Chapter 18

“Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit.”

Aristotle

Aidan watched as Gwen sipped her soup with gusto. She might not like it under normal circumstances, but she was certainly ravenous enough to be enthusiastic this evening.

It was a joy to finally be honest with his wife. The day of their wedding, they had enjoyed a convivial afternoon with their guests, but tonight spirits were high. Their guests were markedly more relaxed when they were not anticipating the potential tragedy of destroying Gwen’s little family in the pursuit of justice.

It was a pleasure to observe her coming into her own, her countenance unstrained as she listened intently to the anecdote that the earl and Filminster were retelling.

A story about how the earl’s brother had won his wife.

Under the table, Aidan reached over to cover Gwen’s free hand. She threw him a sideways glance with a half-smile before turning back to listen to Saunton’s tale. The only thing marring his enjoyment of their family dinner was thoughts of Trafford.

Where was the clownish heir? Was he well? Or was he fighting for his life as the blood on the note had implied? Worry was gnawing at Aidan.

The fool had grown on him, and Aidan admitted … Well, it seemed callous to sit here enjoying dinner together when they did not know where Trafford was. He had apparently risked his life in pursuit of Lily and Brendan’s safety.

Listening to Saunton’s story, Aidan realized that others around the dinner table, too, were thinking of their missing friend.

“Then Trafford said he could attest that Perry was an irreparable idiot to all who were present.”

Next to him, Gwen giggled, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “Little Julius has always been a bit of a scoundrel.”

Silence fell and their guests turned to stare at Gwen in amazement. Smythe did not notice, continuing to spoon his soup until he realized that something was amiss. He looked up with a quizzical expression to look about the table and stare at Gwen when he realized she was the focus.

Aidan cleared his throat. “Do you … know Lord Trafford?”

Gwen raised her head, her brow furrowing as she noted that she was the center of attention. “No, but Lady Hays tells stories about Little Julius all the time. He frequently sneaked into her home to wreak havoc on her household as a boy.”

Saunton raised a hand to fiddle with his cravat. “Lady Hays?”

Gwen bobbed her head. “Her townhouse is near her niece’s in Mayfair. We are talking about the heir to the Earl of Stirling? Little Julius was a regular visitor in her home.”

Aidan shot a look to Filminster who met his eyes and gave a subtle shake of his head. So no one had thought to search for Trafford at the home of Lady Hays. Then a spark of memory teased Aidan.

“Do you mean … Aunty Gertrude?”

Gwen smiled. “That is correct. Lady Gertrude Hays. She was just telling me a story about him at the ball the night we met. After we announced a betrothal, she cornered me for some time. She thought it was a great pity that I had not met her great-nephew. I think she had hoped … we might enjoy each other’s company.”

The euphemism was clear. Lady Hays had hoped for a match between Trafford and Gwen.

“She told me he needed an intelligent woman such as myself to bring him up to scratch.”

Aidan and Filminster made eye contact once more.

“And is Lady Hays in London now?”

Gwen shook her head. “She left London with her husband a day or two after the ball. She will not be back for several months. Lady Hays mentioned she would invite us to a house party for Christmastide.”

Aidan sat back in his chair, hope surging through him. Perhaps Trafford was in Aunty Gertrude’s home with the missing girl!

It makes sense if her home is close to Trafford’s home! It could shed light on how Miss Gideon has vanished.

But they could hardly just ride up the street and knock on the door. Not if the killer was searching for Trafford and might be following their movements or surveilling the nearby family townhouse. And not if they did not want to bring undue attention to where Trafford might be hiding.

Near the head of the table, the duke coughed into his hand. “Smythe, this wine is excellent. What vineyard is it from?”

Glancing down at the duke’s untouched goblet, Aidan realized Halmesbury was changing the subject before they gave themselves away. There was fidgeting around the table and then Saunton raised a goblet with a wide smile. “Indeed, it is very good.” He, too, had barely touched the wine. Aidan’s cousin, Sophia, had suffered at the hands of men addicted to hard spirits, so none of her immediate family imbibed to show her support.

Conversation shifted to the meal that was being served, but when Aidan turned his attention back to his soup, he could see from the corner of his eye that Gwen was gazing at him in curiosity.

