The interview with the authorities was going exactly as Gideon had predicted.

“And when was the last time you spoke to your guardian?” Inspector Hayes asked.

“If you recall when it was, that is,” Sir Lennon interjected. The small rotund man fingered his cravat, trying to loosen it. The neckpiece was tied so elaborately she had to wonder if he could turn his head.

Sitting in the chair to Sir Lennon’s right, Hayes rolled his eyes but stopped short when he glanced behind her where Gideon was standing.

She was sitting behind her husband’s desk in the study at Flint House. A few days had passed since their hasty marriage.

News of their union, coming so close on the heels of Sir Clarence’s murder, spread like wildfire across the entire ton. It was the scandal of the moment, but Amelia saw firsthand what Gideon had meant about weddings wiping away all sins.

Since the announcement of their marriage in the Times, they had received a flood of invitations and cards. While Amelia had been next to a pariah as Widow Montgomery, as the Countess of Flint, she was all the rage. Her fortune and beauty, previously viewed as the sinister lures she used to ensnare men, were now assets for her husband to enjoy. Gideon was—hypocritically in her view—openly congratulated for securing her hand. The connection to a gruesome murder only seemed to add to their mystique.

So many callers had lined up at the door Gideon put his foot down and closed the house to visitors, complaining viciously about parasites and rumor mongers. Amelia hadn’t liked entertaining any of their callers either, but she had met one or two genuinely kind ladies hauled to her door by their social-climbing connections.

“It was several weeks ago. I saw him at a garden party,” Amelia replied, choosing to omit the details of the conversation.

“I was very sorry to hear of his passing,” she added with genuine feeling. Whatever his sins, no one deserved to die as he had—not that her husband had chosen to share the details with her. But she’d heard enough from her callers to surmise it had been a bloody and painful end.

Sir Lennon thanked her and reached inside his waistcoat for a handkerchief. He wiped his sweaty brow, his eyes sliding over her shoulder to Gideon as if he couldn’t help himself.

No doubt her husband was wearing a terrifyingly forbidding expression because both men were cautious and on edge, though Hayes’ seemed a touch resentful. Amelia didn’t know if it was because he felt hamstrung by the presence of the earl or if it was because the local magistrate had insisted on sitting in on the conversation.

“And you didn’t see him on the eleventh, on the day he died?” Inspector Hayes asked, looking as if he half-expected Gideon to interject.

Her husband shifted his weight. She glanced over her shoulder to see him stone-faced with his arms crossed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“No, as I said, the last time was at the Wescott’s garden party.”

Hayes glanced at her suspiciously. “You were also married on the eleventh.”

Amelia nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. Despite her reservations, she had loved the impromptu celebration Gideon and Crispin had thrown together. Every day since had only gotten better. “Yes, we were. It was in—”

“That afternoon,” Gideon supplied smoothly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Hayes noted the possessive gesture and Amelia nodded placidly in agreement with her husband.

Sir Lennon, obviously concerned the young Inspector was going to offend the new Earl of Flint, threw him a censorious glare.

But Hayes was undeterred. “I understood there was a disagreement at Sir Clarence’s club,” he said, his eyes narrowing on Gideon’s face. According to the club’s majordomo you and your uncle had some words, the evening of the eighth, and your bride, his former ward, was the subject.”

“That is not precisely true,” Gideon said easily. “Yes, we did argue and my wife’s name was mentioned, but she was not the true subject of the argument. Her inheritance was.”

“Oh, I see.” Hayes’ eyes lit in understanding. He focused on Amelia. “As your guardian, he held your purse strings—at least until your marriage. Was Sir Clarence loath to give up control of your fortune?”

Amelia shook her head. “While it’s true Sir Clarence was once my guardian, he was never the executor of my trust. I have always controlled that, even as a child, although it was managed by my father’s attorney Tolbert Callaghan until my first marriage. Callaghan still manages my affairs today but at my direction.”

