“Perhaps.” The viscount shrugged. “But then, London is full of crime. If one only looks for that, it’s all they’ll see.”
Wise words, those, and surprising they came from him. “I understand what you mean.” Fanny drew closer to him a few steps. There was the scent of spring in the air, and she hoped that meant the dreary days of winter were mostly over. “Did you, ah, know any of those women? You’re fairly popular within the ton, and I thought if anyone had gossip about them, it would be you.”
Why not try and catch flies with a little honey?
“What are you attempting to say, Miss Bancroft?” Annoyance threaded through his voice. “I didn’t appreciate the implication from Inspector Storme the other night, and I certainly don’t welcome it from you.”
Oh, dear.She hadn’t quite gotten the hang of tack, apparently. “I merely thought you might have seen those women. That’s all.” Quickly, she dropped her gaze lest he read intent in her eyes. Besides, he enjoyed it more if she was a docile, proper ton lady.
Unlike William, who encouraged her to chase after her dreams and build her self-confidence. The differences in them were startling. And telling.
“I see.” His expression softened and she lifted her gaze to his face. “My apologies. It’s quite a stressful time for us all.” Then he blew out a breath. “I might have danced with them or talked with them in passing at one or two events, but I hardly knew them well.” The look in his eyes turned intense. “The bulk of my focus has been on you, Miss Bancroft.”
Was that true, though? From the accounts of the two young women at the crime scene she’d visited, Lord Wainwright had actively flirted with seemingly everyone, especially if she wasn’t at those same society events. “How lovely of you to say.”
“It’s true.” He scooped up her hand and brought it to his lips. “I would dance with you too, but you’ve evaded me at every turn.”
“How charming you are,” she murmured. Though heat emanated from the brush of his lips upon the fine kid of her glove and eased up her arm, there were no butterflies dancing a ballet in her belly as they did whenever William came near. “I don’t wish to make a spectacle of myself or have you drag me about the dance floor, hindered by my handicap.”
“Yes, I suppose that does make for an inconvenient appearance and not exactly elegant,” he murmured with a frown.
How ill-bred of him to say! She yanked her hand from his. William never referred to her limp and neither did he continue to push her to dance. He’d even done one better and asked her how she’d come by the limp the other night at the rout when she’d lost a piece of her heart to him.
Yes, those differences between the men were rapidly widening the gulf.
Perhaps it was time to change the subject. “Do you know Lord Coxhill?” What did anyone know of the young lord? “He was present at both events when those poor women were killed.”
Shadows flitted over the viscount’s face. “I should think so. He’s a close friend of mine. In fact, I intend to meet with him later this evening at our club.”
“Ah, how wonderful for you.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming in frustration, for his answers gave nothing away. “Is he a rouge, perhaps a rake?”
“Not more than any other man in the ton on the prowl. It is the Season, after all, and I rather believe he’s in search of a fortune. Something about wanting to repair his country estate.”
“Of course. What man wouldn’t look for the coin above the woman it comes attached with?” she said in a particularly waspish tone. Why couldn’t men want a lady for herself instead of consigning her to a business transaction?
“I must ask you a question, Miss Bancroft.”
“Oh?” Anxiety knotted in her gut. Surely, he wouldn’t declare himself right now. I need more time to figure out my own convoluted thoughts before he adds his!
“What does Inspector Storme mean to you?”
Of everything she assumed the viscount would ask, that wasn’t it. “I beg your pardon?”
“You and he spend time together while attending the same ton social events. I’ve seen the way you watch him, and how he looks at you, so what does he mean to you?” He blew out a breath. “I rather thought that you and I were working toward a definite goal.”
Well, if that didn’t make her examine her own feelings, nothing would, and though she desperately wanted to know how William looked at her, she refrained from asking. “The inspector and I are friends and perhaps colleagues. I accompany him to a few locations for the case he’s working because I’m gathering information for an interview that I’m doing on him. Beyond that, he’s promised to give me and my paper exclusive rights to the case.”
“Are you certain that’s all there is between you?”
She narrowed her eyes even as her cheeks heated. Of course there was more between them. Hadn’t that quick coupling shown that? Her life had been forever changed because of that. “Do you doubt my word?” And how was it that she was eyed askance by playing two men against the other, but the viscount could apparently flirt and dance with other women as much as he pleased? Life was dreadfully unfair at times.
“I’m not sure. You’re different somehow than when I last saw you.” He peered at her with speculation in his eyes. “I’d like to call on you in the next several days.”
“Haven’t you done so many times in the past weeks? Why tell me this?”
“I have a very specific intention this time.” One of his eyebrows rose. “I would ask you a question, and I hope you’ll give me the answer I seek,” he added in a low voice. “I don’t like you in the inspector’s company, you see.”
Her stomach dropped into her toes. Both sensations of hot and cold twisted down her spine as faint panic filled her chest. Ah, and there was the crux of the matter. The viscount, also, wanted her fidelity and he would steal the march on William by asking for her hand, and soon. Yet, Inspector Storme hadn’t given her any hint on what he wanted from his future or if there would be a place for her in it even if he’d claim her body in spectacular fashion…