My Lord Hercules Page 7

Harry shrugged. What else could he do? “I want to make certain London is a safe place for all ladies.” He managed to echo Miranda’s words without laughing.

  “Only certain ladies concern me,” Marston replied dryly. Then he closed his eyes, pinched the Wood above his nose, and said, “I assume you plan on setting up an appointment with me to discuss a certain lady.”

  Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Just as soon as I get the truth from Woodsworth. You know, making London safe and all that.”

  Marston shook his head as though trying to sort Miranda out gave him a headache. “Word of advice, Casemore.”

  “Yes?”

  “If you start off dancing to her tune, you’ll be done for the rest of your days.”

  Probably. Harry couldn’t wait. “But I do like the sound of her tune.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Following Devlin, Lousia, Alessandra, and Lord Puttenham into the St. Austell ballroom, Penny linked her arm with Miranda’s and whispered in her ear, “You did hear about Lady St. Austell kissing the earl right in the middle of Rotten Row for the whole world to see, didn’t you?”

  A footman intoned their names as they stepped over the threshold.

  Heavens! They were in the man’s home.

  “They weren’t even married,” Penny continued, though not quietly enough, “And you know the sort of reputation he has.”

  Devil glanced in their direction and mouthed the word, “Enough.”

  Though Miranda could have done without Devlin’s notice, at least he put a stop to Penny’s blathering. Miranda didn’t need to hear one more word about Lord and Lady St. Austell’s scandalous courtship or anything else about the pair. They were going to be her in-laws rather soon, after all. Besides, no one’s courtship could be quite as scandalous as hers and Harry’s had been, and she hoped no one ever learned all of the details. Thank heavens Harry had driven her to a less populated area of Hyde Park to kiss her senseless.

  Unaffected by Miranda’s annoyance, Penny grinned. “Ah, there’s your Sir Galahad, now.”

  “Sir Galahad?” Miranda looked in direction Penny was staring to find Harry crossing the floor toward her. Just like the first time she saw him in that hell, her belly flipped. He truly did steal her breath, and soon he’d be hers for all time. “I’ve always thought he’s much more like Hercules, don’t you think?”

  “With his lion skin and gnarled club?” Penny laughed. “Don’t know how I missed the resemblance.”

  Before Miranda could give her little sister a proper set down, Harry stood before her, the picture of raw masculinity adorned in fashionable, black eveningwear. His green eyes twinkled as he smiled down at her. “My dear.”

  “My lord,” she returned, sounding breathless to her own ears.

  Penny promptly rolled her eyes. “Hercules, indeed,” she muttered, though everyone heard her.

  “Miss Penelope, good to see you.” Harry’s brow furrowed as though he was trying to sort out why she’d said such a thing, and Miranda sent a glare in her sister’s direction. Blasted Penny and her big mouth. Then he turned his attention to Devlin and the others. “So good to see all of you. I was hoping to tempt Miss Miranda into taking a turn about the room with me. Do you mind if I steal her away?”

  “Only if you promise to return her before your inquisition starts,” Devlin replied.

  “Inquisition?” Puttenham frowned.

  The last thing Miranda needed was her sister’s dullard fiancé involving himself in the situation. So she slid her arm through Harry’s and quickly glanced back at her family. “I’ll be back before any detentions or tortures take place.” Then she tugged Harry away from them before Devlin or any of the others could call her back.

  “Detentions or tortures?” Harry asked, his voice pitched low as they started toward the back wall.

  “You know… the Inquisition.” Then she scoffed. “Devlin thought he was being clever, that’s all.”

  “And what about Hercules?”

  Oh, that. Miranda managed to keep from stumbling. “That was just Penny being annoying.”

  “Oh, do tell,” he prodded.

  If the heat stinging her cheeks was any indication of her complexion, her face must resemble the reddest poppy ever grown.

  “Miranda, are you blushing?” He pulled her closer to him as they navigated the sea of people in their path. He dipped lower as though to see her better.

  Blast Penny for mentioning Hercules. She couldn’t possibly tell Harry she thought of him in such a way. She’d die of embarrassment.

