Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

T he crush in Vauxhall Gardens had a bohemian feel that infected Duke. The grim business of death and murder had occupied his afternoon. After giving the authorities a version of the truth that didn't involve Jynx, he was ready to shake off his worries with the mysterious lady.

He smiled as her unusual nickname rolled around his thoughts. Thoughts that had become preoccupied with the flash of her smile and expressive brown eyes. What was her real name? Something mundane, no doubt, like Mary. Just like his name. Jameses populated servant's halls and ballrooms in equal abundancy.

While he wasn't as rarified and sought after as an English duke, he was finding London's entertainments diverting. Ton entertainments were varied and mindless. The gaming hells were hedonistic and lucrative. And after meeting Jynx, he was ready to shelve his plans to travel to France in search of his sister. For now.

While Jynx had the air of a guileless innocent, she was hiding something. Was she actually a widow? Or was she married and looking for a dalliance? Did it matter? He examined his conscience. The slight twinge was easily drowned out by a glass of champagne from a circulating servant.

He wore his best Weston jacket and had polished his boots to a shine. Without a manservant in tow, his cravat wasn't fancy but was respectable enough. His mask was a simple black velvet that covered the upper half of his face.

A man dressed in the powdered wig and satin breeches of the last century strolled past. Gemstones winked on his fingers, and the head of his walking stick was encrusted with the same. His face was rouged, and a fake beauty spot sat at the corner of his mouth.

Duke scanned the crowd. Some patrons were simply masked like him, but most treated the masquerade like a costume party. A Grecian goddess was on the arm of a roguish pirate. The lady's draped white gown revealed ample amounts of her bosom, and one tug of the blue sash around her waist might see the fabric fall to the ground around her feet.

He tried to imagine Jynx in such a gown but couldn't. There was something wholesome about her sensuousness that drew him with more force than any blousy beauty he had seen so far that evening.

Where was she? A pang of worry twisted his stomach. If she didn't make an appearance, he had no easy way to find her. She had been understandably anxious to leave the scene of the crime. No lady wanted to be associated with a murder. London society was cruel.

He'd certainly heard his share of rumors and innuendo about his sister's elopement with the gambler, Damien Northcutt. Whispers about the true parentage of the man had also reached his ears. Was it true? Duke had no idea.

Was he worried about Maddie? Yes, but Maddie was the smartest person he knew. She was also the most reckless. A combination society did not understand, especially when encompassed by a lady.

No one, not even their parents, could make Maddie do something she did not want to do. If she threw over the titled son of an actual English duke for a gambler, it was because that's what she wanted. Until evidence was presented otherwise, he would assume she had chased and captured happiness.

What sort of woman was Jynx? Did she embody the same intelligent recklessness as his sister? He hoped so.

He scanned the crowd once more. This time his gaze landed on a woman in a blue gown and silver mask. Her chestnut hair was swept up in a simple style that left her neck and décolletage on thrilling display.

The male gazes around her were assessing, but before any of the gentlemen could make a move, he stepped to her side and offered his arm. "I was afraid you'd left me to face the revelries alone."

"Oh!" She started slightly, but there was no disguising the relief in her eyes as they swept to his. Her arm snaked through his and locked them together. "I entered the wrong gate and got turned around. I am glad to see you."

"You were not accosted, I hope." He narrowed his gaze and warned off the vultures who had gathered before his arrival. The men turned away to seek more vulnerable marks.

"No, of course not." Her hand came to her throat. "I thought the gardens were safe."

They were safer during the events attended by the ton, but even now no unaccompanied lady should venture down the dark walks away from the crowd. But to Jynx, he merely said, "You are perfectly safe with me."

Was that true though? He felt a bit like a wolf to her lamb.

She smiled and a burst of warmth radiated in his chest. "Now you must relay what happened after I left the shop. Poor Mr. Sharma. Did he have any family?"

"A nephew had recently arrived over from India." There must have been something in his tone that alerted her.

