How to Entice an Earl (11 page)

The words “Home Office” made the younger man straighten a bit. “What the devil has the Home Office to do with old Tinker’s getting himself killed over gambling debts?”

“What makes you think his death had something to do with gambling?” Christian asked, ignoring the question about the Home Office. “Do you know of someone who’s been threatening him?”

The younger man shook his head, then winced at the movement. “No, but it stands to reason, don’t it? He was killed in a gaming hell. It must have had something to do with gaming.”

While Christian couldn’t fault the fellow’s logic, it didn’t necessarily work that way. Deciding not to dispute the matter, instead he said, “What made you run away that night?”

He wanted to berate Maddie’s brother for abandoning her, but he didn’t wish to spook him at this point. They could discuss his bad behavior regarding her after this business was settled.

Linton rubbed a bleary eye. “I know it was wrong of me. I knew it when I did it. But I had to get out of there. As soon as I saw that it was Tinker who’d been killed, I knew that I’d be the one who got blamed for it.”

“Why?” Christian asked. “Because you owed Tinker money?”

Linton’s bloodshot eyes opened wide. “How did you…?”

“It wasn’t hard to guess,” Christian said with an inward sigh. Was this man really capable of killing his friend? He doubted it. “You were in a gaming house, after all. And you were the only one there who fled the scene.”

“Not the only one,” Linton said, animating a bit. “Stands to reason that the one who did it also fled the scene.” It was hard to argue with the triumph in the man’s face. Especially when one considered just how hard his brain must have worked to arrive at the conclusion, no matter how false it might be.

“You know, of course, that fleeing the scene like that will make you the number one suspected culprit.”

If Linton were worried, he didn’t show it. “I did what I thought I had to do at the time.”

Though he’d been prepared for Viscount Linton’s pigheadedness—he was, after all, Maddie’s brother—Christian hadn’t quite guessed just how nonchalant he’d be over the possibility that he’d be found guilty of murder.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of this matter, Linton,” he said firmly. “You are indeed at the top of the suspect list. And I do not wish to frighten your family, but you should perhaps ask your father for some guidance in the matter. His influence or perhaps that of your uncle Lord Shelby might be necessary to see to it that you are protected.”

He already looked a bit ill, and now Linton’s complexion went even paler. “You’re serious?” he demanded. “How can this be happening? It was a silly gambling debt between us. That’s all. Tinker was my friend, for God’s sake.”

Christian didn’t bother pointing out that Tinker was the second of Linton’s friends to die in a mysterious manner. Nor that his presence here in the home of that first friend’s widow, having obviously spent the night in her bed, was damned suspicious, as well.

Probably because she’d been eavesdropping, Lady Emily herself stepped into the room and wrapped a comforting arm around Linton’s shoulders.

“Do not despair, Linton,” she soothed, all the while glaring at Christian. “No one with a jot of sense would ever think you killed Tinker.”

Seeing that he wouldn’t get much more sensible talk from the viscount, Christian rose.

“Thank you for speaking with me, Lord Linton,” he said. “If you can recall anything new about that night at Mrs. Bailey’s please don’t hesitate to contact me with it.”

Neither his hostess, nor her paramour, bid him good-bye. He was almost to the door when he paused. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you are responsible for Tinker’s death. Unfortunately, I’m not the one who makes the ultimate decision about who we hold accountable.”

With that parting salvo, he left.

*   *   *

His meeting with Linton out of the way, Christian decided to pay a call on Tinker’s widow. While it was doubtful she knew who had killed her husband, she might know about any threats the fellow had received in the past few months.

The Tinkers’ home was nestled on a quiet street where those with social standing but without accompanying wealth could live in comfort without the stigma of an address outside fashionable London. It was notable among its neighbors because of the black crepe that adorned the door. And the golden-haired young lady who stood on the stoop about to lift the muted door knocker.

What the devil is she doing here?

Christian should have guessed Maddie’s next move would be to question Tinker’s widow, but he’d thought she would wait a few days at least before doing so.

