Fanning the Flame (33 page)

"Your father meant a lot to me," Michael began, stirring a lump of sugar into his steaming cup. "The two of you befriended me at a time in my life when I wasn't sure which way to turn. Mother had only just died and Father was grieving. I owe you both a very great deal."

"You don't owe us anything. You were one of my father's favorite students—more than that, you were his friend and he cared about you greatly."

Michael reached over and took her hand. "I've been reading about the murder in the papers. I can only imagine what you must be going through. I don't believe a word of what they're saying. Is there anything I can do?"

She dragged in a trembling breath. "I wish there were, Michael. Unless you know who killed the Earl of Fenwick, I don't see how you can."

"You mustn't give up hope. Mr. Dutton, your attorney, is one of the finest in England. A number of members of the peerage have shown their support—Rathmore and Greville, and of course, Lord Blackwood."

She nervously stirred her coffee, hoping he wouldn't guess the true nature of her relationship with Adam, though half the
ton
gossiped about it daily.

"At the trial," he went on, "you will tell your side of the story. You must believe they'll know you are telling the truth, that they will find you innocent of the murder."

Jillian took heart from his words. "I shall make them believe me. I intend to walk away cleared of all the charges."

He gave her an encouraging smile. "And after it's over, then what will you do?"

It was a question she wished he hadn't asked, words that forced her to admit the truth she had been trying to deny for the past several days. She couldn't become Adam's mistress. No matter how much he needed her. No matter how much she loved him. She couldn't live with herself if she did.

"I've been afraid to think about it. Afraid to hope, I suppose." She gazed into his kind brown eyes. "I was thinking that perhaps if my name is cleared, I might find a position as governess. I know it wouldn't be easy, but—"

"Perhaps, then, there is a way I can repay you. My father is a powerful man. He also greatly respected Professor Whitney. We've discussed your circumstances and he believes as I do, that you are not guilty. Once you are cleared of the charges, I'm sure I could persuade him to use his influence to help you."

Jillian felt a shot of hope she hadn't felt in weeks. "Oh, Michael, would you?"

"You've my word on it. I promise I shall do all I can."

They finished their refreshment speaking of more pleasant things, memories of his days at university, happy times the three of them had shared when her father was alive. She left him on the paving stones not far from the town house.

If she could somehow win her freedom, with Michael's help she could start a new life. She refused to think of Adam. Refused to think how much she loved him and how empty her life would be without him. But perhaps it wouldn't matter.

Jillian tried not to think of the threat hanging over her head.

It was late that afternoon, the wind still bitterly cold and kicking up dust in the street, when Jillian stepped into the study.

"Where have you been?" Adam's voice held a note of anger. "Maude said you'd left the house."

Jillian brushed past him and continued toward the fire. "I went for a walk. I had to get out for a while."

Adam raked a hand through his hair. "I was worried. I was afraid something might have happened."

"Actually, I ran into a friend of my father's. He only recently learned of Father's death. He was on his way here to offer his condolences and ask if there were anything he could do to help."

Some of the tension seeped from his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I guess my nerves are a bit on edge." He held up a piece of foolscap. "This just arrived. It's a note from Peter Fraser."

Her stomach instantly knotted. "What does it say?"

"The servants confirmed Madeleine Telford's presence at her home in Hampstead Heath the night of the murder."

Adam crumpled the note, crushed it in his fist, and tossed it into the fire. "Dammit!"

He looked at Jillian and she saw the turbulence in his expression. And there was something more, something she couldn't quite read.

"We never really thought it was Madeleine," she reminded him gently.

"It could have been. She had every reason to want him dead before he could cut her out of the will."

"If she knew he meant to change it."

He glanced away, a muscle throbbing beneath the fine scar along his jaw. He didn't say more and left the house a little while later, heading for Rathmore Hall to speak to the duke. It was a futile trip, Jillian was sure, but at least it gave Adam something to do.

