"I think so. I barely had time to look at any of it. But I think... I think my father's involved in your Rising Sons. He's always hated you and was furious when I told him we were to be married. It made no sense at the time, for what father would not desire his daughter to be made a duchess? But now? After this? The only reason I can find for such intense dislike is that he's involved in the Rising Sons and he knows exactly who you are and what you do."
"And if he has maps and plans in a secret study in his house, then it's highly likely he's one of the masters behind the scheme," Miss Townsend murmured.
"Describe the study, and the fireplace," Malloryn demanded.
So Adele did.
"You're thinking this is a job for Charlie and Lark?" Miss Townsend asked, when she'd finally finished.
Malloryn paced by the window, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. "Yes. I need to know what Sir George is up to."
"There's more," Adele said. "You're not going to like it."
"I don't like any of this, particularly the part about you sneaking around your father's study when you suspected he's working for my enemy."
"I couldn't help myself. The rising sun symbol was right there in front of me." And she'd needed to know. All those years of sanctimonious lectures. All those times he'd told her women and children should be seen and not heard. The expression Sir George had worn when she'd told him the Duke of Malloryn had compromised her and then offered marriage. I am done with you, he'd said, as if he'd simply closed the book on their life together.
But some part of Adele wasn't done with him, and the second she'd seen that symbol every inch of her had run hot and cold. Ignore me now, you bastard.
"What was I supposed to do? Pretend you hadn't enlightened me? Twiddle my thumbs and try not to wonder if my father is involved in a plot against the queen? If I did so, then you'd be no closer to finding the Rising Sons."
He had no answer to that.
"I think you're enjoying this." Malloryn slid his hands into his pockets, his gray eyes glittering.
Adele couldn't resist a small smile. "Only a little."
"Go on," he said.
"This is where Devoncourt comes in," she said. "As I was leaving I encountered him on the stairs. I don't know why he was there. It did strike me that he might have been following me, but I think it more likely they're coconspirators. He knows my father. They're quite friendly. It's how we met. He was circling around Hattie, and I didn't like it."
"So you were flirting with him." Malloryn gestured, as if to say, very well, get on with it.
Reaching inside her bodice, she withdrew the crumpled invitation. "Devoncourt wants me to go to a private soiree with him tomorrow night."
She'd expected him to be furious.
If anything, Malloryn's expression only tightened. "Why?"
"Because he thinks you're going to suffer a seeming accident sometime soon, and I'll be left a merry widow, or somesuch. I might be lonely, judging by the sympathy dripping from his voice. I may have given the impression I find you cold and distant, and he assumed I was looking for more entertaining companionship."
"Namely him," Miss Townsend mused.
"It did seem that way," she replied. "He always asks about you. Wants to know where you are and what you're up to. And in the next breath he's hinting that you're madly in love with your mistress and there are rumors you're planning on casting me aside, or locking me away in an asylum. Anything to drive a wedge between the two of us."
"Oh, he's good." Miss Townsend seemed impressed.
"I'm going to kill him." Malloryn said it without an ounce of heat in his voice, and yet there was a flash of something in his eyes. Something Adele couldn't quite decipher.
But then, sometimes it seemed understanding her husband would require an entire university degree.
And even then, she thought she might not know the full extent of him.
She wanted to.
"No, you're not," Miss Townsend chided. "He's the best lead we've got. Once he's led us back to Balfour, you can beat the claret out of him, or whatever you damned well like, but not before."
Again that hard gaze pinned Adele. "Did he say why he wanted you to attend his private soiree?"
"Use your imagination," she replied tartly. "I'm fairly certain it's not to dance with me."
There.
There was that hint of something moving through the mosaic of grays and greens that made up his pupils. A hint of violence barely restrained. A sliver of the darkness of the craving within him.
The predator.
A whisper of both trepidation and excitement thrilled through her. For a second she thought she could almost put a name to the emotion she saw, but then Malloryn shut down before her eyes, and it was gone again.
Cool. Rational. Implacable.
Malloryn, once more.
"He indicated that if I wanted to rid myself of you, then there were certain powerful people who might be able to help me. As long as I gave them something in return. Maybe I'll be able to recognize some of the others in attendance."
Plucking the invitation from Adele's fingers, he examined it. "Angel's Fall. You do realize this is a gaming club partly owned by Lord Corvus?"
She'd been ready for it. "You don't say?"
Malloryn rubbed his thumb along the invitation, as if chasing after the last hints of her body heat. "This is not the sort of place you should attend. Angel's Fall is dangerous at the best of times. Fortunes are won and lost in the gaming rooms; blue bloods beat each other bloody in the underground fighting pits; and there's a private auction room for gentleman of certain tastes to buy young ladies intacto."
Intacto...?
"Virgins," Malloryn added, reading her expression. "Whether willing or not, they're all virgins."
"That's horrific."
"Yes. Unfortunately, the club is heavily policed by several rogue blue bloods, and bidders must go through a ruthless process to prove they're not the sort to squeal to the authorities. The queen has sent Nighthawks in several times, but the auctions vanish as if they never existed. All I have is rumor and innuendo, and it's not enough to convict any of the lords involved. I've tried to get a man on the inside twice, but they've both disappeared."
She had the sickening urge to track Lord Corvus down and punch him in his perfect white teeth. "I shouldn't be surprised."
"No?"
"With Corvus involved, I'd expect only the most vile of atrocities."