Seduced at Midnight

Chapter 13

Julianne paced the blue guest room where she'd slept last night-or rather tossed and turned last night-her thoughts a jumbled mixture of vivid recollections of her interlude with Gideon and worries about what had transpired between her father and Gideon after she'd retired. Had her father guessed she and Gideon had shared intimacies? Had he dismissed Gideon-or worse, threatened him? Had he told Gideon about her engagement? Would she ever see Gideon again?

Those plaguing questions had been interspersed with reliving the incredible moments she'd spent in his arms. She'd read of such intimacies in the scandalous selections favored by the Ladies Literary Society, but reading about them and experiencing them were two completely different things. Never had she imagined that she could feel such passion. Incite such passion. Want or need another person so much. Care so profoundly. So that nothing else mattered. But now that she knew, now that she had been offered that intoxicating glimpse, she wanted to see it, feel it, again. She wanted those intimacies, and more.

Therefore it was now time to gather her courage and face her father. And discover if Gideon, the only man she wanted to share those intimacies with, had been banished from her life even before her wedding.

She exited the bedchamber and headed down the corridor but paused before the door to her own bedchamber. After making certain she wasn't observed, she turned the brass knob and slipped inside.

Bright morning sunshine filled the room, spilling over the gold and green carpet and neatly made bed. Her gaze fell on the window leading to her balcony, and a shudder ran through her. After speaking with her father, she'd have her chat with Johnny. But first she needed to take care of one thing.

She crossed to her wardrobe and opened the double doors. Crouching down, she pulled a book-sized wooden box from its hiding place beneath the old pair of ankle boots she wore when picking flowers in the garden. Then she stuck her hand into the left boot and withdrew a small brass key. She unlocked the box, lifted the lid, and gazed upon her trove of treasures. She lovingly added her newest cherished items to the velvet-lined box: her copy of The Ghost of Devonshire Manor. And Gideon's handkerchief.

She'd held the linen square all night against her heart. She raised it now to her lips and breathed deeply. His scent clung to the material, that wondrous smell of starch and adventure and warmth that belonged to him alone. The one that was permanently etched in her memory. Even with her eyes closed, she could have picked him out of a crowd simply by inhaling.

She should return it-after all, he hadn't given it to her to keep. But she simply couldn't part with it. It would serve as a secret reminder in the long, lonely years to come of what, for one magical night, she'd shared with a man who'd captured every aspect of her mind and imagination.

"You are now the most beloved of my treasures," she whispered into the handkerchief. After carefully placing the linen square on top of her other beloved items, she locked the box and replaced it and the key in her wardrobe. As she stood, she caught sight of herself in the full-length cheval glass in the corner. Did she look different? Unable to resist, she crossed to the mirror, watching herself as she moved. Was there a new sway in her step? Surely there must be. She stopped an arm's length in front of her reflection and critically assessed her appearance. Outwardly she appeared the same as always. But inside… inside nothing was the same. And it never would be.

She felt like a new Julianne. One who'd finally experienced something of life. Of adventure. Of passion. One with a secret that lived inside her like a beating heart. Not the sort of secret she could ever share or confide to her friends, but one that burned brightly within her, warming her as if she'd swallowed the sun.

Raising her hands, she brushed her fingertips over her cheeks. Perhaps her skin bore a bit of a glow. She touched her lips that still felt kiss-swollen. Then ran her fingers down her neck, over her collarbone to her chest. Her breasts felt sensitive, and beneath her gown they bore several traces of red where Gideon's stubble had abraded her tender skin. Outward signs, but ones that would remain known only to her.

Still, was there some other outward sign? Something in her demeanor? Something her father might have noticed last night? Her stomach cramped at the thought. She glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel, dismayed to note the time. Father would be at breakfast now, and she knew better than to disturb him before he'd finished his meal and newspaper. Better to speak to Johnny first then seek out Father. In the meanwhile, she could only pray he hadn't guessed that something improper had occurred. And if he had, surely Gideon had denied it. It was nothing, Lady Julianne.

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Oh, but Gideon was wrong. It had been everything.

