Murder in Grosvenor Square by Ashley Gardner Read Free Book Online Page A

but I hadn’t paid much attention. Such things were often said about gentlemen who were close friends—I imagined people said them about Grenville and me. But in the case of Travers and Leland, the whispers appeared to be true.
    Leland coughed, choking on the liquid. Then he swallowed, his throat cleared, and he took a long breath.
    I slid the empty glass from his slack fingers. “Better?”
    Leland looked up at me, eyes wide, but his pupils had begun to spread darkness through the gray. “Gareth told me … He told me you were lovers. I was so angry . And he laughed.”
    “I assure you, Leland,” I said in a hard voice, “that is not the case.”
    “But he described it. In great detail. He said—”
    I held up my hand, stopping him before I could hear anything discomfiting. I would need to have a few choice words with Mr. Travers, and I hoped to God he hadn’t related his tale to anyone else. Teasing Leland was one thing; spreading it about that I was a molly would be something else entirely.
    “Leland, I am married, ” I said. “You know my wife well. Why would you believe him?”
    “Many of … us … marry,” Leland said. “Have to, don’t we? It’s our duty.”
    “A bit hard on your lady wife, wouldn’t you say?”
    He looked puzzled. “Her duty too, Captain. Most marriages are thus.”
    I could not argue. Upper-class marriages were made to fund an estate, to bolster a family with good connections, to hang more heirs on the family tree. Cousins married, pairing the daughter of the house to the male heir so she’d not be tossed aside when the heir inherited her father’s estate. Marriage became a business transaction, not a love affair.
    The son of Sir Gideon Derwent, the extremely wealthy philanthropist, would be a catch for any young woman. Leland would marry the lady who snared him, siring children with her as he needed to.
    Indeed, I’d been thinking of pairing him with my daughter. Thank heavens for Donata’s percipience. I wondered if she knew of Gareth and Leland’s affair. If so, she had let me babble on like an absolute fool.
    “Put this idea out of your head,” I said. “I have never shown Mr. Travers or any other gentleman the slightest interest. I married for esteem, not convenience—you slight Lady Breckenridge if you believe otherwise.”
    Leland’s flush deepened. “Forgive me. I had no wish to offend her.” He hadn’t, I could see. Hadn’t realized he would. Many gentlemen married for pedigree and took mistresses for love—why should Leland think me any different?
    He took another breath and looked around, blinking, like a man waking. Leland seemed to realize that he’d been sitting in Grenville’s private room, spilling out his deepest secrets to a man he’d assumed would be of like mind. His anguish and embarrassment grew.
    “You won’t tell my father, will you, Captain?” Leland asked in a near whisper. “He doesn’t know. He would die of shame.”
    I hardly wished to repeat this conversation to anyone. “No fear,” I said. “What in the world made him claim I was his molly mop?”
    “He wanted to upset me.” Leland glanced at the empty brandy goblet in my hand as though wishing for more. “He and I had a flaming great row about—” He flushed anew. “Many things. I suppose he was trying to make me jealous.”
    “So you contrived the idea of making him jealous in return?” It was so ridiculous I was torn between laughter and outrage. “You both might have stopped to get your facts straight before you made the attempt. There are other gentlemen you could have chosen.”
    Leland looked at me in genuine surprise. “Of course I could not have. Gareth was not trying to make me jealous because he’d simply been with another gentleman. He was taunting me because he’d bedded you before I could.”
    Now I needed the brandy. I returned to the console table, took up my glass and drank it as though it were heavenly elixir.
    Perhaps I should be flattered