She tugged him to a stop. "Is he being viewed as a suspect?"

"That is the impression I got. The runners harbor distrust of foreigners." He did not mention his inclusion on their list of suspects.

"It was not Mr. Sharma's nephew," she said with conviction.

"How you do you know?"

"His hat was knocked askew when he collided with you. We locked eyes."

Duke's heart picked up its pace. She had not been so sure of his identity earlier. "Now that you've had time to ruminate on the moment, did he look familiar?"

"He was a stranger to me, but his clothes were of good quality."

"You suspect he is a gentleman?"

"Or a well-off merchant. A business rival, perhaps? Or a scientific one?" Her voice held none of the fear pumping through his system.

He led her to the edge of the crowd, close to where the graveled paths disappeared into shadows. "We must revisit the fact that you could be in grave danger."

She opened her mouth but closed it before speaking for a long moment. Finally she spoke, her tone smaller and less sure. "But if I didn't recognize him, he doesn't know me either."

"And what happens if your paths cross at some event?" Duke gestured around them. "He could be here tonight. If it were me, I would go to great lengths to silence anyone who could identify me as a murderer."

"Put that way, it is worrisome." She gnawed her bottom lip until it was plumped and rosy. "What do you suggest?"

"I suggest you visit Bow Street and present yourself as a witness."

"I can't do that. My reputation would be ruined." Her eyes were as wide as prey in an archer's sight. "I can describe him to you, and you can tell them."

"No, I can't. I already told them I didn't see the man. If I return with a different story, they will assume it's a Banbury tale. At the moment, Mr. Sharma's nephew is their focus."

"Are you implying their suspicions could turn to you?" she whispered, her eyes darting to either side of them.

She had moved even closer to him. Her scent was floral with an intoxicating hint of spice. He dropped his nose to nuzzle slightly at her ear. "Is this one of your creations? I can't quite place the scent."

"I used elderflower and pepper along with an ester to make the scent last and carry."

He snaked an arm around her waist and moved them a little deeper into the shadows, telling himself they could not be overheard discussing murder. His conscience recognized the thin excuse, but the devilish part of him ignored it.

"It is alluring." He ran his lips across her jaw under her mask.

"Thank you." Her body melted into his before she jerked her head back, pushing lightly against his chest. "Stop. You're distracting me. Tell me truthfully: are you under suspicion for murder?"

He cocked his head to the side. Was he? He shrugged. "The officer in charge holds a rather negative view of Americans, but an even dimmer view of Indians."

"We cannot let Mr. Sharma's nephew take the blame. Neither can we allow you to be arrested for a crime you didn't commit. There is only one thing to do," she said matter-of-factly.

"I agree," he said. "You must talk to the authorities and?—"

"We must investigate ourselves and?—"

They spoke over the top of one another, breaking off simultaneously.

"What did you say?" he asked, sure he must have misheard her.

"I said we must investigate ourselves."

"No. We can't. That would be foolish." He tried to paste a teasing smile on, but when her expression remained serious, he ran a hand through his hair in dismay. "Are you mad? Wouldn't it be more expeditious for you to come forward? You can provide a description of the murderer."

"You already told them you were alone. If I come forward now, we might both be thrown in Newgate. At the very least, they will want me to give evidence at the inquest."

Her name would be in the papers. Even he could understand how damaging that would be to a lady.

She continued. "My pursuit of a vocation in the art of perfumery would be ruined along with my reputation."

"The difficulties are not lost upon me." If they joined forces to investigate together, it meant time in her company. It's exactly what he wanted even if the reasons were unconventional. He cocked his head slightly. "How do you suggest we proceed to discover the murderer?"

The crowd at the masquerade had grown and pushed toward them. His question garnered a raised eyebrow from a nearby man in buckskin pants and a loose shirt. A gold hoop dangled in one earlobe. His gem-encrusted cane and rouged lips belied the pirate affectation he had donned.

"Let's stroll, shall we?" He took her elbow and led her toward a darkened walk.