Opening her eyes, she studied her dreamy expression in the mirror. Surely she should be appalled at what she'd done, at the shocking liberties she'd allowed him. She should regret her actions.

But she did not. Instead, she prayed she'd have the opportunity to repeat them.

She drew a bracing breath. Now it was time to face Johnny. And then her father.

"Yor not an easy man to find."

Gideon halted in the act of adding three folded shirts to his portmanteau and forced himself not to whirl around. He was startled, which irritated him. He'd learned his lesson well, and not many men could sneak up on him unawares. But this particular man had always had the uncanny ability to move like a ghost and gain access to places he didn't belong.

The slightly raspy voice hadn't changed in the years since he'd last heard it. Bloody hell, he'd hoped to never hear it again. The eggs and bacon he'd finished eating for breakfast a short time ago suddenly felt like stones in his stomach.

If he hadn't let Caesar outside to explore the patch of grass that constituted their yard, the dog would have warned him. But it was too late now. Gideon released the shirts, pulled in a deep breath, and slowly turned. And looked into dark eyes that exactly matched his own.

The voice hadn't changed, but Jack Mayne had, and Gideon had to force his features not to register any surprise. He was considerably thinner, and his hair, while still thick, had gone completely gray. Deep lines were etched along the sides of his mouth, across his forehead, and around his eyes. The last time Gideon had seen him, he'd been dressed in little better than rags. Now he wore decent boots, fine breeches, a snowy shirt and neatly tied cravat, and a superfine jacket. And a bloody top hat.

With that devilish grin Gideon knew so well, his father doffed his hat and offered a mocking bow. "Aren't ya glad to see yor old man, Gideon?"

There'd been a time, many years ago, when Gideon the small boy had indeed been thrilled to see his father. Those days were long since past.

"Jack," he said, his voice flat. He hadn't called him Father since the day he'd walked out of the hovel where they used to live. On the day there hadn't been any more reason to stay. "What do you want?"

"Why, I want to see my boy! It's been a long time."

Four years, two months, and sixteen days. Not nearly long enough. "You've seen me." Gideon nodded toward the doorway. "Now get out of my house."

"Ah, now don't be like that, Gideon," Jack said. "Nice set of locks you've got on yor doors and windows. Don'tcha wanna know how I got in?"

"No. I just hope you didn't break whichever lock you picked. I'm not in the mood to replace it."

A reproachful look filled Jack's eyes. "You insult me, Son. As if I'd be so careless." He waggled his fingers. "Still the best there is. Of course, it was thoughtful of you to set yor guard dog outside. Wouldn't have cared to have his teeth attached to me arse when I entered the house." He made a sweeping motion, encompassing Gideon's bedchamber, and nodded. "You've come up in the world. Not the fanciest section of London, but far from the worst."

Gideon folded his arms across his chest and stared at the man who he'd had to turn his heart against. While he still had any of it left. "What do you want, Jack?" His gaze raked over his father's clothes. "Is it money? Because if so, you should have worn your rags instead of cleaning yourself up so prettily."

"No, I don't need money," Jack said with an injured air. "I might be gettin' on in years, but old Jack Mayne can still take care of himself. In fact, I recently came into a nice little nest."

"Which means you found a fat bird to pinch. You'd be wise not to forget that we're not on the same sides of the law."

"I'm not likely to forget." Jack gave him a broad wink. "Of course, yor the one on the wrong side."

"Just one of many things we disagree on."

"Indeed we do. Talented hands ye've got Gideon. I should know. I taught them everything I know."

"They are indeed talented-at catching criminals and sending them to Newgate. Why are you in London?"

"Heard tell of some fine opportunities here for a man with my gifts, and as ya can see…" He tugged on his lapels and grinned, "I heard right. Figured as long as I was here, I'd give ya a visit."

Gideon didn't have any doubt that Jack's "opportunity" was the sort that could result in a trip to Newgate. "If I hear you've done something, if I catch wind of anything, I-"

"Won't protect me," Jack said. "So you've said a hundred times. Well, I don't need yor protection, boy. And you'd have to go some to catch me doin' anything-if I were doin' anything."