She tried to keep her own fears tucked away, stored in neat little boxes in her mind, a trick her father had taught her. As she sat down on the sofa in the drawing room, she closed the lid on the box filled with painful thoughts of her upcoming trial and picked up her embroidery hoop, determined to do something to occupy her mind. A few minutes later, she glanced up to see Reggie at the door of the drawing room.

"His lordship, the Earl of Greville is here, Miss. Come to see the major. He says it's important. I thought it might be somethin' about the trial."

"Ask him if he would consider speaking to me."

Reggie nodded and disappeared, returning a few minutes later with Justin Ross, the tall, imposing Earl of Greville.

Jillian greeted him at the door of the drawing room. "I'm afraid Lord Blackwood has stepped out." He was even taller than Adam, with cool gray eyes that never missed a thing. "He shouldn't be long. Is there something I can do for you in the meantime?"

"Perhaps there is something I can do for you," Greville said.

Her pulse kicked up as he stepped farther into the drawing room, then waited while Reggie closed the doors, making them private.

Her nerves pulled taut at the earl's serious expression. "Shall I ring for tea?" she asked.

"Thank you, no. What I've come to tell you won't take long."

Jillian indicated a seat opposite the sofa and both of them sat down.

"I believe I may have uncovered something useful in regard to the murder."

Jillian nervously sat forward on the gold brocade sofa. "Useful in what way?"

"As you probably know, the night of the murder, Howard Telford attended the Foxmoor soiree."

"I'm aware of that."

"What you don't know is that Howard wasn't there the whole of the evening."

"What?"

"About an hour before midnight, Lord Richard Maxwell and his wife took a walk out to the gazebo. They are recently wed and I suppose they wanted a moment alone."

"I believe I heard it was a love match."

He nodded and she wondered if he were thinking of Ariel, of whom he was so obviously enamored.

"While they were sitting there in the darkness," he went on, "they happened to see Howard Telford walking through the garden. Lord Richard saw him go out the gate leading into the alley behind the mews. Maxwell says Howard didn't return for quite some time and when he did, he came in through that same back gate."

Her heart was thundering, pounding so hard she jumped at the sound of Adam's voice as he walked into the drawing room. "And it is only a four block walk to his uncle's house in Grosvenor Square," he said, having heard the last of the conversation.

"Exactly so," said Greville. "If Maxwell hadn't chanced to see him leave, he would have had the perfect alibi. As it is, I believe Howard Telford has some very hard questions to answer."

Jillian's heart raced. She looked at Adam and saw the same bright glimmer of hope that was burning in her. Silently, she said a little prayer.

They spent the rest of the day and into the evening planning their strategy. Greville had given them their first real lead and they needed to use it well. Adam sent notes to Peter Fraser and Garth Dutton, and both men were seated in the study when Kitt and Clayton Barclay unexpectedly arrived at the house.

"We've got news," Kitt said excitedly, hugging Jillian briefly and receiving a kiss on the cheek from Adam.

"Very interesting news," Clay drawled. His golden eyes surveyed the room, taking in the study's occupants. "I see you're all hard at work. Perhaps this will help."

With Adam's encouragement, Clay guided his petite wife to a chair near the sofa, then perched on the padded leather arm and dangled a long leg off the end. "As you recall, after the late earl's funeral, both Howard and Madeleine Telford were out of the city."

"That's right," Adam agreed. "I wanted to ask them some questions about the murder but Madeleine had gone to visit relatives in the country and Howard was at Fenwick Park, the estate he inherited in Hampshire."

Rathmore smiled. "Not quite. Neither Madeleine nor Howard was where they claimed to be the week after the funeral."

Jillian's pulse quickened. "Where did they go?"

"I'm afraid I don't know that, but it's rather an amazing coincidence that both of them would lie."

Peter Fraser spoke up. "You're suggesting they might have been together."

"I'm saying there's a very good chance that the two of them are romantically involved. Kitt did a little digging on her own and turned up a rumor to that effect. Word is Howard and Madeleine are having an affair."

"Good heavens."

"If that's the case," Adam said, "perhaps Fenwick found out and that is the reason he cut them out of the will."

Jillian shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. He wanted Madeleine to remarry. He would have been glad the two of them had found each other."

