tolliver stands to lose everything."

He recalled his tense exchange with the inebriated earl at last night's masked ball. Facing financial and possibly social ruin had driven more than one man to the bottle.

"Good decision not to invest," Jennsen said. "Certainly if it were my money, I'd have nothing to do it with it."

Daniel nodded slowly. He hadn't doubted Jennsen's earlier assessment-which had led him not to invest-nor did he now. According to everything he'd seen and heard, the man was a financial genius, and he certainly had the wealth to prove it. Wealth he'd reportedly built from nothing. Part of Daniel supposed he should voice his appreciation. The other part of him wanted to toss the bastard on his arse.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said stiffly.

There was no missing the amusement that kindled in Jennsen's gaze. "Damn near killed you to say it, didn't it? But at any rate, you're welcome. Now why don't you tell me what you wanted to talk to me about-although I could save us both some time and tell you I already know. The killing stares you shoot my way whenever I'm near her haven't gone unnoticed." He leaned his hips against the stone railing. "If you intend to glare at every man who looks at her, you're doomed to spend your entire life with a scowl on your face."

Daniel's gaze didn't waver. "There are looks, then there are
looks
."

"I see. And I've given her
looks
." Jennsen shrugged. "You can hardly blame me. She's extraordinarily beautiful."

"And unavailable."

Jennsen's brows raised. "Indeed? I've heard no announcement of an engagement. Or are you on the brink of proposing?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Just as my friendship with Lady Wingate, or any other woman for that matter, is none of yours."

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "You seem to have a habit of casting your eye upon women who are-"

"The object of someone else's fancy?"

"That's as good a description as any. A few months ago you were gazing at Lady Wingate's sister in the same manner you now are looking at Lady Wingate."

"Yes. And look how that turned out. Sarah married your friend and is now Marchioness Langston. And before that, as you may have heard, I fancied another woman who married shortly thereafter." A gleam flashed in his eyes. "You may think me your rival, Surbrooke, and in truth I hope to God I am. But I think perhaps I might just be an inadvertent matchmaker." He flashed a grin. "Perhaps I should start charging for my services."

When Daniel's only response was a freezing stare, Jennsen shrugged. "Or perhaps not. Time will tell. Pleasure talking to you." He inclined his head, then walked back toward the French windows as if he hadn't a care in the world and disappeared into the ballroom.

Daniel frowned at the spot where he'd last seen the aggravating man and blew out a long breath. Bloody hell. What had all that meant? Damned if he knew. But one thing was clear-he and Jennsen wanted the same woman.

And Jennsen wasn't going to have her.

He'd tried to give her some space this evening, forced himself not to pounce on her the instant he saw her-as much in an effort not to scare her off as prove to himself he could do it. But it was now far past the time for him to seek out what he wanted and ensure that he got it. She'd already hastened away when he'd approached her and Jennsen. He'd not let her escape again.

Filled with determination, he was about to reenter the ballroom when he experienced a strong sensation of being watched. His gaze searched the dimly lit terrace, the people standing in groups chatting, then the fenced garden and couples strolling the paths, and noted no one looking at him. Bloody hell, now he was imagining things.

Without further delay he rejoined the party. And was immediately waylaid by his hostess, Lady Gatesbourne. Only a lifetime of breeding kept him from shaking off the overbearing woman whose gaze bore an unmistakable matchmaking gleam. And who was dropping extremely unsubtle hints that she'd like to dance. Bloody hell. Resigned to being polite-but only because she was his hostess-he partnered her in a cotillion. Immediately after the dance, however, he made her a formal bow and set about finding Carolyn.

His lungs ceased working in that strange way they had when he finally spotted her. By God, she was lovely, her upswept honey-colored hair gleaming under the dozens of candles glittering in the crystal chandeliers. Her gown was the exact shade of aquamarines, and his imagination instantly conjured him clasping a strand of the pale blue gems around her slender neck. Then removing her gown, leaving her dressed in only his jewels. And a welcoming smile… yes, that would be very nice.

He blinked away the sensual image and noticed that just then she did smile… but not at him. No, she was once again smiling at that bastard Jennsen. Who was smiling back. With that
look
in his eye. And two other gentlemen hovered nearby, studying her like predatory animals sniffing out a particularly tasty morsel. The same gut-tightening he was becoming accustomed to experiencing whenever matters concerning Carolyn were involved seized him and he quickened his steps. By the time he reached her, he was hot and annoyed and wanted nothing more than to introduce Jennsen, as well as those other two, to the bloody flagstones.