“My wife’s fortune is still under her control.” Gideon confirmed, “She manages it with great skill. I plan on consulting her on the Flint family holdings and investments. With her counsel, the estate can’t not prosper.”

Inspector Hayes blinked. “Oh. How forward thinking of you.” He leaned forward in his chair and made a quick note in his pad.

Even Sir Lennon was surprised. “An unusual arrangement,” he said with a bemused nod. Amelia raised her brow and he cleared his throat. “But a wise one on the part of your father,” he assured her. “Especially in light of your guardian’s greed.”

“Well, I don’t like to speak ill of the dead…” Amelia trailed off with genuine discomfort.

“Of course you don’t,” Sir Lennon said with a paternal little nod of approval for her delicate sensibilities.

“Perhaps you should apologize for offending my wife’s delicate sensibilities,” Gideon suggested softly, returning to stand next to her in a pointed show of support.

Amelia flicked her eyes at him, giving him a half-hearted little smack on the chest as if to say stop it. Sir Lennon was pompous and a touch condescending, but he meant well.

“Countess Flint, did you love your first husband, Martin Montgomery?” Inspector Hayes asked.

Sir Lennon reddened and coughed so violently Amelia was concerned he was having an apoplectic fit.

“Are you all right? Should I ring for tea?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

Sir Lennon wheezed, tugging at his cravat. He waved away her concern. “You don’t have to answer that,” he said between coughs.

“It’s fine.” She turned to Hayes, meeting his mulish expression with equanimity. “I loved Martin with all my heart. He was my closest friend. I miss him every day.”

Her words rang with sincerity.

Amelia looked up at Gideon, anxious to forestall his inevitable explosion, but he was watching her with a somber, sympathetic expression. For a moment, they simply stared at each other in a moment of shared grief. Then he took her hand and gripped it tightly.

When she looked back at Hayes, the martial light in his eyes disappeared. He looked down with a little nod to himself, seemingly convinced of the genuineness of their unintended display. He glanced at Gideon but wisely decided not to ask if he missed his cousin.

“Well, I think we have all the information we need,” Sir Lennon announced, rising with an abrupt let-us-depart gesture in Hayes direction.

The young Inspector rose to his feet slowly, looking thoughtful. He turned back at the threshold. “Just one more thing. Are you familiar with Sir Clarence’s houseguest, his friend Mrs. Ellen Spencer?” he asked in a low voice.

“Only slightly,” Gideon said in a repressive tone reserved for discussing another man’s mistress.

This time, Hayes appeared chastised. He shifted on the balls of his feet. “Yes, well, I just thought you should know she’s been…er…”

“Making accusations?” Gideon asked pointedly. “Because I stopped by to ask after him when he was away a few weeks ago.”

The inspector paused, appearing to choose his words with care for a change. “It’s more like she is trying hard not to make them…strategically, if I might add,” Hayes said, one corner of his mouth pulling down.

“Yes,” Sir Lennon sniffed disapprovingly. “The woman has been making the rounds at all the major events. Murders lend a certain cachet to the people associated with the victims. Needless to say, she’s all the crack at the moment.”

He noted the wrinkle of Amelia’s nose. “Don’t concern yourself with that sort of cheap display, my dear. Mrs. Spencer will find this sort of popularity wanes quickly as soon as a new scandal crops up to occupy the ton.”

Gideon murmured his gratitude to the two men, thanking Hayes with surprising warmth. They eyed each other over a firm handshake, the tension of a few moments ago seemingly forgotten.

Kindred spirits, Amelia noted to herself before turning her attention to the pile of correspondence on Gideon’s desk as he walked the two men to the door.

Gideon had generously offered to share his office with her until her private parlor was redecorated. It was part of a series of improvements planned. Flint House was a spacious and drafty mansion with many outdated features. Gideon had always intended to conduct a top-to-bottom renovation, but hadn’t started any of the improvements before their marriage.

