Dangerous Liaison (Lords of Whitehall Book 2)

replacement style as the note Weatherington obtained that confirmed Mr. Arnold’s involvement.”
“It wasn’t the duke’s receipt for his Christmas punch,” he muttered low enough, so only Gillian heard him.
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted giving them voice. Gillian stiffened.
Why had he uttered those words? He never wanted to cause Gillian any hurt. Another reason he should have never married the woman.
“Another list of names?” Philly asked.
“No, my lady, this time the note is an invitation.”
An invitation?
Moreham watched Gillian only to find her reaction as confused as his.
“Fitz, enough suspense, tell us what the note said.” Philly demanded, clearly at the end of her patience with the man.
Fitzroy, obviously enjoying the moment of having his superiors’ attention, thrust out his chest and pulled a larger piece of foolscap from his pocket. “Meeting full moon old abbey ruins, midnight.”
Philly threw her hands up in disgust. “That’s all? What abbey ruins? The countryside is littered with old remains from the Popish days. How will we ever find the location?”
Gillian spoke, her voice void of all emotion. “There are abbey ruins at Whitings. The duke and duchess are hosting a house party for a group of his friends from Lords. Before the brouhaha of my being compromised, I was to leave Town tomorrow to see to the last-minute details before the guests arrive in three days.”
Fitz piped up. “The moon will achieve its fullness by week’s end.”
No one said a word. Moreham wanted to banish the others from the room. Gillian looked completely at sea. Whitney was guilty of betraying his king and country. At that moment Moreham would have given his all his worldly goods to have been proven wrong.
He watched his wife’s demeanor sink lower as she accepted the import of the translation. A need to take her in his arms and hold her until all this business was finished fought his own need to expose her uncle’s treasonous activities.
Wrong was wrong. He’d lived by that credo his entire life. What a fool he’d been to believe he could wed the woman and remain as he was. He feared the foundation of his work was in jeopardy which only proved marriage was not meant for him. As Philly liked to say, people like them were married to their duty.
He and his friends exposed the fiends and walked away before their own involvement could be discovered. Others came forward to deal with the trial, execution and dissolution of the guilty party’s assets. He’d never thought about what became of the wives and children. Now, he knew. The lost look in Gillian’s eyes called to him.
He told himself their lives were changed forever, but in truth he had believed only Gillian’s would change. He’d continue as he had for years once he packed up his wife and shipped her off to one of his estates. What a fantastical tale he wove. He’d never be the same again because of the woman at his side and the emotions she evoked from his soul.
All this woolgathering would not achieve his goal. Moreham pushed aside his need to comfort Gillian and turned his regard to his code breaker.
“Fitz, thank you for coming. Please file your report.”
The young man bowed then left him and the women. No one spoke for the longest time. He was at a loss as to how to proceed. It was Gillian who broke the silence.
“Well, Moreham, I wish I could refute that note. I still cannot believe Uncle Whitney is part of a conspiracy.”
“I agree, my dear. Moreham, perchance could someone be blackmailing Whitney? Has your man done a file on him? Are there any French connections in his family? What about Isadora’s family? We all have those connections from before the Terror.” His mother turned to Gillian. “Have you ever heard of such a connection, my dear?”
Gillian frowned, deep in thought. She sighed and shook her head. “On the Browning side of the family, most of my ancestors were not prolific in siring children, so the families were small in number…”
“…Aunt Isadora is forever speaking of our ancestors and their service to this or that king. She is very proud of our English heritage. I have never heard a single hint of relatives anywhere besides England.” Gillian directed her attention in his direction with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Moreham, could Uncle be a victim of blackmail?”
Moreham wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear that yes, blackmail could be the reason her uncle was in possession of a coded message. He wanted to erase that pain in her eyes. He could not do so. To profess blackmail was a distinct possibility would only bring more disappointment if Whitney was proven to be a willing participant.
“Gillian, I do not know. We must attend that house party.”
“How are you going to justify attending a house party when you should be closeted together on your wedding trip?” his mother demanded.
“Well, you are here so we are not closeted at the moment,” he replied.
Philly patted his mother’s hand. “Sylvia, Moreham is right we must get to Whitings. We can secure an invitation from Isadora. We have attended her house parties many times over the years.”
Philly turned to Gillian. “Dear, I am certain with her unhappiness over your wedding, she has not given the house party a single consideration. What if you called on your aunt and offered to go down to the country tomorrow to oversee the final arrangements for the party? You can say you want to show your husband the home where you grew up. Moreham will agree which will make the side trip romantic. Your aunt will not be able to deny you.”
Moreham wanted to touch Gillian. He moved over to sit by her. To his surprise, she reached for his hand. His body hummed with intense warmth. He’d never felt such a satisfying sensation before.
“We must be at the duke’s country estate before his houseguests arrive. If we call this afternoon for tea, we can