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Authors: Briana James

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BOOK: What Rumours Don't Say
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“Your gardens are certainly stunning, my lord,” Axelle said. “You are fortunate to have such a capable gardener.”

“Indeed,” he said. “Though I tend to some of the plants myself. I have been told I have gentle, skillful hands, you see.” He stroked her shoulder.

At once, Axelle flinched and stepped away. “I believe we must return to the ballroom now, my lord. It will do no good for a host to be long absent from his ball.”

“I beg to disagree.” He stepped forward. “After all, there is no more important duty for a host than to ensure the comfort of his guests in every possible manner.”

He made a move to touch her cheek but she stepped away once more. “I was very comfortable until now, my lord.”

“Ssh.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “There is no reason to be afraid.”

She tried to wrench her hand away but he held it fast, causing her to feel a sliver of alarm.

“My lord, I must ask you to release me.”

He only grinned.

“My lord…”

“I believe my wife has made it clear she no longer needs your company,” Reeve spoke as he emerged from the shadows and onto the balcony.

At once, the Viscount let Axelle go and she rushed to her husband’s side.

“If it isn’t the Earl of Ravenhall,” the Viscount said. “I was simply showing your wife the view from this balcony but apparently, she’s terrified of heights so I was merely comforting her.”

“Indeed?” Reeve eyed the other noble suspiciously. “It seems you do have a talent for comforting women. How many women exactly have you comforted?”

“Are you insulting me, Ravenhall?”

“No, Stonevale,” Reeve answered. “I am merely saying that if ever you come near my wife again, I shall ensure society knows about your indiscriminate taste in mistresses and lovers, including old women and young girls.”

The Viscount paled. “You have no way of confirming your suspicions. How dare you even say such things in my house?”

“I suppose it is time for me and my wife to leave, then,” Reeve said. He turned to Axelle and took her arm, leading her back inside the house and leaving the infuriated Viscount on the balcony.

Axelle kept her silence until they reached the carriage, where she spoke first.

“Forgive me, my lord, I…”

“I believe you gave me your word that you would stay out of trouble,” he told her, not allowing her to speak.

“I was only trying to ensure that he did not discover you, my lord,” she explained.

“Which I did not ask you to do,” he said. “And in the process, you placed yourself in grave danger.”

“I was not aware the Viscount was such a man.”

“You, my dear, are sadly unaware of a lot of things,” he said.

“Did you discover anything at the study, my lord?” she asked, hoping the change of topic would improve his mood.

“If you think I will easily forget this incident, you are mistaken,” he told her.

She sighed.

He regarded her for a moment and then spoke. “Though I suppose I can be persuaded to set it aside as of the moment. To answer your question, I did discover some things at the study, though I fear none of them are pertinent to the investigation at hand.”

“What did you find my lord?”

“Simply that Stonevale has an unquenchable thirst for women,” he answered. “Imagine my horror when I found out he was with my wife after I had read from his journal that he had succeeded in taking more than a dozen women of the
ton
to his bed.”

Axelle gasped.

“You see now what grave danger you have placed yourself in,” Reeve said.

“I would remind you, my lord, that I only went with him to…”

“Yes, I know, to dissuade him from going to the study,” Reeve said. “I am beginning to think I should have left you at Ravenhall Manor.”

“Please do not be so gloomy, my lord,” she said to him. “If you had left me at Ravenhall Manor, then I would not have been able to learn what I have just learned.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Explain yourself, Madam.”

She grinned. “I have it on good authority that Lady Ashton might be the killer you are looking for.”

“Lady Ingrid Ashton?”

Axelle nodded.

“That is nonsense, Axelle. The Ashtons and the Colters have been good acquaintances for many years.”

“Up until you broke your engagement with Meredith Ashton perhaps,” she pointed out.

“We were never engaged.”

“You were betrothed. I imagine the Ashtons would have been displeased by your marriage to someone else.”

“I spoke to Lord Ashton after my father’s death,” Reeve said. “He said he held no grudge against me.”

“Perhaps, but Lady Ashton might not have felt the same.”

Reeve frowned. “Very well. We shall go and pay them a visit tomorrow, though I certainly hope you are wrong in your suspicion.”

 

 

As it turned out, Lady Ashton seemed to be innocent, allowing Reeve to heave a sigh of relief as they left the Blackwood mansion the next day.

While she had admitted to feeling hurt that Reeve had chosen another woman to be his wife, she claimed that she had gotten over it and was now perfectly content with the marriage Meredith had made. She also said that she had not gone to their countryside estate in the past ten years since on her last visit, she had fallen down the stairs and injured her leg, which still ached occasionally.

“So you think Lady Ashton didn’t do it?” Axelle asked as they sat in the carriage.

“She didn’t do it,” he answered.

“It must be a relief for you, my lord. You were hoping, after all, that I was wrong in my suspicion.”

“Lady Ashton has been like an aunt to me,” he explained. “I never thought she would be capable of murdering my wife.”

“Unfortunately, that means, my lord, that we have ran out of leads,” Axelle said. “Are you planning to have us return to the countryside?”

“I am not yet certain,” he answered. “I was thinking that perhaps we could stay for a few more days until…”

He was unable to finish talking because he suddenly heard a loud sound outside the carriage, causing the horses to let out frantic neighs, and the next thing he knew, the carriage door opened and a man pointed a pistol at Axelle.

