Gilbert waved away the White’s waiter impatiently when he lingered too long beside their table. “I said that will be all.”

Carmichael raised a brow at his abrupt manner. “You seem out of sorts today.”

Gilbert scowled and looked away. It burned that this killer remained undetected.

There hadn’t been any reason for Miss Goldwell’s death. None he could determine that did not involve the ridiculous idea she’d been killed because Carmichael had kissed her once. She’d been a bubbly and bright young woman. She’d had an easy manner, and was accomplished at music and art. She’d been loyal and well-liked by her friends and acquaintances. In short, she had great potential to make a good match this season. There were no dark skeletons in her closet. Her family were all upstanding members of society without a hint of scandal about them. “I cannot determine the reason the killer singled her out,” he confessed.

Carmichael smiled tightly. “You know my thoughts on this so I will not repeat them again. If another reason exists, you will find it.”

Gilbert glanced about White’s but saw only strangers. He’d been a member of White’s since shortly after his birth. Father had arranged his membership, though, as a vicar, he’d seldom had an excuse to come here. They were seated in the Morning Room, far enough away from their fellow members to keep an eye on them but not close enough to be overheard or encourage anyone to join them. He had a view of the ground floor hall to see who came and went and a view of the famous bay window, where Beau Brummell was currently holding court. Gilbert hadn’t an acquaintance with him yet, nor did he wish to foster one in the future with such a ridiculous dandy.

“I wish I had your faith right now.” He rubbed a hand over his face. He’d barely slept for the past few nights. He’d been prowling about society in Carmichael’s shadow, pretending to enjoy himself. But every conversation he’d participated in frustrated him more. As much as he disliked the notion, heiresses were dying left and right. Further investigation had uncovered three other deaths last season, and all remained unexplained still. Gilbert had been given all the information to study and had been appalled that no one else had seen what Carmichael had stumbled upon by chance.

“What has you so concerned? I mean, you seem more perturbed than when you began.”

“The violence is escalating. Miss Berry’s death was quick and clean. Miss Goldwell’s demise was carried out with brutal and very obvious intent.”

“Do you think they suffered?” Carmichael asked.

“I hope not. Miss Goldwell was surprised perhaps, attacked when her back was turned. Lady Berry’s conservatory was not lit well on the night of the ball.” He licked his lips. “Our killer seems to lack the honor to look his victims in the eye.”

Carmichael sat forward. “A weakness?”

“A hint of his true nature perhaps. A cowardly act.”

“So, what you are saying is, we are not looking for a forward, outspoken person but someone no one considers in any way dangerous at first glance, or even second and third. Someone skilled at moving through society largely undetected.”

“Exactly.” He snapped his fingers and sat back. But that knowledge didn’t help them one whit. Cowards did not wear a sign upon their backs, and they were very good at hiding their flaws.

“The Duke of Exeter has arrived,” Carmichael murmured quietly, dropping his chin as if trying to hide. “Damn it all.”

Gilbert turned his head slightly, noting the older man had come with his nephew, the Marquess of Ettington. The duke stared in his direction, frowned and then nodded, acknowledging him. They might speak, but then again, they might not. Exeter and his father had held opposing political views—often quite heatedly exchanged views across the floor of parliament and here, he’d heard.

As the duke finished his conversation with his nephew, he turned and came to meet Gilbert.

“My condolences,” Exeter said as he extended his hand.

“Thank you, your grace,” he murmured.

The duke looked about the room a moment. “What brings you to London, Sorenson?”

Taking the duke into his confidence was not part of his plan. In the future his connections might be useful to the investigation. But he needed more than suspicions to bring to the duke. He shrugged away the question and smiled. “The usual.”

The duke smirked. “Hunting a bride already?”

Gilbert nearly choked, but noted many gentlemen appeared to be listening in now and nodding sagely. “Why would you think that?”

“You both attended Almack’s. A first, I believe. It is all anyone is talking about.”

He glanced at Carmichael. Gossip about them was expected but not quite so far reaching as to fill the duke’s ears.

“We went for the amusement of the experience,” Carmichael added glibly, finally looking up. “You’ll be pleased to know the vaulted ceilings did not tremble to have men such as us attend those hallowed halls.”

“The place could use a good scandal now and then.” The duke chuckled without warmth. “But there’s plenty of excitement and ladies to be found everywhere else, I hear.”