Jynx allowed him to lead her down the garden path. What if he stole another kiss in a secluded alcove? Would she allow it? Was she considering the same? Her scent was tantalizing and seductive. He leaned closer, seeking her neck.

"We must examine possible motivations," she said crisply.

He was flummoxed for a moment while he dragged his mind from prurient thoughts.

She leaned away to snap in his face. "You must focus, Duke."

"Of course, yes." Hopefully, the shadows hid his blush. He was acting like a schoolboy. "Money? Perhaps Mr. Sharma took a loan and was remiss in paying it back."

"If the killer wanted his money back, then killing him makes no sense. Threats? Yes. But how is Mr. Sharma to pay back the money now?"

Duke nodded at her logic. "And nothing to do with a woman, I would imagine. Mr. Sharma was not a young man."

"The killer was a gentleman. Or at least had enough money for fine tailoring. I keep coming back to the same thing: chemistry."

Duke couldn't keep his chuff of disbelief in check. "Do you actually think someone would kill over science?"

"I think scientists can be protective and paranoid. What if the killer had made a discovery and Mr. Sharma had threatened to take credit? Or more likely, Mr. Sharma made a discovery and our killer wanted to take credit with no questions." Jynx's steps quickened. "Yes. I like that theory. It makes sense."

"Does it?" Duke had not been the most diligent of students. He had preferred riding and fishing and… fun. Chemistry put him to sleep rather than inspired passion.

She either ignored the doubt in his voice or hadn't noticed it. "Therefore, the logical place we will find our killer is with like-minded scientists. Unfortunately, ladies are not invited into their circles."

There was no mistaking her bitterness. "Would you like to be invited?"

Even in the dim light, her incredulous look cut and the fire in her voice stung. "Of course I would, but men don't respect women's intellect. Does this actually come as a shock to you?"

He felt like an imbecile. It was easy for him to move through the social echelons without censure. He was rich enough to mingle with the ton but not noble enough to stop enjoying the seedy underbelly of gaming hells. He never worried about his reputation—even if his neck had been in danger a time or two—or what anyone else thought of him. There were endless doors for him to choose from if one closed in his face.

It wasn't the same for women. Maddie had railed against the strictures society had placed upon her. Their parents had sent her to England to escape the gossip her intellect had stirred. If he had done what she had, it would have been dismissed as male shenanigans. Instead, she was ostracized and forced to leave the country.

Of course, it seemed she had bucked the system of oppression even in that. He stifled a smile. "You're entirely correct. I apologize for my obtuseness. I wish I could influence society on your behalf."

"Yes, well, thank you. It is no matter. I wouldn't expect you to be able to change the world." She touched her mask and dropped her gaze as if abashed at her passionate reaction.

"I would if I could, not only for you, but my sister as well." He took her hand from where it fiddled with her mask and linked their fingers. "It is not fair."

"No, it isn't, but it is a reality we must work with. Which means…" Her voice trailed off, and she chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before her gaze snapped to his. "Laughing gas."

"What about it?"

"Are you familiar with Sir Humphry Davy's discovery?" The excitement in her voice was contagious.

"I have heard of it, but I'm not intimately familiar. What are you thinking?"

"It has become popular to host parties and consume the gas. It is supposed to produce elation. If our killer is a scientist, then we might find him at such a party. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to procure us invitations." She trailed off in dejection.

"I'm sure I can manage it," he said with more confidence than he felt.

It was worth it when her gaze bounced to his, a slight smile curling her lips. "You've been in London such a short time. How have you made such connections?"

"I haven't. Not yet anyway. But never underestimate the value of a little charm and eccentricity. I have a feeling the set who would host laughing gas parties will be open to inviting an American of some means."

They came to a stop where the path diverged to the left and right. Duke glanced over his shoulder, but they had left the revelries far behind. The paths were dark. What lurked in the shadows? Danger or opportunity?

He would let her decide their fate and made a sweeping gesture. "Should we return or…?"