A Kiss Before Dawn Page 7

  As Tristan closed the door behind him, Peter turned away with a disgusted shake of his head. Good riddance! The man had been nothing but sullen and hostile since he’d arrived, and he had provided them with the requested information regarding the Oxfordshire thefts only grudgingly. Just as he had suspected in the beginning, the local authorities were not going to prove to be a source of much support in his investigation, especially if they had made up their minds that one of the boys at Willow Park was responsible for the crimes.

  At that moment, as he raised his head to speak to Tristan, he noticed Emily and a blond gentleman standing at the foot of the staircase, observing the proceedings in silence. Emily’s eyes were full of dismay, while her companion’s were rife with speculation.

  Peter disliked the man on sight. Tall and elegant, he was the utter personification of an arrogant young lord, and there was something about the way he hovered over Emily in such a proprietary and possessive fashion that put Peter’s back up.

  Tristan saw them at the same time and crossed the foyer with a smile of welcome, grasping the young man’s hand in a firm handshake. “Hello, Moreland. I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you standing there.”

  “That’s quite all right, Lord Ellington. You were otherwise occupied.” The gentleman cast a glance back over his shoulder at Emily before turning to Peter. “Em, aren’t you going to introduce me to your…guest?”

  “Of course.” Though she appeared somewhat reluctant, Emily came forward to perform the introductions. “Mr. Quick, this is our good friend, the Viscount Moreland. His father is our neighbor, the Marquis of Brimley. And Adam, allow me to make known to you Mr. Peter Quick, a former resident of Willow Park.”

  “Ahhhh.”

  Peter clenched his teeth at the knowing tone. He wasn’t certain what it was about the man’s reaction that grated on his nerves. It wasn’t as if he’d never run into that sort of attitude before. As a matter of fact, it was the usual response whenever someone realized he’d once lived in a home for former street children. But for some reason, Moreland’s superior demeanor made him long to rearrange those bloody perfect features with a display of pugilistic expertise.

  “Mr. Quick is a Bow Street Runner.” Tristan stepped into the breach, the pride in his voice evident.

  “A Runner, you say?” Moreland’s interest seemed to perk up. “So you’re the one the boy Benji is always talking about.”

  The viscount’s statement piqued Peter’s curiosity and he studied the other man closely. “You know Benji?”

  “Of course. He’s a frequent visitor to Knighthaven. As am I.”

  There was no mistaking the implication, or the subtle way the fellow shifted just a bit closer to Emily, almost as if staking a claim.

  Peter’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. He should be gladdened by this development, he thought. After all, Moreland was just the sort of man he’d always wanted for her. A true gentleman. A viscount and the future Marquis of Brimley.

  But then why did the mere idea of the two of them together make his temper soar?

  “Lord Moreland! What a pleasant surprise.”

  At the sound of the warm greeting, Peter looked up to see Lady Ellington making her way down the stairs, the mound of her belly preceding her like the prow of a ship. As she neared the bottom, she reached out to accept her husband’s outstretched hand and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss on his cheek before facing the viscount once again. “How nice to see you. It’s been too long since your last visit.”

  “Yes. Yes, it has.” Lord Moreland looked at Emily, and Peter couldn’t help but note the way she colored and glanced down at the floor. A tension seemed to vibrate in the air between the two of them, a tension that had Peter wondering just what he, Tristan, and the constable could have possibly interrupted with their entrance earlier.

  His jaw tautened as a sudden vision of Emily and Moreland passionately entwined crossed his mind’s eye, but he pushed it away with vehement force.

  It’s no longer any of your concern, a warning voice sounded in his head. But he knew convincing himself of that was another matter entirely.

  “And how is your father?” the countess asked, drawing the man’s attention away from Emily and back to her.

  “Not well, I’m afraid. His health has deteriorated a great deal in recent weeks, and I must admit I’ve been concerned. His physician has given strict instructions that he is not to leave his bed.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. Please pass on my good wishes to him.”