"I'm glad you understand. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He shot a pointed look at the doorway.

"Is it off to work yor goin'…" Jack slanted his gaze toward the open portmanteau on the bed, "or on a holiday?"

"Work."

Jack nodded. "Yor a busy man. That's good." His brows shot up, and keen interest glittered in his eyes. "I don't suppose yor involved with the case everyone's talkin' about and that's been in the Times-that murderin' ghost robber? Now there's a clever bloke."

Gideon's instincts tingled. "Why do you ask?"

Jack gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's a fascinatin' story. Got any leads on who the bloke is?"

Gideon crossed to the bed and grabbed the scuffed leather satchel. "I have to go."

"Course you do," Jack said, nodding in an approving fashion. "Lots of criminals to catch around here, I'm sure."

Gideon looked him in the eyes. "Don't be one of them."

Something flickered in Jack's eyes, then he grinned. "Not to worry. Yor old da is still pretty spry."

Which, Gideon knew, meant Jack didn't think he'd get caught. But someday he would. And Gideon didn't want to have to be the one to catch him.

"I'll be seein' ya around, Son," Jack said. He tipped his hat, then turned on his heel and quit the room. Gideon walked to the doorway and watched as Jack, softly whistling under his breath, left the house.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him and Gideon was once again alone that he realized he'd been holding his breath and his hands were tightened into fists.

Having Jack Mayne gain access to his house and sneak up behind him was not a stellar way to start his day-a day he'd have to spend resisting, er, guarding Julianne.

Bloody hell, it was doing to be one damn long day.

Julianne stared at Johnny, trying to comprehend what he'd just said. And simply couldn't. "What do you mean you didn't come here last night?"

Johnny wiped the back of one dirty hand over his soot-smudged cheek. He was a strapping young man of two and twenty whose father had been delivering coal to the Grosvenor Square mansion for a decade. When his father passed away six months ago, Johnny had taken over the business. Now his gaze darted back and forth, obviously as anxious as she that they remain unseen and unheard in this recessed corner of the pantry where she'd pulled him.

"I'm awful sorry, milady," he said in an undertone. "My wife, she's been expectin' a baby, and don't ye know he had the bad timing to decide last night was when he wanted to be born. There were no one else to help her, and I couldn't leave. But I'll come tonight, I will, and make the moans and groans. Just like we'd planned."

Julianne felt as if the floor beneath her feet shifted. "You didn't come to the house last night," she said slowly, enunciating each word very carefully, watching his face.

Johnny looked at the ground and scuffed the toe of his dirty boot against the floor. Then he raised his chin. "No, milady. And 'tis real sorry I am."

"You didn't dress in a hooded robe and stand on my balcony?"

Johnny's mouth dropped open. "Glory be, milady. Wherever did ye get a daft idea like that?" His eyes widened, and he instantly looked abashed. "Beggin' yer pardon, I am."

She grasped his sleeves. "Did you write a note and leave it in my bedchamber?"

The young man's green eyes rounded to saucers. "Course not, milady. Why would I do such a thing? And 'tis not much of a letter writer I am."

She wanted to shake him, demand he tell her the truth, but she could see he was. Which meant…

Dear God, it meant that someone else had left the threatening note. Tried to gain access to her bedchamber. Someone with a knife.

A shudder of fear racked her, and she released Johnny to wrap her arms around herself to ward off the sudden chill gripping her. Who would do such a thing? And why? She recalled the crudely written words on the note, Yor next, and another chill ripped through her.

"Are ye all right, milady?" Johnny asked. "'Tis right pale yor lookin'."

"I'm fine," she lied.

"I'll come tonight. Swear I will."

Julianne frowned. She certainly didn't want to risk Johnny being hurt should last night's intruder return. "No. It's best if you don't."

"A promise is a promise, milady. Besides, with the new mouth to feed at home, I need the extra blunt." His eyes clouded with worry. "Ye'll still pay me if I come tonight instead of last night, won't ye?"

"I'll pay you for not coming tonight, or any other night." She reached in her pocket and slipped out two gold coins, which she pressed into Johnny's hand. Johnny opened his fist and gaped at his windfall. "For you. And your wife and baby."