Tossing the reins to a young lad who appeared as if from nowhere—likely he’d been waiting for just such an opportunity for ready coin—Christian leaped down from his vehicle and hurried up the handful of steps leading to the Tinkers’ door.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, coming up behind Maddie, and at once remembering just how good she’d felt pressed up against him last night. He’d better nip that line of thought in the bud if he wished to accomplish anything worthwhile today.

If she were unnerved at seeing him again she didn’t show it, however. Turning to face him, she said, “Ah, Lord Gresham, this is a surprise. I simply came to pay my respects to Mr. Tinker’s family. I was not aware you were acquainted with the man.”

“Since you were only slightly acquainted with him, I do not see much difference in the wisdom of our respective errands,” Christian returned.

While they waited for some response from the Tinkers’ servants, he took the opportunity to study her appearance.

In deference to the Tinker family she wore a violet-colored gown. Her golden hair was neatly arranged in a simple chignon beneath a pretty but subdued straw bonnet. Her eyes, thanks to her attire, seemed more violet than icy blue today, though there were slight shadows beneath them. She might have gone home from the ball earlier than he had, he guessed, but she had not slept well. Doubtless she was concerned over Tinker’s death and her brother’s possible role in the matter. Still, as ever, she was lovely, her short stature belying what he knew was a strength of will that could outlast any soldier’s.

“I thought,” he explained, “to ask Mrs. Tinker some questions about her husband’s activities these last few months. As is my prerogative in my work for the Home Office.” He gave her a speaking look, but true to her nature, Maddie did not flinch.

“Well, I do not have the Home Office to hide behind…” Her brow lifted in challenge. “But as Mr. Tinker was a close friend of my brother’s, I thought to offer my assistance to his widow, should she need someone to learn more about her husband’s death.”

“Do you often offer assistance to the widows of your brother’s close friends?” Christian asked. “If so that must keep you quite busy.”

At her glare, he relented a bit. “Maddie, you must know that as a lady, a peer’s daughter in fact, you cannot uncover the same sort of information that I can. It’s just a simple fact.”

“Are you saying that just because I am a woman I don’t have the mental capacity to—?”

Her question was cut off—thank God—by the opening of the door.

Before Maddie could elbow her way in, Christian spoke up.

“Lord Gresham and Lady Madeline Essex to see Mrs. Tinker.”

“There’s been a death in the family,” the rawboned young footman said, attempting to shut the door on them.

“Please, sir.” Maddie spoke up. “I was there the evening of Mr. Tinker’s death and I would so like to pay my respects to Mrs. Tinker. We will only stay for a few moments, I promise.”

Christian watched cynically as Maddie employed her lashes and dimples to good use. The footman, poor fellow, didn’t stand a chance. He’d have to look out for that ploy himself in future, Christian warned himself.

“I suppose paying your respects would be all right,” the young man said, ushering them inside the tiny hallway. “If you’ll wait in the parlor, I’ll get the missus.”

He left them in a small but comfortable room, furnished with a sofa and two chairs arranged before the fire. An embroidery frame rested before one of the chairs, as if the lady of the house had been in the midst of stitching when she was called away.

“Do not think I have forgotten what you said earlier,” Maddie said, turning a gimlet eye on Christian. Her anger lent her an air of passion that he would do well to ignore. Her cheeks were pink in her anger and her eyes sparked.

Oh, yes, he should definitely ignore her right now, he thought, even as he felt his body respond to her. Damn it, he was here to talk to Tinker’s widow, not indulge in lascivious thoughts about Maddie.

“What?” she demanded, her hands on her hips, when he didn’t respond. “Have I said something to amuse you? Why are you staring at me?”

If she only knew, he thought. “I will address your concerns later,” he said, in what he hoped was an even tone. “It wouldn’t be right for us to indulge in an argument in a house of mourning,” he added piously.

His companion’s snort revealed just how seriously she took his warning. Even so, she seemed to shelve her annoyance for later.

“This seems to be a smart enough little house,” she said, changing the subject. “Do you suppose Mr. Tinker had family money?”

“My husband had a small inheritance from his maternal grandmother and my dowry,” a voice said from the doorway. “Though I don’t know what business it is of yours.”

