“I’ve been on the hunt, but thus far the prey is keeping his distance.”
“What do you know of the Earl of Aubrey?”
His smile disappeared and the teasing glint in his eyes turned to steel. “Why?”
“He’s been in France for a little over fifteen months, which means he left around the time of your father’s demise. Supposedly tending to a vineyard he inherited. But he couldn’t resist the opportunity to be in the Queen’s presence. The timing seems odd.”
He nodded. “I’ll have Griff keep an eye on him. Anyone else suspicious?”
“Not thus far. Have you had any luck?”
“No one is as forthcoming with me. Mostly, it’s ‘Tough luck, old chap.’ And then they head off to speak with someone else. But at least they’re acknowledging me so there is that.”
“You should take the opportunity to let them know if they ever need any sleuthing done, you’re their man.”
He studied her for a minute, and she wondered if she should tell him that he was her man as well. “We should probably return to our snooping about,” she said instead.
“I suppose we should.”
“And it is red.”
His grin fairly melted her heart. “I look forward to divesting you of it later.”
As he strode off, she felt giddy, like a young lady who had never been hurt, or an older one who had decidedhewas worth the risk of being hurt.
Marcus was undoubtedly biased but Esme was the most strikingly beautiful woman in the ballroom. It was more than her comely features. It was the demure, welcoming air with which she strolled about, her projection of providing a haven for anyone in need of one. Ladies fluttered about her like butterflies searching for a sturdy blossom upon which to alight for a respite from the harsher elements. He wanted to be her champion, but she served as her own champion. And that increased her attractiveness.
If anyone recognized her as being associated with his father, they kept it to themselves. Absent the red hairpiece, she didn’t draw as much attention, didn’t stand out as she had when he’d first seen her more than a year ago. He was amazed by her ability to blend so thoroughly into her surroundings. He understood more fully why she was such an asset in her position with the Home Office. He’d wondered if with her success, they’d hired more women or would. She’d made the best of a tragic situation, and he couldn’t help but admire her all the more for it. He hoped in years to come, with the success he intended to make of his detective agency, that the same would be said of him.
Although many of his contemporaries were a bit wary around him, most were more welcoming than he’d expected. However, the smile on the handsome face of one of the two men approaching him was exceptionally warm as he extended a glass of scotch toward Marcus.
“King, Knight,” he acknowledged as he took the offering from the Duke of Kingsland.
“Stanwick,” King said. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Thought you’d declared yourself more comfortable in the shadows.”
“There are shadows aplenty about. Besides, my sister rather insisted I make an appearance. I see you apparently resolved matters between you and your secretary.”
“She’s no longer my secretary but my wife.” His tone carried an immense amount of joy and pride. “I appreciate your assistance in finding Penelope. She can be quite the stubborn wench when she sets her mind to it. Appears you’ve taken a wife as well.”
Marcus didn’t much like lying to a man he admired but took comfort in knowing it was all for the greater good. “I have indeed.”
“I’ve been trying to convince Knight here to give marriage a go.”
“Not bloody likely that’s going to happen,” Knight said.
“Eventually you’ll need an heir,” King pointed out.
“Deuced stupid reason to marry or have children.”
“I agree,” Marcus said. “I wonder what idiot came up with primogeniture anyway.”
“I hope they flogged him,” Knight said. “By the by, wagers are being made that you’ll confront the Queen when she arrives.”
“Avoid more like,” Marcus assured him. “That’s where I’d put my money. Are the other Chessmenhere?” The moniker was often used when referring to the four friends who were known for their ruthless strategy when it came to investing.
“Bishop and Rook are about somewhere,” Knight said, “probably in the cardroom. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll join them.”
As he walked off, Marcus took a small sip of the scotch. He had to keep his wits about him tonight.
