He pulled her down against his bare chest and stroked her hair. “Not for long, sweetheart. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
She pushed away from him, indignant. “You’re going to confront this lord, and you want me out of the way.”
“No, it’s not that, Maddie. I just want you safe.”
“I am not going anywhere without you, Hart.”
Hart raked his hands through his hair. “But Maddie…”
“No buts. I shall stay in London.”
He sighed. “Very well. I’ll instruct the footmen to be armed whenever you leave the house.”
“If you must, darling.” Maddie lay down again and stroked his satiny skin. “You would miss me if I left, wouldn’t you?”
She could feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest and raised her head. “Lord, Maddie, you know how to wind me around your finger.” He pulled her atop him, his hands cupping her bottom. “I would miss you very much,” he murmured against her ear.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In the morning,Hart sent a footman to deliver the message to Fleming. When he left the house, there was no sign of the fellow who had been loitering in the square, obviously watching his home. A neighbor emerged and was about to climb into his waiting carriage when Hart approached him and asked whether he had noticed the man.
“Thought he might be a beggar,” Lord Telford said. “I didn’t give it much thought, but now, thinking back on it, a beggar wouldn’t still be there late at night. I’ve not seen him since. Do you think he had a nefarious purpose for being there, my lord?”
“I don’t know,” Hart said, “but he appeared to watch my house. If you see him again, it might be a good idea to notify the constabulary. I will do the same.”
As he made his way to Manton’s shooting gallery for some practice, his neck prickled, but it was hard to see if anyone followed, as the streets were busy this time of the morning. The question remained, why would anyone want to tail him? Could it be Buchanan’s doing?
Some familiar faces greeted Hart when he walked into Manton’s, including Lord Yarmouth, one of Prinny’s set. Yarmouth, a known wastrel, invited Hart to join them in a contest. Hart tossed down his coins, adding them to the pile. When his turn came, he aimed and fired, hitting the wafer dead center. Yarmouth and the other men clapped him on the back and cheerfully paid up. While pleased with the accuracy of his gun, Hart declined to take part again when the bet rose to a ridiculous sum.
He tucked his gun into the waistband of his trousers beneath his coat and took a hackney to Bow Street, intent on speaking to the Magistrate about Buchanan. He also wanted to ask about the man he’d put in jail near Gilford.
According to their records, the man had died after a fall. Cursing, he wondered if Buchanan was behind this as well. Hart went in search of the Bow Street Runner, Boyle, hoping he was here and not away on a case.
He was in luck, finding Boyle kicking his heels at the courts, waiting for his next mission. Hart hired him to watch Montford Court to see if they could discover this man’s intentions should he turn up again.
“Buchanan eh?” Boyle said. “A pity Wakeham had to open his mouth about you, milord.”
Hart frowned. “You’ve heard something since we last met?”
“On the magistrate’s orders, as Fleming told us, a runner, a friend of mine, Colin Croft, infiltrated the smuggling ring. But he must have made a mistake because his body turned up near Folkestone. On his last trip to Bow Street before he died, Colin said he had an idea the leader of the gang was Lord Buchanan, because the smugglers knew him. Colin went back to find proof and never returned.”
Hart wondered if it was possible to get this man. It appeared Buchanan had the remarkable ability to evade the law even when coming under suspicion.
“If the man turns up in the square, I want you to get a message to me immediately and not approach him yourself,” Hart said. But he wished he had persuaded Maddie to leave London.
*
The night ofthe ball, a dozen guests dined at Montford Court. It was a handsome room, with fine furniture, paintings, an Axminster rug, and a sweep of damask at the tall windows. Tate and Ianthe, Charles and Nellie, Dominic and Olivia, and Peter Wallace, seated opposite Diane, his eyes only for her. Hart sat at the head of the long table, Maddie at the opposite end. She considered it a success for her first dinner party. Cook had outdone herself with a twelve-course meal. Crispin served the best wines from the cellar, and the footmen served the dishes. To Maddie, it seemed as if this house was a home again, and the servants seemed as eager as she to make the evening perfect.
Later, when they entered Beauchamp’s ballroom, Maddie, for the first time, felt part of this exciting, beautifully dressed throng of guests. The musicians on the dais played Mozart, the dancers already on the floor performing a cotillion. The perfumed scents and candle smoke drifting from the chandeliers overhead and the buzz of conversation and laughter added to the ambiance.
Maddie danced the next two dances, then sat watching Diane dance with Peter. They already looked like a couple falling madly in love. While Maddie was glad for them, she felt a little dispirited. She’d hoped to be pregnant, but found earlier tonight to her disappointment she wasn’t. The baby represented something special, apart from the fierce love she would give it. It meant she and Hart would be a family. As it was, she struggled to believe that’s what they were. His life in London so often took him away from her. And she felt his absence keenly because she didn’t feel secure. Especially now watching Mrs. Spencer enter the circle of friends around Hart. She said something amusing, and they all laughed. Her gaze had rested on Hart longer than Maddie thought acceptable. Did not Hart notice? Or didn’t he mind?
Earlier, Maddie had danced with a gentleman who a friend had introduced to her. He offered her fulsome compliments and made no secret of his attraction to her.
When she lightly chastised him, he looked surprised and said he would be available whenever she might wish to pursue an affair. Maddie had wanted to rebuke him, but she held her tongue, longing for the end of the dance. This was the way society had proved to be. Ladies passing notes to gentlemen who were not their husbands. And those husbands looking the other way, or dancing with their mistresses, but Maddie knew that was not for her. Not everyone was that way. There were good marriages among their friends. It was up to Hart to decide what sort of marriage he wanted.
Maddie excused herself from her group of friends, fearing they would discover the reason for her sudden change of mood. Walking to the room allocated for the ladies, she didn’t look back. She didn’t want to see if Mrs. Spencer still flirted with her husband.