Chapter 11

“The law is reason, free from passion.”

Aristotle

With the arrival of dawn, Aidan opened his eyes. Gwen was still curled in his arms, and he wished he could remain here and pretend that there was no wrong in the world. That Lily was safe, that the baron had not been murdered, and that Smythe was not probably the killer.

But if not for those intrinsic truths, he would never have met Gwen. A thought that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Raising a hand, he gently brushed her hair from her face and thought about how happy he was to have met her.

So be it. If this was his challenge, he would deal with it. Somehow he would hold on to Gwen and find the killer, even if it was Smythe.

He recalled the words she had mumbled against his skin as she had fallen asleep.

Pressing a kiss against her forehead, he whispered a vow. “I will endeavor to be worthy of your love. I promise this to you, Gwen Abbott.”

Aidan gently rolled Gwen back onto her pillow, where she shifted around in her sleep before settling back down. Carefully he rose from the bed, dressing in his clothes that were divested across the floor. He did not fail to notice that there were two empty spaces on Gwen’s wall where paintings once hung. Yet more sold-off valuables, he assumed.

Loping to the door, careful not to disturb his slumbering bride, Aidan cracked it open then slipped out into the hall where he found Buttercup waiting with bared teeth. Low growling informed him of his lack of welcome. Aidan swung the door wider, encouraging the animal to enter Gwen’s room. “Go, Buttercup. Go find Gwen.”

The dog did not need any further encouragement. She scampered in and took a leap to land on the side of the bed where Aidan had slept. Circling about for a moment, Buttercup collapsed down with her head tucked over one of her paws to stare at his sleeping bride.

Pulling the door closed, Aidan heard a creak behind him. Spinning around, he saw his father-in-law had come around the corner from the stairs.

“Mr. Smythe?”

Gwen’s father looked up with a start, furtively stuffing a notebook into his pocket and his face spreading into his customary wide grin.

“Aidan, my boy. It is a fine morning, I tell you. I have already been up and taking in the splendor of the sunrise.”

He kept his face composed, but Aidan noted that Smythe had to be lying. He was wearing the same clothes from the day before. It would appear the man was only just coming to bed. There had been no mention of attending societal events after the wedding, so the only conclusion to reach was that Smythe was hiding where he had been all night.

It was a chilling reminder of why Aidan had orchestrated moving into the Smythe home. He was here to investigate this man up close, and now that he had taken care of his obligations with Gwen, it was time to return to his mission.

Aidan fought down a frisson of frustration when Smythe passed him to enter his own rooms down the hall. If only Aidan had not been obsessing over making love to Gwen, he might have been here to follow Smythe and find out what his father-in-law was up to, but instead he had wasted hours the day before walking through London, dillydallying at his clubs, and receiving instruction from Trafford on carnal relations.

He would have to be more attentive, Aidan resolved. If he was ever going to sort out this muddle with Lily and Filminster, he would need to discover what Smythe was doing.

Aidan strode off in disappointment, lamenting lost opportunities and his wonderful night with Gwen forgotten with the bitter reminder that a killer was on the loose and Lily was relying on him to investigate Smythe.

Gwen wokeup and stretched out. Her wedding night had been far more than she had hoped for. Romantic poetry, making love, melting kisses, and soft caresses.

Turning over, she was disappointed to find she was all alone except for Buttercup. Aidan must have let her back into the room when he had left. The dog was asleep, with her long ears splayed out on the coverlet. Gwen smiled fondly.

Then she recalled her last words before sleep had overtaken her. She sat up in alarm, grabbing the sheet to cover her naked body.

Did I tell Aidan that I love him?

It could have been a dream. She had no clear recollection of making the decision to say it. It had just popped into her head. But perhaps she had simply drifted into slumber and it had been a figment of her imagination.

But had Aidan pulled her closer into his embrace?

Zounds! What a disaster if she had mumbled the words to him. It was too soon!

Gwen scrambled out of bed, ringing the bell to summon Octavia and racing around the room to wash up. She needed to locate her husband and then observe his reaction to her this morning.

Buttercup raised her head, drowsy eyes watching Gwen with a mild interest before lowering down to fall back to sleep.

Why? Why would I do that? We barely know each other!

If she had said it, Aidan would think she was a weak-minded fool. How could she possibly declare her love so soon into their marriage? They had only interacted … Gwen counted out the number of times they had met.

If the moonlight bewitchment and the offer of marriage were two separate incidents, which seemed like a stretch, she had only met with him … two … three … four times, and then their wedding night would be the fifth.

Ye gods! He thinks I am a silly, bird-witted little girl!

Octavia knocked at the door, and Gwen called out for her to enter. Harried, she gestured at the wardrobe as she sponged herself clean at the washbasin. “I must find my husband!”

Her lady’s maid puckered her forehead in confusion but complied, pulling out a gown, clean shift, and stockings, and then picking up Gwen’s stays from the floor without comment. Gwen blushed, averting her eyes while she finished washing up. What was there to say in such a situation?

She quickly drew on the stockings and pulled the shift over her head. Octavia assisted her with the stays, which took longer than expected because Gwen was panting with the anxiety to depart her room and ensure Aidan was not appalled with her unsolicited words.

Finally, they had her gown done up and Gwen stormed from the room without explanation for her haste and with her hair flying loose. Buttercup dropped down from the bed and chased after her, a pattering of paws announcing her company as Gwen raced down to find Aidan.

