She dropped her forehead to his shoulder. After a moment, said, “This is all so—”
She broke off. He stroked again, felt her shiver. “More than you expected?”
Against his shoulder, she nodded. “Much, much more.”
Satisfied with the way events were proceeding not just with Alicia but also with his investigation, Tony felt distinctly mellow, a prey to pleasurable anticipation as the next evening he went upstairs to change.
He’d reached the landing when a heavy knock fell on the front door.
He recognized the knock. Halting, he waited, one hand on the balustrade as Hungerford strode majestically to the door. He’d recognized the knock, too. He pulled open the door, revealing Maggs.
Hungerford looked down his nose. “I believe you know where the back entrance is?”
“’Course I do. Live here, don’t I?” Maggs lumbered in, his hat in his hands. “But I’m supposed to be Mrs. Carrington’s footman. If I came with a message, I wouldn’t come to the back door, would I?”
Turning back down the stairs, Tony straightened his lips. “What is it, Maggs?”
Maggs looked up. “Oh, there you be.” He hesitated, frown growing as Tony descended. As he gained the front hall, Maggs suggested, “You might want to hear this in private.”
Brows rising, Tony looked at Hungerford. “Thank you, Hungerford. I’m sure Maggs can see himself out.”
That last was said with a hint of understanding. Hungerford bowed stiffly. “Indeed, my lord. If you have need of anything, you have only to ring.”
“Thank you.” Tony turned to Maggs and waved to the study. Hungerford departed; Maggs opened the study door. Tony entered and went to sit behind his desk; closing the door, Maggs came to stand before it.
Maggs had been a stable lad at Torrington Chase when Tony had been a boy; he’d attached himself to the son of the house and followed him into the army. Whenever Tony had had need of a batman, Maggs had filled the position. He’d been a part of Tony’s life for longer than he could remember, and continued as his most trusted servant. Despite Maggs’s bruiser’s countenance, the man was intelligent, capable, and effective.
“What is it?” Tony asked.
Maggs’s frown hadn’t eased. “I don’t know as you’ll believe this, but the ladies, Mrs. Carrington and Miss Pevensey, are sitting down to dinner—well, they’d be near to finished by now—with a gentleman goes by the name of Mr. King. Wouldn’t’ve thought much of it ’cept I’ve seen him before, and I’d swear on my mother’s grave he’s Mr. King, the moneylender.”
Tony blinked. After a long moment of staring at Maggs, he nodded. “You’re right—I find that very hard to believe.”
Maggs sighed heavily. “Well, there you are. But Collier’s on watch at the corner, so you needn’t think I’ve deserted my post and left the lady unguarded.”
“Good.” Tony was finding it hard to focus his thoughts. Mr. King? As a dinner guest? He refocused on Maggs.
“What’s the relationship between Mr. King and the ladies? How did they react to him?”
“Friendly.” Maggs shrugged. “Nothing heavy-handed, if that’s what you’re thinking. They treated him like he was an old friend of the family.”
Tony inwardly goggled. He stood. “Come on. I’ll know Mr. King if I see him.” He shook his head as he rounded the desk. “I can’t believe this.”
“Aye, well.” Maggs lumbered after him. “I did warn you.”
Half an hour later, from the shadows of his town carriage pulled up by the curb close to the end of Waverton Street, Tony watched a large, burly gentleman take his leave of Alicia and Adriana. The sisters remained just inside the front hall, but the hall and porch lights were lit; it was easy to make out the genuineness of their smiles as the three shook hands.
Then Mr. King turned and descended to the unmarked black carriage that awaited him.
Maggs had returned to his duties. Collier, the man Tony had set to watch the street, was in his accustomed place. Tony sat back and waited until Mr. King’s carriage rumbled past. He didn’t bother to glance again at the occupant; it was definitely London’s most famous moneylender.
He remembered Alicia’s odd reaction when he’d mentioned he’d visited the man.
The door of the Carrington abode shut. Slumped against the cushions, Tony waited, totally unable to formulate any possible scenario to account for what he’d seen. Five minutes later, he tapped on the roof and directed his coachman to return to Upper Brook Street.
Courtesy of Maggs, these days he always knew where Alicia would be. That evening, she was attending Lady Magnuson’s ball; as usual, he found her by the side of the room, watching over Adriana.
Who, he inwardly admitted, now needed to be watched. The Season was nearly upon them; the wolves of the ton were back in force, actively hunting in their favorite ground. As he approached, he saw Alicia step forward and engage one of the younger brethren who, until then, had remained unwisely oblivious of her presence.
It was instantly apparent from the young buck’s face that a few words had sufficed for her to draw blood; his face hardened, lips thinning. After one last look at Adriana, he sloped off to find easier—less well guarded—prey.
A flicker of unease tickled Tony’s shoulder blades. Adriana and her beauty posed a danger. She was too young to fix the interest of the truly dangerous blades, yet she nevertheless drew their eyes, which then passed on— to her sister. Who was much more the sort to attract a connoisseur’s attention.
Reaching Alicia, gowned in a pale bronze creation edged with tiny pearls, he took the hand she offered, almost absentmindedly raised it to his lips, then met her eyes as he kissed.
He watched a light blush rise to her cheeks.
She tugged; placing her hand on his sleeve, he covered it with his.
“I need to speak with you.” He glanced at Adriana’s court. “And before you tell me you need to remain here and protect your sister, regardless of your recent intervention, you don’t.”
She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you consider.” Casting a last glance at Adriana’s circle, he turned her, steering her down the long room. “If you hadn’t stepped in, either Sir Freddie or Geoffrey would have. Or even Montacute. They’ve been dancing at your sister’s feet for weeks—none of them will take kindly to any rakish interloper thinking to poach their prize.”
She still frowned, more in puzzlement than irritation, but continued strolling beside him. “You make it sound like a competition. A sport.”
“It’s a game no matter which side you’re on.” He spotted an opening between two groups of potted palms; deftly, he whisked them into it. “Now, quite aside from that…”
He stopped, unsure how to proceed. How to ask what he had to. He glanced at her; she was studying him, not suspiciously but directly. “I was passing along Waverton Street earlier this evening and saw Mr. King leaving your house.”
Her gaze didn’t waver; she continued to regard him attentively.
“I mentioned meeting Mr. King in the course of my investigations. Is he…an acquaintance?”
Without hesitation, she nodded, then looked out at the room. “Yes—he’s just that, an acquaintance.”
Alicia let a moment elapse, then, her gaze still on the crowd, asked, “Do you want to know why he called?”
She heard a hiss, an exhalation through his teeth.
“Yes.”
She’d assumed he would hear of King’s visit; she’d rehearsed her explanation. “We made his acquaintance some months ago through matters arising from my late husband’s estate. Mr. King knew of our wish to establish Adriana creditably.” She glanced up, and found Tony watching her closely. “He offered to give us the benefit of his knowledge regarding the financial status of any gentleman Adriana was seriously considering.”