Page 108 of No One's Bride
“It sounds interesting, yet I sense there’s a problem.”
“I suspect Daventry has an ulterior motive.” Christian ignored the two ladies who’d stopped a few feet away to ogle his fine physique. “But he insists he needs my expertise.”
Sebastian bit back a chuckle. Whatever Daventry’s game, those who worked for him soon found themselves married. “My advice is, be firm. Tell him you can spare a few hours. Besides, I can’t see Aaron giving you leave from the club for any length of time.”
Christian nodded. “Daventry can be damn persistent.”
The music ended, prompting Sebastian to take action. “Please excuse me. If I fail to capture my wife before the orchestra flexes their bows again, I’ll be forced to watch her dance the night away with other men.”
He pushed through the crowd, stopping to accept a guest’s felicitations before grasping his wife’s hand as she left the dance floor. “There’s only so much a gruff lord can take,” he teased. “If I see another man’s hand on your waist tonight, I might throttle him.”
Ailsa laughed and batted him on the arm. “We’re supposed to dance with the guests. Be grateful we’re nae in Scotland. The clan chiefs line up to steal a kiss.”
They’d be in Scotland soon enough. Then Sebastian would need to explain to her father why they’d married without seeking his blessing.
“I don’t mind kissing shaven men but draw the line at kissing those with wiry beards.” He pulled her closer and lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “I want a moment alone with my wife. There’s a secluded spot in the garden. Let’s escape through the terrace doors.”
She needed no coaxing.
She held his hand as they descended the stone steps into the garden. The moon was full, the lightest breeze stroking their hair. Being with her felt so magical he could think of nothing but seduction.
“Did ye ask Mr Daventry about the case?”
“Yes, they arrested the last spy yesterday. All those mentioned on Hibbet’s list are now in custody. Chadwick will hang. He admitted to starting the fire at the Murdens’ house.”
“Miss Chadwick must have told him about the coded letter.”
“They can’t prove she was involved, though the Crown seized all Chadwick’s assets. The lady fled with jewels and a stuffed stoat and was last seen on a ship heading for the Continent.”
Ailsa sighed. “Poor Mr Murden. He’s lost his home and his position at the Auction House.”
Daventry would not let an innocent man suffer. “On the contrary, Lucius Daventry owns the auction house.” The man was as rich as Croesus, and the King had been keen to show his gratitude. “Mr Murden is now the manager and lives in the upstairs apartment.”
She gripped his hand and gave a beaming smile. “That is a relief. At least it all ends on a happy note. And for all his oddities, it’s good to know Professor Mangold is innocent.”
“He’s innocent but still a damn fool.” Not wishing to touch on Mr Smith’s passing again, Sebastian led her along the path, away from the lit braziers, deep into the shadows. “There’s a bench tucked away in a topiary alcove. We can sit there.”
“Only sit?” she teased.
“I have a list of all the ways I mean to please you tonight.” A list as long as his arm. “Let’s begin by talking. When you hear what I have to say, it’s guaranteed to make kissing better.”
Desperate to begin at once, he brought her to an abrupt halt, ready to haul her against his chest and whisper sweet nothings. But a masculine voice reached his ears, one he knew to be Lucius Daventry.
“Hush.” Sebastian pressed his finger to Ailsa’s lips and lowered his voice. “I heard Daventry mention your name.” He pointed to where the path forked left, leading to the secluded bench.
Keeping tight to the dense foliage, they crept closer.
A quick peek around the hedge confirmed Daventry stood amid the shadows while Lady Perthshore sat on the bench.
“But you distinctly said there’d be no more meddling.”
“Sometimes people need a gentle coaxing to see what is glaringly obvious,” Daventry said. “Anyone would think I’m asking you to commit a crime.”
“Interfering is a crime. I enjoy good gossip like the rest of us, particularly when presenting a certain Scottish lady with options. Still, I’m tired of writing titbits for theScandal Sheet.”
Ailsa nudged him and mouthed,Lady Perthshore writes for the Scandal Sheet!
Sebastian was more interested in what the matron meant by giving a Scottish lady options. Perhaps it explained the influx of gentlemen interested in dancing with Ailsa.