  “You must tell me now,” he urged. “My interest is more than piqued.”

  Miranda cleared her throat. “Don’t you want to know what was in Tessie’s letters before you speak with Woodsworth?”

  “Does it have anything to do with Hercules?”

  “No,” she bit out. “But I think…”

  “I think I’d much rather hear about Hercules.” He led her past dancing couples in the middle of the room, directing her around the perimeter.

  “Harry,” she complained. “We haven’t much time.”

  “On the contrary. Gifford hasn’t yet arrived with Woodsworth. We have all the time in the world.”

  “But he could arrive at any moment.” Her gaze flashed to the main entrance, where new guests had just stepped into the ballroom.

  “Then you shouldn’t waste your time, Miranda. Tell me about Hercules before they arrive.”

  Blast him, he was difficult. Would he be this way all of their lives? “You,” she grumbled under her breath.

  “Me? What about me?”

  She clamped her lips closed. She could be just as stubborn as he was. Especially as she’d really rather not tell her future husband that she thought of him as a demigod. Such a statement might make him difficult to live with in the future.

  “Miranda.” He halted his steps and spun her to face him. “Why are you being so secretive?”

  “I’m not,” she protested. “Who knows what Penny meant? She’s always prattling away about something.”

  He chuckled. “But had that been the case, you would have said so when I first asked.” A rakish grin lit his lips. “No, you’re keeping something from me on purpose. So you can either tell me the truth of it, or I’ll ask Penelope. I wager she’ll tell me. What do you think?”

  That blasted Penny would tell him everything, and that would be even more embarrassing than telling him herself. Miranda scowled at him. How did he always seem to get what he wanted from her? “You. From the moment, I first saw you, Harry, you made me think of Hercules.”

  A rather satisfied expression settled across his handsome face. “Do I really?”

  Perfect. He was going to be an arrogant male about the whole thing. Miranda retrieved her hand from his arm. “And that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. Now you’ll be very smug from here on out, and I’ll have to live with you.” She started to walk away, but he caught a handful of her sleeve and pulled her back to him.

  “Oh, I think you’ll like living with me.” His green eyes danced with merriment. “So, my dear, tell me how I may serve you. Shall I kill a nemean lion or destroy a hydra for you? What labor might I perform in your name, my fair maiden?”

  If they weren’t surrounded by society, she might be tempted to stomp on his toe. No. Arrogant as he might be in that moment, he did have a habit of flipping her belly, and she did rather enjoy his kisses. If they weren’t surrounded by society, she might ask him to kiss her again. But, alas, they were surrounded by not only society but by her family as well. That would never do. Besides, she was here for a different purpose tonight. “All I want is to find out what happened to Tessie.”

  “So serious all the time.” He tucked a loose tendril behind her ear. “I’ll find the truth, Miranda.” He winked at her, his roguish grin firmly in place. “And then I’ll fetch you Hesperides’s golden apples. Will that make you smile?”

  She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. �
�You are incorrigible.”

  He nodded in agreement. “You can try the rest of your days to cure me of that.” Then he slid her hand back onto his arm and proceeded to guide her once more around the room. “Now tell me everything about your friend’s letters before Woodsworth arrives.”

  After returning Miranda to her family for safekeeping, Harry made his way to the far edge of the room where his brother stood, nursing a glass of brandy. Berks looked nearly as happy to be there as Marston did.

  “If you don’t smile,” Harry began, “people will say our sister is such a terrible hostess that even her own brothers were bored.”

  Berks scoffed. “I’m certain I won’t be the brother they’re discussing on the morrow.” Then he shook his head. “Was that the girl Pippa is worried about? The one she’s convinced you’re going to marry?”

  “Pippa’s right. I am going to marry her.” Still, Harry was going to have to have a conversation with their sister and alleviate whatever fears she had. “Just as soon as Marston gives me his permission.”

  “You haven’t asked him yet?”

  Harry shook his head. “But I’ll see him first thing in the morning.”

