Chapter Two

Draco Waring, Earl of Woodley, tried to forget the beautiful butterfly, Imogen, who had shot fire through his veins earlier this evening. The attempt was in vain, for he could not get her out of his thoughts. As the night wore on and he was constantly approached by hopeful young ladies seeking his attention, he knew he was in deep trouble over the girl. He had yet to see what she looked like without her mask but imagined she would be spectacular, if her pouty pink lips and aquamarine eyes were any indication.

Not to mention that body of hers was straight out of a man’s wildest fantasy.

And she was a talented artist, no less.

Nor did she mind that Parrot had not left her side all evening.

“Ah, Imogen,” Draco muttered. Since he, as host, could not remain beside her as much as he wished, he had given his dog the command to guard her. He also discreetly watched her as often as possible, but it was not always easily managed while these marriage-minded peahens constantly fluttered around him, in addition to everything else going on.

He smiled upon noticing Imogen had gone in search of food and water for Parrot, who must have decided he was also a guest at the party and whined about being deprived.

Draco liked this sweetness about Imogen. She was kind and compassionate toward animals. More important, she was kind and compassionate when no one was looking, which meant this was her true nature. She was not trying to impress him or anyone else, just following the impulses of her generous heart.

Bollocks.

What a time to find himself interested in a woman.

In truth, wrong time. Wrong place.

He had to keep away from her until his mission was over. But how? He had foolishly claimed her for two dances, both of them waltzes. As the orchestra played the strains of the first waltz, he realized he was about to miss it.

Well, it was unintentional on his part; he’d been distracted by his host duties and a widow by the name of Lady Dowling, who feigned a twisted ankle to gain his attention. Unfortunately, he saw through the lady’s ruse too late. By the time he left her in the care of his butler, he was waylaid once again by the oafs who had earlier been ogling Imogen. They were still standing by the cliff walk and now making unwanted overtures to the maids on his staff.

The dance was already underway by the time he finished addressing these issues and returned to the ballroom. He could have apologized for his lateness and escorted Imogen onto the floor for what remained of it, but decided against the idea. He was in a foul temper and not fit company for this tender-hearted innocent.

But as he watched Imogen from his vantage point by the terrace doors, he began to feel quite bad about his decision. She had refused two or three gentlemen who asked for the privilege while she stood waiting for him.

Her aunt and uncle, who were beside her the entire time, did not look happy either.

Great.

Not an hour into the party and he had already offended the Marquess of Burness and his family.

Draco easily read Imogen’s lips as she told each approaching gentleman that the dance had already been claimed. He felt a knot in his heart, noticing her disappointment grow when he did not come forward. Even Parrot growled in his direction before settling atop her feet to comfort her when she went off to the side in dismay and sat alone while the dance was in progress.

The look of hurt in her eyes cut through him like a knife.

It would have been so much easier if she had sat there angry, but this was not Imogen. Apparently, there was not a single dark feeling in the girl.

She truly was a little butterfly.

As the evening progressed, one of those louts, that arse Lord Driscoll, who had been ogling her by the cliff walk earlier, approached Imogen. She had spent most of the party beside her aunt and uncle, but they had left her in Parrot’s company just moments ago and gone to talk to friends.

Driscoll must have been watching and eagerly awaiting his chance to pounce on her. Draco was not about to let that rogue anywhere near Imogen.

And blast Driscoll for wearing a pirate costume too. Was it mere coincidence?

Yes, it had to be. Not even Draco had known what he was supposed to wear until his cousin, Deandra, shoved a box containing the costume at him earlier today.

Draco reached Imogen’s side first. “I believe the supper dance is mine, Butterfly.”

She returned his smile with a glower. “Oh? Do you think so?”

“Yes,” he said between clenched teeth. “Forgive my delay in returning to you, but I had pressing matters that could not be avoided.”

“I noticed you and the pressing young matters flinging themselves at you.”

All right, he deserved the set-down, since he had neglected her for the first waltz. But she was not going to dance with that slimy snake now circling closer.

“She is taken for the rest of the evening, Driscoll. Slither back to your friends and leave her alone.”

“She does not appear happy to be taken by you, Woodley. Step aside and let me have a turn.”

“No.” Draco took Imogen’s hand and drew her up beside him, tucking her close to keep her out of Driscoll’s grasp.

“Are we to fight over her? That can be arranged,” the dissolute snarled back. “Victor claims the delectable spoils.”

