Old resentments, however, died hard.
"Most likely. Byrnes and Ingrid reported dozens of masked blue bloods in attendance at Lord Ulbricht's estate when they went in undercover. I only managed to get my hands on thirteen of them, and none of them were members of any prominence or knew anything important. They were all executed, but the others remain among the general populace."
"So the SOG might rear its head?" Kincaid asked.
"That's one option, yes."
Like a bloody hydra.
He had more enemies than he knew what to do with.
"There is one last avenue to pursue," Malloryn said. "A recent development."
Both Byrnes and Gemma looked up.
"Devoncourt," Gemma said.
"One of Balfour's ex-Falcons has been sighted masquerading as the long-lost Earl of Devoncourt. We don't know what his intentions are, but I don't believe in coincidence. If he's pretending to be one of the Echelon's lords, then he's doing it for a reason. I want to know what that reason is."
"You want Ingrid and me to kidnap him?" Byrnes asked.
"Falcons are trained to resist interrogation," Gemma said. She should know. "Far better to watch him from a distance. He may lead us to other Falcons, or possibly reveal certain former SOG members. We don't want to reveal our hand too early."
"Precisely." Malloryn pushed back in his chair. "Gemma, I'm putting you in charge of tracking Devoncourt. Discreetly. I will let the queen know the threat is back, and tighten our security at the Ivory Tower."
"And your wife?" Gemma asked.
He ignored the speculative looks on everyone's faces. It was clear they were well aware of Devoncourt's interest in Adele. If he pressed the matter, he'd no doubt find a betting book somewhere in the bloody house.
"I will continue my efforts to learn what part my wife plays in all of this. If—as you say—Adele is innocent, then Devoncourt was sniffing around her for a reason. I want to know why. Adele is either a cunning knife at my throat, or an unwitting pawn in danger."
His tone left little doubt which one he suspected.
"Dismissed."
Chapter 5
"May I have this dance?"
It was Malloryn's voice, though Adele had not expected her husband to be in attendance at Lady Rutherford's masked ball.
Adele stilled, all of her senses narrowing in upon the presence suddenly at her back. Orchestral strings shivered through a waltz in the distance. Feathers and gold sequins flashed past as the masked inhabitants of the ball swept in graceful figures before her.
But the pair of them might as well have been alone.
She could think of no one else.
The flutter of her fan increased, though she refused to look at him. "Considering yesterday's proposal and your mysterious absence last night, I thought you'd forgotten me."
"Hardly. If I'd had any hope of succeeding in such an endeavor it would have been months ago." There was a wry edge to Malloryn's voice as he stepped closer. Her skirts stirred against her stocking-clad calves. "Try as I might, I can never quite manage to get you out of my mind, Adele."
A shiver went down her spine.
She didn't turn, even though she could feel his cool breath on the back of her neck. Nobody was watching her here, tucked away in the corner of the ballroom, but she couldn't help feeling as though she danced the edge of scandal.
Ridiculous.
Malloryn was her husband, after all.
"You give a good impression of it," she retorted, trying to slow her fan and look disinterested.
A fingertip brushed against her back, rippling over the taffeta of her peacock-colored gown. "Did you wait for me?" her husband murmured, his voice soft and indecent.
Adele closed her eyes. Yes, damn you. All night.
"Not at all," her mouth said.
"Liar."
Somehow, she knew he was smiling. "What do you want?"
Malloryn held out his gloved hand as he circled her. She couldn't stop her gaze from lowering to his stern mouth, though the black hawkish mask hid his features and its cascade of feathers disguised his coppery hair. A bird of prey. How eminently suitable.
"A dance, Adele. Consider it an apology for my absence. I've been seeing to some business."
"You never apologize."
"Perhaps it's time for peace between us. Dance with me."
"Do I have a choice?"
"I've probably earned that." The faintest of quirks crossed his mouth. "You could deny me. Nobody knows who I am right now, so the gossip would be minimal. Though I warn you, the consequences might be dire."
"What sort of consequences?"
He brought her gloved hand up to his lips, and his voice turned to liquid heat. "Try me and find out."
Adele glanced around, but the idea of dancing with him intrigued her. They'd never danced. Barely even conversed in a rational manner. Peace.... What a fascinating concept.
It didn't make her lower her guard entirely.
She accepted his proposition with a careless shrug that extricated her hand, and set it on his arm. Far safer than having it beneath his lips. "Don't think I'm afraid of your consequences."
"No?"
"Intrigued," she admitted. "I've never seen you dance."
"I generally prefer not to."
"And now you're offering to dance with me," she mused. "One might say that's somewhat suspicious."
It all had to do with Devoncourt's kiss, she was sure of it.
But what to make of it all?
Malloryn had told her to make her own arrangements, yet his reaction yesterday when he tossed the photograph in her lap belied the instruction. And now, here he was, showing up at a ball and asking her to dance with him.
Curiouser and curiouser.
If Adele was a foolish young debutante, she might almost have thought him jealous.
But she'd long given away such ridiculous notions.
Her husband was up to something.
His gray eyes heated behind the black velvet of his mask. "Well, if I don't make a move, some other young buck might."
"There'd be more rumors swirling if people knew it was you holding me in his arms, than some handsome stranger."
"You think me handsome?"