Page 38 of Secrets of the Heart

And Rachel had responded. Unlike that time years ago, she had melted against him, her mouth opening to him, her body trembling with a passion that was unmistakable.

The problem was that she had not been kissing him. She had been kissing James Hobson, another chap entirely. The scruffy, surly, illegitimate brother of her husband. The passion he had felt in her had not been for him at all. And no matter how much he had enjoyed the kiss, it made him burn just as much with jealousy.

But as awful and ironic as that was, it was not the worst that had happened this evening. He had found out that Rachel had been seeing Anthony Birkshaw. She had promised him when they married that she would never see the man again, never speak to him, and Michael had believed her. He had trusted in her honor, her integrity; he had believed that she was a woman who would keep her word.

When had she started seeing the man again? What did it mean? Had she played him for a fool all these years? Had she been secretly meeting with Birkshaw since the very beginning?

Jealousy tore through him, almost blinding him to all else. It had been that fierce, furious jealousy that had made him taunt her, had made him jerk her to him and kiss her. Reason might tell him that he did not know all the facts, that the very casual way in which she spoke of the man would indicate that she had nothing to hide. But then, he reminded himself, she had not realized she was telling secrets to her husband. She had thought him only a bastard brother whom Michael did not even know; there would have been little chance, in her estimation, of anything she told James Hobson finding its way back to Lord Westhampton.

He felt his sister’s gaze on him, and he knew that she was doubtless wondering why he had sunk into such a brown study. He glanced up and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but he could see from the worried crease between her eyes that she was not convinced.

At that moment he was saved by a tap on the door, followed immediately by its opening. A man entered. He was well dressed in a black evening suit and snow-white shirt and carefully arranged cravat. He was a year or two older than Michael, dark of hair and eyes, with a short, well-muscled build and a face that was more craggy than handsome. He was not given to smiling a great deal, but when he did, his smile lit up his face, charming anyone around him.

“Hallo, Michael,” he said cheerfully, advancing toward them.

“Robert.” Michael stood up to shake the other man’s hand.

His name was Sir Robert Blount, and he had been Michael’s friend for many years. It was he who had first introduced Michael to the intrigue and adventure of countering Bonaparte’s espionage during the war, and he who later offered him his first case helping the Bow Street Runners. He was also the man who had first revealed to Michael that he had a half sister, born on the wrong side of the blanket.

He crossed over to Lilith after he shook Michael’s hand and bent to kiss her on the cheek. His kiss was perfectly chaste and correct, but there was in his eyes a glow that said he was far more to Lilith Neeley than the friend of her brother.

He was, in fact, the married gentleman to whom Lilith had referred earlier, the man who was her lover and had been for over ten years now. As her brother, Michael could not help but have some reservations over Lilith’s love affair with a man who could not marry her. However, since Sir Robert had been her lover before Michael even knew of Lilith’s existence, and since she was a grown woman who had been making her way in the world on her own for some years now, he had realized that he had little to say in the matter. As long as he expected to remain on friendly terms with either of them, he knew that he could not lecture them on the subject. Besides, he was well aware that he had little basis on which to be giving anyone advice in the area of love.

He was aware, too, of Sir Robert’s marital circumstances, and of the deep and obvious love he held for Lilith. This was no casual affair, but a long-standing commitment which was known by many of the male members of the Ton. Sir Robert, though from a good family, had not been a wealthy man. He had through family connections found a good position in the government and had served it with skill and dedication for several years. The death of an aunt several years earlier had resulted in a moderate inheritance, which he had multiplied many times over with skillful investments. He had been able to leave the government and live on his fortune three years earlier, and he had also lent Lilith the funds to buy her gaming establishment. He was prone, also, to lend his presence to the place on a regular basis, thus solidifying its reputation as a reliable place to gamble.

He was, in many ways, the man closest to Michael. Yet Michael also knew that there were depths to the man that he would never know. Despite his quiet demeanor, Sir Robert Blount was not a man whom anyone would be advised to cross.

“Going out on one of your jaunts tonight, Michael?” he asked now, pulling up a straight-backed chair and sitting down beside him. He cast a significant look at his friend’s attire.

“I was planning to,” Michael admitted. “Now I am not so sure. Robert…what do you know about a chap named Birkshaw? Anthony Birkshaw. Have you ever heard of him?”

Robert frowned, thinking. “In what context? My work? Gambling?”

“In any context. He is a member of the Ton. Married an heiress a few years ago. Daughter of a merchant in York.”

Robert shrugged, shaking his head. “Can’t say that the name rings any bells with me. Lil?”

Lilith shook her head. “No. I don’t know him. Is it he whom you are chasing?”

“No. It is another matter entirely. Well, at least I know that he is not likely an inveterate gambler if you are not familiar with his name.”

Michael chatted with the other two for a few more minutes, until Lilith had to go downstairs to see to her business. Michael then went to his room and shaved and changed into more aristocratic attire. If he wanted to find out social news, he had decided, he had to go to someone who knew such things. So when he was dressed, he took a hansom to the home of his friend, Perry Overhill.

Overhill was in his study, enjoying a glass of wine before venturing out for the evening. He stood up as Michael entered, surprise spreading over his face. “Michael. I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you had gone directly back to Westhampton.” He strode forward with a smile to greet his friend. “Must have mistunderstood what Rachel said.”

“Hallo, Perry.” Michael shook his friend’s hand warmly. “No, you didn’t misunderstand. Rachel thinks I am back at Westhampton. I stayed because I’m looking into something. I’m at Lilith’s. Disguise, you know.” He gestured toward his darker hair.

Perry frowned. “I thought there was something different about you. I say, old man, you’ve gotten yourself into a dicey situation.”

“I know.” Michael sat down with a sigh.

“No, I don’t think you do,” Perry said earnestly. “Rachel’s got the idea into her head that you have been having an affair with Lilith for years. That bloody Leona Vesey told her so the other night at Lady Tarleton’s soiree. Of course I told her it wasn’t true, but…well, you know I’m not that good at lying, and it took me so by surprise when Leona said Mrs. Neeley’s name that I am sure something showed on my face. I denied it, but I can tell Rachel didn’t believe me.”

“I know. She came to Lilith’s house.”

“What!” Perry’s eyes bulged in alarm. “How the devil did she know where she lived? I swear to you, I didn’t give Rachel the address. She asked me, but I never told her.”

“I think someone else did,” Michael said, looking grim.