“No fight. Turn around and leave. Touch her and that is the last thing you’ll do before you draw your last breath.” He took a step toward Driscoll, but the coward darted several steps back. Draco suppressed a grin of satisfaction. “If I catch you or any of your friends near this butterfly, I shall hurl you off the cliff walk. What’s it to be?”

Driscoll held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “You would do it, too. Bastard.” He turned and strode away.

Imogen was shaking beside him, trying to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he would not allow it before he gave her some sort of explanation. “Imogen, I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you. But you need to keep away from that man.”

She eyed him warily, those gorgeous blue-green eyes taking all of him in as she tried to determine whether to trust him. “He might say the same about you.”

“I am not a danger to you. Upon my honor, I would never hurt you.”

“But he would?”

Draco nodded. “Lord Driscoll and I have a long-running animosity. He has a cruel streak and thinks nothing of… Well, just stay clear of him. His toady friends, too.”

“Is this why you ordered Parrot never to leave my side? Was this your way of protecting me?”

He nodded. “I knew your uncle and aunt would watch over you, but I dared not have you alone even for a moment. Driscoll has had his eyes on you all night and was waiting for his chance to approach as soon as your family stepped away.”

“I suppose I should be grateful, then.” She glanced down at Parrot, who had dutifully remained by her side, and her expression softened into a smile. “He is a big, lazy lump of a dog, you know. He’s been stretched out across my feet for the past hour.”

Draco’s tension eased, and he chuckled. “Yes, I often have to drag him out for long walks. But had Driscoll set a hand on you, he would have leaped into action and chased him away. I mean it, Imogen. That man is never to be trusted. I’ll have to speak to my uncle and Deandra about who invited him and his friends here. I certainly did not, nor did I notice them on any invitation lists. Well, it will all be sorted out later. As it is, I am having the devil of a time circulating among my guests while keeping an eye on those scoundrels.”

“You could have fooled me. You seemed to be eyeing the young ladies rather avidly…and Lady Dowling, too.” She finally tugged her hand out of his grasp. Not that he was holding on to her tightly, but he had been reluctant to release her while Driscoll was anywhere nearby.

The arse was gone now, probably back with his friends in order to plan some other mischief. Draco had footmen passing drinks around indoors and outdoors. He had warned his staff to be on the lookout for any problems from that group and immediately report them to him.

He sighed and held out his hand to her. “Forget those ladies, will you? They were too brazen even for my liking. I have no interest in any of them. Nor will I ever. As I mentioned earlier, women accost me all the time because I am an earl. Dropping handkerchiefs at my feet. Feigning swoons. Feigning twisted ankles, as Lady Dowling did. If I ignore them, I am considered rude. If I attempt politeness, I am accused of being a hound. What would you have me do, Imogen?”

“Exactly what you have been doing,” she admitted. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“No apology required. It is all part of the game, isn’t it? They do not care anything about me or who I really am. But you are playing no games. You are trying to get to the heart of who I truly am. What’s your opinion? Have you formed one yet?”

“Oh, yes. Quite a certain opinion.” Imogen cast him a charming smile and placed her hand in his still-outstretched one. “You are a pirate. Anyone can see that.”

He grinned and glanced down at himself. “This is merely a costume.”

“An appropriate one for you.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

She smiled again. “A compliment. You are brash and exciting, but with a strong sense of honor. There is hope for you yet.”

Since she had not removed her hand from his, he knew he had won at least this round. “Are you ready for the supper dance?”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Parrot is nudging me toward you, so I suppose he wants me to accept you.”

“He is a very smart dog.” Draco led her onto the dance floor and took her into his arms. She felt deliciously soft and fit so perfectly beside him. He was glad he had instructed the orchestra to play a waltz for this supper dance. “See, Imogen, we did not miss out on our waltz after all.”

“Why did you ignore me after requesting the first dance?” She looked up at him, her eyes no longer sparkling but filled with disappointment.

Perhaps he had not been so successful in gaining her trust. “I did not mean to, but I was truly concerned about Driscoll and his friends. They were already looking at you, and I feared they might try something if I showed too much interest in you.”

“So you decided to keep away?”

“I was considering it. Then Lady Dowling approached me with her nonsense about spraining her ankle. Same for the ladies who came before her—they all had some inane excuse to demand my attention.” He shrugged. “It was all so fake, it left me with an ill feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

“You could have simply told me.”

