Mine at midnight ladies.., p.1
Mine at Midnight: Ladies of the Order - Book 3, page 1
MINE AT MIDNIGHT
Ladies of the Order - Book 3
ADELE CLEE
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Thank you!
Copyright
Books by Adele Clee
CHAPTER 1
Hart Street, Covent Garden
Office of the Order
Nerves and excitement roused the same sensations, Eliza Dutton decided. Both left an empty feeling in one’s stomach. Both left one’s pulse racing and muscles twitching. She took a moment to catch her breath and gather her wits before knocking on the study door.
“Enter!” Mr Daventry called.
He was the master of the Order, the master of a group of enquiry agents who helped prove some people charged with crimes were innocent. While the men assisted those without the means or funds to help themselves, the ladies accepted paying clients.
Eliza opened the door and entered the room.
Mr Daventry’s commanding presence left most men shaking in their boots. He stood to a height of over six feet, brushed his hand through his coal-black hair before pulling out his pocket watch and inspecting the time.
“Miss Dutton, as prompt as ever. I won’t offer you a seat. We’re leaving.”
He had summoned Eliza to the office without explanation. It meant one thing. She was finally being given her first case, and they were off to meet a prospective new client.
A host of questions flooded her mind, but she couldn’t act like a debutante at her first ball. As an enquiry agent, it was her job to maintain a professional air. She was to encourage confidence in her abilities, not jabber on like a witless fool.
“Is there anything I should know before we do so, sir?”
Mr Daventry narrowed his gaze. “Taking a case is not like picking a treat from a confectioner, Miss Dutton. It’s not about what you find palatable. It’s about recognising a client needs help regardless of personal opinion.”
It was an odd thing to say.
So odd it aroused her suspicions.
“Is this where you tell me Lord Roxburgh is our client?” she jested. Mr Daventry knew she disliked the lord and often joked with the peer that he might hire Eliza to find his conscience.
Her stomach sank when Mr Daventry failed to smile.
“Lord Roxburgh is our client. We’re heading to Hanover Square to see him now.” He spoke as if she had no reason to dislike the lord, as if the thought shouldn’t fill her with dread. “You have a choice, Miss Dutton. Accept the case and assist him with his dilemma, or I shall be forced to employ another agent.”
Mr Daventry was known for his benevolence. Not any more. What had she done to deserve such a punishment? Had he given no thought to her harrowing experiences?
“Sir, with all due respect, Lord Roxburgh would stake his mother at the card table just to get a thrill. May I remind you, my father lost his fortune at the gaming tables?” He’d lost everything of value: his reputation, his home, his life. “Consequently, I cannot work with a man plagued by the same addiction.”
Mr Daventry’s gaze softened. “Lord Roxburgh’s mother died years ago. One might suggest he stake his sister’s reputation, but that is currently in tatters after an incident in the lord’s garden. While Lord Roxburgh is our client, it’s his sister, Miss Ware, whom we hope to save.”
Lord Roxburgh had a sister? He didn’t act like a responsible brother. Surely his reputation for being a scandalous rake had seriously affected his sister’s prospects. And why would the Order become involved in a family matter?
“I know it’s difficult for you,” the master continued. “I know your father dragged you to the depths of hell. But Lord Roxburgh’s case is different. And you must learn to let go of the past.”
Let go of the past? How could she let go while still making fortnightly payments to a blackguard who owned a gaming hell?
“Lord Roxburgh provokes me. He is quite blatant in his use of innuendo.”
Mr Daventry seemed amused. “You’ll have to deal with more than innuendo if you work for me, Miss Dutton. I rarely make mistakes. I wouldn’t assign you the case if I didn’t think you could handle Roxburgh.”
Mr Daventry gestured to the door. The discussion was over.
Eliza hesitated.
Every fibre of her being warned against accepting. Yet she loved being part of the Order, loved the security of living with other female agents in Howland Street. Mr Daventry was only thirty, but he was like the stable father figure she’d never had. It seemed she would have to learn to tolerate Lord Roxburgh and hope she had the skills to conclude the investigation quickly.
“Will you tell Lord Roxburgh he is to abide by my decisions? Will you explain he must take orders from a woman?”
Oh, she could almost hear the lord’s salacious reply.
I only take orders from a woman in bed.
“You’re in charge of this case, Miss Dutton. Lord Roxburgh will afford you the respect such a position deserves. This incident has shaken him. Consequently, he has more on his mind than seducing one of my agents.”
Eliza suppressed a mocking snort. Lord Roxburgh might draw his last breath and still have time to appreciate a woman’s figure. And he appeared to have developed a liking for women who worked for a living.
“Very well. I’m interested to learn more about the case.”
The mile journey to Mayfair took thirty minutes, for the roads were busy with those taking advantage of a break in the chilly weather. Lord Roxburgh owned an elegant townhouse in Hanover Square, with a vast garden, Mr Daventry informed her.
