Langley had been placed in the front-facing salon, and when Margot entered, she saw the beautiful bouquet of flowers Jessop had mentioned clasped in his fingers. Lovely, tiny white baby’s breath, and then great blooms of pink roses. Getting to his feet, Langley bowed when she entered and presented the posy to her. Partly out of instinct and partly because the scent was so pleasing, Margot raised the flowers to her face and sniffed loudly. It smelt the same as if she had stepping outside and into a wild woodland to enjoy the height of summer.
She grinned over the bouquet at Langley, unable to help herself, and the earl locked eyes with her. There was something so enthralling about his stare that it brought up vividly the heated memories of last night. All their encounters, in fact, washed over Margot, and it took Jessop coughing to draw her attention back to the rest of the salon.
“If you could place these in some water,” Margot said, “and then bring in some tea, please.”
Jessop departed and the two of them took a seat.
“I take it that I have arrived early enough to avoid the supervision of Mrs. Bowley?”
“So it seems,” Margot replied. This was the right sort of space between the two of them. A good five feet. She found if she only focused on the gap between Langley’s eyebrows, she was not at risk of falling into the intensity of his dark, hypnotic eyes, or worse, getting caught in that wicked dimple on his left check.
“You have the map?”
Hastily, Margot pulled it from the pocket of her dress and placed it on the table between them. “We have a limited amount of time in order to arrange this.”
Langley leant closer, surveying the locations, and then he nodded. “Very well. I have a good memory. You may put it away. I would suggest that you copy down the map in case it is lost or stolen.”
“And visiting the sites themselves?”
“Well, that is something we will do together,” Langley said smoothly.
“What of your reputation, my lord?”
“After the Verne’s ball, I would say I have thrown the cat amongst the pigeons.” He laughed and then continued, “In truth, I cannot think of a better solution. Unless you wish to tell another member of thetonabout this mystery?”
“You know I cannot for risk of them being the murderer.”
“In that case, you must let me know when we are to visit the following sites: Vauxhall Gardens, the British Museum, the Theatre Royal, Gunter’s, the races, several large family houses, these will need to wait for us to gain entry via ball or party. So, in summary”—his eyes darted over the map— “pretty much the entirety of the Season’s highlights. Although there are several places listed that I doubt Ashmore would want his goddaughter to visit.”
It was starting to make a perverse sort of sense of why Ashmore had suggested that Margot pretend to be a debutante, as visiting all those locations was part of the ritual of being in the marriage mart. As for the other locations Langley alluded to, she could not explain them to Langley, or even herself. It was strange the duke had placed the treasure there, but it was slowly dawning on Margot that Ashmore hadn’t been the one to hide the keys, he had been the one to find the map, and that was all. Someone else would have hidden the treasure and drawn it up—it was the only thing that made sense.
“How would it have been hidden at Vauxhall? Is it not all held outside?”
“As to that, is there any clue on the back of the map? Perhaps it will be hidden in the kitchens,” Langley replied, when the door swung open, and Jessop re-entered with the tea tray.
“My lady,” she murmured as she lowered the tray down onto the table, “Mrs. Bowley is awake, and is having her breakfast.”
“Thank you, Jessop.” Margot made a fuss over preparing the tea and pouring it out. Her focus was entirely on this, and when she turned it was to find Langley had moved far closer than she expected.
“As for visiting any of the more lugubrious locations on the map, well, there are certainly several places left that most gently reared ladies would object to.”
“I cannot imagine it being any worse than what I witnessed in your salon the last time I was there.” Margot tried to make her voice sound as calm as she possibly could, and as prim as the vicar’s daughter she was supposed to be. She had her doubts that it entirely worked as there was a definite wobble to the end of her sentence, and the grin that it brought to Langley’s face was not an encouraging one.
“I thought we had an unspoken agreement to not discuss that,” he murmured as he accepted the cup from her. Damn him, he sounded as if he were close to laughing.
“Well…” Margot took a sip of her tea, trying to regulate her mind. It did little good. The very mention of shady sites by him had her mind pulling forward all the noises, the bodies, the sounds of that fateful night. “I certainly hope you will cease constantly alluding to it. Discuss it frankly and then move on.” She felt herself warming to the topic as she spoke, and then added, “Sometimes it is better to have a matter out in the open.”
“I don’t think you can accuse me of hiding anything away.” Langley’s voice was one of complete innocence, and again Margot felt her entire face go red at the outright implication.
With a cough, Langley, who still looked remarkably pleased with himself, lowered his cup of tea and saucer back to the side table, and said, “Since Vauxhall Gardens does not open for another week, then allow me to invite you to a talk on Thursday morning.” He leant closer, indicating the point on the map, presumably where the talk would be taking place.
“I had no idea you were interested in politics.” Since that was what was normally raised at those meetings, from what Margot had read about the London Institute.
“I believe you will in fact find it to be poetry on Thursday. A far more suitable topic, as all the matrons agree, for young, unmarried ladies.” He looked for all the world as if he wanted to wink at her, and short of telling him that she wasn’t young, Margot did not know what to say. “Then on Saturday, I suppose we could head to Tattersalls. As you must see the horses. I will endeavour to have a few in my party for that event.”
“In order to protect my reputation?”
Langley nodded. “We wouldn’t want any speculation. Especially when you throw me over, and I will return blissfully to my bachelor status. For your sake, however, for a brief timeperiod I will give the impression that I am genuinely considering the marriage trap. Not for any girl in particular of course, so no one would need to feel jilted.”
