Chapter 22

MAB HAD ONLY WANTED a breath of fresh air. This had been the most she’d participated in a soiree in her life. She’d met most of the men, and even found a few that seemed to be a lark. There was Mark – she did hate having to use first names for anonymity’s sake – who was a well-respected captain of a ship. Not that she learned much else about him as she’d spent the entirety of the conversation watching William dance with Emily, trying to ignore the stabbing sensation in her gut. The moment the music had ended, and William had taken a step in her direction, Mab had asked the captain for a dance.

He was handsome enough, and she had always been partial to a man who was used to hard work. She had been curious to take his large hands in hers, to feel the calluses of a hard-working seafaring man. But his hands were almost as smooth as her own. The brief image of a man pulling at the rigs and battling the elements in a drenched white shirt that revealed his honed physique were instantly replaced by a man sitting in a dark cabin, eating fresh fish and sipping wine while his crew ate slops. She was glad when the dance ended.

David was, perhaps, the most exciting man she’d met that night. He was the giant that Tilly nearly gave a heart attack to during the storm. From the few pockets of conversation that she’d been involved in, Mab had found out that David had spent his adult life as an adventurer. He’d travelled the world with his brother and been involved in countless adventures. He’d even battled a leopard – the reason he had a scar running down his face and had to wear an eye patch. While Mab could appreciate his rugged good looks and fearless soul, he was clearly devoted to Deidre. Mab had only twice seen that look of absolute adoration before: between her parents and between her aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Banbridge.

And perhaps between Tilly and Benedict.

Benedict had made his way over to briefly introduce himself to Mab and mutter his thanks to her under the guise of retrieving a whisky, but was cut short when William glared at the pair. Despite that, Mab had instantly warmed to the young man and decided he was indeed a fine match for Tilly.

And so, Mab continued her night doing the rounds, chatting with the women and getting to know the men, all the while trying her best to avoid the intense glare of William. She had reverted to her original opinion that he was angry towards her, for why else would he have asked Emily to dance when Mab was clearly making her way towards him? His indignation for her seemed so great that it intensified every time a new man came to chat to her – as if her finding happiness, or at least attempting to, was totally undeserved after almost killing him.

She did everything within her power not to look at William for the entire night, but when he gave up on simply glancing at her from time to time and began openly watching her with enough hostility to kill a horse, she’d had enough. The instant Benedict pulled William’s attention from her, she excused herself and darted out of the ballroom for a breath of fresh air in the garden. The guard at the door took great delight in warning her not to stray far, something she would probably never live down for the entirety of her stay here.

She’d only managed a few deep gulps of air when she heard the glass doors open once more. Not wanting to interact with anyone, Mab darted behind the nearest topiary bush she could find.

Her heart pattered when she made out the unmistakable figure of William. She bit her lip. The fresh air had stoked the embers of her anger, and she decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to confront him and ask him exactly what his problem was with her.

Just as she took her first step, William was joined by another figure. Internally cursing herself, Mab darted behind the bush again.

She was glad that she had, for what transpired in the brief conversation between the men was eye-opening, to say the least.

“Ah, William! Just who I wanted to speak to,” said the newcomer. “Charles,” the man offered after a moment.

“Charles. Of course. How can I help you?” William said.

“It is, perhaps, what I can do for you,” Charles replied. If Mab knew anything from the countless novels she’d read, it was that nothing good ever followed a statement of this nature. Interest piqued, Mab leaned in closer. Charles continued, “Apologies, sir. I know we’re supposed to remain anonymous here, but I recognised you and have been debating the past few days whether or not I should approach you.”

“You recognise me?” William said.

“You are William Blackwater, are you not? The only brother of Viscount Lucius Blackwater?”

Mab’s world tilted. He was a Blackwater?

She supposed that would account for his overly callous attitude towards her tonight.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Listen, I won’t say too much here, but let’s just say that in my line of work, I’ve met a lot of nefarious people and done some things I’m not proud of. But when something falls into one’s lap that could be potentially lethal in nature, a leap of faith is sometimes required.”

“Stop being cryptic, man. I have not the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” William said .

“I have some information on your brother that will bring him to his knees.”

William snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

Charles glanced from side to side. “I’m deadly serious. Your brother has been up to all sorts of wicked things with all sorts of despicable people. He’s walking a fine line between them all. All it would take is a whisper in one of their ears and that would be the end of the current Viscount Blackwater. And, with no male heirs, the title would naturally go to you.”

William remained silent.

The glass doors swung open. In a barely audible whisper, Charles said, “Come find me tomorrow. We’ll find somewhere quiet to discuss the matter.”

“What matter? My brother’s dealings have nothing to do with me,” William hissed.

“The matter of the Viscount’s untimely death.” With that, the man spun on his heel, greeted Benedict, who had just stepped out onto the terrace, and sped off into the ballroom.

“Is everything alright?” Benedict asked. “You didn’t find her?”

“No, I didn’t find her,” William answered. “And, no, everything is not alright.”

“Perhaps we should call for a carriage home,” Benedict said.

William nodded, downed his whisky and led the young lad back into the house.

