Jacquie ’Alessandro - Confessions at Midnight

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, and her breath caught. He reached out and raised her hand to his mouth. Brushed his lips against the back of her gloved fingers. And then he did say something else.

"Good-bye, Carolyn."

Without another word he turned and left. And her heart shattered into a million brittle fragments.

Hidden from view by a row of neatly trimmed privet hedges, Daniel sat on the damp ground with his back resting against the stone wall that separated Carolyn's small garden from her neighbor's. Clouds obscured the moon, and the air felt thick and heavy with rain. He'd taken up his post within minutes after leaving Carolyn, going home only long enough to see if Samuel had returned. His footman had awaited him in the foyer and reported that he'd been unable to find the magistrate but finally located Mr. Mayne, who hadn't seemed overly impressed with his tale but nonetheless promised to call in the morning.

After instructing Samuel to keep guard at home, Daniel had stolen into Carolyn's garden and taken up his vigil. Armed with a pistol and his knife, he had no intention of allowing anyone to gain access to her house. If anyone had any designs to hurt her, they'd damn well have to accomplish the task over his lifeless body.

Lifeless… He blew out a long, slow breath. Bloody hell, that's exactly how he felt. Lifeless and numb. Defeated. Gutted.

Our affair had to end eventually. Her words echoed through his mind, cutting another oozing wound in his battered heart. Hadn't he intended to tell her the same thing? Yes, although he had to wonder if he actually would have been able to utter the words if she hadn't said them first. When she had, he wanted nothing more than to grab her and shake her. Force her to put the past behind her and stop worshipping a ghost.

I was thinking about Edward…

He briefly squeezed his eyes closed. He wanted to hate the man, but how did one hate a dead man? A man who'd been a friend? A man he'd liked and admired? A man who hadn't deserved to die at such a young age? He could understand that Carolyn would always love Edward, but why did she have to love only Edward?

When she'd told him their affair must end, his first strong, primal instinct had been to argue, but he forced himself not to. It was for the best, especially now, that he keep his physical distance from her, as he didn't want to bring danger her way. Perhaps, after all this was over, he could try to convince her-

He ruthlessly sliced off the thought. What was the point? She'd made her choice and had chosen her husband's memory. For him to try and convince her to prolong their affair would only humiliate them both. Rather than trying to accomplish the impossible task of finding a way to make her forget a man she'd never forget, he would be much better served to try to find a way to make himself fall out of love.

A tight, bitter sound clogged his throat. God, if only he could do so. Somewhere the gods must be laughing at him. That after a lifetime of scoffing at the notion of love, it had reached up and grabbed him, body and soul, and left him with nothing but a numb, empty space where his heart used to beat.

His gaze lifted to Carolyn's bedchamber window. To the small balcony over which he'd tossed a rope then scaled to enter her room. Had he truly thought he'd merely desired her body? Had wanted nothing more from her than sexual games? Had felt nothing beyond lust? He thunked his head against the cold, rough stone. What a bloody idiot he was.

He kept his vigil all through the night, senses on alert, ears attuned to any strange sounds, eyes ceaselessly scanning, but nothing suspicious occurred. It began to rain around three a.m., at first softly, but then more steadily, until the drops fell in a cold, silent sheet that plastered his hair and clothing to his chilled skin. By the time dawn broke, a barely discernable gray streak in the dreary, opaque sky, the rain had tapered off to a light drizzle.

Suddenly, a soft glow illuminated Carolyn's bed-chamber window. He instantly pictured her lighting a lamp. Rising from bed. Brushing her hair. Getting dressed. And wished with everything in him that he was in that room with her.

An hour passed before the light went out, a sign that she'd left her bedchamber, most likely to go to breakfast, and he realized that the rain had finally stopped. In a perfect match to his mood, the sky remained gloomy and overcast. He rose stiffly, his cold, cramped muscles protesting. He pushed his damp hair back with both hands and grimaced at the feel of wet clothing sticking to his skin. He'd go home and change his clothes then resume his vigil.

When he entered his foyer a few minutes later, Samuel and Barkley reported all was well. "Not a peep o' disturbance, milord," Samuel said.