"Good evening, Lady Wingate," he said, halting in front of her and offering a formal bow. He flicked a glance at her companion. "Jennsen."

The warmth that had been in her eyes for Jennsen turned cool as she gazed upon Daniel, and the knot in his stomach tightened further. "Lord Surbrooke," she murmured.

"I have it on good authority that the next dance is a waltz. Would you do me the honor?" A rather brusque invitation, which only increased his annoyance, this time at himself for again lacking finesse.

She hesitated, and appeared about to refuse, but then nodded. "Very well."

After excusing herself to Jennsen, who appeared wholly amused, damn him, she placed her fingertips on Daniel's extended arm. A tingle ran up his elbow in spite of the fact that she touched him with what appeared to be all the enthusiasm one would display toward a poisonous insect.

As soon as the music started, he swept her in to his arms. And breathed his first easy breath of the entire night.

"You look stunning," he said, his heart beating ridiculously fast as his gaze devoured her.

"Thank you."

"I'm very glad you decided to attend the party."

She lifted her chin. "I saw no reason not to. Julianne is one of my closest friends."

He could almost hear her adding in a defiant voice,
And I wasn't about to let you scare me off
. Excellent. He'd known she was brave. She merely needed to assert that repressed aspect of herself more. He certainly hoped she would do so where he was concerned.

After savoring the feel of her in his arms for several turns, he couldn't stop himself from speaking the simple truth. "I've thought of nothing else except you all day."

One elegant brow arched upward and a whiff of amusement entered her eyes. "That is obvious, given your attentiveness this evening."

Hmmm. Did she sound… irritated? Satisfaction filled him at the possibility. "You've had my full attention all evening, I assure you." At her look of disbelief, he spread his fingers wider against her back and pulled her several inches closer. Then in a voice only she could hear, he said, "You require proof? Very well. Since your arrival you've eaten four canapes and sipped three glasses of punch. You've chatted with eleven women, including your sister, Lady Emily, Lady Julianne, and five gentlemen, including your brother-in-law and Mr. Jennsen-twice. You've smiled twenty-seven times, frowned eight, laughed fifteen, sneezed once, and haven't danced until now."

Her eyes widened. "You made that up."

"I did not. But I forgot one thing. You are unequivocally the most beautiful woman in the room."

A blush stained her cheeks, and it was all he could do not to lean down and touch his lips to the beguiling color. "For the sake of politeness," he continued, "I danced with my hostess and my hostess's daughter, yet even then you occupied my thoughts. I've been looking forward to this moment, to holding you in my arms, ever since I arrived."

He watched her, wondering if he'd gone too far, if his blatant honesty would frighten her off. He hoped not, because he couldn't seem to stop himself. Couldn't bring himself to prevaricate with her.

Finally she cleared her throat. "Actually, I'm glad for this opportunity to speak with you, my lord."

"Daniel… my extremely lovely, very dear, greatly talented, highly amusing, and extraordinarily intelligent
Lady Wingate
." His gaze dipped to her mouth. "Who possesses the most kissable lips I've ever seen."

Her blush deepened and she glanced around, as if to make certain no one had heard his quiet comment. "That is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Your very kissable lips? Excellent, as it is a subject I'm anxious to explore further."

She shook her head. "That is
not
what I meant." She appeared to draw a bracing breath. "I've considered your… offer."

"That we become lovers?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I must decline."

He studied her closely. There was determination in her eyes, but something else. Something that looked like regret. Tension radiated off her, making it clear she expected an argument from him. And God knows he wanted to give her one. Actually what he wanted to do was drag her off to some dark, private quiet corner and kiss her, touch her, until she changed her mind.

But neither arguing nor dragging was in his best interests. No, best to allow her to win this battle. Let her think she was in control. Because he had every intention of winning the war. And making her lose control. In his arms. And in his bed.

Therefore, like every general who'd just lost a battle, he regrouped and prepared to outflank.

He nodded. "Very well. I understand."

Her nonplussed reaction indicated she
had
anticipated an argument. Keeping his expression carefully blank, he added, "Although you've no desire for us to become lovers, I hope we can continue to be what we've been all along-friends."

"I… well, yes. I suppose-"

"Excellent. I bid you a good evening." He offered her a formal bow, then walked away, absorbing her stare, which he felt boring into his back. And forced himself not to turn around.