“Would you have understood?” He sighed as he twirled her around the dance floor, that sweet body of hers so lithe and graceful. “Yes, you probably would have. You seem generous in this way, not like the petulant debutantes one finds in London. I’m sorry I did not say anything to you, but I truly believed you were better off if I simply ignored you.”

“We do not have to keep dancing if you do not wish to—”

“Butterfly, you are the best part of this evening. I have no intention of letting you go.” His gaze rested on her as they danced. “Driscoll was watching me as closely as I was watching him. I don’t know why he showed up here this evening, and I certainly do not want you in his line of sight more than you already are.”

His heart beat faster as her hand relaxed upon his shoulder and she moved with him to the music instead of looking as though she wanted to bolt. She was light on her feet, and he liked the way the delicate layers of fabric in her costume swirled around her like butterfly wings. Those little peepers poking out of her hair had held firm atop the glorious, reddish-brown mass of curls that he itched to run his fingers through.

She looked adorable, but he was not going to act upon his attraction to her.

Another time.

Another place.

She nibbled her lip. “Why are you and Driscoll so at odds? What has he done to you that you should feel such enmity toward him?”

“Nothing to concern you.”

“Spoken like a dismissive, arrogant oaf,” she shot back with a frown. “I did describe you as arrogant earlier, did I not?”

“You also said I was honorable.”

“I am rethinking that opinion.”

He chuckled as he spun her with ease amid the circle of dancers. “I suppose I deserved that. But I still am not going to tell you. Let’s change the subject, shall we? The unmasking will take place in a few minutes. I must admit, I am curious to see your face. Are you curious to see mine?”

“No, not really.”

He laughed. “Imogen, stop tossing your barbs at me. I know you are eager to see what I look like. It is the artist in you that needs to see all of me… Well, all of my face.” Although he would not refuse her if she wished to see all of his body, too.

But she was innocent, and he was not going to have a ribald conversation with her. It was bad enough his tongue was lolling on the ground over this spectacular girl. He wasn’t the only man who had been staring at her all evening. Most had been, but Draco was not worried about those insignificant others. He was only wary of Driscoll and his friends.

Not that the other men were completely harmless. No, these costumes brought out the wildness in everyone.

Hence the need for Parrot to remain by her side.

When the dance ended, his uncle and cousin strode to the center of the dance floor. A dozen footmen marched in with candles blazing as his uncle announced, “Let the unmasking begin!”

A cheer rang through the crowd.

Draco drew Imogen aside and helped her to remove her mask.

Dear Lord.

The girl was exquisite.

Big eyes of dazzling aquamarine. A heart-shaped face with perfect bow lips that begged to be kissed. A delicate neck and graceful chin that had a dimple in the middle of it.

Her mass of dark curls shone copper beneath the golden candlelight. He really needed to unpin her hair and plunge his fingers into those lush tresses.

“Your turn, my lord.”

He nodded and removed his mask. “Well, Imogen? What do you think?”

She pursed her lips. “Um…you are much as I expected you to be. Perhaps a little handsomer than I realized.”

He cast her a gentle smile. “That is promising.”

“Oh, do not make too much of it. You know you are handsome, and an earl, no less. That is quite a heady combination for any unmarried young lady, as you have pointed out to me.”

“And you? Do I put you in a swoon?”

“You might, in time. I am not certain I like you yet.”

“Fair enough.” She was still smarting from his snub in asking for the first waltz and then not showing up to claim it. Besides, he liked that she was not tossing herself at him as the other young ladies had been doing all evening.

He liked the idea of earning her affection.

Unfortunately, he would have quite a bit of groveling to do before she would warm to him. Had he been less preoccupied with Driscoll’s group, he would have realized that his good intentions were cruel to this sweet girl.

He had requested the first waltz and then failed to claim it. Was it any different from making a promise and then breaking it? He had abandoned her.

It must have stung. And still hurt her, because she was such a gentle thing.

They said no more as his uncle and Deandra approached them. His uncle was dressed as a harlequin, and his young cousin was dressed as a sunflower, her body in a bright green gown with long sleeves and a big yellow flower made of paper perched atop her head. She had a cheerful smile and was obviously delighted to be permitted to attend the party, even though she was no more than sixteen years of age.