  “I shall. Thank you, my lady.”

  Deirdre looked up at her husband. “Has the constable been here already?”

  Tristan grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

  “Oh, dear. Was he uncooperative?”

  “You might say that. He’s still convinced one of the children at Willow Park is responsible, and he made it very clear that any help we receive from him will be reluctant, at best.”

  The countess turned troubled eyes on Peter. “I’m sorry, dear.”

  He gave a nonchalant shrug, though he couldn’t deny he felt touched by her concern. “It’s nothing less than I expected, my lady.”

  “Still, that’s no excuse at all for the man’s rudeness.” Deirdre glanced at Lord Moreland. “We have asked Mr. Quick to look into the case of the Oxfordshire Thief.”

  The viscount’s hazel eyes narrowed a fraction and he met Peter’s gaze with an unreadable expression. “Really? How interesting.”

  Peter didn’t bother to reply, merely returned the viscount’s stare with a steady one of his own.

  No, he did not like this man at all.

  “Well, let us turn to more pleasant matters, shall we?” Deirdre said brightly. “Lord Moreland, perhaps you would like to join us for breakfast?”

  Peter felt a surge of relief when the man shook his head. “I thank you for the offer, my lady, but I had a bite to eat before I left Brimley Hall this morning.” He cast another hooded glance at Emily. “I truly only stopped by to see if Lady Emily would accompany me for a short ride, but as she appears to have other plans today, I suppose I should be on my way.”

  Emily, who had been a quiet, unobtrusive presence in the background all this time, took an abrupt step forward and slid her arm through Moreland’s. “Please, Adam?” She glanced up at him from under lowered lashes, one corner of her lips turning up in an almost impish smile. “Won’t you change your mind? You just got done saying we haven’t had much of a chance to see each other lately. I would love to have you join us.”

  The viscount contemplated her for a long moment, then seemed to come to some sort of decision, for he inclined his head in a nod and gave her a charming grin that encompassed the earl and countess, as well.

  And completely disregarded Peter.

  “Since you ask so nicely, I’d be delighted to stay for breakfast,” he replied, his gaze never wavering from Emily’s piquant face.

  “How marvelous!” Deirdre beamed. “I’ll have a footman set an extra place at the table at once.”

  As she led Tristan off in the direction of the dining room and Emily fell in behind, still clinging to Lord Moreland’s arm, Peter gritted his teeth and followed in their wake. Damnation! Emily was part of his past and he had accepted that long ago. It should no longer matter to him who she spent her time with, who she laughed and flirted with.

  But it did. And as he saw her send the handsome viscount another brilliant smile, a small, undeniable flame of jealousy ignited in his heart.

  Chapter 8

  Over two hours later, as Peter trotted his horse along the road toward the home of Lord and Lady Tuttleston, he couldn’t help studying Emily out of the corner of his eye as she rode beside him.

  She had been strangely silent since they had departed Knighthaven, quite different from the laughing, animated creature who had chatted with Lord Moreland at the breakfast table. In fact, he didn’t think she’d once met his eyes since they had all run into each other in the foyer and she had stroll
ed off with the viscount in such a blithe fashion.

  At the reminder of the haughty young lord, Peter felt his cheeks heat with temper once more and his hands tightened on the reins, causing his mount to do an impatient dance beneath him.

  He drew in a deep, calming breath. He had to stop doing this. But no matter how often he tried to tell himself that Emily was no longer any of his business, it didn’t seem to diminish his need to know just exactly what was going on between her and the viscount.

  The question was out before he could call it back. “Have you known Lord Moreland long?”

  Emily started as if she had forgotten his presence and looked up, blinking at him in an almost owlish manner. Then, reaching up to tuck a stray curl back behind her ear, she fixed her eyes on the road ahead when she replied, as if she couldn’t bear to hold his gaze for too long. “I’ve known of him since I was a child. My father knew his father, Lord Brimley, very well, and our mothers were good friends. But Adam and I have only been personally acquainted for a couple of years now.”