"Thank ye, milady." He dashed off toward the servants' entrance, leaving Julianne alone.

Deeply disturbed, she exited the pantry and made her way up the servants' stairs to avoid walking through the kitchen where Mrs. Linquist would see her. After making certain she wasn't observed, she entered the corridor, smoothed her skirts, then made her way to the foyer.

"Your father wishes to see you at once, Lady Julianne," Winslow said as soon he saw her. "In his study."

Unable to speak around the lump of apprehension tightening her throat, Julianne merely nodded. She walked to the study on legs that felt heavy and wooden, then stood outside the door for nearly a minute before summoning her courage to knock. At her father's crisp order to enter, she opened the door and crossed the threshold. Her father glanced up from his desk then returned his gaze to whatever he was reading.

"Do you intend to simply stand there, or are you going to tell me what you want?" he asked in that frigid voice that only served to make her more tongue-tied in his presence.

Swallowing her trepidation, she approached his desk. When she stood before it, she moistened her lips then said, "Winslow said you wished to see me?"

"Yes. Regarding Mr. Mayne."

Dear God. His forbidding tone and expression loosened her knees. Since he hadn't invited her to sit, she gripped the back of the chair in front of her.

"I've hired him to guard both you and the house until this matter is settled or you're safely married to Eastling and on your way to Cornwall, whichever comes first," her father announced. He glanced up, and his icy blue gaze bored into her. "Your activities will be severely curtailed. If it is necessary for you to go anywhere, Mayne will accompany you. You will continue to sleep in the blue room, and Mayne will take over your bedchamber-in the hopes that whoever tried to gain entrance last night will do so again and be captured. Hopefully tonight, so we can put a swift end to this nonsense." His gaze took on another layer of frost. "That is the way it is to be, and I'll not hear any arguments about it."

It took several seconds for his words to sink in. When they finally did, her heart soared. She looked down at the carpet to hide the triumph and elation she feared glowed in her eyes. "Yes, Father," she murmured, hoping she sounded sufficiently abashed.

"I don't want you discussing this matter, nor do I want His Grace getting wind of it. If he even suspected some knife-wielding hooligan might be after you, he'd no doubt cry off, and I'll be damned if I'll allow that to happen."

"Did you tell Mr. Mayne of my engagement?"

"Naturally. He had to be made aware of how imperative it is that nothing happen to you."

A bit of her elation evaporated. How had Gideon taken the news? Was he angry she hadn't told him herself? Or did he simply not care? She considered appealing to her father to reconsider the marriage but knew it was useless. Any entreaty would only fall on deaf ears. Nothing would disrupt her father's business arrangement with the duke. Instead she asked, "Will… will Mr. Mayne be dining with us?"

A look of pure distaste swam across her father's features. "Certainly not. He doesn't have the proper clothes or manners for the dining room. You'll be perfectly safe with your mother and me during dinner. Mr. Mayne will eat in the kitchen with the rest of the hired help."

Julianne's fingers knotted in her gown, and she pressed her lips together to hold back the flood of arguments she wished to present.

"Mr. Mayne is to accompany you everywhere," her father continued, "therefore don't get it into your foolish head to go haring off alone. Given the situation, it’s probably best you remain at home today and this evening." He frowned. "Eastling's soiree is tomorrow night, and you’ll need to attend. But for today, you're to remain here."

"Yes, Father." Keeping her expression carefully blank, she raised her head. "But what about my usual round of calls with Mother?"

"She can do them on her own today, as she did yesterday. Mr. Mayne will arrive within the hour." Her father's frown deepened. "After he does, I'll be off to my club." Without the slightest flicker of emotion, he returned his attention to his reading, and she knew herself dismissed.

Julianne turned and made her way across the room. It wasn't until she'd exited her father's study and closed the door behind her that she allowed the smile of triumph to curve her lips.

Gideon would be here, in her home, within the hour, hired to protect her. Her plan had worked.

But a shadow instantly clouded over her triumph. Yes, he would protect her, but instead of it being from an imaginary threat created by Johnny, it was from a real threat.

A real threat with a real knife.