“The garden is rather unique, redesigned by Roxburgh five years ago.” Mr Daventry stepped up to Lord Roxburgh’s door and hammered the lion head knocker. “As you know, he likes to entertain.”
“Lord Roxburgh must have been quite young when he inherited.”
“Roxburgh was fifteen when his father died. He came into his inheritance seven years ago, his maternal uncle being trustee and guardian until then.”
So, by Eliza’s calculation, the lord must be eight and twenty now.
“Having a huge responsibility at a young age must account for his love of reckless pursuits.” The lord was unapologetic in his quest for pleasure.
“If we’re to help him, we cannot make the obvious assumptions.”
No, it was her job to remain impartial. But Lord Roxburgh had a way of getting under her skin, and it was much easier to dislike him than to admit there was something attractive about his self-assured demeanour.
A footman dressed in dark green livery answered the door. Having already enquired after his master’s availability, the servant welcomed them inside and escorted them to the drawing room.
Lord Roxburgh stood when they entered.
There wasn’t a more sophisticated man in all of London. There wasn’t a man with more charm and wit, a man with a more sensual grin. Every word breezed from his lips like a teasing caress, a subtle seduction of the senses.
Thank heavens Eliza was immune.
“Daventry, you came. You’re certainly a man of your word.” The lord’s warm brown gaze settled on Eliza, and her stomach lurched the way it always did when in his company. “Miss Dutton.” He swept a graceful bow. “While I felt sure we’d meet again, I hoped it would be under more pleasurable circumstances.”
Spoken in his rich tone, the comment roused visions of moonlight strolls and stolen kisses.
“If I’m to take your case, honesty between us is vital, my lord.” Eliza dipped a quick curtsey. “You should know I rather hoped our paths might never cross.”
His smile lacked its usual sparkle. “One could never accuse you of being evasive, Miss Dutton. But I pray you will give this matter your serious consideration. Rarely do I leave myself open to scrutiny. If anyone must delve into my personal affairs, I’d rather it were you.”
It was there again.
A sensual undercurrent.
A promise of something wicked.
Despite his impeccable dress and handsome bearing—he looked exceptional in his fitted blue coat—Lord Roxburgh seemed tired, weary. The man could drink, gamble and whore better than any of his peers. Which meant his solemn mood spoke of a serious problem.
“Please, sit down.” Lord Roxburgh gestured to various chairs.
Eliza sat to his right. She would struggle to concentrate if forced to look at him directly. Mr Daventry chose the chair opposite.
“Should you not summon Miss Ware?” Mr Daventry glanced at the closed door. “It is her reputation at stake. Is she not our client?”
Lord Roxburgh appeared oddly nervous. “Lillian is left devastated by Saturday night’s tragedy. Even with the power I wield, I’ve failed to silence the gossips. Half the ton has ambled past my door this morning. Mr Ashbury’s parents came knocking, demanding answers, and Lillian has spent every waking hour in her bedchamber, sobbing uncontrollably.”
Eliza was confused. Most par
“Mr Ashbury is the scoundrel found murdered in my garden.”
Murdered!
Eliza tried to suppress the rising panic. She’d been expecting to find a rogue and force a proposal, not investigate something as villainous as murder.
“Perhaps we should start at the beginning, my lord.” Eliza ferreted around in her reticule and withdrew her pencil and notebook. It gave her a moment to settle her nerves. “You say your garden is the murder scene. Were you hosting an event?”
“I host a grand ball monthly during the season.”
“And how many guests were in attendance?”
He shrugged. “More than a hundred. My secretary can confirm the exact number. Bloom comes to the house every day at noon.”
No doubt Lord Roxburgh had spent the night rolling dice over the green baize or propositioning someone’s wife in an upstairs bedchamber.
Eliza made a note of Mr Bloom’s name. “Might you explain what happened? When and where did you discover the body? Can you recall if there were any visible signs of an altercation?”
Lord Roxburgh stood. “We heard the screaming just after midnight.” He took to pacing before the hearth, showing his muscular thighs to advantage. “Most people were taking supper, and a scream is nothing out of the ordinary at a rowdy event.”
“One assumes you heard a woman scream.”
He stopped pacing and fixed her with his arresting gaze. “My sister Lillian screamed. She was out in the garden taking air while the guests were occupied indoors. After finding Ashbury’s lifeless body, she came bursting into the supper room, looking for me.”
The young woman was outdoors alone?
“Your sister wasn’t entertaining guests during supper?” Eliza thought that most odd, considering her brother was the host.
“Lillian complained of having no appetite and so retired to her room. There had been an incident with Ashbury earlier in the evening, and she wished to avoid him.”
Mr Daventry frowned. “You let Ashbury stay despite his earlier encounter with your sister? I’m surprised you didn’t beat him and throw him out.”
Lord Roxburgh firmed his jaw. “I would have done more than throw him out, but Lillian failed to inform me of their … tussle. She only made her confession this morning.”