She leaned over to whisper into his ear, heating his blood with her sweet scent of citrus and the shadow of cleavage revealed to his vision by her position. “When we are alone, I expect to be informed what that was about.”

Aidan licked his lips, his mind engulfed with thoughts of peeling Gwen’s gown from her slender body. His pulse quickened at the notion of taking her to bed once their guests left for the night. “When we are alone, there might not be much time for talk.”

Gwen raised her chin to look at him, her blue eyes blazing with mirrored passion. She appeared a little breathless as she stared back at him. Gwen shook her head as if to clear it. “We will make time for both.”

He smiled, lowering his free hand to knead her thigh under the table as Gwen turned back to her meal. Aidan noted the blush creeping up her neck with smug satisfaction and thought about witnessing the rosy red washing over her naked body when he …

Aidan shook his head before he lost track of where he was sitting, in full view of his entire family, including his parents nearby.

“What was that about?”Gwen wasted no time getting to the point once they reached her bedroom. Buttercup must have sensed the tension, dropping down from the bed to scamper across the floor. She planted her paws and began to bark at Aidan in bristling outrage.

Aidan and Gwen looked at each other, and despite her resolve to insist she be included, Gwen burst into laughter.

“The trials and tribulations of being the beloved mistress to a protective pet,” remarked Aidan, his lips quirked into a crooked grin. Gwen shook her head, laughing too hard to respond but pointing at the door as she sought her composure.

Aidan opened the door he had shut seconds before, and Gwen caught her breath to sweep the offended little dog gently into the hall before quickly shutting Buttercup out.

Gwen rose and placed her fists upon her waist in the best menacing pose she could assemble. “I want to know what is going on, Aidan! Between you and Papa, there have been too many secrets. I am part of your family now!”

Aidan bit his lip. Leaning forward, he pressed a slow, firm kiss to her lips before raising his head. “You are my family now, Gwen Abbott.”

His voice was low and deep, sending a thrill through her body. She shivered in delight, stepping closer so that they were toe to toe, her breasts brushing against his chest as she tilted her head back to stare deep into his eyes.

“Obfuscation will not work, husband. Why was Lord Trafford of so much interest?”

Aidan stared down at her, before slowly lowering his head to press another slow kiss to her lips. Then he straightened up and stepped away.

“Trafford has run off to investigate the other three suspects on our list. Something has happened to him, we do not know what, but he has disappeared. There is a note from him declaring your father’s innocence, but … there were indications of violence. Trafford might be injured.”

Gwen bit her lip. She had followed the words, but they did not make much sense. “I think … you must start at the beginning.”

Aidan nodded, beginning to pace up and down her room as he described the events of the past few weeks. How the baron had been killed. How Lily had been attacked. How Filminster had found a note revealing the motive for the murder, but not the culprit. How they had narrowed a list of suspects to Smythe and three others, and the subsequent events at Ridley House.

Gwen listened in quiet anguish until, finally, Aidan fell silent.

“You have all taken so much risk,” she eventually exclaimed. “Did you know the baron?”

Aidan shook his head.

Gwen leaned back against the door, feeling pensive as she tried to sort through her thoughts. “Trafford could be at Lady Hays’s home. She and Lord Hays leave their oldest retainers to take care of it in their absence. Servants that would have known Little Julius for many years.”

“I hope he is there. It will be difficult to confirm because we cannot simply walk up to the front door and knock. There might be people watching us, hoping we will lead them to him.”

“Do you think he uncovered the truth? Do you think he knows the identity of the murderer?”

“There is no way to know. Until we speak with Trafford, we are in the dark as we were before.”

Gwen shook her head. “That is not true. From what you have told me, the list of suspects is confirmed. You now know it must be one of those three men. Any resources that were committed to searching for other suspects can now be redirected to these specific men.”

Aidan cocked his head in thought, frowning slightly as he considered what she had said.

“I suppose you are right.”

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her stomach to glare at him. “I know I am right. The evidence is before you. And the letter from Trafford was clearly stated. One of the other three. No perhaps or question about it. Why else would he now be hiding? Your investigation has been successful, and you have narrowed it down to a finite number of men who could have committed the crime.”

