With one single carriage accident, life had come crashing in with a reminder of the danger Leo danced with every day as a member of the Brethren… and the realization that Leo cared for his wife.
Nausea roiled in his stomach. Terror, panic, and horror combined to form a vicious blend that he fought to choke down.
Shaking still from his and Chloe’s brush with death, Leo took the steps outside his uncle’s Grosvenor Square residence two at a time.
The crash had been a reminder. There was no other way to explain why, at the precise moment he’d escorted Chloe from his former lover’s residence, the axle on his carriage had broken.
The duke’s staff, as officious as ever, drew the door open the instant Leo rapped.
“My uncle,” he barked, glancing around the foyer.
“He is in his offices, my lord,” the butler of middling years announced.
“I don’t require an escort,” Leo clipped out, rushing through the labyrinthine maze that was the ducal palace of his esteemed uncle. All his nerves and senses remained on alert, vibrating still from the attack. He reached the duke’s offices and didn’t bother with a knock.
Leo hurled the door open. “Uncle—” His words cut off.
The Duchess of Aubrey scrambled up from her husband’s lap. Nearing her fiftieth year, there was still a youthful innocence to the willowy woman. “Leo,” she welcomed, her cheeks blazing red as she rushed over.
Leo’s neck went hot. Rake or rogue, a gent would still rather not discover a favorite aunt and uncle in flagrant dishabille. “Aunt Elsie,” he returned, presenting his cheek.
His uncle reclined in his seat, a droll grin on his lips. “Given your intrusion, I trust this is important.” A faint edge underlined that statement.
“Hush, William,” the duchess chided. “Leo, you’re welcome anytime. We’re just happy to see you. Isn’t that right?” she asked her husband.
The duke lifted his head in acquiescence.
“Now, what brings you here?” She dusted a speck of wood from Leo’s right sleeve, those remnants lingering from his shattered carriage. Worry creased the place between her brows. “Never tell me things are not well with your bride, whom I’ve yet to meet.”
“No. No. No,” he hurried to assure. “Chloe and I are… well.” Insofar as his aunt meant. “We’re happy.” How easily that slipped out.
His too-clever aunt peered at him. “It is business.”
Leo managed a tight nod.
The duchess glanced over at her husband. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to discuss.” She pressed gloved fingertips to her lips and blew a kiss for her husband.
“What is it?” his uncle demanded as soon as the door closed behind his aunt.
Hand shaking, Leo stalked across the room. He grabbed the first decanter his fingertips brushed and sloshed several fingerfuls into a glass. “We were attacked.” His fingers trembled so badly, liquid spilled over the side of the table, staining the gleaming mahogany floor.
Uncle William stood. “What happened?”
“Our axle was broken.”
The duke grabbed the edge of his desk, but his efforts were in vain. He sank weakly back onto the edge of his seat. “Christ,” he whispered, a prayer and a curse rolled into one. “You’re…”
“I’m fine.” Except inside, fear held him in its punishing grip.
“Your wife?” His uncle’s voice emerged threadbare. “Chloe?”
“Shaken, but fine. I had Tomlinson summon Holman to act as guard. Until he arrives, Tomlinson will shadow her.” Tomlinson, who was so fleet of foot, she’d never know he was there. Leo ran through a quick accounting of his and Chloe’s journey from Montfort’s. “It wasn’t just a broken axle. It never is.”
Uncle William wrung his hands together. “Leo, are you certain you aren’t just…” At the look Leo leveled on him, his godfather wisely fell silent.
“I believe I’m close,” he said cryptically, mindful that there could be passing servants, and no one could be trusted.
Surprise lit his uncle’s eyes. The older man’s entire body arched forward, revealing the inherent need that would forever be with a member of the Brethren for the elusive details on an assignment.
Leo gave a slight shake of his head. Until he had Chloe away and conducted his inquiries, he’d withhold his suspicions. “I want the most-trusted men following my wife… at all times.”
“I’ll speak to Higgins,” his uncle promised in frustratingly calming tones.
Leo set his jaw. Surely his uncle didn’t doubt Leo’s instincts or the very real threat he and Chloe had faced a short while ago? “Someone knows of my role in the case,” he pronounced, watching his uncle’s face for a reaction… and finding none. Leo downed his brandy in one long swallow, welcoming the warmth that it left in its wake. And yet, the panic raged within.
