The Valet Who Loved Me - Valerie Bowman Page 0,50

proven useless. After the meeting between the three noblemen soon after their arrival, he hadn’t been able to place them together again since. Clayton had also been keeping an eye on all three men, and indicated that the trio never seemed to speak at dinner or while the gentlemen drank port afterward. Frustrating.

Beau’s final hope was to somehow get a sample of Mr. Wilson’s writing. Or Marianne’s.

Marianne. The thought of her reminded him once again that she hadn’t come to his room tonight. Even if she’d guessed what he was up to, it didn’t explain it. She was more the type who would arrive to confront him.

No. The fact of the matter was, it was entirely possible that Marianne simply no longer wanted him. And while he hated to contemplate that thought for longer than a moment—for reasons that he didn’t want to examine—he still had to admit to himself that it was true.

His affair with Marianne had come to an untimely end, and Beau had only two days left to catch a traitor.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Marianne woke up the next morning in a cold sweat. She’d had the dream about Frederick again. Reaching for her, asking for her help. Whenever she reached back and tried to save him, he disappeared.

She sat up and took a deep breath. She felt sick inside. The house party would be coming to an end tomorrow, and she was no closer to finding Frederick’s murderer than when they’d arrived.

Marianne had told Beau the truth. She was searching for her brother’s murderer. And she was no closer to finding the blackguard than she had been when she first began in Lord Copperpot’s employ.

This house party had been a promising event. It had exposed her to additional people who might well have been suspects. But the house party would last only one more night and she’d learned almost nothing during her time here.

She’d allowed Beau to distract her. She had to admit that much. She was ashamed. If she hadn’t been frolicking with him beneath the sheets, perhaps she would have had more energy to search for Frederick’s killer. That’s why she hadn’t gone to his bedchamber last night.

But that hadn’t been the only reason she hadn’t gone. The truth was she’d considered going, considered going and allowing him to make love to her while she pretended that she didn’t know who he was. But in the end, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kiss him and touch him and let him touch her, knowing that he was a marquess. There was just something so off-putting about it. When she’d thought he was a servant, or a Bow Street Runner, their stations in life had seemed much more equal. But now…now she couldn’t touch him knowing he was the type of man who could decide the fate of her entire family. Beau was more powerful than she’d ever guessed, and something about not telling him that she knew didn’t feel right.

There had been one more reason she hadn’t gone to him last night. And it was perhaps the most compelling reason of all. She no longer trusted her heart around him. She’d spoken nonchalantly about the end of their affair the last time they’d spoke, but voicing those words had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

If she chose to end it before it ended naturally, perhaps she wouldn’t feel sad. Perhaps she’d feel in control. Perhaps it would seem as if she’d actually had the power to end it all along.

They’d both agreed it could go nowhere after the house party was finished. She’d avoided his room last night to save her own heart. And no matter what other reasons she told herself, she knew deep down that that was the real reason she didn’t go to him.

Yesterday, after talking to Wilhelmina, and learning Beau’s identity, Marianne had rushed up to her bedchamber and written to the people who were helping her, demanding an answer from them as soon as possible.

She’d received a rush reply just this morning. The letter had come into the servants’ hall along with the rest of the post, and she’d quickly grabbed her letter when Mrs. Cotswold had called her name. Then she’d hurried to a private spot beneath the staircase to read it.

Marianne’s eyes scanned the page and her mouth dropped open.

She read it all once more to ensure she hadn’t been confused. Then she read it one more time for good measure. She could hardly believe the words glaring back