Aidan’s expression turned into one of admiration. “You are making me regret not speaking with you on the matter before. You offer a fresh perspective.”

“I am a scholar. I consider the facts.”

Aidan approached her, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close and gaze down into her face. “And what about you? Have you finally accepted the facts about you?” He raised a hand to brush her hair back from her face, his eyes staring deeply into hers, and Gwen’s skin tingled in helpless delight.

“Gwen, Gwen the Spotted Giraffe?” Her father had confessed after dinner to revealing her youthful secrets earlier that day in the interests of reconciliation, so she knew Aidan was aware of her past troubles.

Aidan leaned in to brush his lips over her freckled cheek. “I happen to like your spots, Gwen Abbott.” He rose to nuzzle at her temple, teasing her hair with his hot breath to make her shiver. “And I appreciate your height.” He raised his head to stare deep into her eyes. “And your name is exquisite poetry.” Aidan stroked her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Gwen.” He leaned in to steal a kiss. “Gwen.” He tilted her chin with his forefinger to gaze into her soul with impassioned chocolate brown eyes. “Gwen.”

Then he paused, waiting for her to respond while she weakly attempted to recall what they had been discussing before he had laid waste to her with his ardent attentions. Aidan’s whispered words weaved a spell on her senses, making her finally accept that his adoration was genuine.

“I”—her voice was thready as want rose from her belly to consume her with its flames—“have realized that those girls … might be wrong about my attractions.”

“Very wrong,” Aidan muttered, lowering his head to capture her mouth with his. Gwen moaned in the back of her throat as their tongues entwined, lifting her arms to grip him by the shoulders.

Aidan cursed, breaking their kiss to step back with a pained expression.

Gwen’s brows came together. “What is it … never say it … is this another secret?”

Her husband moved back another step, guilt painted on his features. He rubbed at his forehead, clearly reluctant to answer her. “I may have been thrown from my horse when I was following your father.”

She gasped. “May have?” Gwen stepped forward.

“I did … get thrown. Valor was startled and panicked in a congested street.”

Gwen stepped forward again. “That sounds serious.”

Aidan reddened, not willing to meet her eyes and making her grow suspicious.

“When did this happen?” she demanded.

Aidan rolled his shoulders, as if to shake off the pain. “Yesterday,” he replied in a small voice.

She sighed heavily. “Of course. That is why you closed the curtains and insisted we remain in the dark!”

He nodded.

Gwen bit back her irritation. “Let me see, then.” She gestured at his coat.

Aidan rolled his shoulders once more, then removed the coat to lay it out neatly on the bench at the foot of her bed. Next, he unfurled his cravat to lay it down beside the coat. When he yanked his shirt from his breeches, Gwen grew fiery in anticipation. She had only seen his naked body that first night, the night of their wedding, and it was still an unusual experience to watch a man undress. Her chest rose and fell in agitation as her blood heated up. Only for her to exclaim in horror when he whipped the shirt over his head to reveal his upper body.

“Aidan!”

His upper arm and shoulder were mottled with livid bruising. Reds, blues, and purples formed grotesque patterns upon his bronzed skin. Gwen quickly circled him with her hand held over her mouth. The hind part of his shoulder was even worse, with angry contusions covering almost a quarter of his back.

Which was the moment she realized that Aidan could have been lost to her forever. “You could have been killed!”

Aidan threw his shirt in a pile on the bench, coming back to take her in his arms and hold her to his bare chest. “Would that have been a bad thing, Gwen Abbott?”

Gwen’s vision was blurred when she looked up at him through the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “A very bad thing,” she whispered.

“Then I shall take far more care in the future.” Aidan lowered his head to capture her lip between his teeth, nibbling gently before he traced the edge of her mouth with his tongue.

“Hmm …” she breathed. “Is it true you have never lain with a woman before me?”

Aidan purred an affirmation, his mouth trailing kisses along her cheek to breathe softly against her temple.

“You demonstrated competency … for a man who was new to the activity,” she mumbled, finding it difficult to keep a thought in her head when hot sensation was pulsing between her thighs and up her belly.

“Little Julius instructed me in painful detail,” he admitted, before suckling her earlobe into the wet heat of his mouth.