 

Seven

 

 

At once, Reeve hurled himself at the attacker, knocking the gun out of his hand as he pushed the man down on the pavement. The man fought back but Reeve was larger, stronger and after landing a punch squarely on the man’s jaw, the man stopped fighting, allowing Reeve to pin his hands behind his back.

“Now, lie still or you will give me no choice but to deal you another blow and bring you to the authorities,” Reeve threatened.

The man complied, seemingly wise enough to understand his situation.

“And tell me what you have against me and my wife.”

The man sneered at Reeve. “Kill me if you want, but if you don’t, I promise I won’t stop until I make you pay for killing Anne.”

 

 

“Who are you and why do you know Anne?” Reeve asked an hour later inside his basement, the man who had attacked his carriage tied to a chair in front of him. After hearing the mention of Anne’s name, he had decided to take the man into his custody and question him, his intuition telling him that he could learn something important from him.

“Why should I tell you?” the man asked, his eyes brimming with hate. “You killed her.”

“No, he didn’t,” Axelle said, stepping forward, ignoring Reeve’s earlier appeal for her to let Reeve handle the man.

Reeve rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“With all due respect, miss,” the man said. “You know nothing about your husband.”

“No, you know nothing,” Axelle told him. “For instance, you do not know that right now, we are on a quest to find who murdered Anne, which is precisely why we have returned to London.”

The man looked at Axelle and then at Reeve, his expression softening. “She was murdered? I thought she took her own life because she couldn’t bear being cooped up in a large, fancy house.”

“Do you honestly think, sir, that Anne would take her own life?”

The man paused, looking at his lap, then slowly shook his head. “No. She would never have hurt herself…or the babe.”

Axelle’s eyes widened. “You knew about the babe?”

“She told me about it.”

Reeve suddenly stepped forward, his jaw clenched. “Were you the father of the child?”

“No, I wasn’t,” the man said. “I loved her but she only saw me as a friend, maybe a brother, but she never allowed me to touch her and of course, I never forced myself on her.”

“Who are you?” Reeve repeated his earlier question.

“My name is Jim,” the man answered. “Anne and I lived in the same area around the docks.” He looked at Reeve. “Do you swear you didn’t kill her?”

“I thought you believed she took her own life,” Reeve said.

“But there were some people who said you killed her because you found out she was carrying another man’s child.”

“I would advise you, Jim, not to pay heed to everything you hear,” Reeve said. “I give you my word as a gentleman, I did not kill her. I did not even know she was with child until her death and even if I had known, I assure you I would not have killed her. I would have adopted the child as my own.”

Jim looked up at Reeve, searching his eyes to see if he was telling the truth. Then, having verified it, he nodded. “So someone else killed her. Poor girl, all she ever wanted in life was to be happy.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Can you untie me now?” Jim asked.

Reeve debated on it briefly, then deciding he was no longer a threat to them, untied him.

“Do you know who might have been the father of Anne’s unborn child?” Axelle asked as Reeve worked on the ropes.

Jim shook his head. “I only know he was a noble, a rich man. Anne said he was not even handsome and that he had a burn scar on his right hand, which she noticed because he liked to show off his large ring and never take it off.”

“Was he married?” Axelle asked.

Jim shrugged. “I suppose he was. Many of Anne’s, er, clients were married.”

Axelle was about to ask another question but Reeve stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“We thank you for your cooperation,” Reeve said as he handed Jim a bag of coins from his pocket. “Would you like to come work as a footman for me?”

“That is most gracious, my lord,” Jim said. “But I have work at the docks.”

Reeve nodded. “If you are ever in dire need, come to this house and I shall see to it that you are fed and given some money.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Reeve watched as Jim left, then led Axelle to his study.

“Do you believe him, my lord?” Axelle asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Reeve answered. “You see, I happen to know a noble with a large ring and a burn scar on his right hand.”

“You do, my lord?”

Reeve nodded. “The Count of Westbury.”

 

 

Reeve walked into the study of the Count of Westbury feeling restless and with a somber expression. He was about to meet a man who had been to bed with the woman he loved, after all, and could very well have killed her, and he could only hope that he could keep his temper reined in.

Fleetingly, he wished Axelle was at his side, her presence having become a source of strength and comfort to him more than he cared to admit in the course of the past few weeks. He found it strange, but although he had long thought he could not come to love any woman after Anne, he had learned to like Axelle as if it was the most natural occurrence and he could even say that he was fond of her, so much so that he could not withstand the thought of any harm coming to her as it had to Anne or the thought of her with another man, the mere memory of her with the Viscount of Stonevale enough to make him clench his fist and want to pound it into a wall.

Unfortunately, though, Axelle was no longer in London.

Shortly after Jim had left the house, a letter arrived, saying that Rosalind had fallen ill. Axelle had gone home ahead to tend to her, with Reeve promising to come home as soon as he could.

“Ravenhall,” the Count of Westbury said as he entered the room, leaning on an ivory cane for support.

“Westbury,” Reeve returned the greeting without much emotion.

“I was under the impression you were in the countryside with your new wife.”

“I am in London for a few days.”

“I understand you have something important to discuss with me?” The Count took a seat and gestured for Reeve to do the same.

“Allow me to get straight to the point,” Reeve said, refusing to be seated. “I have come to ask you about Anne?”

“Who?” The Count adjusted his spectacles.

BOOK: What Rumours Don't Say
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