Page 62 of The Wayward Duke
“Thank you,” she said dryly. “Now that image will be seared into my memory for all eternity.”
“You’re welcome, duchess.”
Any response she might have made was lost as the announcer’s voice rang out, “Presenting His Grace, the Duke of Hastings, and Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings!”
Drawing a bracing breath, Caroline tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they moved into the crowded ballroom. Hundreds of eyes turned their way, raking over them in frank assessment. The whispered speculation began.
“… does she look peaked to you?”
“I heard she fainted dead away at the theatre…”
“… had to be carried from the wreckage.”
On and on. No detail escaped their notice. The hungry eyes assessing Caroline with such vicious interest made Julian want to don the coldest, most ruthless ducal mask.
He squeezed Caroline’s trembling hand. “Steady,” he murmured. “We’ve braved far worse.”
As they moved through the sea of jewelled silks, the crowds parted before them. Polite smiles now graced the faces of those who had just been whispering behind their fans seconds earlier. Julian inclined his head in a show of courtesy.
At last, they approached the throne on the dais at the far end of the ballroom. Queen Victoria watched them with sharp interest, taking their measure.
As one, Julian and Caroline sank into deep bows before the queen. “Your Majesty,” Julian said. “Thank you for this honour.”
The queen tilted her head in acknowledgement. “I wish to convey my appreciation for your heroic actions. You showed great bravery in the aftermath of that dreadful attack, duke. And, duchess – how valiant of Hastings to rescue you, my dear.”
At his side, Caroline’s fingers clamped around his wrist with the tenacity of a barnacle. He could practically hear her teeth grinding.
“Yes, quite,” Caroline said.
Julian drew himself up straight. “Merely doing our duty, ma’am.”
Beside him, Caroline muttered through clenched teeth, “I need to take cover behind a potted plant. Now.”
Julian’s mouth twitched.
After suffering through a few more agonising pleasantries, the queen nodded in dismissal. Julian seized Caroline’s arm and hustled her away before she combusted on the spot.
As they retreated, Julian’s gaze snagged on a familiar figure lurking in one of the shadowed alcoves. Mattias Wentworth lifted his glass in a subtle salute, all polished congeniality stripped from his features, leaving only icy purpose. Unease slithered down Julian’s spine.
“Come with me,” Julian murmured to Caroline. He wanted to confer with Wentworth beyond the reach of curious ears.
“Talk,” Julian bit out without preamble. He kept his voice soft. Those nearby didn’t need to overhear. “What news?”
Wentworth looked like hell. Jaw unshaven, eyes bloodshot and bruised. “Gone to ground. Slithered right out of our grasp, the slippery fuck.”
Julian’s hands jerked with the urge to crush something. Preferably Edgar Kellerman’s smug face. “How the devil did he evade you?”
“Wasn’t through lack of trying on my end.” Wentworth slugged back more brandy. “I looked into him, and your instincts were right. Edgar Kellerman didn’t exist before his sudden appearance in society. I couldn’t prove the murders, but I had enough evidence to pin him on swindling aristocrats. When the lads and I went for the arrest, he was gone. Nothing disturbed or ransacked, didn’t leave in a hurry. Appears he simply walked out the front door whistling a merry tune. Which means the bastard caught wind of surveillance somehow. He left because he wanted to leave.”
Julian fought to keep his snarl of frustration leashed behind his teeth. This had disaster bleeding all over it.
He glanced around the glittering ballroom. The graceful orchestral strains seemed to mock him. How many here tonight might have their names on some aristocratic hit list?
“He can’t have gone far,” Julian said, knowing the reassurance rang hollow. “Not without funds. Arrangements.”
“Agreed. I have agents scouring every station and port,” Wentworth said. “We’ll find him.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Julian noticed Lady Amesbury drifting closer, shamelessly attempting to eavesdrop. He gave her a cold glare, and she darted away.
