Dicing with the Dangerous Lord - By Margaret McPhee Page 0,88

if he sought to capture the words, his eyes studied hers. ‘I love you, too, Venetia.’

Her breath trembled. Her heart blossomed. ‘I know.’

He kissed her and, sweeping her up into his arms, he carried her through to his bedchamber, and with her portmanteau lying there unpacked, he laid her on his bed and made love to her.

* * *

Lord Murder walks free. Linwood secures freedom and the Divine Miss Fox with six-figure sum and lure of title. The headlines were scathing.

‘You could not stop them going to print?’ Razeby nodded towards the newspapers spread across Linwood’s desk when he called the next morning.

‘We do not own all of the newspapers in London.’ Linwood topped up both their coffee cups.

‘Only most,’ smiled Razeby.

‘It means the scandal can be contained to a certain extent.’

‘That is indeed fortunate.’ Razeby’s gaze moved from the headlines. ‘Has Miss Fo—’ Razeby caught himself. ‘Has Lady Linwood seen them?’

Linwood nodded.

‘That is not so fortunate.’

‘Perhaps, but Venetia understands how the press works and forewarned is forearmed.’

Razeby glanced down at his coffee cup. ‘Perhaps the two of you should get away. Go to the country and lie low for a few months until the worst of it blows over. I have a hunting lodge in Scotland that you are welcome to use.’

‘Thank you, Razeby, but you know I cannot do that.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ Razeby’s expression was grim.

‘We mean to face down the scandal.’

Razeby gave a nod and sipped at his coffee. ‘For what it is worth, Linwood, there are a lot of people who think Rotherham got his just deserts.’ Razeby’s eyes met his, communicating the message at which his words only hinted.

Linwood was very careful not to give even the slightest reaction, but he felt the shadows flit across his soul.

The soft rustle of silk sounded. Linwood glanced up to see Venetia standing in the doorway that led to the bedchamber. He wondered how much she had overheard.

‘Lady Linwood,’ Razeby murmured and set down his coffee cup. Both men rose to their feet, but only Razeby bowed. ‘Forgive me if the hour of my call is too early. I did not intend to disturb you.’

‘Your visit is nothing of disturbance, Razeby, you are very welcome here,’ she said smoothly, as dignified and self-assured as any duchess, but with an underlying edge of coolness.

‘You are very gracious, but I will take my leave of you both. Lady Linwood...Linwood.’ Razeby made his bow. He looked again at Linwood. ‘If you change your mind about the hunting lodge...’ He clapped a hand against Linwood’s shoulder.

Venetia came fully into the room and sat down in the chair that Razeby had vacated.

There was a small silence before she said, ‘I heard what he said to you of Rotherham.’

He waited.

‘He thinks you guilty.’

‘He does.’

‘Yet he is your friend.’

Linwood’s gaze flickered away before returning to hers. ‘Venetia, all of London thinks me the man who got away with a duke’s murder. They will always do so.’

‘Not if they were to find the real murderer.’

Tension flickered in his jaw. Darkness flashed in his eyes. His gaze moved to the distance, his expression was pensive.

‘But that is not what you want, is it?’ she said softly.

His eyes moved to hers again, his gaze searching hers as if he could look within and see her very soul. ‘No,’ he finally admitted. ‘It is not.’

The admission hung between them.

‘Why must you ever protect him?’

‘It is not him I protect.’

‘Then who?’

He shook his head. ‘It is not my secret to tell, Venetia. I swore an oath of secrecy and I honour my oaths...all my oaths.’

And in the silence the marriage vows he had sworn seemed to whisper between them, along with the words of another vow. We are sworn to speak the truth or nothing at all.

‘I know. It is what betrayed your innocence to me.’

He smiled and there was both sadness and cynicism in that smile. ‘Despite all of the evidence to the contrary.’

‘Yes.’

He reached across and brushed his lips against her forehead. ‘Thank you, Venetia.’

She smiled.

‘Even with my father’s and my own influence upon the newspapers... You know this is not going to be easy.’

‘Nothing good ever is,’ she whispered.

They shared another smile. And then his lips found hers and he kissed her properly.

* * *

But through the days that passed, no matter how much Linwood tried to hide it, Venetia knew that he was worrying over something. She could see it brooding in his eyes when he thought she was not looking. In the small hours