“I was too focused on you and my investigation,” he admitted with an abashed grin when they discovered the chimney in the master bedroom smoked. He’d thrown open the window and turned to her. “But now that you’re here, we can make the improvements together, and choose new furnishings for the drawing room and whatever else your heart desires.”

And so the work renovating Flint House had begun. They had started in the master bedroom, spending every night in the adjoining chamber meant for the lady of the house. Though both rooms were being redecorated, Gideon had already declared they would share his once it was finished. Theirs would not be a fashionable ton marriage.

“Get used to living in each other’s pockets,” he’d declared that morning near dawn, after spending most of the night making love to her. He fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her.

Feeling more secure and loved than she had her entire life, she had slept peacefully.

Marriage to Gideon was everything he had promised. Amelia was spoiled and cosseted at every turn. Their wedding vows hadn’t diminished their passion. If anything, that aspect had strengthened. Living together allowed Gideon the opportunity to lavish affection on her, while taking advantage of his ready access to satisfy his seemingly insatiable appetites.

Her husband’s fixation with her—the intensity with which he loved her—governed her days. He was demanding and generous and wilder than anything she’d ever known. His hunger extended far beyond the marriage bed. He wanted to know everything about her, what she liked, disliked, and hated.

Gideon seduced her at every turn…and nearly every room, including this one.

“Are you thinking about what we did on that desk a few days ago?”

She blushed. “How did you know?”

“An educated guess based on the fact your quill is dripping ink all over my estate reports.”

Amelia looked down and cursed. “I’m so sorry!”

Gideon laughed. “Leave it,” he said, setting the ink safely out of reach in a drawer.

She put her hands to her face and rubbed before changing the subject. “They asked all the questions you said they would. I’m surprised you let me answer them.”

Gideon removed his cravat, leaning carelessly against the desk. “I wasn’t raised to privilege, and I’ve only been an earl a brief time. There’s no need to beat them over the head with my title. From my own experience making inquiries, I know it would only make Hayes more suspicious to deny him access. He’d give up on finding the real killer all the sooner, and I want him to keep looking.”

If that were true, then he might have mentioned the giant. No, the omission made sense because a giant as murderer sounds mad, she reminded herself.

There had been no disturbances since Sir Clarence’s death. It had been so quiet since that she was forced to concede Gideon had likely been correct about her former guardian’s role. Sir Clarence had been the one behind the strange disturbances and attacks on her.

“What if Inspector Hayes interviews the minister?” she asked, remembering Gideon’s unexpected falsehood regarding the hour they had married.

“Old Lessig has been amply compensated to tell the same story.”

She frowned. “But it’s not even necessary. Your friend Mr. Clarke confirmed Sir Clarence died in the evening.”

He bent to nibble on her ear. “At this point, I believe you can safely lay claim to Clarke’s friendship as well. He’s become a great advocate of yours. Also, it seems he and Lord Worthing have struck up a friendship.”

Amelia held her breath, waiting for Gideon to comment further on Crispin and Clarke’s relationship, but he seemed too engrossed with toying with the fine curls of hair next to her ear.

“And, yes,” he continued. “The murder was most likely when we were together at the Vernon’s, making love in the ballroom.”

“We were behind a screen!” she protested.

“I know. I simply like making you blush,” he teased before leaning over and picking her up. He pushed the papers on the crowded desk’s surface to make room to set her down.

“What did the inspector mean about Mrs. Spencer?” she asked, running her fingers through his thick dark hair.

Gideon’s mouth compressed. “Don’t worry about her.”

Amelia stopped him with a finger on his lips. “What is she doing, Gideon?”

Her husband sighed and sat back in his chair. “It seems the vivacious Mrs. Spencer has been making the rounds attending all the major balls and parties—all the ones we haven’t accepted invitations to that is. According to Clarke, she’s stoking the fires of public opinion against me, rather artfully, I might add. She knows better to state outright I murdered Sir Clarence, but she has dropped hints about my visit to Sir Clarence’s townhouse while he was away, painting it in the darkest light.”

