Chapter Fifteen
March 1, 1818
William’s nerves crawled while anxiety pulled at the knots in his stomach. To say nothing of the odd tingles of anticipation playing along his spine. He could act the nodcock and pretend it was due to being at the Earl of Littlewood’s annual spring ball, but that would be a lie. No, every bit of emotion currently swirling through his body emanated from one woman, and damned if he couldn’t wait to see her tonight.
As he navigated the crush of people in the ballroom, he constantly scanned the immediate area, but there was no sign of Francesca. Perhaps she hadn’t arrived, for she’d no doubt come with her parents. At least she hadn’t let Lord Wainwright escort her, for he currently did the pretty within a cluster of young ladies no doubt in their Come-Out year if their white and pastel gowns trimmed with flounces were any indication.
That only made him relax marginally.
Taking a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing footman, William rested a shoulder against the wall at the sidelines and gave his mind free rein.
Yesterday had been a thoroughly trying day. When he’d discovered that the shop woman from whom he’d bought the fan had been the latest victim of the as-yet-unknown killer, the bottom had fallen out of the safety bubble he often surrounded himself in. Though, however small, they’d gleaned a clue with the scissor tip, which meant the killer had become sloppy or they were growing desperate. Either of which would bring matters to a head soon.
I must protect Francesca.
That was his top priority. If it was true, and the killer had a personal interest in him, and that was why the shop woman was murdered, then they would try for anyone they deemed close to him—Francesca. He had to keep her safe and out of harm’s way. There was no other option, for she’d told him quite blatantly she wanted him over the viscount.
It was more than he’d had two days ago and startling in its magnitude. But due to his blue devils, she’d left his house before he could talk to her about that choice or the ramifications therein. Was he the best man for her? Could he take care of her in the manner to which she’d become accustomed? Should he step aside and let her accept the suit of a man with a title and a better standing despite what she’d told him?
Bah! Why am I still so conflicted?
“Good evening, Inspector Storme.”
With a start, William concentrated on the women who’d drifted over to his location. Vaguely, he remembered them from the second crime scene as the young women who’d been friends with the dead woman, Miss Anderson. “Good evening.” His thoughts still chased one another around in his head. “Forgive me. Your names escape me.”
The blonde woman tittered and smiled. The pale yellow of her gown washed her complexion of all life. “I’m Miss Vernon. We met the other day under rather unfortunate circumstances.”
“Yes, of course.” He took her proffered hand and brought her gloved fingers to his lips. “I trust you’re enjoying your time here?”
“We are.” If she nodded with any more enthusiasm, her head would bobble off her neck. “I was just telling Miriam, er, I mean, Miss Newton,” she took her friend’s arm and shook it, “that there are so many handsome and eligible men in attendance at this ball.”
With remarkable willpower, he kept from showing his distaste. “You should find many hours of entertainment ahead then.” He looked at the redhaired woman, who’d chosen to garb herself in a lavender gown. “Hello, Miss Newton. It’s good to see you again.”
“I hope so.” She offered her hand, and when he gave it the same treatment he had her friend’s, she smiled and clutched his fingers. “No doubt your evening is quite full already, but if you should have an opportunity, I wouldn’t mind setting aside some time to share a dance with you.” She fluttered her eyelashes, much to his consternation. “I thought you and I had a distinct connection that day you rescued me from the runaway mail coach.”
Right, he’d forgotten that day in the face of everything else that had occurred afterward. “I’m not sure about that, but I’m glad to see you doing well and suffering no ill-effects.” When he would have released her hand, she tightened her grip.
“I am, all due to you.” Her brown eyes seemed overly bright, but it could be a product of the copious gaslights lit about the room. “I do hope you’ll seek me out tonight, Inspector. I have much to talk with you about that you’d find of interest.”
Well, that was odd. Gently but firmly, he withdrew his hand from her almost predatory grip. “I don’t know what’s in the offing for tonight, but as Miss Vernon pointed out, there’s quite the crush here and I’m sure you’ll find plenty of men willing to partner you.”
Something about the woman sounded warning bells in his head, but what was it exactly?
Miss Vernon tugged on Miss Newton’s arm. “Come on. We’re wasting time when we should be circulating before all the good men are snapped up.”
“But I wanted to talk more with Inspector Storme.” Her smile was beginning to fray along the edges. What had her so uptight this evening? “Do you plan to spend your time with someone else?” She simpered and looked up into his face. Gooseflesh popped on his skin, for really, the woman was becoming a nuisance.
“If I do, I’m quite certain it’s not your concern.” If his words were harsher than he’d wanted, he couldn’t do anything about that now.
“I see.” Her mouth formed a moue of displeasure. “But perhaps you don’t.”
Then Miss Vernon tugged again on her arm. “Let’s go. There’s Lord Wainwright, and according to the gossip, he’s free of all commitments now.”
What was this? The viscount wasn’t going to declare himself to Francesca? But asking these women would mean spending more time in their company, and already Miss Newton looked as if she were gearing up for a tantrum. Without another second of thought to the pair of them, William decided he didn’t much care what they were up to as long as they left him alone. “Well, you two enjoy yourselves.”
No sooner had they both set off and melted into the crowd, a flash of vivid color caught the corner of his eye. When he turned his head and let his eyes focus on the new arrival, his breath stalled in his lungs. The hand holding the champagne flute sagged. She was there, standing just inside the doorway behind her parents, and she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
“Good God,” he breathed, ignoring the fact that he talked to himself.