Draco introduced them to Imogen. They were all engaged in pleasant conversation when Parrot suddenly growled and took off like a shot outdoors.

“What in blazes?” He excused himself, leaving Imogen to his family while he went in search of Parrot. That growl meant trouble, and Draco knew just who the troublemakers were. But he saw no one as he crossed the garden and headed toward the meadow and its nearby cliff walk. Well, night had fallen, and most of his grounds were blanketed in darkness.

A crisp wind blew off the water and swirled around him. The wind captured Parrot’s barks and carried them off in all directions. “Blast,” he muttered, staring into a black expanse. “Where are you, dog?”

He heard the sound of waves softly breaking upon the distant rocks and then heard another bark, so he started toward the caves. A silver half-moon and shimmering stars reflected off the sea, but the ground beneath his feet was dark and too treacherous for him to make his way down to the caves.

His footmen had set torches ablaze at measured intervals along the garden walks. He grabbed one now, hoping the wind would not snuff it out as he made his way across the meadow.

He paused another moment to listen for Parrot.

The angelic strains of a harp floated toward him from the manor house. The music mingled with the laughter and chatter of guests now in queue for their late-night supper.

Draco withdrew his knife from the lip of his boot as he continued toward the caves. Parrot’s bark must have come from there. “Parrot! Where are you?”

Orange flames flickered wildly above his head as he walked on, the torch held out in front of him, his senses attuned to the slightest sounds, the slightest movement of shadows.

He was quite alone out here.

Not even a sign of Driscoll and his dissolute friends. Where were they? He knew they had not come inside for the unmasking or responded when the bell rang to announce supper. He did not like that all of them were now missing.

How different this place looked at night. Still beautiful, but treacherous. These rugged grounds seemed to swallow up all the light.

He suddenly heard shouts, but they were coming from the opposite direction and closer to the house. “Blast,” he muttered, turning back and finally spotting Driscoll’s friends, little more than shadows in the distance, hurrying toward their carriages now being driven to the front courtyard.

But where was Driscoll? He should have been easy to spot because of the white plume atop his hat that was a part of his costume.

For that matter, where was Parrot?

Well, Parrot would be safe enough, since he was familiar with the property. Draco had even taken him down to the pirate caves several times during their walks, although they had not gone inside to explore. He would attend to that chore over the next few days.

He ran toward Driscoll’s friends and stopped them before they could climb into their carriages. “Where is he?”

They appeared…agitated? Scared?

“We don’t know what you are talking about,” one of them retorted.

“Driscoll, of course,” Draco growled. “Where is he?”

“How should we know?” another of his sniveling friends replied.

“He went off with a young woman,” a third said. “I’m sure it was with the little butterfly you were so keen on earlier.”

Draco wanted to punch the man.

He had just left Imogen with his uncle and cousin, so he knew she was safe. But had Driscoll accosted some other unsuspecting young woman? “Get out of here, all of you. I never want to see any of you near Moonstone Landing again.”

One of them laughed.

“Find it funny, Middleton?”

The coward held up his hands in supplication.

“That goes for the rest of you. Get out and never show your faces here on pain of death.”

Another of them passed a lewd remark about Imogen.

Draco grabbed him by the nape and shoved him against his carriage, one hand on the stunned lord’s throat. “Have you anything else to say, Hawes?”

The question was met with silence.

Well, he did have his hand around the man’s throat. But he wasn’t cutting off all breath. The wretch could have managed a strangled answer.

“Right, I thought so.” He would not care if those fools hurled insults at him, but that they should speak so crudely about Imogen left him raw and aching. “All of you, get out of here right now.”

He watched as they scrambled into their carriages. The conveyances rattled down the long drive and disappeared into the darkness. Draco hurried toward the cliff walk and picked up the sound of Parrot’s furious barking. “Parrot! Where are you, fella?”

Those barks definitely came from somewhere near the pirate caves at the foot of the cliff walk.

Draco kept tight hold of his torch and scampered down the steps. The tide would soon come in, and the waves had intensified, pounding upon the rocks like soft cannon bursts. They came one after the other and sprayed him with their spume as he reached the mouth of the largest cave and saw his dog standing there. “Parrot, what are you doing here? Come along, boy. Don’t you know it’s dangerous? A rogue wave can wash you out to sea.”

The dog did not move, just resumed barking at something beside him on the rocks.

Draco edged closer. “Bloody blazes.”

That “something” was Driscoll’s body.

