asked, "Who do you think is trying to harm you?"
"If I knew the answer to that, I would have told the watch and been done with all this a year ago when it started."
Lord Ashlin scratched down a note.
She leaned over the desk. "What are you writing?"
"That this all began a year ago. Sometimes the obvious clue to something is in the smallest of details."
She shook her head. "Anything else then, Lord Runner?"
Lord Ashlin took off his spectacles and wiped them clean. "Yes. Sit down, this may take a while."
She groaned, but could see no other way around it. If she was to keep an eye on him, then she would
have to cooperate with him. "Ask away."
An hour passed as he grilled her on every detail of each incident, on her competitors, on her company."Is there anyone at the Queen's Gate who might have a grudge against you?" he asked.She shook her head. "No.""Has anyone left the theatre company who might have feelings of animosity toward you or the others?""No," she said. "The only person who's left is Miss Gilden. She played some bit parts and sang occasionally, but she could hardly be the mastermind behind any of this."
Lord Ashlin still took down her name. "How is that?"
"She's not overly bright. Rather featherbrained."
"That could just be her disguise."
Riley laughed at the notion. "Lord Hobson's youngest son proposed to her.""Oh, I see," Lord Ashlin said."No, you don't," Riley told him. "She refused him and his thirty thousand a year to marry his valet."Lord Ashlin scratched that name off his list. "Anyone new to the theatre?"Riley scratched her chin. "Daniel-he plays secondary characters. I doubt he would have anything to do with this, for he came to us only a few months ago and before that was with a travelling group for several years. The only other new person is Mr. Northard. He's come around several times in the last year looking for work, but we didn't need him. Then, when we decided to stage our current play, we gave him a chance. He's rather good, though a bit haughty."
"Do you know anything else about the man?"
She shook her head. "No. But he's cast as the lead, Geoffroi, so he hardly has reason to see the playclose. He'd lose his stage debut."Sitting back in his chair, Lord Ashlin ran a hand through his hair, studying the notes before him.Riley leaned back as well. She couldn't even remember why she'd come down in the first place. She knew one thing-if Lord Ashlin did find whoever was threatening her, all he had to do was tie the haplessfellow to this chair and start questioning him.The poor bloke would be begging for transportation to Botany Bay in a matter of minutes.Really, the only other times she'd felt this exhausted were after dress rehearsals.
Rehearsal.
That was what she had wanted to ask him. She cleared her parched throat. "If the play is to open on time, I will need to attend rehearsals."
"What?" he said, looking up from his notes.
"Rehearsals. I will need to go down to the theatre to practice if we are to open on schedule."
"Of course you will not," he told her. "That would leave you unprotected, and I haven't the time to
traipse back and forth to Covent Garden every day." He held up his hand to stave off her next argument.
"Neither does Hashim. He has other matters he will be working on from now on."
Riley did her best to hold her temper in check. She was unused to having her life and freedom controlled by another, and she didn't like it one whit. "You'll never see your investment returned, for without practice the play will never open."
"Hmmm." He seemed to be weighing other options. Then he nodded. "Practice here."
"Here?" she asked, wondering if he had any idea what he was suggesting.
"Yes, here. The ballroom should be sufficiently large enough."
Riley smiled. It would serve him right. And she couldn't help but wonder at Belton's reaction when the
entire troupe arrived on his sacred steps. For that alone she decided not to protest his unconventional solution, and she rose to leave.
"Um, one moment," he said, ticking off one or two things from his notes and then glancing up.If she didn't know better, she'd say he looked embarrassed. "Yes?" What more could he ask?"What about a former...a former..." Lord Ashlin's question trailed off as he struggled to find the right words."A former what?" she asked, weary of all the questions.The Earl shifted in his seat. "You know what I mean.""No, I don't know-" she started to say, and then stopped.A former lover. "Yes," he said, obviously seeing the pink heat on her cheeks. "A former."How could she tell him about such an intimate aspect of her life? Besides, she doubted he'd believe the truth.
"This is important," he insisted. "Someone you cast aside. Perhaps left for another? Mr. Pettibone said
you hadn't anyone at present, but maybe a past...uh, paramour might feel he has reason to exactrevenge."Gads, he obviously thought her quite the lightskirt. Then again, she hadn't done anything to dispel that notion. "No. There are none."
"Someone from Paris, perhaps?"
She shook her head. "No. There isn't anyone."
He took off his spectacles and studied her. "Riley, being shy in front of Del is one thing, but I know who
you are. I know about your past. I am only trying to help. While it is obvious you have some regrets, you must tell me the truth and not hide behind this misplaced shame."
