Hannah Howell (39 page)

“Are you nervous?” asked Iago.

“Terrified,” she replied. “Is it always like this?”

“Most of the time. Lady Barnelby’s affairs are always well attended.”

“And you think Lord Greville will be one of the crowd?”

Iago nodded. “She is his cousin, one of the few family members left to him. We must keep a sharp watch for him, however. He will come, but he will not stay long. Too many of the young women here are hunting a husband.”

“I am surprised that you would venture forth if it is that dangerous.”

“Ah, but I am only a lowly baron. Greville is a marquis.”

Alethea shook her head. “You make it all sound like some sordid marketplace.”

“In many ways, it is. Oh, good, I see Aldus and Gifford.”

“Friends of yours?” Iago started to lead her toward the far corner of the ballroom, but she was unable to see the men he spoke of around the crowd they weaved through.

“No, friends of the marquis. He will be sure to join them when he arrives.”

“Misery loves company?”

“Something like that. Oh damn.”

Before Alethea could ask what had caused her uncle to grow so tense, a lovely, fulsome redhead appeared at his side. If she judged her uncle’s expression correctly, he was not pleased to see this woman and that piqued Alethea’s interest. Looking more closely at the woman’s classically beautiful face, Alethea saw the hint of lines about the eyes and mouth and suspected the woman was older than Iago. The look the woman gave her was a hard and
assessing one. A moment later something about the woman’s demeanor told Alethea that she had not measured up well in the woman’s eyes, that she had just been judged as inconsequential.

“Where have you been, Iago, darling?” the woman asked. “I have not seen you for a fortnight.”

“I have been very busy, Margarite,” Iago replied in a cool, distant tone.

“You work too hard, my dear. And who is your little companion?”

“This is my niece, Lady Alethea Channing,” Iago said, his reluctance to make the introduction a little too clear in his tone. “Alethea, this is Mrs. Margarite Dellingforth.”

Alethea curtsied slightly. The one Mrs. Delling-forth gave her in return was so faint she doubted the woman even bent her knees at all. She was glad Iago had glanced away at that precise moment so that he did not see the insult to his kinswoman. The tension roused by this increasingly awkward confrontation began to wear upon Alethea’s already taut nerves. Any other time she knew she would have been fascinated by the subtle, and not so subtle, nuances of the conversation between her uncle and Mrs. Delling-forth, but now she just wanted to cold-eyed woman to leave. She leaned against Iago and began to fan her face.

“Uncle, I am feeling uncomfortably warm,” she said in what she hoped was an appropriately weak, sickly tone of voice.

“Would you like to sit down, m’dear?” he asked.

“You should not have brought her here if she is ill,” said Mrs. Dellingforth.

“Oh, I am not ill,” said Alethea. “Simply a little overwhelmed.”

“If you will excuse us, Margarite, I must tend to my niece,” said Iago even as he began to lead Alethea toward some chairs set against the wall.

“Not a very subtle retreat, Uncle,” murmured Alethea, quickening her step to keep pace with his long stride.

“I do not particularly care.”

“The romance has died, has it?”

“Thoroughly, but she refuses to leave it decently buried.”

“She is quite beautiful.” Alethea sat down in the chair he led her to and smoothed down her skirts.

“I know, that is how I became ensnared to begin with.” He collected two glasses of wine from the tray a footman paused to offer them, and handed Alethea one. “It was an extremely short affair. To be blunt, my lust was quickly satisfied and, once it eased, I found something almost repellent about the woman.”

Seeing how troubled thoughts had darkened his hazel green eyes, Alethea lightly patted his hand. “If it is any consolation, I, too, felt uneasy around her. I think there is a coldness inside her.”

“Exactly what I felt.” He frowned and sipped his drink. “I felt some of the same things I do when I am near someone who will soon die, yet I know that is not true of her.”

“What sort of feelings?”

He grimaced. “It is hard to explain, but it is as if some piece of them is missing, has clearly left or been taken.”

“The soul?”

“A bit fanciful, but, perhaps, as good an explanation as any other. Once my blind lust faded, I could not abide to even touch her for I could sense that chilling emptiness. I muttered some pathetic excuse and fled her side. She appears unable to believe that I want no more to do with her. I think she is accustomed to being adored.”