“What happened, Parrot? Did he fall? Or did one of his idiot friends accidentally push him off the cliff?”

But as Draco turned the body over, he saw a knife protruding from Driscoll’s chest. “So, it wasn’t a fall that did him in.”

He raked a hand through his hair.

There was a murderer on the loose.

No wonder Driscoll’s companions had fled like scared rabbits. Had they killed their friend? He did not think any of them had the bollocks to do the foul deed. But had they seen something?

Of all the bad luck.

He had to stop them before they fled the village.

He also had to get this investigation wrapped up quickly, because he was on a mission for the Crown and could not afford to have attention placed on these caves. Nor could he toss Driscoll’s body into the sea and be done with it. The wretch had family, and they would come looking for him.

“Parrot, what are we going to do?” It was merely a rhetorical question, for he knew the answer. He had to find the local constable, Malcolm Angel, who was a guest at his party. He also had to enlist the assistance of Imogen’s uncle, the Marquess of Burness. He served as magistrate in these parts, and Draco needed to get any investigation wrapped up fast.

Draco knew of Burness’s heroic reputation. This was important, for he might have to let him in on his Crown assignment.

There were other peers who resided here and could be of help in bringing a quick resolution to this murder. The Duke of Malvern. The Duke of Claymore. Viscount Brennan, who was the commanding officer in charge of the army fort here in Moonstone Landing. Yes, Brennan might be of greatest help in rounding up Driscoll’s escaping friends and moving this investigation along.

Everyone’s attention had to be off these caves no later than the end of the month, or vital work on behalf of the Crown would be lost.

“Stay alert and guard him, Parrot. I’ll be right back with help.”

He raced to the house and quietly drew the constable and Burness aside. But Burness happened to be in conversation with Malvern, Claymore, and Brennan, so rather than waste time making excuses to draw him away, he decided to include all of them in the conversation. He quickly told them what had occurred. “I chased his friends off before I realized they had left Driscoll for dead. We’ll have to track them down and bring them back for questioning.”

“I’ll ride with you,” Viscount Brennan immediately volunteered. “Along with a contingent of my soldiers. We ought to be able to gather them up fairly quickly.”

“What do you know of Driscoll?” the Marquess of Burness asked.

“Not much. He was a schoolmate of my brother’s,” Draco said, “but I would never call him a friend of mine. He runs with a bad crowd. I’m not surprised he met such a fate. However, I don’t know what he was into that got him killed.”

The wives of these peers had sauntered closer and probably overheard too much. “Blast,” he muttered, “can your wives keep their mouths shut?”

Burness grinned. “I would watch what you say to them, particularly my wife, Phoebe. She may look sweet, but she will bite your head off if you condescend to her. And yes, they can be trusted.” He then called his wife over.

The other wives and Imogen immediately followed.

Great, this murder investigation was about to turn into another party. Just what he needed, meddling neighbors. He immediately assigned Burness and the two dukes, Malvern and Claymore, to guard the body.

He was about to leave with Viscount Brennan and Constable Angel when Imogen tugged on his sleeve. “What?” he asked with marked impatience, and then sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Sorry, Imogen. That was uncalled for on my part. What is the matter?”

“You have overlooked something important.” She studied him up and down. “You and Driscoll were wearing similar costumes, although he was strutting about with that ridiculous, plumed hat. You are of similar height and build. What if this killer thought Driscoll was you?”

All eyes were now on him.

Bollocks.

The thought had not crossed his mind, but he listened as Imogen continued. “Do not dismiss that you might have been the intended victim. Your property. Your cave. A mistaken pirate. Which raises the question, what are you involved in that would attract a man—or in truth, it could have been a woman—to kill you?”

“Nothing,” he said tersely.

“Are you sure?” Imogen took light hold of his arm. “Because that someone is still out there.”

Everyone was staring at him.

Constable Angel cleared his throat. “Think hard now, my lord.”

“Not you too,” Draco grumbled. “Driscoll’s body will wash out to sea if we all just stand here talking.”

Burness nodded. “Malvern, Claymore, and I are heading down there right now. We’ll also search the area for clues.”

“Parrot will help you search. He’s a good tracker.”

With a nod to the ladies, the three of them hurried off.

Constable Angel was still staring at Draco. “My lord, think hard before we start running in circles and chasing false leads. Do you know of anyone who might wish to murder you?”