"Excellent. I want you to keep watch in Lady Wingate's garden while I change clothes."

"Yes, milord. Got me knife right here," Samuel said, patting his boot. "Won't nobody get by me."

He departed through the rear of the house, and Daniel started up the stairs.

"Shall I arrange for a hot bath, my lord?" Barkley asked.

"No, thank you. Just breakfast and coffee." He'd made it halfway up the stairs when the brass door knocker sounded.

Barkley peeked through the side window. "'Tis Mr. Mayne, my lord," he reported in an undertone.

"Show him into the dining room and offer him breakfast. I'll join him shortly." He took the remainder of the stairs two at a time, anxious to change, complete his business with Mayne, then resume his watch in Carolyn's garden.

Ten minutes later he strode into the dining room, noting that Mayne was only drinking coffee. After exchanging greetings with the Runner, Daniel asked, "Where's Rayburn?"

Mayne frowned. "He said he had other matters to attend to. I'll report to him later."

While helping himself to eggs, ham, and bacon from the sideboard, Daniel reiterated what Samuel had told the Runner last night. As he took his seat at the head of the table, he concluded by saying, "I warned Lady Walsh of possible danger. Lady Wingate as well."

Mayne's impassive face didn't show a flicker of emotion. "Lady Wingate… is she the reason you lied about your whereabouts the night before last?"

Daniel clenched his jaw. He didn't want this man to know of his affair with Carolyn, but since she clearly intended to tell him herself, there was no point in prevaricating. "I didn't precisely lie. I did come home. But then I left. And went to Lady Wingate's town house. I didn't tell you, as my private life is none of your business, nor did I want Lady Wingate to become gossip fodder."

"You were there all night?"

"Until dawn, yes."

"And Lady Wingate will vouch for this?"

"Yes."

Mayne's gaze settled for several seconds on Daniel's still damp hair. "Where were you last night, Lord Surbrooke?"

Annoyance rippled through him at the man's silky tone, and he made him wait for his answer while he chewed then swallowed a forkful of egg. "In Lady Wingate's garden. Keeping watch."

"And will Lady Wingate vouch for that as well?"

"She doesn't know I was there."

"Did anyone see you?"

"No. But my butler and footman know I was."

"Because they saw you there-or merely because you told them that's where you'd be?"

"Are you insinuating I was somewhere else?"

"If you're asking if I've discovered another body of one of your former lovers, the answer is not yet." He lifted his china cup and looked at Daniel over the rim. "The day is young, however."

"Your time would be better served trying to come up with a plan to capture the true killer."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. As you know, both murders occurred during or after a party I attended. I'm scheduled to attend a soiree at the home of Lady Pelfield this evening."

Interest flickered in Mayne's dark eyes. "So you think it possible our man may strike again tonight. Will Lady Walsh and Lady Wingate be in attendance?"

"I'm not certain about Lady Walsh, although as it's a huge soiree, she probably will. I know Lady Wingate plans to attend."

"So we could use one of them as bait."

"No." The word came out harsh, forceful. "Absolutely not." The thought of a murdering madman so much as touching Carolyn twisted his insides into a painful knot. "I was thinking we could employ extra help and all be extra vigilant. Keep a careful eye on both ladies. Have one of us within arm's reach at all times. As soon as someone tries to lure either of them off alone, we'll have our killer."

Mayne said nothing for several seconds, just looked at him through his dark, inscrutable eyes. Finally he murmured, "And what if this is a case of the fox guarding the chicken coop?"

"Meaning what if I'm the one who will attempt to lure one of them off alone?" Daniel leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "And what if, Mr. Mayne, you are the fox?"

Something flickered in those dark eyes, then Mayne inclined his head. "Appears this will be an interesting evening."

Daniel took a swallow of his coffee, tapped his napkin to his lips, then rose. "If there's nothing else, I wish to return to Lady Wingate's garden."

Mayne rose. "I'll go with you. I'd like to speak to Lady Wingate myself."

They'd just entered the corridor when Daniel heard the front door open. Seconds later Samuel yelled to Barkley, "I must speak to his lordship at once!"