Why of all the patronizing, arrogant assumptions...
"I have nothing to be ashamed of," she told him.
"Of course not," he said. "You can't help your past."
Riley's temper sprang life. "You pompous, arrogant-""-You needn't get into such a state," he said. "I may have been in Oxford all these years, but believeme, nothing you divulge within these walls will shock me. My father's and Freddie's misdeeds made sureof that."
She threw up her hands and groaned. "That is what I am trying to tell you. There is nothing to divulge."
"Riley, I made some inquiries about you, after you first came here. The betting books at White's are filled
with your exploits. Every young rake in town has a story to tell about you." He picked up his pen and poised it over his list. "Why not just give me the names."
Riley did that by standing before him in silence.
"This isn't helping," he told her. "Just tell me their names."
"Fine!" she said. "You want names, then I shall give you names. Prinny? Is that a good one? The Dukes of Kent, Cumberland, Sussex, and..." She snapped her fingers several times. "Oh, dear, I always forget that freckled one. Oh, yes! Cambridge. Now after that successful entree into good society, I believe I had a brief liaison with an entire company of Horse Guards-just the men, not the horses." She smiled at him, then scratched her chin, considering who else to add to her mythical list. "Ah yes, and there was the week I spent with Lord-"
"Enough!" Lord Ashlin said, tossing aside his pen. "I am trying to compile a serious account of your past and this ridiculous oration is not helping matters."
"But you didn't want to hear the truth," she said. "When I told you there are no names to give, you did not believe me. For you see, Lord Ashlin, I have never had a lover."
He shook his head. "That is impossible. I heard from-"
"-You heard gossip and speculation," she said. "Do you believe everything said about your brother? From what I heard, I doubt he ever slept."
"Frederick's accounts have been rather exaggerated," he conceded.
"Then, Lord Ashlin," she said, "you have two choices. Believe that I have made love to every man in London, or that I have never had a lover. Which will it be? For only one is true."
Mason had been mistaken when he'd told Riley that nothing she confided to him would shock him.
Madame Fontaine had never had a lover? Unbelievable!
He was still trying to make sense of her preposterous confession when he returned home from his
investigations several hours later and was met at the door by a grim-faced Belton.
"My lord," the butler said, in that ominous grave tone of his. "He has gotten into the house."
Mason groaned, for he knew exactly who Belton was talking about. Del.
Damn his persistent hide. He'd been by earlier in the afternoon, flowers in hand, demanding an audience
with Riley, but Mason had flat out refused him entrance to the house.
Now it appeared the Viscount had managed another way to storm the Ashlin gates.
"Where is he?"
"The Green Salon," Belton told him. "Miss Felicity has ordered tea brought round. Should I hold it off, or
send it in?"
"Is Madame in there?"
Belton just cocked a brow in answer.
Of course she was. "Send it in," Mason said. "Perhaps our poor fare will starve him out of here, since
threats don't seem to work."
"As you say, my lord."
Mason marched toward the salon, still pondering Riley's confession that she hadn't any former lovers.
How could that be true? He'd heard the talk at White's, as well as at half a dozen other places. He tried to tell himself she was lying, that she had something to hide, but her pretty blushes and stammered confession hinted that perhaps the lady was telling the truth.
Or a damned good actress.
Then again, he considered all the gossip he'd heard about Freddie's exploits-most of which he knew was utter rubbish. If that was true for Freddie, there was no reason to believe it couldn't be true for the woman known as Aphrodite's Envy.
So what did he really care whether she'd had no lovers or made love to half the ton? It wasn't any of his business. His only concern should be getting Del out of his house and away from Riley. And then he needed to uncover who was trying to kill her. And find husbands for his nieces. And his own bride. And then he would worry about his finances.
He let out a frustrated sigh.
When had his life turned into this circus?
Oh, he knew. The moment he'd let Riley Fontaine in. The woman was a damnable distraction and overly bothersome.
But little brother, he could hear Freddie saying, when was the last time you had this much fun?
In the salon, Cousin Felicity sat before the small table, just starting to pour the tea the maid had brought in. Louisa sat half reclined on a settee in the corner, thumbing through a fashion magazine. Bea stood by the window watching the square, while Maggie sat on the long sofa beside Del.
Riley, he noted, had chosen the narrow, straight-backed chair well away from the Viscount. She looked as if she were sitting before the bench at Newgate instead of having tea.
She spared him only the briefest of glances, as if she found his presence as troublesome as she had hours before when she'd stormed out of his study.