Christian turned to see a pale young woman with mouse-brown hair, dressed in all black, standing in the doorway.

“Mrs. Tinker,” he said, bowing to her. “We apologize for the intrusion into your grief. But Lady Madeline and I wished to pay our respects.”

Twin flags of color appeared in the widow’s cheeks.

“Yes, well, you’ve shown your respects,” she said stiffly. “Now I must ask you to leave.”

“I am so sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Maddie said, stepping closer to the other woman. “I was with your husband at the end, and I wished to assure you that it was peaceful. You may take that comfort at least.”

Mrs. Tinker took a step back from Maddie. “I cannot see why you would think that meeting the woman who accompanied him to that shameful place could possibly be of comfort to me.”

Maddie looked genuinely perplexed. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, Mrs. Tinker,” she said, “but I did not accompany your husband to Mrs. Bailey’s. I was there with my brother, Viscount Linton. I believe he was a great friend of your husband’s.”

If anything Mrs. Tinker seemed more appalled than before. “Yes,” she said with a bitter laugh, “Viscount Linton was a great friend to my husband. He led poor John from vice to vice like a puppy. My husband was no saint, Lady Madeline, but he was not nearly so blind to propriety before he made your brother’s acquaintance as he was after. Make no mistake, I place the blame for my husband’s death squarely upon your brother’s head. If he had never met Linton, my John would still be alive.”

Her spleen vented, the widow seemed to crumple a bit. “Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to go lie down. I’ll have Greeley see you out.”

With those words their hostess turned and shut the door of the parlor firmly behind her.

“What on earth was that?” Maddie asked, looking as if she were going to burst into tears. “Could Linton really have been so detrimental to her husband’s health?”

Though they had made no prearrangement, Maddie allowed Christian to hand her into his phaeton after instructing the maid who accompanied her to return home without her. She had been rattled by Mrs. Tinker’s accusations against her brother. It was bad enough that Tinker had been killed, but added together with the bit of conversation she’d overheard at the Marchford ball, things were looking very grim for her brother, indeed.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” Gresham inquired from beside her, where he expertly steered his vehicle through the streets of Mayfair. “I did find Mrs. Tinker’s accusations troubling, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she knew what was actually going on in her husband’s set. In fact, it sounded to me as if she knew very little about what her husband was getting up to.”

Maddie appreciated his attempt to soothe her fears, but she saw it for what it was. She’d been concerned about the company her brother kept for a while now. But Mrs. Tinker’s accusations that Linton had led her husband farther down the road to ruin had stung. Because on some level she suspected that her brother
had
led Tinker astray.

“It is true that she seemed not to be overly familiar with Mr. Tinker’s activities,” she agreed, “but I cannot help but wonder whether she was not correct about Linton’s role in Mr. Tinker’s death. Not that I think he killed him, for I don’t think James capable of that. But I would not be terribly surprised to learn that he accompanied Mr. Tinker to Mrs. Bailey’s before that night.”

“Even if that were the case, Tinker is … was a grown man. He did not seem to be impaired in any way.”

“No,” Maddie said seriously. “But perhaps he was just as much under the spell of gaming as my brother is.”

A chill breeze made Maddie pull her pelisse tighter around her, a shudder running through her. There was far too much hiding in all of this business, she reflected. Which prompted her to ask, “Just what
is
your interest in all of this, Lord Gresham? What has Whitehall to do with gambling?”

“We have shared a kiss, Maddie,” he said glancing at her mouth. “Do you think you could call me Christian?”

“Changing the subject will do you no good, my lord,” she said pertly. “Christian,” she added when he gave her a stern look.

“That’s better,” he said, his gaze intense for a fraction of a second before he looked away. “As for my motives for looking into this business with Tinker, I have my reasons. Reasons which I am not presently at liberty to divulge, but suffice it to say that some very important people have been watching Mr. Tinker for some time.”

For the first time since that night at Mrs. Bailey’s, a stab of real fear shot through her.

“I cannot like my brother’s involvement in this,” she said hotly. “I cannot. He is profligate, true, but hardly a criminal to be investigated by the Home Office.”