Seduced at Midnight

anything, please inform me.'

Just then the music changed to a waltz. 'Ah, a chance to hold my wife in my arms,' Matthew said with a grin. 'If you'll excuse me.'

'Same for me,' Daniel said. They departed together and led their wives to the dance floor, while Jennsen wandered off, murmuring, 'I'll leave you to your duties.'

Would the duke ask Julianne to dance? Gideon's stomach tightened at the thought. Julianne remained where she'd been before, chatting now with her mother and Lady Emily. He scanned the room but didn't see the duke. In fact, he hadn't seen the duke for at least a quarter hour.

As if the thought of him conjured up the man, Gideon's gaze fell upon him, entering the room from a side door set in the dark wood paneling. The duke looked a bit flushed, Gideon noted. And furtive. His jaw tightened with the grim certainty that within the next few minutes a woman would enter the room from that same doorway looking equally as flushed and furtive.

Unfortunately, he was proven correct when, less than two minutes later, a woman Gideon didn't recognize but whose skin bore a noticeable blush and whose gaze shifted in a stealthy manner slipped into the room. His hands clenched into fists, and he imagined them pummeling the duke to dust. The man was not only an immoral bastard but a blind fool. How could any man blessed to have Julianne as his betrothed even look at another woman?

Probably now, when his temper hovered so close to the surface, wasn't the best time to speak to the duke, but nonetheless, Gideon approached him. Making certain Julianne wasn't out of sight, Gideon stepped directly in front of the duke and said, 'A moment of your time, Your Grace.'

Clearly annoyed at Gideon's peremptory tone, the duke said, 'My patience with you is running thin, Mayne. With both you and your questions. What is it now?'

Only years of practice at schooling his features into an expressionless mask enabled Gideon to hide his distaste. Did the duke know or care that the faint smell of sex and women's perfume clung to him?

'Tell me about Count Chalon, Mr. Tate, and Mr. Standish,' Gideon said, watching him closely.

Surprise flickered in the duke's cold eyes, followed by annoyance, and for a few seconds Gideon thought he meant to refuse to answer. Finally he said, 'Clearly you've heard of our unfortunate investment. The gentlemen are friends from Cornwall whom I've known for years. They all hail from well-respected families and are wealthy in their own right.'

'Except that they're all ten thousand pounds less wealthy now. As are you.'

Eastling shrugged. 'Sadly, not all investments go the way we might hope.'

'That is a great deal of money.'

The duke's dismissive gaze flicked over him. 'I suppose it would seem that way to you.'

'I'm certain it would seem that way to anyone. The count is French?'

'Yes, although he settled in Cornwall years ago. All three men eschew London and society.' Another shrug. 'I felt some measure of guilt for encouraging them to join in a venture that failed, but they knew the risks.'

'I'll need their directions in Cornwall. If you'd write them down by the end of the evening, that would do.'

The duke's brows rose. 'Very well. However, all three are currently traveling on the Continent.'

'What of their families?'

'None are married, although Mr. Standish is a widower.'

'Any sisters? Mothers?'

The duke's annoyance was clearly growing. 'Neither Mr. Standish nor Mr. Tate have sisters, but both have brothers. Their mothers are deceased. The count has a sister who lives with their mother in France. And now, Mr. Mayne, I'm afraid I must see to my guests.' The way he emphasized the word left no doubt that Gideon did not fall into that rarified category. 'If you have any further questions, you'll need to schedule an appointment to see me.' The duke turned on his heel and walked away.

Gideon watched him go. And again wondered if his deep dislike and suspicion of the duke was truly deserved or the result of Gideon's feelings for Julianne.

After making certain Julianne was still chatting nearby, Gideon approached Lord Walston, who proved much more cooperative than His Grace.

'Terrible about poor Lady Hart,' Walston said.

'You were friends?'

Did something flicker in Walston's eyes? Before Gideon could decide, the viscount said, 'Yes. I knew her husband very well. Awful tragedy, his death, and I know her brother, Penniwick, of course. Have you any leads yet in Lady Hart's murder?'

'Actually, I'm convinced that the guilty party will be taken into custody within the next two days.'

Walston's eyes widened. 'I say. That's good news.'

'Yes. What can you tell me about the three gentlemen from your failed business deal, Count Chalon, Mr. Standish, and Mr. Tate?'

There was no missing Walston's surprise or confusion. 'Well, I… I don't know anything about them really. Never met them. Friends of Eastling's, so you might ask him.'

'It didn't concern you that you'd never met them?'

Walston shook his head. 'No. It's not always possible to actually meet all the parties involved in every deal, you know. Eastling vouched for them, and they put up their money. That was good enough for me.'

'You have one sister, I believe?'

Walston blinked. 'You do ask the most unusual questions. Yes. She's visiting me from Dorset. Loving every moment of being in Town. Finds life on her husband's remote estate rather dull.'

'Given the rash of crimes, I suggest you keep a close eye on her.' Watching Walston carefully, he added, 'Especially as the most recent victims have all been women in some way related to the gentlemen who were part of that particular failed business venture.'

Walston blinked. Then frowned. 'Have they? I say, I had no idea. Yes, yes, thank you. I'll be certain to watch over Celia.' His frown deepened, and he looked around the room. 'That is, if I can find her to begin with. Always wandering off, she is.' His face brightened. 'Ah, there she is. If you'll excuse me…' He gave a vague wave then headed off toward the opposite side of the room, and Gideon quickly lost sight of him in the crowd.

For the next two interminable hours Gideon kept his post by the pillar, maintaining his view of the room. He caught snippets of conversation, many of them about Lady Hart. The guests were clearly reveling in the gossip, enjoying the champagne, music, and dancing. But where was the duke? Gideon hadn't seen him since he'd walked away, telling Gideon to schedule an appointment. Odd, seeing as he was the host and would be announcing his imminent marriage very soon. Indeed, Gideon was surprised the announcement hadn't already been made. As much as he didn't want to hear it, dreaded doing so, part of him wanted it over with.

So, where the bloody hell was His Grace? Lifting the skirts of some other woman? A red haze seemed to blur Gideon's vision. Bastard. With a Herculean effort he tamped down the desire to search every room of the house until he found the duke, then beat him to a bloody pulp. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Walston in quite some time either. Or Penniwick. Haverly and Beechmore had seemed to disappear for a time as well. Damn crowded party. It was nearly impossible to keep account of everyone.

He allowed his gaze to drift back to Julianne. As she'd promised, she hadn't left his sight, a bittersweet blessing as it was nearly impossible not to stare at her every second. He watched her now, standing with her mother, who appeared displeased about something, which didn't surprise Gideon in the least. Had the woman ever been pleased about anything? Someone claimed the countess's attention, and she turned away