Felix nodded his understanding, but his gaze was flicking back and forth between Melissa and Julian. “I assume he missed?”
“The ball passed between us.” Julian knew that had to be the case. He gazed at Melissa. “The ball plowed into the dirt some yards in front of the horses.”
Felix’s frown deepened. “So who was he shooting at? You?” He looked at Julian, then shifted his gaze to Melissa. “Or you?”
Julian shrugged. “I don’t know that we can say.”
Melissa made a disparaging sound. “I assure you I have no unexpected enemies lurking. No rejected suitors or anything of that ilk.” She stared hard at Julian, then her eyes narrowed. “Tell me”—she switched her gaze to Felix—“in firing a pistol over any distance, don’t you have to allow for the breeze?”
Felix nodded. “You do. And this morning in the park, it was coming from the southeast.” He looked at Julian. “So who was riding on the right?”
Julian grimaced; that had been him. “Regardless, I don’t think we can make any assumptions about which of us was the intended target. Don’t forget, the news of our engagement ball has reignited talk about our marriage. While you may not be aware of a disgruntled former suitor, he might yet exist.”
Anxiety had crept into Melissa’s dark-blue eyes. Lips thin, she shook her head. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting me dead.” Her gaze remained leveled at him. “That said, who would want you dead?”
Some perverse part of him felt pleased that she was agitated on his behalf, while the rest of him felt compelled to ease her mind. “Like you, I can’t think of anyone who might want to kill me.”
Felix scoffed. “Yes, you can. You know what you were doing in Ireland. Plenty of possibilities there, and what about this Irishman who’s been secretly trying to make contact?”
Melissa looked from Felix to Julian. “Have you seen him again?”
He explained about glimpsing the man in the street after their family dinner. “There was no one else about, and he was heading my way when Felix came out to see what I was doing.” He grimaced. “When I looked back, the man was gone. Regardless, he’s no threat to me. Almost certainly, he’s been sent to deliver a message that some group in Ireland wants me to pass on, and I can’t do that if I’m dead.”
“Indeed!” Felix was growing animated. “And that’s my point! If this blighter is trying so hard to deliver his message secretively, then presumably you receiving the message and passing it on is something others won’t want to happen. And even if those others are in Ireland, obviously, they have agents here. Otherwise, the blighter wouldn’t be so skittish.”
Worry in his face, Felix met Julian’s gaze. “And now, with our mystery Irishman having been in town for weeks, perhaps that other group, having just learned of his mission and not knowing whether he’s succeeded or not, has decided that the easiest way to ensure you don’t pass on his message is to eliminate you.”
Under the pointed gazes of his transparently exercised brother and his fiancée, Julian clung to impassivity. He didn’t want to admit that scenario was possible, but unfortunately, it was. When both waited, clearly not intending to let him off their hook, he calmly said, “As I have yet to learn what the Irishman’s message is, I can’t judge if it’s critical enough to warrant someone trying to kill me to prevent it getting through.”
He saw Melissa’s eyes widen and her stare intensify and inwardly swore. He’d just confirmed that the work he’d done in Ireland had, indeed, been of the sort that could have got him killed.
Seeking to distract her—and Felix—he focused on her and stated, “Be that as it may, I don’t think it’s wise to blinker ourselves to the possibility that the shooter might have been aiming at you.” Despite the evidence suggesting otherwise, he was genuinely concerned that might have been the case.
Her eyes narrowed to deep-sapphire shards. “The only thing that’s recently changed in my life is that I’ve accepted your offer and the dates for our engagement ball and wedding have been fixed and promulgated throughout the ton. I really cannot see even the most avid husband hunter resorting to murder as a means of stopping me from stepping into your countess’s shoes.”
He almost winced at her acerbic tone and grudgingly admitted, “I agree the notion is far-fetched.”
“It’s ludicrous to imagine that anyone is intent on killing me.” Her gaze remained locked on his face. “So who is after you?”
Felix nodded seriously. “Because someone is, and we need to learn who.”
Julian inwardly sighed and resigned himself to a lengthy discussion.
As he could have predicted, listing and describing all of the many factions in Ireland, both Irish and English, left them no further forward and, if anything, even more confused.
Chapter 7
“This”—on Julian’s arm, Melissa gestured, indicating the scene in the Carsely House ballroom—“is far more glittering, in every sense of the word, than I’d anticipated.”
The massive chandeliers illuminated a throng that included the most beautiful and also the most powerful among the ton. The colors of the ladies’ silks and satins created a scintillatingly brilliant palette, while the level of noise would have given Babel a run for its money.
“It’s certainly a night to remain on our toes.” Julian kept his genial, easygoing social smile in place as, leading Melissa through the crowd, he acknowledged the beaming nods of several ladies and gentlemen.
About them, their engagement ball was in full swing. They’d spent the opening hour of the event on the receiving line, smiling and welcoming what had, at the time, seemed a never-ending stream of the elite of the ton, socially and politically. Everyone who was anyone was there, and the joint hostesses—their mothers—were in alt. It was the height of the Season, and there were at least two other major balls being held that evening, but by now, everyone who had been invited to celebrate the engagement of Julian, Earl of Carsely, and Miss Melissa North was standing in the Carsely House ballroom.
After being released from the receiving line, they’d shared the first waltz—a magical interlude in which they’d been able to focus solely on each other—but that had ended far too quickly, and they’d had to don their social faces and cling to their social graces and respond to all who had come to wish them well and be seen doing so.
While the wishes tendered were, in the main, sincere and receiving them was a pleasant enough occupation, constant repetition of the same words and phrases, listening and responding to the same exclamations, and deflecting the same probing questions gradually eroded their patience.