When she reached downstairs, Gwen searched through the rooms, finally finding Aidan at the breakfast table with a plate of eggs and ham. He had a distant expression on his face, and his eyes were focused on the garden outside the window, while his fork was paused midair as if he had forgotten what he was about.

“Aidan?”

He did not respond.

“Aidan?”

He started, his gaze swinging to find her.

“Good morning,” he said before dropping his fork to raise a cup of coffee to his lips.

Gwen bit her lip. He seemed … distant. “How are you this morning?”

It took several seconds for him to respond with a “Hmm?”

“How are you this morning?”

The bemused expression returned to his face. “Fine, fine. How are you?” Aidan smiled, but it did not reach his eyes and his thoughts were obviously occupied.

Gwen clenched her fists, her stomach rolling with anxiety. This was not good. She must have upset him by declaring her feelings. It was clear that things were not as they were the night before.

Panic set in. They had shared the perfect evening. Why did she have to ruin it with maudlin sentiment? Why could she not allow their new marriage to breathe and develop naturally?

She walked forward and took a seat by his side, determined to find a way to bridge the faux pas. Buttercup followed her under the table and sat down upon Gwen’s feet. A footman brought the usual plate of cut fruit that she preferred, placing it on the table in front of her. Gwen stared at it, trying to think what to say. Should she bring up what she had said to apologize or simply pretend it had never happened?

“Shall we do something together today?”

Aidan took a moment to respond, as if his mind was elsewhere. “I am afraid that will not work today. I … have plans.”

Gwen used her fork to push a strawberry around her plate. He was so different from their night together. She had been the center of his world after he had arrived at her door, but now he was reserved. This was all so new to her, and she had no ideas on how to bring back the rapport of the night before.

“Oh.”

“I might not be here for dinner. I have some things to take care of today.”

Gwen was hit with a wave of desperation. Buttercup shifted about, as if sensing her agitation. Leaning over, she whispered to prevent the servant from overhearing. “Will you come to my room tonight?”

Please say yes. Please, please say yes.

“We shall see what time I return.”

Gwen’s heart fell. Soon Aidan rose to leave the breakfast room, leaving Gwen to consider her options. It was clear Aidan must be repulsed by her premature announcement of her feelings, but there must be a way to overcome the awkwardness she had created?

Buttercup whined from behind the tablecloth as if to commiserate with Gwen’s misery.

Aidan had been wonderful while she had been … too damn needy. It was clear that she was scaring him away.

Aidan fingeredthe letter in his pocket. Filminster was cryptic as ever, presumably fearing to commit the details to the page, but Aidan understood what it meant. It was time for him to take action and discover what Smythe was up to.

It happened again. I have doubled the guards. - Filminster

Ridley House was still being watched, and someone had attempted to breach his sister’s home again. The only consolation was that there were men there to protect her from harm.

He headed to the library, trying to think what to do. Smythe was still up in his rooms, presumably getting some sleep after being out all night, which only confirmed Aidan’s suspicions he had been out.

Perhaps I could try to search his study once more?

It seemed pointless, but perhaps something new would turn up. Aidan was growing more certain that he should follow his father-in-law. Perhaps Smythe would leave his home again this afternoon and Aidan could find out what he was about?

That did not leave Aidan with many options. He supposed he could visit Ridley House to find out what had happened exactly, and then return to the Smythe home in time to see if Smythe took off on his errands again.

This seemed like the only course of action available. He could not just pace up and down in the library for several hours while Smythe was upstairs asleep.

His mind made up, he returned to the hall to order his mount prepared. When he reached the entry hall it was to find the butler engaging with two workmen. They were carefully lifting the grand painting hanging above the primary staircase, a large landscape of English ladies of the last century promenading in their finery. Lavish hats boasted ruffles and lace, perched on powdered hair while dogs ran around their feet. It appeared to be set in one of the parks of London, perhaps St. James’s.

And it was clearly valuable, possibly a Gainsborough.

“What is this, Jenson?”

The butler, a slim man in his fifties with iron-gray hair, glanced over his shoulder, then quickly turned back to the task at hand as the three men slowly lowered the heavy, gilded frame to the floor. Ordinarily, a gentleman would not demand such information from another’s household staff, but Aidan was the heir to a viscount, so few would have the temerity to deny him.

“Mr. Smythe has sold the painting, and these men are here to collect it.”

Aidan ran a hand through his hair, fighting back a growl of fuming frustration.

Smythe must be at the bottom of this!

The ongoing liquidation of assets coincided with both the murder and the recent attempts to breach Ridley House. Both reeked of desperation. A killer who needed to hide evidence of his dastardly deeds and obtain funds for some mysterious reason. Covering up the murder of a peer would cost coin. There were men being paid to watch Ridley House, and the now-deceased footman who had attacked Lily weeks earlier had hidden quite a stash in his things.

Most of Gwen’s dowry had been forfeited in light of the scandal, the Abbotts providing for her and their future progeny in the marriage contracts. Something Smythe had insisted on, and his own father had acquiesced to. Yet another indication that Smythe was obsessed with obtaining funds for some undisclosed reason.

As a result, Smythe had not been in a position to deny Aidan access to his residence because his contribution to Gwen’s future had been practically non-existent.

Smythe’s perfidy was on full display, and it was imperative that Aidan prove it and end this threat. If anything happened to Lily or her husband, the guilt would be too much to bear.