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Grace shifted uncomfortably, a movement which might have eased the ache between her thighs slightly, but at the same time had caused her pelisse to tighten across her breasts and ignite a tingling pleasure, which settled in her sensitive and swollen nipples.
“Well?” Melborne bit out, his arm still held out in invitation.
It was a perfectly innocent and muscular forearm, Grace acknowledged. Yet for her to place her gloved hand there and accompany the duke into the pavilion was such a shocking thing for a single woman to do, it was sure to be noted and talked about. Especially when that gentleman was the highly recognizable and coveted Duke of Melborne. Grace had no desire to have that attention drawn toward her or her behavior, and she knew George would not approve either if he were to hear of it.
She straightened. “Thank you for your invitation, but I am afraid I have another engagement this afternoon.” She gave him a falsely apologetic smile. “Besides, Finn would not be welcome in such a venue, and I would not be happy tying him up somewhere and leaving him outside.” She turned on her booted heel and walked away in the opposite direction, her head held high as she deliberately gave every appearance of enjoying the warmth of the day and having Finn walking happily at her side.
Yet Grace was aware that for every step they took toward one of the exits from the park, a dark and narrowed gaze followed her every movement.
She heaved a sigh of relief once they had stepped out of the park and into the thoroughfare beyond, a shiver running the length of her spine now that she could not feel the intensity of that dark gaze upon her.
“Would you care to tell me why you invited me out to dinner this evening, but instead of the two of us going through to the dining room to eat, you have drunk down two glasses of the club’s excellent brandy and are now refilling your glass for a third time?” Hunter St. John, the Duke of Lincoln, voiced his curiosity rather than made a complaint.
Alaric was well aware this was not his normal behavior. He rarely indulged in excess amounts of alcohol, usually enjoying a single glass of brandyafterhe had eaten. This evening, he was too inwardly agitated to feel like eating at all.
Which would not do when he had indeed invited the other man, another of the Ruthless Dukes, to join him for dinner at their club. “By all means, let us go through to the dining room.” He threw the brandy to the back of his throat before placing the empty glass down on the table and standing up.
Too much alcohol on an empty stomach—Alaric had not bothered to go alone into the pavilion in Regent’s Park earlier today to partake of afternoon tea, resulting in him not having eaten since breaking his fast this morning—caused him to sway slightly for a few seconds. Thankfully, Lincoln had already preceded him into the dining room and therefore remained unaware of Alaric having to draw in several deep breaths and straightening his spine before following him.
Lincoln waited until they were seated and had given their order to the hovering steward before speaking again. “Am I to take it that your investigation into Redding through his mistress has not proceeded in the manner you hoped it might?”
When they’d met at Lincoln’s house a few days ago, Alaric had been sure he would be able to seduce Redding’s mistress with his superior wealth and, dare he say, prowess, and that her allegiance would then turn to him rather than her married lover. His valet had learned from gossip with other servants that George Harper was in the habit of talking in his sleep. Except, as Alaric now knew, Redding never slept the night with his mistress, but instead maintained the twice-weekly evening visits to her home.
Still, Alaric had harbored some hope that Grace might knowsomethingof her lover’s years in the army. Alaric did not know Redding well, but he appeared to be the type of man who might wish to enhance his appeal by appearing to have been a war hero. Not that killing a fellow officer was in the least heroic, but still, Alaric had thought there might besomethingGrace could tell him in regard to her lover’s behavior. A man who had committed murder, for whatever reason, must surely feel some level of contrition.
That might be true, but having now spoken to that young lady, Alaric realized, when Grace made it clear she was unimpressed by either him or his title, that she could not be bribed or seduced into betraying the man who maintained her in a life of relative luxury.
Alaric had never taken a mistress himself, but he would have thought the prospect of having a wealthy duke as a lover rather than an earl should have at least produced some sign of avarice in Grace’s manner, even an eagerness to further the acquaintance. Instead, she hadn’t hesitated to dismiss him before she walked away.
Alaric had been unable to banish that vision of her from his thoughts since they’d parted earlier. For such a tiny, almost delicate creature, Grace’s demeanor as she left the park this afternoon, the little black-and-white dog bouncing happily along at her side, had been one of almost regal elegance and composure.
He sighed heavily as he looked across the table at Lincoln. “Unfortunately, so far, Grace has not proven to be in the least useful to my investigation.”
“Grace?”
Alaric realized his mistake. “The name of Redding’s mistress is Miss Grace Sunderland.”
Lincoln nodded. “In what way has she not been helpful?” he prompted before cutting into the thick slices of beef, gravy, and accompanying vegetables the steward had placed in front of them.
“In any way,” Alaric snapped, his own appetite seeming to have deserted him.
“Was Bristol correct, then, when he questioned if your powers of seduction might be failing you in this instance?” Lincoln drawled.
He narrowed his lids. “Tell me what mistress wouldn’t find the prospect of the attentions of a wealthy and unattached duke more financially beneficial to her than that of a less wealthy and married earl?”
Lincoln gave the question serious thought before answering. “Presumably a mistress who is in love with the earl.”
Was that the answer? Could Grace possibly be in love with Redding?
The mere thought of it caused Alaric’s top lip to curl back with distaste. “Another reason, if you please.”
Lincoln eyed him thoughtfully. “Tell me, is Miss Sunderland beautiful?”
“Very.”
“And is her personality…appealing?”
Alaric tensed. “What relevance does the way she looks or her personality have to do with my investigation?”
