It wasn’t long until Lord Wainwright approached, looking no less handsome in the requisite dark evening clothes than William did, but there was a certain refinement in his toilette the Bow Street Runner didn’t possess. Not that it made either man less or more; it was the person who wore the clothes that mattered.
“Good evening, Miss Bancroft. I’m glad to see you here.” His blond hair glimmered in the candlelight, and there was a certain look in his brown eyes that would have sent a thrill down her spine had she not been so acutely aware that William was also in the room.
Why was it so difficult to ascertain where the viscount’s true affections lay?
Fanny smiled. “I’m honestly excited for tonight.”
“Oh?” He bent his head toward hers. “Can I hope that it’s because of me?”
A tingle danced down her spine. “Perhaps.” When next she glanced up, she gasped as William sauntered over. “Inspector.”
“Hello, again, Miss Bancroft.” His grin brimmed with wicked intent. “Wainwright.” He lifted his chin in the viscount’s direction.
“Inspector.” Lord Wainwright’s posture stiffened. “I don’t believe I invited you into this conversation.”
William was nonplussed. “I didn’t think this was a private meeting.” He crossed his arms at his chest. “By the by, Wainwright, something has puzzled me for a few days.”
“Oh?” Dislike clouded his eyes as he stared William down.
“There have been two murders in the last week of two young ladies with connections to the ton,” he continued in a conversational voice as if they weren’t about to discuss grisly details in a crowded drawing room.
“What has that to do with me?” The viscount took a step back while his glare intensified.
“Both women were known to have spent time in your company at events that proceeded their deaths.” One of William’s eyebrows cocked. “I can’t help but think you might know something about that.”
“Are you accusing me of killing those women?” The words were low and shot out as if they were darts. “Be very careful of your next words, Inspector.”
“Do I have just cause?” William stood his ground. He didn’t let the viscount intimidate him. “If you murdered those women, your title won’t save you, for I’ll work doubly hard at making certain justice is served.”
The viscount’s face blanched slightly. “Do not think to threaten me, Inspector. I have no idea to what you refer, and if you don’t desist in your line of questioning, I will ask our host to have you thrown out.” Distaste hung heavy from the words, and for the first time, Fanny saw the viscount in a mood other than that of an interested, polite suitor.
A muscle beneath William’s left eye twitched. “Very well, but you and I are not finished with this conversation. I’ll be in touch.” With a brief nod to her, he moved across the room to join a larger group.
She looked at Lord Wainwright with speculation bubbling through her mind. He hadn’t necessarily denied that he’d known those dead women, nor had he denied involvement in the murders. What was true and what was false? “That was exceedingly odd,” she murmured, hoping to draw him out in a different manner than William.
The viscount snorted. “That man is uncouth. He shouldn’t be here.”
“He’s the son of a viscount and cousin to the Earl of Hadleigh. He has as much right as you do to attend ton events.” How a man handled aversion went a long way into giving her insight regarding how he’d act in the future. Daring much, she laid a hand on his arm, but he tensed and quickly shook off her touch. “Don’t let this mar your enjoyment of the evening. There is much in the offing tonight.”
Lord Wainwright rested his gaze on her, but the emotions in their depths were shuttered. “Let’s hope that is true.” Then he sighed and relaxed slightly. “I’m in need of a brandy and perhaps a tour of the card room. Will you excuse me?”
“Of course.” She nodded and wondered at the source of his anxiety. “Perhaps we’ll talk later.”
“I’ll make certain of it.” Then he nodded and left the room as if a pack of dogs ran after him. Fanny pressed her lips together and sent a glance about the room. Her gaze collided with that of William’s and for a brief second, he lifted an eyebrow before returning his attention to the conversation at hand.
Drat you!
It was his fault she harbored doubts about the viscount. Then she frowned. No, that wasn’t necessarily true. She’d had them before she’d ever consented to becoming William’s partner on this investigation. The two murders and Wainwright’s potential involvement in them only brought those reservations to the forefront.
With nothing else to do, Fanny drifted toward a chair at the far end of the room, well away from the clusters of mingling guests. She needed to think.
As the evening wore on and conversations grew stilted, someone called for dancing to commence. Her heart sank, for it was exercise she couldn’t indulge in without making a fool of herself or calling attention to her limp. Immediately, the furniture was shoved to the sides of the room and the rugs rolled back. Someone called for volunteer musicians.
A wicked streak made itself known as it ratcheted down Fanny’s spine. She waved a hand above her head and before she could think about it, blurted, “Inspector Storme plays the violin.” When all eyes looked her way, heated invaded her cheeks once more. “He apparently has quite the talent for music.”
Across the room, the man in question glared at her, and if she weren’t already familiar with him, she would have wilted with intense embarrassment. As it was, she merely sent him a grin and waved. It would serve him right to feel a bit uncomfortable after what he did to the viscount.
William scoffed. “It’s merely a hobby at best.”