  Berks looked back across the room toward Miranda’s small circle. “This has all happened fairly quickly, hasn’t it?”

  Harry couldn’t help but smile. “When you meet a girl who knocks you off your feet, you don’t want to let her get away.”

  At that, Berks laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Ah, Harry!” A hand clapped him on the back. He glanced over his shoulder to find Albie Potsdon grinning ear to ear. “Up for a little Hazard tonight?”

  Harry shook his head. “I’m fairly certain I’ll be busy this evening.”

  “Still spying on Marston House?” his friend asked, dramatically wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Spying on Marston House?” Berks echoed. “No wonder Pippa’s worried. What is going on with you?”

  Fortunately, Harry spotted Lord and Lady Gifford at that moment. They entered the ballroom as the footman called out, “The Earl and Countess of Gifford. The Marquess of Woodsworth.” And then behind the couple, there stood the nearly impossible to locate marquess.

  Harry glanced toward Miranda on the other side of the ballroom. He nodded in her direction, hoping to assuage her worries. “Do excuse me,” he said, not waiting for his brother or his friend to say anything further.

  Miranda’s heart lodged in her throat as Harry crossed the floor, making a direct line for Lord Woodsworth and the Giffords. She was so very close to finding out what had happened to Tessie, thanks to her own personal demigod. Harry smiled amiably, offered his hand and then cocked his head back toward the entrance.

  Woodsworth smiled in response, seemingly unaware that Harry meant to interrogate him. In fact, he looked relieved, which Miranda found slightly odd. What had Harry said to put the blackguard so at ease?

  “Why are you staring at Hercules?” Penny whispered in Miranda’s ear.

  She didn’t have time to deal with her sister at the moment, not when Harry, Woodsworth, and Lord Gifford all slipped back into the corridor. She needed to hear what the marquess had to say, no matter what Devlin or Harry thought about the situation. “I need to find the retiring room.”

  “Oh, me too,” Penny said. “I’ll go with you.”

  Was there a more infernal creature than little sisters on the Earth? Miranda didn’t have time to dissuade Penny. If she did, she’d never know which direction Harry had gone with the fiend. So without another word, she quickly made her way through the crush toward the entrance, hoping Penny would lose her somewhere in the crowd or perhaps get snatched up by some suitor.

  Alas, that was not to be.

  As soon as she reached the corridor, Penny linked her arm with Miranda’s. “It’s this way.” Her sister pointed to the left.

  But Harry was just rounding a corner to the right. “Penny,” Miranda said quietly, hating to confide anything to her little sister but not really having a choice, “I’m following Lord Harrison. So go on to the retiring room and I’ll meet up with you later.”

  Penny’s eyes widened in surprise. “Following him? Why?”

  “Never mind why. He’s getting away.” She retrieved her arm from Penny’s and started in the direction Harry’d gone. “And don’t tell Devlin where I’m going or I’ll never speak to you again.”

  Penny shook her head. “I’m going with you.”

  Oh! Miranda didn’t have time to argue with her sister. “Go on,” she urged, shooing Penny toward the left. “You said you needed the retiring room.” Without a look back, she rounded the corner Harry had turned down and scanned the corridor for some evidence of the three men.

  At the end of the corridor, a door shut. Taking a deep breath, Miranda lifted up her skirts and started for the door.

  A patter of footsteps sounded behind her, then Penny’s not terribly hushed whisper reached Miranda’s ears. “What is he doing?”

  Miranda stopped in her tracks, glanced over her shoulder at her sister, and sent her a scathing glare. “If you’re coming, you can’t say a word, Penny! They can’t find us. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Penny nodded.

  “Not a word!” Miranda hissed, then she lifted her skirts again and hastened toward the closed door.

  “Here it is,” Harry’s voice boomed from inside.

  Miranda took a deep breath, thankful she’d found the right room. Then she pressed her ear against the door to hear better. A half-second later, Penny did the same.

  Harry splashed some of his brother-in-law’s favorite whisky into a trio of glasses. Then he offered one to Woodsworth and one to Gifford before leaning his hip against St. Austell’s desk. Harry quirked a smile at the other men. “The only way to truly endure one of these events.” He lifted his own glass into the air in a mock toast.