Gilbert gestured to Carmichael. “Carmichael is all I require in a companion for now.”

“Indeed. He is quite a character.” The duke shrugged but then glared at Carmichael. “You stole my French chef from me.”

Carmichael sighed, appearing pained. “I assure you, I tried to send him back but he won’t go. He claims he’d rather cook for one than sit in a cold kitchen.”

“What?” Gilbert frowned, not understanding the banter.

Carmichael smiled his way. “The duke has been traveling with family for most of the year.”

The duke’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “I adore my family, but they do not visit London enough to appreciate my former cook’s culinary efforts.”

“And that is the only reason Monsieur Laffitte answered my advertisement,” Carmichael promised him. “He felt he was unneeded.”

The duke snorted. “Yes, well. White’s will do for dinners for the present moment. It is so hard to keep good help these days. Do excuse me.”

“Of course.”

Exeter turned away, joining a pair of older gentlemen Gilbert did not recognize, who seemed very happy to meet him. He looked to Carmichael for information.

“The Duke of Staines and his younger brother, Lord Lynton Manning.”

“I don’t remember meeting them before.”

“Not surprising. Staines hosts a good dinner now and then, though he’s been keeping to himself this past year or so. The brother was once a vicar like you. Sermonized from the pulpit of St. George’s until his marriage.”

“Oh?” He looked at the gentleman closely. He seemed not at all familiar.

“Gave the church up for love. Estella Ryall, once Viscountess Carrington.”

Now that title was familiar. “She has a son and daughter? Oscar, I think his first name was. Cannot remember the girl.”

Carmichael nodded. “Both married with a dozen brats between them now. Not all of them are Carrington’s, I hasten to add, but wards or some such nonsense. Bit of a scandal with his marriage. Breach of promise suit turned quite nasty. He too keeps to himself these days.”

Gilbert nodded. “We were at school together with him.”

“Were we?” Carmichael brushed lint from his sleeve. “And yet I don’t remember Carrington at all.”

“Why would you remember anyone? You hardly attended school.” Gilbert laughed. “Your outside activities kept you quite busy.”

“I’ll have you know my education was first rate,” Carmichael promised.

“Brothels do not count. Yet somehow you achieved an education most would envy, skipping lectures and still ranking as one of the smartest men I know.”

“Not smart enough,” Carmichael slouched a little, revealing his discontent.

Keeping Carmichael’s spirits up was almost a full-time occupation for a friend. “Billiards or cards?”

“The betting book first then billiards. I feel the need to hit something.”

They made their way to the betting book and scanned the latest wagers.

Carmichael sucked in a sharp breath. “Lord W bet Lord E that Miss B will marry Lord S before the season is out. That wouldn’t be about you, would it?”

Gilbert shoved Carmichael aside and scanned the page. “Where does it say that?”

Carmichael laughed softly. “Just checking your reaction.”

Gilbert scowled at his friend and then stalked toward the rear of White’s without him. Now he too needed to hit something rather than his friend.

At the main stairs they were joined by Lord Wade, who seemed to have had the same idea as them about playing billiards. “Lord Wade.”

“My lords.” Wade allowed them to enter the Billiard Room first but turned toward an empty table and began to set up shots to play against himself.

Gilbert set up the balls and allowed Carmichael to break. Carmichael’s shot cracked through the room and he sank two balls straight away.

“Beginners luck,” Gilbert grumbled.

“Years more practice in low places than you, I expect, my friend.”

Gilbert hid a smile and waited until it was his turn. Then he destroyed Carmichael’s advantage by sinking every ball including the black.

He stood back finally, noting they’d drawn a crowd. “You deserved that for your earlier remark.”

Carmichael stared at him in apparent shock. “Where did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged. “Between sermons. What else was there to do?”

Carmichael slung an arm around Gilbert’s shoulders and shook him. “Remind me not to tease you about Miss B again.”

“You really shouldn’t tease her, either.”

“You seem to have made an impression on her. She spoke very highly of you to my godmother earlier today.”

“You finally spoke to her?” Gilbert asked, concerned for the woman. He’d been considering calling on her but wasn’t sure how he’d be able to find out how she fared with a chaperone or her father in the room, too. “How is she?”