Amelia was incensed. “Gideon, we can’t let her get away with that! How dare she impugn your honor? Why, I want to call her out myself. I may not know how to use a pistol, but I used to fence with Martin when we were younger. Get me your sword!”

He chuckled. “My bloodthirsty little wife.”

“Your loyal wife,” she corrected, pushing his nose with her index finger. “And most of the time, I could disarm Martin, so don’t make me angry.”

This time, he laughed outright. “I’ll remember that, but believe me when I say we don’t need to be concerned about Mrs. Spencer. Sir Lennon was right. Her proximity to the murder makes her fashionable, but it’s temporary…and I’ve already taken steps to dampen her cachet.”

“How?” she asked suspiciously.

Gideon began to fiddle with the ties of her bodice. “By exposing Sir Clarence’s dirty dealings. With the help of a few friends in the war office, I’ve dug deeper into my uncle’s business affairs. His reputation was that of a scrupulous and savvy investor, but we’ve found evidence of some unsavory connections and underhanded tactics. A few things were technically illegal.”

Amelia sniffed. “I suspected as much about Sir Clarence, but how will exposing those details hurt Mrs. Spencer?”

“Well, to be blunt, her reputation is tied to his. Before his death, he was considered spotless, a bit of prig really. But once his reputation is tarnished, hers will be by association. It’s not fair, but neither are her insinuations. Also, Clarke is already seeding doubts about the lady herself.”

“Such as?”

Gideon spread his arms as if addressing an audience. “Who is she? Ellen Spencer appeared on Clarence’s arm this season, but she never speaks of her people. No one knows anything about her. The sticklers in the ton have begun to question her background.”

He paused and rubbed his chin. “There is more. As Sir Clarence’s closest relation, I inherit his estate. His lawyers have contacted me. I’ve had them send word to Mrs. Spencer that I’ll be giving up the lease on his townhouse, but she is welcome to stay until the end of the season. If she is wise, she’ll make other arrangements soon. Without Sir Clarence’s fortune to sustain her, I expect she’ll leave town.”

“That’s quite generous under the circumstances.” Amelia crossed her arms. “What if she finds another protector instead?”

He shrugged. “Even if she does, the power of her words will be greatly diminished by the time my campaign is over. Have a little faith. Manipulating information was my stock in trade up until a few months ago.”

“Very well, I will trust your judgment on this,” she said, reaching out to him again.

He came eagerly, wrapping his arms around her. The next few minutes passed in a blur of heated kisses and caresses. She was about to suggest they retire to their room when Gideon exposed her breasts and pressed a soft kiss to one hardened bud as he began to fiddle with the fastening of his breeches.

Apparently, they would be staying where they were. Which reminds me…

“Do we still have to stay in town? You said we could leave after being interviewed by the authorities.”

Gideon reluctantly lifted his head. “Yes, but I don’t want to make the connection obvious so I think we should stay on till the weekend. There is a vote in the House of Lords on Friday. Hayes and the others will assume we stayed on for that.”

He returned his attention to her décolletage. Amelia had to tug his hair to get his attention again. “What is the vote regarding?”

His head dropped back to look at the ceiling as if searching his memory. “Something to do with munitions and supplies for the war effort, nothing critical,” he said before eagerly drawing up her skirts.

Amelia stayed his hand. “Nothing critical! My lord, that issue is of extreme importance.” She pushed him away and hopped off the desk.

“You must tell me which suppliers are being considered for government contracts,” she said, hurrying to the stack of ledgers she’d brought over from her townhouse. “There are entirely too many corrupt ones vying to be suppliers—poor workmanship of weapons and uniforms or tainted food. Even gunpowder is not safe. There was one case of adulterated powder supplied to the Navy. When they needed it for the cannons, it failed and the ship was taken. We must learn everything about the companies being considered. It’s urgent. The safety and well-being of our soldiers is at stake.”

Gideon sighed and fastened his breeches with a wistful grin. “As you wish, my love. But let’s do hurry…”