“Does Miss Ware keep many secrets, my lord?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
Young women always kept secrets. Perhaps Lord Roxburgh didn’t know his sister as well as he ought. “But you say she was out in the garden when she should have been in her room?”
“Yes. She found Ashbury dead in the maze. The man had suffered a broken neck. There were no signs of a struggle.”
Eliza considered the information. Why would a woman who had been accosted earlier in the evening venture outside alone? By pain of death, would she not have avoided a second confrontation?
“Doubtless your sister lacks the strength to snap a man’s neck, hence why she’s not the prime suspect in a murder investigation.”
“Sir Oswald came and took our statements. They’re delving into Ashbury’s background, hoping to identify his enemies.”
A man who accosted innocent women must have many.
“You’re strong enough to break a man’s neck, my lord.” Eliza scanned his muscular arms. His coat clung to him like a second skin. While Lord Roxburgh oozed sophistication, his powerful physique said he could kill a man with his bare hands. “Perhaps you knew Mr Ashbury had propositioned your sister and so murdered him before taking supper.”
The lord managed to smile as he dropped into a chair. “Think, Miss Dutton. Do you really believe that’s how I would have dealt with the matter?”
No. Lord Roxburgh was by no means a savage. But the man was a confounding contradiction. How could such an esteemed figure live such a thoroughly sinful life?
Eliza reassessed her opinion. “You would have called Mr Ashbury out, my lord, shot him clean between the brows before he had a chance to fire.”
Mischief flashed in his eyes. “Be careful, Miss Dutton. That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“Do you not boast about being skilled at most things?”
“Only things you might find attractive in a man.”
Oh, the devil was incorrigible. “I admire honesty and integrity, courage and strength of will. As a gambler, you lack the traits I find attractive.” Gamblers were liars, thieves, mentally weak, yet Lord Roxburgh gave the impression he was anything but.
“Perhaps it’s a topic open for debate, Miss Dutton.”
Eliza might have offered a witty retort, but Mr Daventry put a stop to their banter. “Can you recall who else was absent from the supper room?”
Lord Roxburgh rubbed his sculpted jaw thoughtfully.
There was no denying the man was handsome. He had a magnetic appeal that drew women in droves. But why would a man who had everything risk it all on the turn of the dice? Perhaps if Eliza took the time to understand Lord Roxburgh’s motives, it might give her an insight into her father’s reasons for ruining their lives.
“Offhand, I can recall a handful of names.” He gestured to Eliza’s notebook. “Will you write them down, Miss Dutton?” He paused. “Mr Fraser and Mrs Stanley were missing, although I have it on good authority they were enjoying … the decor in the library.”
That was certainly a novel way of describing a liaison.
“The Harpers prefer to explore the garden when it’s quiet and decided to forgo supper. And Lord Wright was smoking a cheroot on the terrace. Having lost a substantial sum at the card table, he couldn’t stomach the guinea fowl.”
“Did Mr Ashbury give a reason for remaining outside, my lord?”
“No doubt he was hunting for entertainment. He had much to celebrate. He won my vowel, too.”
Eliza hid her surprise. Had he just admitted to having a motive for murder? He might be guilty of wasting his fortune, of corrupting his sister with his base morals, but every fibre of her being said he was innocent of the crime.
“When the constable searched the body, did he find the vowels in Ashbury’s pocket?” Mr Daventry asked.
“Sadly, no. Wright was most desperate to have his vowel returned and tried to bribe the night watchman first on the scene. But the fellow refused to touch the body until the constable arrived.”
Eliza had read about a watchman caught robbing a corpse and stealing a pocket watch. No wonder the fellow had been cautious.
“Your vowel was missing, too?”
“Indeed.” The lord played with his signet ring, spinning it absently around his little finger. “Forgive me. I’ve not offered you refreshment. Will you take tea, Miss Dutton? I know Daventry will have brandy.”
“Thank you, my lord. I shall refrain.”
It was foolish, but drinking from his china seemed too intimate. When she brought the cup to her mouth, she’d lay odds he’d be watching with that wickedly intense stare.
“Is there a rule against drinking while working?” he teased.
“No, but rather than pass pleasantries, I’d prefer to focus on the case.” If she hoped to catch a murderer within the week, she’d need to work quickly.
Lord Roxburgh cast a smile that would make most women sigh. “I admire your dedication to duty, Miss Dutton. But it’s cold out, and you owe me a boon. I’ll feel better knowing you’ve taken something warm inside.”
Eliza’s pulse quickened. She turned to Mr Daventry, who seemed to find nothing untoward in the lord’s last comment. “Lord Roxburgh gave me the use of his carriage the night Miss Gambit went to Blackstone.” Lord Roxburgh had appeared at an opportune moment, had been generous and flirtatious in equal measure. “He takes pleasure in reminding me I owe him a debt.”
Lord Roxburgh arched a brow. “Did you not refuse to pay?”
“If a man cannot show benevolence, he deserves scorn, my lord.” That said, gamblers were only generous when winning. The gifts were to compensate for the nightmares.
