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“Until this evening, I would have said none.” Lincoln shrugged. “But having witnessed how defensive you become every time I ask a question about her, I now believe those things to be more important than I had hitherto considered them to be.”
Alaric’s jaw tightened. “I shall not rest until I have the truth as to whether or not Redding was complicit in Plymouth’s murder, you may be assured.”
“Never doubted it, old chap.” Lincoln’s smile was reassuring before he sobered. “But we have both seen how Flint fell in love with the daughter of his quarry—”
“I am not falling in love with Grace Sunderland!” His denial was immediate.
Lincoln raised a brow. “No need to be quite so defensive, old chap.”
Alaric’s jaw tightened. “Grace has merely proved to be more…intriguing than I had imagined a young lady could be when she had lived all her life in a Devonshire village until a year ago.”
“What do you know of the life she lived there?”
“Only what I have said. I am still waiting for Stanley’s man to send back more information.” He scowled his displeasure that the man was taking so long to deliver his report.
“It might shed some light on how the daughter of a country vicar suddenly decided to come to London and became the mistress of an earl. I am sorry if you do not like me saying that.” Lincoln grimaced as Alaric scowled. “But I am only stating the truth.”
Alaric knew that, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Because he knew he could no longer view Grace as being Redding’s mistress from an unemotional distance. Very much the opposite, in fact. Alaric found himself thinking of Grace often, even more so since her rejection of him earlier today. He also inwardly acknowledged the jealousy he had felt when Grace showed her loyalty to Redding. Alaric wanted that loyalty and affection to be directed toward himself.
“Cheer up, old chap,” Lincoln cajoled. “Just because she hasn’t yet fallen for your charm and the prospect of having some of your ducal fortune lavished upon her doesn’t mean that she won’t eventually return your interest.” He shrugged. “Although I have to say, I always had my doubts regarding the significance of Redding talking in his sleep.”
He winced. “I have since discovered he never stays the night at Grace’s home, only two hours on two evenings every week.”
“Even if he did sleep the night there, if Miss Sunderland is at all mercenary in her dealings, then learning her lover had committed a murder would more likely result in her blackmailing the earl herself rather than confiding that knowledge to a third party.”
Unless, of course, Alaric was to offer Grace more money for that information than her lover had.
But first, Alaric needed to come up with a different way of ingratiating himself into Grace’s confidence.
CHAPTERFOUR
Irrational as it might seem, Grace found herself feeling slightly chagrined that Alaric Montrose had taken her words so thoroughly to heart, he now seemed to have completely disappeared from her life.
It had been three days since they’d spoken in the park, but during that time, the duke had not made a single appearance, at the shops, the park, nor when she had attended the theater the previous evening.
Behavior which, she believed, confirmed how fickle the duke’s attentions had been if he had allowed himself to be deterred by that single rejection.
“No doubt he’s used to women falling at his feet if he shows the slightest interest in them,” Grace confided in Finn as the two of them once again enjoyed their daily walk in Regent’s Park.
Finn’s only answer, of course, was to look up at her, tongue hanging out, his eyes merry, tail wagging with his anticipation of being allowed off his leash for a short time.
Grace gave a self-derisive snort as she bent to remove that leash. She was being ridiculous, making a complaint against the duke to her little dog.
She had brought Finn from Devon with her, and most of the time, he was a wonderful companion. But he was not, unfortunately, able to offer his own opinion on subjects such as the Duke of Melborne’s fickleness.
Did shewantthe duke to continue to pursue an interest in her?
No, of course not.
Did she…?
Since coming to London, Grace had enjoyed her work with the children at the orphanage and the friends she had made there. And, of course, George visited her twice a week, filling two of her evenings.
It was not at all like the busy life she had led in Devon as the daughter and helpmate of a widowed vicar. Admittedly, sometimes that life had beentoobusy, running Grace physically and emotionally ragged.
The nature of her life there and the one she had made for herself in London were as far apart as the miles that separated those two locations.
But she was the one who had made the decision to come to London when the opportunity was offered, and now she must make the best of it. It would not be forever, in any case—