The duke made a sound of protest. “You are assuming it is connected to your current case, Leo,” he said gently. “It could be an irate husband—”
“It’s not.”
“Or a foe returned from banishment.”
“It’s not,” Leo said vehemently. “I’ve never left a trail.”
His uncle winced.
“I did not mean,” Leo said quickly, setting his snifter down hard on his uncle’s desk, “to suggest… to imply…”
The Duke of Aubrey brushed off the useless apology. “I know, Leo.”
Leo had been—and was—a heartless bastard. But even he would never hurl the death of his uncle’s first wife at him in insult, or in any way for that matter. He began to pace. Logic said Chloe needed to be sent somewhere removed from Leo and his investigation. Nay, logic said he should have never married the lady in the first place. In being wed to him, she would always be at risk. It was the reason he’d set Daphne free. In the blackness to which his soul had descended, however, he’d allowed himself to forget humanity and put his role with the Brethren before everything else—and now Chloe could pay the price.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Tell me what to do,” he entreated.
“You need to complete the assignment. Ferret out those responsible for the Cato Event.”
“I’ve gained access to Waterson, and feel confident he is not the traitor, but I’m not willing to embroil Chloe.” He increased his frantic pace.
Any more than he had…
That damning revelation hung in the air between them, as real as if Leo had spoken the pronouncement aloud.
“You’ve been married to the lady less than a week, Leo,” his uncle reminded him. “Society is just coming to believe the lie about your being ensnared by the young lady. You can’t very well just sever the connection now.”
Believe the lie…
There should have been a rush of triumph for what he’d managed to accomplish in a short time. And yet, his reputation and his fight to maintain his post within the Brethren had been the furthest afterthoughts in his mind since Chloe had invaded his household… and his life.
And now, she was at risk—because of him.
“What of the soiree? Has Waterson accepted your invitation?”
“He has.”
His uncle nodded. “That is good. At that point, speak to him. Tell him about a business venture you’d like to propose between him and Waverly.”
“I can’t do this,” he said quietly. “Put her at risk.”
The Duke of Aubrey said nothing for a moment. “Leo, you already did when you wed her. There can be no going back from this now. I’m a duke, but even I couldn’t manage to secure you a divorce.” He steepled his fingers and stared over their joined tips at Leo. “Would you even want that?” he quizzed.
Would Leo want that? Would he want to return to his bachelor state, free to carry on his rakish pursuits without a spirited minx underfoot who asked too many questions and teased with her eyes and smile?
He slid his eyes closed. God help him. It was all muddled. Unclear. For he couldn’t need her in his life. He was content. Filled with the purpose of his work. Wasn’t he? “I don’t know,” he said in truth. The answer knocked him on his arse as he slid into a nearby seat. “Just tell me what to do,” he implored.
Send her away… just as you did Daphne Smith. Only, this time, before it was too late. Before he lost any more of himself to her… before he craved any more of her smiles and laughter and clever repartee…
His chest rose and fell with the frantic breaths he took.
The duke dusted his hands together. “You don’t send her away, Leo. That is what you’re thinking.”
Did that ability to know precisely what Leo was thinking come from his own experience as a member of the Brethren who’d himself lost… and then found love with Lady Aubrey?
“At least, not yet. Hold your soiree, get inside Waterson’s household—only, this time without being discovered—and then you go from there.”
“What does that even mean?” he exploded.
“It means you can’t know yet whether or not Chloe is best off without you until you find out precisely what in hell happened today. Mayhap it was just a carriage accident.”
“It wasn’t,” Leo said automatically. If his uncle believed that, time away from working assignments had dulled his abilities.
“Go home, Leo… and be with your wife. There’s no certainty about tomorrow for any of us,” he said somberly as he came to his feet and joined Leo. “That is the only advice I can give you now.”
Leo set his jaw. What his uncle suggested—Leo returning, without answers and without assurances that Chloe was and would be safe—was an impossible venture by a man who’d been outside the inner workings of an assignment for too long.
As he took his leave, one thing was certain—Leo was going to flesh out the conspirators behind the Cato Event and protect a woman who’d come to mean entirely too much. And after he did, then he’d sort out what was to be done with his marriage to Chloe.