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CHAPTER 1
London 1817
“She’s here!”
Jack Raynerson raised a wry eyebrow at his friend’s comment. It was hardly a surprise that Miss Louisa Drake attended the ball for her youngest sister, Emma. The disbelief that had the crowd murmuring tonight stood next to Miss Drake. The appearance of her older sister, Lady Theresa Stanhope seemed to stun the crush of people.
The notable arrival at the ball tonight stood with her head held high as if daring anyone to speak of her entrance. Lady Stanhope clasped her sister’s arm in proud silence well aware that most people in the room had no wish to converse with her. They walked toward the duke to greet the host of the ball. Jack watched her every move.
“Are you certain you still wish to meet Lady Stanhope?” Blakely asked, still staring at Miss Drake.
“Oh, indeed I do.” Jack’s employer had warned him about the widow. Working for Fairchild’s investigation company gave him two things he needed in life: money and a purpose. His purpose was to expose the widow as the murderess of her latest husband. And quite possibly her other two husbands as well.
“Even with her reputation? Which, I might add, she has not helped by coming out of mourning three months early.”
Jack smiled at the woman’s audacity. Not only had she come out of mourning three months early, but instead of wearing a black or even a sedate gray gown, she entered the room clad in shimmering emerald silk. He had no doubt that this was a woman on the prowl for husband number four. She did, however, garner a little respect from him for thumbing her nose at society’s mourning convention. He decided to feign ignorance to see if his friend had any information that differed from what his employer had given him.
“What reputation? It cannot be all that scandalous if the duke is hosting her sister’s come out ball.”
Blakely finally tore his gaze away from Miss Drake and looked at him with his chestnut brows furrowed. “Everyone knows about Lady Stanhope. You must have heard the rumors.”
“I can’t say that I have heard much at all in regards to Lady Stanhope,” Jack said with a shrug.
Blakely leaned in closer. “Some say she poisoned all three of her husbands.”
“Indeed? All three?” Jack was a tad impressed that the petite young woman could accomplish such a feat without one arrest. She was either innocent or extremely cunning. The chances of three husbands dying so quickly after marrying the same woman would be astronomical. All criminals made mistakes. No one had discovered hers yet, but he would.
“Yes,” Blakely continued, “although, I have met her and find it difficult to believe such rumors. She has always been quite pleasant to me. But fact is fact, and three dead husbands in five years is a bit much.”
Of course, she was pleasant to him, Jack thought. Blakely was a viscount and all but bled money. Unlike Jack, whose own financial position seemed bleak at best most days.
“What else do you know about her?” Jack asked, hoping his gossipy friend would continue the tale.
“I just cannot believe you’ve heard none of this.”
“She and I have never crossed paths that I am aware of, so no, I have heard nothing much about her.”
“She has been fodder for the gossipmongers for months.”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t spend most of my nights at balls.”
Blakely rolled his eyes as if aghast that Jack could have missed such juicy gossip. He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “The woman was married three times and her longest marriage only lasted two months. Her first husband was Baron Langley. The man was near to sixty when he wed the twenty-year-old.”
“Why would she agree to such a thing? Money?” Jack asked.
Blakely leaned in even closer as if the gossip he was about to impart had never been heard. In a whispered voice, he said, “Her mother pressed for the marriage after the girls’ father passed, leaving only a small allowance to support them. And Langley needed an heir.”
Jack shook his head. The eternal desire for the heir and the spare. He supposed his own bitterness was due to being the spare, and not the heir. Of course, not having the responsibility of becoming the next Viscount Bideford had made his life much more enjoyable. Poor Neville had been married at twenty-five to the daughter of an earl and saddled with their father’s gambling debts. Jack had nothing against Georgiana, but the marriage had taken the spontaneity out of Neville.