Mab let out a breath. Her mind reeled with all the new information. She knew fine rightly who Viscount Lucius Blackwater was. He was that despicable boy who had thrown a stable boy into a pond. Only a few years older than Mab, the Viscount Blackwater had been at many of the balls she’d attended in her youth. And he was no less despicable as a man.

William Blackwater was his infamous brother. Not many had seen the youngest Blackwater, but his reputation preceded him. The rumours surrounding him were dark. Mab had been told that he was so evil as a child that his father had to lock him up to prevent him from hurting others. Lucius Blackwater neither confirmed nor denied any of the rumours about his brother, which led to even more wild speculation.

Mab had always guessed that the rumours had been wildly exaggerated. She certainly didn’t give much credit to anything that she didn’t experience first-hand.

But perhaps given the exchange she had just witnessed, the rumours had some substance to them after all.

Mab found the nearest place to sit, a polished stone bench nestled between two topiary shrubs, to study the facts. A wave of grief hit her, and she remembered the times she had sat with her uncle at the end of a ball to digest all the wild rumours they’d heard over the course of the evening.

Mab had to focus, though. This wasn’t simply gossip about an out-of-wedlock dalliance or a large sum of money lost on a bad gamble. The stranger had alluded to a murder plot.

William was the second son of a viscount. While he might not hold the title, he still had the name attached to him, and was directly in line to inherit should the current viscount not produce a male heir. William obviously had money, for his attire, while simple, was of some of the finest quality Mab had ever seen, and to top it all off, he was breathtakingly handsome.

Simply put, he should have been swept off the marriage mart years ago.

Apparently, it was only after his father’s death that he had, in fact, been seen in public. According to the gossip, William had attended a handful of events, none of which Mab herself had been at as she hadn’t yet been out in society. By all accounts, he was awkward and held a strange demeanour. Just as quickly as he had appeared, he’d disappeared from society.

Mab mulled the conversation over in her head. Charles had alluded to the fact that he had some information that could result in the Viscount Blackwater’s untimely demise, and as a result, in William assuming the title.

Perhaps he did live up to the black heart that he was rumoured to have ?

Mab considered going to Aunt áine with this information ... but what would she say?

Aunt áine, I overheard a conversation between two men, one of which alluded to the fact that he had some dangerous information that could bring about the downfall of a certain viscount, the brother of whom resides here under your care.

Did William explicitly accept the plot to overthrow his brother for his title?

Well ... no. He didn’t. In fact, he barely responded to the man.

Was it expressly said that murder would be the outcome of this information being passed along?

Again, no.

Mab sucked in another deep breath. She would need to do a little more digging if she was to uncover exactly what was going on. Not that she had any loyalties whatsoever to Lucius Blackwater. But Mab would never forgive herself if she sat on this information and did nothing, and a man, despicable as he might well be, lost his life because of her inaction.

She needed the opportunity to interrogate William.

She had to be all kinds of mad to think that she could investigate a potential plot of murder all on her own. But what other choice did she have?

MAB HAD TOSSED AND turned all night, unable to shake the image of William from her head. She pondered how she might get him alone long enough to ask some subtle questions without giving her knowledge of the exchange between the two men away. She decided that she would have to create a ruse. The ruse was simple; she would pretend to be romantically interested in William, which in itself would be a challenge seeing as he seemed to absolutely hate her.

However, Mab knew that men were uncommonly shallow and prepared to overlook most feelings if the offer of sexual intercourse seemed to be on the table. A few simple comments and the innocent brushing of a finger up against him should be sufficient incentive for him to put aside his hatred for her long enough that he would be willing to at least talk to her.

Then, she should simply do what everyone expects a young woman to do: investigate the man’s potential as a suitor. She could slip in some questions about his family, his prospects and intentions for the future. Of course, as this was supposed to be a place of anonymity, it worked in her favour. He would assume that she didn’t know who he was. He might be somewhat freer with the truth. All she needed was one simple comment that suggested William coveted the title of viscount.

Mab recalled her interaction with Robert Alabaster. She hadn’t even been probing, and yet she’d found out that he had been using the title of baron, despite his father still being alive. But dastardly as he was, Robert Alabaster was an heir apparent. He would hold the title someday. William was merely an heir presumptive. The only way he would claim the title of viscount was if his brother died before producing a son. Should William even remotely claim the title, it would be enough to convince Mab that he might be entertaining the plot Charles alluded to.

But what would she do then?

It might be enough to convince Mab of his black heart, but it still wouldn’t be enough to prove definitively that he was planning on murdering his brother. But even if no one here would believe her, she could, at the very least, let his brother know that she believed there would be an attempt on his life.

Throwing the bedsheets off her, Mab got out of bed and paced the room. As she washed and dressed, she pondered just how she would get William alone to begin questioning him.

The perfect opportunity presented itself almost immediately when, just as Mab secured the final pin in her hair, a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Mab said.

Tilly entered, her hair twisted into a neat bun atop her head, long strands of curled hair billowing across her shoulders. She wore a rich plum-coloured dress and overcoat.

“Tilly!” Mab said excitedly. “Look at you! Where are you off to?”

Tilly bit her lip. “Mab, may I ask a favour of you?”