Jillian got up from the sofa and started moving around the room. "Ever since the murder, I've replayed that night a thousand times. Each time I do, I recall how distracted the earl seemed that evening. I beat him badly at chess, which was nearly impossible to do, and then there was the book he sent me to fetch just before the shot was fired."

"How was that unusual?" Adam asked.

"It was the book itself that was odd, a volume by Lord Chesterfield, something about gentlemanly conduct. It was a strange choice, even for the earl." She bit down on her bottom lip. "The entire evening was odd somehow, though I can't exactly put my finger on it."

Adam gazed at her intently from across the room. All evening he had been distant, more withdrawn than usual, and she wondered at the cause.

"All right," he said, "so now we've caught Madeleine in one lie and Howard in two. What do we do about it?"

"Perhaps we should try to get back inside the old man's study," Clay suggested. "See if there is something there that's been overlooked."

"I'm not sure I should hear this," Garth said from his place on the sofa.

"You're right," Adam agreed. "I suspect this could get a little disconcerting for a member of the Inns of Court."

Garth got up from his chair. "If there is anything you need from me, I'll be in my office all day tomorrow." He turned to look at Jillian. "Whatever they're planning, I wish you the very best of luck."

Adam turned his attention to Peter Fraser. "It appears we need to be private."

The slender man rose to leave. "I'll see if I can discover the whereabouts of our errant suspects after the funeral." With a brief bow, Fraser also left the study and Adam returned his attention to the duke.

"You're not serious about breaking into Fenwick's house?"

"I realize," Rathmore drawled, "that as a military man, breaking and entering goes against your principles, but it seems to me that if you wish to prove your lady's innocence, you are rapidly running out of options."

Adam flicked an unreadable glance at Jillian, but didn't hesitate. "How do you suggest I get in?"

"There's an entrance at the rear of the house. That is the way I left the night of the murder." Jillian walked over to where Adam stood next to his desk.

"The door is partly overgrown with ivy and very rarely used, but it leads to the study and I know where to find the key."

"All right. Tomorrow night, sometime after midnight, I'll break into the house and—"

"We," two voices corrected in unison.

"It was my idea," Clay said. "And if you do find something, you'll need a credible witness to testify to its authenticity."

"I'm going, too," Jillian said firmly. "I'm the one who knows the way."

"Not a chance." A dangerous glint appeared in Adam's eyes. "You're staying here where you'll be safe."

"I'm going. I know every inch of that study—even the hidden drawer in the bottom of Lord Fenwick's desk. I have a far better chance of finding something useful than you do, and it's my life that's at risk."

Adam softly cursed.

Sitting next to her big handsome husband, Kassandra Barclay sighed. "I hate to miss all the fun, but I imagine three people trying to sneak in without being seen will be difficult enough."

Clay kissed the top of her head. "All too true, my love." He grinned. "Besides, we'll need you to help us if something goes wrong and we all wind up in jail."

It was later that same night that Garth arrived as promised at Maggie's house. The hour was late, the traffic on the street mostly gone as she walked beside him in the garden. Aunt Sophie had been sitting with them in the drawing room, but she had fallen asleep, slumped down against the arm of the sofa, and they had escaped for a moment alone.

In deference to the chilly May evening, Maggie wore a cashmere shawl over her blue silk gown, but instead of being cold, every time she looked into the strong lines of Garth's face, every time she caught the glint of moonlight on his golden hair, her body felt overly warm.

Garth had called on her every night since he had rescued her from Lord Winston's anniversary party. He had been charming and solicitous, regaling her and Aunt Sophie with stories of his childhood and interesting cases that he had represented. Aunt Sophie was beaming, heady with thoughts of the offer she was certain the wealthy lawyer, heir to Baron Schofield, intended to make.

Maggie was equally certain her aunt was wrong. It was obvious Garth found her attractive. He made no effort to hide the desire in his eyes whenever he looked at her, but his intentions where she was concerned were a subject he had never broached, and several times Maggie had caught his troubled expression when he thought she couldn't see.