“How nice for her.” Alethea sipped her drink as she watched Mrs. Dellingforth talk to a beautiful fair-haired woman. “Who is that with her now?”

“Her sister Madame Claudette desRouches.”

“They are French?”

“Émigrés. Claudette’s husband was killed for being on the wrong side in yet another struggle for power and Margarite married an Englishman shortly after arriving.”

“For shame, you rogue. A married lady? Tsk, tsk.”

“A widow, you brat. Her husband died six months after the wedding.”

“How convenient. Ah, well, at least Margarite did not stink of roses. If she had, I might have been forced to deal with her again.”

Iago scratched his cheek as he frowned in thought. “No, Margarite does not use a rose scent. Claudette does.”

Alethea stared at the two women and briefly wished she had a little of her cousin Modred’s gift. It would make solving this trouble she had been plunged into so much easier if she could just pluck the truth from the minds of the enemy. She suspected she would quickly be anxious to be rid of such a gift, however. If she and Iago both got unsettling feelings from the two women, she hated to think what poor Modred would suffer with his acute sensitivity. Although she
would prefer to avoid both women, she knew she would have to at least approach the sister who favored roses at some point. There was a chance she could gain some insight, perhaps even have a vision. Since a man’s life was at stake, she could not allow fear over what unsavory truths she might uncover hold her back.

“I believe we should investigate them a little,” she said.

“Because they are French and Claudette smells of roses?”

“As good a reason as any. It is also one way to help solve this problem without revealing ourselves too much.”

Iago nodded. “Very true. Simple investigation. I even know a few people who can help me do it.” His eyes widened slightly. “Considering some of the lovers those two women have had, I am surprised they have not already been investigated. Now that I think on it, they seem overly fond of men who would know things useful to the enemy.”

“And no one has seen them as a threat because they are beautiful women.”

“It galls me to say so, but you may be right about that. Of course, this is still all mere speculation. Nevertheless, they should be investigated and kept a watch on simply because they are French and have known, intimately, a number of important men.”

Alethea suddenly tensed, but, for a moment, she was not sure why she was so abruptly and fiercely alert. Sipping her champagne, she forced herself to be calm and concentrate on exactly what she was feeling. To her astonishment, she realized she was feeling
him.
He was irritated, yet there was a small flicker
of pleasure. She suspected that hint of pleasure came from seeing his cousin.

“Allie!”

She blinked slowly, fixing her gaze on her uncle. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“I was just wondering if you had a vision,” he replied in a soft voice. “You were miles away.”

“Ah, no. No vision. Just a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“Yes. He is here.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

Hannah Howell is an award-winning author who lives with her family in Massachusetts. She is the author of thirty-two Zebra historical romances and is currently working on a new historical romance, IF HE’S WILD, coming in June 2010! Hannah loves hearing from readers and you may visit her website: www.hannahhowell.com.

Books by Hannah Howell

 

ONLY FOR YOU

 

MY VALIANT KNIGHT

 

UNCONQUERED

 

WILD ROSES

 

A TASTE OF FIRE

 

HIGHLAND DESTINY

 

HIGHLAND HONOR

 

HIGHLAND PROMISE

 

A STOCKINGFUL OF JOY

 

HIGHLAND VOW

 

HIGHLAND KNIGHT

 

HIGHLAND HEARTS

 

HIGHLAND BRIDE

 

HIGHLAND ANGEL

 

HIGHLAND GROOM

 

HIGHLAND WARRIOR

 

RECKLESS

 

HIGHLAND CONQUEROR

 

HIGHLAND CHAMPION

 

HIGHLAND LOVER

 

HIGHLAND VAMPIRE

 

CONQUEROR’S KISS

 

HIGHLAND BARBARIAN

 

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

 

HIGHLAND SAVAGE

 

HIGHLAND THIRST

 

HIGHLAND WEDDING

 

HIGHLAND WOLF

 

SILVER FLAME

 

HIGHLAND FIRE

 

NATURE OF THE BEAST

 

HIGHLAND CAPTIVE

 

HIGHLAND SINNER

 

MY LADY CAPTOR

 

IF HE’S WICKED

 

WILD CONQUEST

 

IF HE’S SINFUL

 

KENTUCKY BRIDE

 

IF HE’S WILD

 

Published by Zebra Books