“The hell I am.” He walked up to loom over her. “I’m her bodyguard. I do not leave her side.” Especially with things between them so unsettled.
“Thorn told Grey all about the arrangement you made with him, and Grey told me. But I assure you, she is safe with us. Thorn might have left, but Sheridan and Heywood are here now. And Grey will accompany her and Lady Hornsby home whenever they’re ready to leave. But if you go back inside with me, anyone might guess I found you two alone together. I won’t risk it. This way, if someone asks where you are, I can say you left hours ago. That you hate balls or some such.”
Her plan made sense. But it still chafed him that his sister was treating him the way he’d treated Greycourt last year, when Joshua had found the duke in her bed. Joshua hadn’t even gone as far as Greycourt, for God’s sake, and Beatrice was treating him like a scoundrel.
Or an untrained hound who needed to be schooled in proper behavior.
As always, his sister could tell when he was angry, for she placed a hand on his arm. “Dear heart, I don’t know exactly what lies between you and Gwyn, but I know what she’ll suffer from the gossips if they figure it out. This is best and you know it.” She ventured a smile. “And you don’t enjoy balls anyway; admit it. You were glowering at everyone all evening. While the family knows that’s typical for you, our guests may not.”
He could hardly tell her the truth—that watching Gwyn play the social butterfly was difficult, knowing how quickly men would be calling on her after tonight. Would then be giving her offers. Perhaps already had. It wasn’t as if Gwyn would tellhimabout it.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t. Don’t you remember? Shortly after the four of you came in this evening, Gwyn mentioned that she’s planning on taking Aunt Lydia shopping tomorrow, which I assume means you’re going, too.”
“Of course.” He had forgotten, mostly because while Gwyn had been talking about it, he’d been too busy scanning the room for Malet to pay attention to what she was saying. A shopping trip. Damnation. “I should have put my foot down the moment she mentioned it. It’s too dangerous.”
“Nonsense. Surely the man won’t attempt a kidnapping in broad daylight on Bond Street.”
It did seem unlikely. “Are you going, too?” Even his hoyden sister enjoyed the occasional day on Bond Street, according to Greycourt. “Or Heywood’s new wife? What’s her name again?”
“Cassandra. She and Heywood had a long trip and are fairly exhausted. As am I. So I intend to be asleep.Gwynis only going because she has to. Aunt Lydia’s birthday is next week, and our social schedule is so crowded that tomorrow was the only day she could buy a present for her mother. She would have preferred not bringing her mother along at all, but Aunt Lydia insisted, because the two of them have scarcely had any time together.”
And ladies did like to shop. It seemed to be the female equivalent of hunting. He would simply have to be on his guard the whole time they were out to make sure Malet didn’t “accidentally” show up at one of the places they went.
That reminded him: he still had work to do this evening. “You’d better go on in, before Greycourt comes looking for you and realizes I was out here alone with his half sister.”
She blinked. “You’re right! I hadn’t thought of that. He’s a bit irrational when it comes to the possibility of you and Gwyn together.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for understanding. I probably will see you often at various social gatherings in the coming weeks.” She turned away, then paused. “Promise me you’ll think about what I said.”
“Which part?” he countered, though he knew which one.
“Never mind. You never listen to me anyway.”
“Damn it, Beatrice—”
But she was already hurrying off, and as he watched her go, he felt a lump in his throat. She had grown up so well, his ducky. And with very little help from him, too. One day, he would have to find a way to repay her for the months upon months she’d spent nursing him back to health after he’d come home so badly wounded.
For how often he gave her pain.
Wincing, he went to check the settee and the area around the stove to make sure neither he nor Gwyn had left anything incriminating. Then he spotted his gloves, half hidden under the settee. Damn. Had Beatrice seen them, too, or worse yet, noticed he wasn’t wearing them? God, he hoped not.
After putting them on and making sure his attire was presentable, he strode off across the garden to the entrance gate. With so many people at the party, the hackney coaches lay thick upon the ground, so he had no trouble finding one to take him to the address in Chelsea.
He was spoiling for a fight after the discussion he’d just had with his sister, and the best candidate as sparring partner was that damned Malet. If Gwyn wouldn’t reveal what was going on between them, Joshua would get the information from the man himself.
Unfortunately, he was to be denied that as well. When he arrived at the address Fitzgerald had given him, the landlord, Pritchard, informed him that “Captain” Malet was out on the town.
That chilled Joshua. “Where?”
Pritchard shrugged. “How the devil should I know? You officers do as you please.”
Joshua pulled out a sovereign and held it up. “Can you at least tell me what part of town he’s in tonight?” Because if it was Mayfair, Joshua was going to throttle the man when he found him.
Pritchard’s eyes widened. “Covent Garden, of course. No doubt he went to find a soiled dove or two to spend his money on. God forbid he should pay for his lodgings.”
Thank God it wasn’t Mayfair.
When Pritchard reached for the coin, Joshua pulled it back. “Not until you answer all my questions. How long has he been living here?”