  Adam. She had known the man for only two years and she called him Adam, while Peter was “Mr. Quick.” Despite himself, that fact troubled him far more than it should.

  “The two of you seem close.”

  “I suppose we are. He has been a good friend to me.” She glanced down at her hands on the reins. “So many people can be kind to your face and then whisper about you behind your back. But Adam isn’t like that.”

  Though her visage remained dispassionate, Peter could sense the hurt that lurked just beneath that impassive façade. Her family’s unconventional past, as well as their connection to Willow Park, had always been prime fodder for gossip, and obviously it bothered Emily more than she would ever admit.

  A part of him didn’t want to know the answer, but something beyond his own volition seemed to be driving him. “And do you and Moreland have an…understanding?”

  Emily paused for a second, appearing to be considering her answer as she nibbled on her lower lip, then shook her head. “I’m not certain.”

  Not certain? What the bloody hell did that mean?

  Emily noticed the bemused expression that crossed Peter’s face and couldn’t blame him. She was feeling a bit bemused herself. What manner of devil had tempted her to flirt so shamelessly with Adam? For some reason, watching the two men size each other up like potential foes had set off a spark of mischief inside her and she had acted before she’d thought.

  But she had forgotten that for every action there was a consequence, and now the viscount was certain to have all sorts of false expectations regarding their relationship, expectations she had no intention of fulfilling. She felt her cheeks flush. Somehow she would have to think of a way to explain her behavior to Adam and hope he would understand.

  But that would come later. Right now she had to concentrate on dealing with Peter.

  And it was time to change the subject. “You know, you haven’t said much about your life in London.”

  Peter seemed surprised at the abrupt shift in the conversation, but he didn’t bother to call her on it. He merely lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “That’s because there’s nothing much to say.”

  “Nothing much to say?” Emily gaped at him. “Come now. Surely your life must be very exciting. Catching thieves and murderers and the like. Why, the boys at Willow Park think you’re practically a hero.”

  When he said nothing in response, she pressed on, studying his profile intently. “Why a Bow Street Runner?”

  “Why not?” Another shrug. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, I suppose.”

  “The right place?”

  “When I first returned to London, I managed to find a job on the docks, loading cargo onto ships. I had a room at one of the boardinghouses nearby, and I was just leaving for work one morning when I walked right into the middle of a scuffle between a Bow Street officer and a fugitive he was trying to apprehend. I lent a hand, and I suppose the officer felt I showed an aptitude for the job. He offered to see if he could get me on at Bow Street, and here I am.”

  Emily suspected there was much more to the tale than that, but she didn’t prod him any further. “You were very young.”

  “The youngest one in the office at the time. But they started me off as more of an errand boy, really. It wasn’t until I was a little older and I had proven myself that they let me start taking on my own assignments.”

  “And is there anyone back in the city you have…an understanding with?”

  She couldn’t have halted herself from asking the question if she’d tried, and she felt her heart skip a beat as those blue eyes swung in her direction, searing her with their intensity.

  For a long moment, there was nothing but silence between them. Then his mouth curved in a slow, taunting grin. “I’m not certain.”

  Emily gritted her teeth. Of course, the beast would throw her own answer back at her. Oh, well. It was not as if she truly cared to know.

  Did she?

  Peter’s smile suddenly faded and he looked away. “How much farther is it to the Tuttleston estate?”

  “Not far. Less than a mile, I would expect.”

  “Good. Perhaps we should pick up the pace a bit. I have much to do today.”

  Before she could say a word, he had nudged his horse into a faster trot and pulled ahead of her.

  Oh, of all the— No. She would not let her temper be roused by his abruptness. It was better when he was like this, for it helped her to keep their association on a businesslike footing, to remember that he was not the man she’d once believed him to be.

  But as she prodded Artemis to catch up to him, she found herself missing the warmth of that all too brief smile.