“Well … we better save Little Julius … from his pursuers, then … because we owe him a … great debt of gratitude.” Gwen’s head fell back to expose the line of her neck, and Aidan quickly took advantage to trail his hot mouth down the curve of soft flesh to nip gently at her shoulder.

Fingers fiddled with the buttons of her bodice, desire strumming in every direction at his warm touch. Soon it was undone, and Aidan was tugging the gown from her body. It dropped to pool around her feet, but she had no time to be concerned when his large palms came up to cup her through her stays. He growled in frustration, moving to tug her tapes and rip the garment away and throwing it aside.

Gwen thrilled at the evidence of his lust for her, reaching up to stroke his bared chest and revel in the sensation of the dusting of crisp curls and the hard muscles below her fingertips. He reached up to take hold of her hands, moving them to his waist so he could lean in to wrap his mouth around a jutting nipple, pleading for his attentions under the fabric of her shift.

She moaned loudly, tugging at his waist to pull him closer as his tongue flicked over the turgid tip. Next she knew, he had his arms about her and was lifting her up off her feet, their bodies pressed together tightly, so he could walk her over to the bed where he gently lowered her down.

While he towered over her, his eyes on her nearly naked body, surveying her slender form through the transparent cotton, Gwen watched with wide eyes as he undid the buttons of his falls. Taking a seat on the bed, he quickly pulled off his boots and unrolled his stockings before shrugging out of his breeches.

She was less shy this evening. It was their third night together, so this time she watched in open fascination as he revealed the engorged appendage which announced his desire for her. She reached out to grasp it, enraptured by the feeling of satin skin over hard steel, but Aidan growled and pulled her hand away.

Gwen was startled, her head cocking back to question him.

“I am still rather new to this, Venus. Touching me might lead to a disappointing finish.”

She smirked, sitting up to remove her shift so they were both naked together. “We would not want that!”

Grabbing him by the waist once more, she tugged him over, falling back onto the bed so he fell over her. Catching himself on his elbows, he watched her from an inch away, their heated skin rubbing together in the most delicious manner. Gwen gazed back, her heart thudding faster and faster in her chest as his hand slipped down between them. A finger found the crease between her legs, and Aidan explored her folds. Gliding over her slickness, he found the apex and swirled.

Gwen threw her head back and moaned, her legs parting to give him access as he settled his knees between hers. Aidan continued to stroke her, and her body writhed with the pleasure of it as her hips rose and fell rhythmically beneath his. Her movements became frayed, fractured, as sensation rose in waves to engulf her in a keening release.

Aidan quickly brought his hand back up to enter her with one decisive thrust, filling her with his blazing flesh. As he pulled back and thrust into her once more, Gwen moaned and gripped the coverlet with both hands as her desire mounted once more.

Together they chased the peak of oblivion before they both cried out and rode the wave together, crashing back to the earth in each other’s arms.

Aidan fell to his side next to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her body. “It is better with no secrets between us.”

Gwen giggled breathlessly, boneless from their mutual passion. “Much better.”

“Shall we … pledge to never have secrets again?”

She winced. “If that is how it is to be, then I suppose I better confess … The night you asked me about Papa selling his property … I told you the truth that he did not discuss it with me, but the truth is … I suspected what he had planned and did not disclose it.”

Aidan raised his head, peering at her in the dim light. “Gwendolyn Abbott! You misled me!”

She grinned, blushing with guilt. “To be fair, we were not yet married, and I did not know you all that well.”

His lips curled into a smile, and he leaned down to brush them over hers. “No more secrets in the future?”

Gwen nodded. “No more secrets, nor half-truths, nor carefully worded answers intended to misdirect. Unless I am planning a surprise.”

Aidan settled back down, holding her close. “When this is all over with Trafford and finding the killer, shall we take that trip to Italy together?”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. “You meant that? That you would take me to Florence?”

“Of course, but at the rate we are going, we might want to leave soon. If you are with child, we will have some time limitations to contend with.”

Gwen purred in the back of her throat, overcome that her moonlight visitor was placing all her deepest wishes at her feet. Great art. A child of her own. Deep in her soul, she finally acknowledged that he was not a visitor at all, but the other half of her soul, and their entire future was before them.

“Then we have no choice but to solve this murder swiftly,” she replied.