  Woodsworth agreed with an incline of his head. “Especially when you’d rather be anywhere else.” Then he shot his brother-in-law an annoyed glare. “But I got dragged here anyway.”

  Gifford shrugged. “Attending Pippa’s ball was important to Alice.”

  “Which shouldn’t affect my plans one way or the other.” Woodsworth lifted the whisky to his lips and took a deep swallow. “But I’m here now, whether I wanted to be or not.”

  “The things we do for the women in our lives, be they sisters or wives or ladies one cannot stop thinking about.” Harry took a gulp of his own whisky, hoping to put Woodsworth at ease before he launched into his questions.

  “Ladies we can’t stop thinking about?” The marquess snorted. “I’ll never be henpecked like Giff.”

  Harry was fairly certain Giff didn’t feel henpecked. One only had to watch him with his wife to see how devoted he was to her, how very much in love.

  “What about that girl from the Season?” Giff asked. “What was her name? Miss Berry? No… Miss Birkin, wasn’t it? You seemed enamored with her for a while.”

  Woodsworth sighed. “After she spread her legs for me, I didn’t find her nearly as enchanting. I certainly didn’t let her lead me around by my bollocks like Alice does with you.”

  Harry’s eyes widened with that bit of information. Woodsworth had bedded Miss Birkin? Miranda had insisted the girl was in love with the wastrel, but the idea that any high born, unmarried lady would willingly bed Woodsworth was hard to imagine. “No elopements?” Harry asked, since the girl’s letters to Miranda had hinted at something of that nature.

  Woodsworth’s eyes narrowed on Harry as though he’d hit a nerve. “Elopement? I can’t imagine why you would say such a thing.”

  So much for subtly. Harry heaved a sigh. “Because she thought you meant to elope with her.”

  Woodsworth took a step back, then his eyes darted from Harry to Giff and back again. “I say, what is this?”

  “What is what?” Giff asked smoothly.

  “This.” Woodsworth motioned his hand from one of them to the other. “I was promised
St. Austell’s best whisky, but instead I’m answering questions about Miss Birkin and elopements. What’s going on here?”

  Giff met Harry’s eyes nodded. “We might as well tell him.”

  “Tell me what?” Woodsworth demanded, his voice slightly higher than normal.

  Harry pushed away from the desk and walked closer to the marquess. “Miss Birkin seems to be missing, Wood. And it’s been suggested that you might know where she is.”

  Woodsworth’s face went more than a little white. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  But that was a lie, as the man suddenly seemed unable to meet Harry’s or Giff’s eyes.

  “I think you do,” Harry said evenly. “And it’s time you told us. Where is Miss Birkin?”

  “How should I know?” Woodsworth downed the rest of his glass in one gulp.

  “I, for one, find it a bit surprising you bedded the girl,” Giff said quietly. “You never told me that.”

  “And you never told me you had designs on one of my sisters,” Woodsworth returned.

  Giff rubbed his brow in frustration. Truly, how the men were friends, Harry had no idea.

  “Do you or do you not know where the Birkin girl is?” Giff grumbled.

  “I don’t know for certain,” Woodsworth said. “She might be in County Durham. She might be somewhere else.”

  “Why County Durham?” Harry asked.

  The marquess shrugged. “Her uncle has a place there. Outside Escomb, near River Wear.”

  The uncle who, according to Miranda, was the girl’s guardian? “And why would she go there?”

  “I’m done talking to both of you.” Woodsworth stubbornly pursed his lips as though he wouldn’t say another word.

  “Wood,” Harry growled. “You’re done when Giff and I say you are. Now why would she go to Escomb?”

  “Do you know how many girls come to Town with the intent of trapping a peer into marriage?” Woodsworth asked.

  “Trapping a peer?” Giff echoed. “What are you suggesting, Wood?”

  The marquess snorted in annoyance then shook his head. “Who knows how many men she spread her legs for? Was I just supposed to take her word for it that the child was mine?”