  Emily and Peter arrived at the Tuttleston home to be greeted with genuine warmth by the viscount and viscountess. Having no children of their own, Lord and Lady Tuttleston were especially fond of Emily, and her weekly visits had become a ritual they all looked forward to.

  After she had introduced Peter and explained his reason for accompanying her, the viscountess led the way to the sitting room, where a maid was busy laying out a tray of tea and buttered scones.

  “I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to play mother and pour the tea, my dear,” Lady Tuttleston told Emily as they all seated themselves and the servant departed. “My hands aren’t quite as steady as they used to be.”

  Emily moved to comply with the woman’s request, feeling her heart clutch with sympathy. Lord and Lady Tuttleston were kind people who didn’t deserve the pain this theft had put them through. The necklace that had been stolen from them had been a much-prized family heirloom passed down through generations of Lord Tuttleston’s family. Though it would bring thousands of pounds on the market, it was worth far more to the Tuttlestons than its mere monetary value.

  Viscount Tuttleston, a rotund, jovial little man with a shock of pure white hair and twinkling blue eyes, interlocked his fingers on the pudgy mound of his belly and studied Peter over the tops of his spectacles. “So, you’re a former Willow Park boy, eh?”

  Emily couldn’t help but notice the way Peter stiffened in his seat, the careful blankness that crossed his features before he nodded his head in the affirmative. “Yes, my lord, I am.”

  “A Bow Street Runner now, you say?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good. Good for you. One of their elite, too, I hear.” The elderly gentleman’s tone was approving. “That’s just what those children need to see. Someone like them who can rise above his past and make something of himself. It will give them something to strive for.”

  “Oh, yes.” Lady Tuttleston gave an emphatic nod of agreement, her gray curls bouncing beneath the edge of her lace cap. “I can’t tell you how much I admire your brother and his wife, Emily, for their determination to see Willow Park flourish. All those poor, dear children…And such a noble and worthy cause. I often say so, don’t I, Henry?”

  “Yes, indeed you do, my
dear. And you’re quite right. It’s one of the reasons I make such a large donation to the home each year.” The viscount winked at Emily.

  She barely contained a flinch. It was true. When her family had first returned to Little Haverton, the proper funds for rebuilding and establishing Willow Park hadn’t been easy to come by. The late earl had vastly depleted the Ellington coffers with his weakness for drinking and gambling, and it had taken several years for Tristan to recoup the wealth their father had lost. It had been people like the Tuttlestons, who had thrown their support behind the home and donated generously to the cause—-and continued to do so—-who had made it all possible and allowed Deirdre’s dream to come true.

  Just another reason for Emily to feel guilty.

  She was grateful when Peter changed the subject. “My lord, my lady, as much as I hate to bring up a painful topic, I do need to ask you a few questions about the night of the theft.”

  Lady Tuttleston set aside her cup of tea and turned to face him. “Of course. Although I doubt we’ll be of much help. And we’ve already told the constable everything we know.”

  Emily, seated next to the viscountess on the brocade-upholstered love seat, watched as Peter gave the woman a smile. “I’m sure you have, my lady. But sometimes a fresh eye in these matters can be of help.”

  “Yes, yes. Quite right.” Lord Tuttleston inclined his head in agreement. “Go right ahead, my lad.”

  “Perhaps you could start by filling me in on your whereabouts on the evening the theft occurred.”

  Lady Tuttleston pursed her lips. “Why, we were visiting Henry’s sister in Compton, a few miles away.” She leaned toward Emily in a confiding manner. “It was Wednesday evening, you know, and we always visit her on Wednesday evenings.”

  Peter’s eyes narrowed. “So, this is a trip you make regularly?”

  “Like clockwork for the last several years, ever since my sister’s husband passed on,” the viscount explained. “She gets lonely in that huge old house by herself, don’t you know, so Roberta and I usually give the servants Wednesday evening off, except for a mere skeleton staff, and make the trek to Compton.”