She ignored him. “We should say our goodbyes to the count.”
“Not bloody likely.” Keith dropped his bag in the hallway. “He behaved beastly to you.”
“Let’s be civil. Come on.” Violante took his hand, and together with Paul, they searched the house until they found the count in a small, quiet parlour.
He was sitting on the sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Dark circles bruised his eyes. Grass stains dotted his white shirt, and mud caked his boots. He looked ten years older.
“We’re leaving,” Keith said, already moving towards the door. “Goodbye.”
“Keith.” Violante held him back. “We’re sorry to part like this.”
“No, we aren’t,” Keith added.
“Shush.” Violante waved a hand. “Because, despite everything, we respect you.”
“No, we don’t,” Keith said.
She shot him a scorching glare. “Keith.”
“My lord,” Paul said when the count didn’t acknowledge them. “We’re leaving unless you need help from us.”
Keith coiled an arm around Violante’s waist.
The count dipped his gaze to Keith’s arm around Violante. “You can stop the pretence.”
Keith pulled Violante closer. “My marriage with this extraordinary lady might be a sham, but my love for her isn’t. We’re going to get married. In fact, we’re engaged to be married.” He couldn’t stop a smile. “This trip here has been a curse and a blessing for us. I lost a deal and the opportunity to do good for the youth of Seven Dials because I lied, but I gained the love of my life.”
“Well said.” Paul nodded. “Can we go now?”
“I love you too, Keith.” She smiled at him, and for a moment, they were alone, holding each other and staring into each other’s eyes.
“Well.” Keith itched to throw back in the count’s face the speech about a man who couldn’t detect his wife’s infidelity, butViolante wouldn’t approve. So he simply said, “I hope you find peace.” He glanced at Violante for her approval. She gave him a slight bow of her head.
“Leave, leave.” The count waved them away. “That’s how I’ll find peace.”
The butler rushed into the room without knocking. “I’m sorry to trouble you, my lord, but there are a few people who wish to speak with Lord and Lady Ashford urgently.” He dabbed his glistening forehead with a handkerchief. “They’re quite insistent.”
The count polished off his glass with one tilt of his head. “What is it now? Another fraud? Bank robbery? Murder? I’m almost curious.”
The butler didn’t have time to answer. Hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Keith hitched a breath as Mr. and Mrs. Beresford strode inside. Their travelling cloaks were dirty with mud, and their faces were ashen. Surely, the damn trip down the steep road was the cause of their distress.
“Who the hell are you?” the count asked.
“Mr. and Mrs. Beresford, private detectives,” the two private detectives said together.
“Goodness.” Violante clamped a hand on her mouth. “What happened?”
“Private detectives?” The count refilled his glass.
Keith almost pitied him.
“Lord Ashford.” Mrs. Beresford curtsied to everyone. “We found her.”
“Found who?” the count said as Violante gripped Keith’s arm painfully. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Please do come in, madam.” Mr. Beresford stuck his head into the corridor. “Everything is all right.”