Carmichael winced. “She did not say much, there was a maid present the whole time I was with her, but I know Anna well. She’s very upset.”

A throat cleared behind Gilbert suddenly, and he spun about. “Yes?”

“Can I challenge either one of you to a game?”

Carmichael smiled quickly. “Certainly, Wade. I’d be happy to play against you, for I shall never dare play against Lord Sorenson again.”

Gilbert just laughed. He found a spot against a wall and pushed Miss Beasley’s distress from his mind to watch the game unfold.

“You may break,” Lord Wade told Carmichael, which was only fair, given he’d been the one to challenge Gilbert’s friend.

Carmichael broke, exhibiting the same decisive precision as before. This time he sank three balls before ceding to Wade. The crowd of onlookers wandered away and Gilbert was grateful to be more or less alone. Watching every word around others was difficult.

Lord Wade took a moment to assess the placement of the balls on the table. “What are you pair up to?”

“Hoping not to lose again,” Carmichael promised.

Wade glanced Gilbert’s way. “I am aware of your other rather unusual set of skills, my lord. Vicars who solve murders are quite rare.”

Gilbert’s senses tingled but he made himself appear relaxed. “Former vicar.”

“I misspoke. My apologies.” Lord Wade performed his shot, sinking his color. “Do you know, I have heard that the Sorenson estates are in a rather bad way and were in dire need for attention before you inherited?”

Gilbert straightened, affronted. “The Sorenson estates are in good order. Whoever said they were not?”

“Well, everyone. Gossip about you is rife.” Lord Wade sank another ball quickly. “Another rumor circulating is that you are here to find a wealthy bride, although I have trouble believing that tale. Even with Exeter’s assumption just now.”

Gilbert stared at the fellow, puzzled by his demeanor. “Do you always listen to private conversations?”

“Only when something juicy is being spoken of. Most often of late, that is you. But in this case today, the duke raised his voice as I was passing so of course I heard his question, along with everyone else in the Morning Room.” Lord Wade frowned at the table. “If you want people to wonder about you, by all means keep everyone guessing which rumor is true.”

“What other stories are circulating?”

Wade beamed. “My absolute favorite is that you’ve come to London to sow your oats after a boring few years as a vicar.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I think so, too. Your attention swings from one pretty young thing to another too quickly. Are all of the rumors fabrications? I think they must be.” Lord Wade sank another shot. When he straightened, he looked directly at Carmichael. “What has become of Miss Angela Berry?”

Carmichael grew pale.

“She was most often seen in your company until recently. Everyone knows a match was to be made between you both. But her family removed from London without warning and Miss Berry informed no one when she would return. In fact, none of her closest friends have heard from her since her mother’s ball. They are becoming distressed about her absence from society.”

Gilbert glanced about discreetly when Carmichael remained silent. They were alone for now. “What interest do you have in Miss Berry?”

“None. But watching the lengths she took to slip away from her chaperones to meet Carmichael here for kisses was the most amusement I’ve had at some ton events. I cannot believe she just gave up the hope that you’d offer for her. She seemed most ardently willing to be in love with you.”

Carmichael froze. “She was.”

Lord Wade tilted his head slightly. “She was. Are you?”

“Yes,” Carmichael whispered. “I was in love with her, too.”

Lord Wade set the cue back in its place on the wall bracket without another word. He stepped up to Lord Carmichael’s side.

“Was? My condolences then,” Lord Wade whispered. “She’s not the only one, is she?”

“No.” Gilbert moved closer, wondering what else Lord Wade had figured out on his own. “But no one can know.”

Lord Wade’s lips twitched. “I’m no one then.”

Gilbert was about to say more when Lord Wade bowed. “I shouldn’t detain you a moment longer. Do excuse me. I’ll see you at the next ball.”

Lord Wade strode off.

“Sorenson?”

“He’s not the killer,” Gilbert promised Carmichael.

“Then what is he about to ask so many questions about Angela?”

Gilbert wasn’t sure. “I think we may have just recruited another set of eyes for the hunt.”

Carmichael raked his hand through his hair. “But none of the ladies seem to like him very much. How can he help?”

“That could be useful.” Gilbert smiled, feeling optimistic again. “They won’t be watching him watching them. Everyone will be looking at you and the young ladies you single out, including the killer, I suspect, if your theory is correct. I think we can make good use of him.”