Dangerous Liaison (Lords of Whitehall Book 2)

in their intrigue?
Again, he should’ve postulated this eventuality. His mother had shared the tale of Whitney’s brief courtship of Philly during her first season. An innocent never forgot her first love or so his mother professed.
“Shall we sit?” she asked.
The lady sat on a blood red upholstered settee next to the cold fireplace. She made a show of straightening her skirts before folding her hands in her lap. She was the picture of a lady during an afternoon call, except it was going on two o’clock in the morning.
Moreham refilled his glass then moved across the room. A better man would have sat in the chair facing the settee to allow a proper distance between them. However, the chit had forced her presence into his world. She could well deal with the consequences.
He joined her and placed his glass of brandy on the table next to the settee. Her breathy gasp was the only indication that he’d surprised her. Moreham settled back into the corner of the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest.
The lady gave him a speaking look.
Did she expect him to start this conversation? She arranged this meeting. Let her be the one to start the conversation. He refused to give an inch. He rather enjoyed watching her uncertainty flicker in her rather lovely brown eyes. Novel thought that, he preferred blue eyed ladies normally.
Miss Browning licked her lips and cleared her throat before speaking. “I asked Lady Philly to arrange this meeting. I know you are responsible for investigating the group of gentlemen who attend Mrs. Ramsay’s salon on Wednesday afternoons who call themselves the 1804 Social Club. I also know you have obtained a list of the members. I’m aware that my uncle’s name is on that list.”
“Tread lightly, my dear. You seem to know quite a bit about my business. ’Tis never a healthy endeavor to sniff around a gentleman’s affairs, especially a gentleman who’s engaged in governmental business as I am. I’m assuming Lady Philly has shared this information with you. Before we go any further, I require your vow that you’ll not share the details of our conversation. To do so will be considered an act of treason.”
She shrunk back into her corner. Her eyes trained on her hands folded in her lap. “There is no need to threaten me, my lord. As I said, I’m here with Lady Philly’s knowledge and approval. She did warn me you would not be pleased.”
The lady hesitated before continuing, still not looking at him.
“Two days ago, at Lady Crittendon’s musicale, I overheard two gentlemen talking about this social club. One of them said you were conducting an investigation into the group and its ties to French sympathizers. That gentleman said there was a list. The other gentleman countered the tale was balderdash because my uncle was a member and there was no more loyal peer in the kingdom.
“Earlier today, I called on Lady Philly. She suggested I speak with you.” Gillian Browning paused. She turned her all too serious gaze in his direction. “I want to help you. My uncle is innocent, and I can prove it.”
Gillian wished she’d listened to Lady Philly. Tall and big shouldered, Moreham loomed over her although they were seated. She should be frightened, but something about his eyes quelled her fear. Or maybe it was his lips? What an absurd notion. She’d never noticed any other gentleman’s lips before. How odd.
She pushed the frivolous thought from her mind. It was not the time to engage in poetical meanderings about the Earl of Moreham’s lips. Nor was it the time to become enamored with a known scoundrel and agent of the Crown.
She’d had enough trouble with Percy Arnold chasing her around Town for the last couple of months. Now, with her uncle’s loyalty to the Crown being questioned she willingly put herself in this situation. Her uncle was innocent. She intended to be present when Moreham admitted such.
Uncle Whitney and Aunt Isadora had taken her in when her mother died and seen to her upbringing. She would put a stop to this man’s so-called investigation of Uncle Whitney by any means necessary.
The silence in the library was deafening. The earl reached for his brandy, watching her all the while.
“My uncle is not a traitor. I’ve asked others about you. I’ve been told you are a fair man who would never accuse a man of such a horrid crime without evidence of his guilt. Additionally, Lady Philly assures me of your competence as a strategist and investigator. She says you are the best at what you do.”
Moreham smiled with no sign he was amused. “I work hard. My father and my grandfathers before him, all served their respective kings. I only go where the evidence leads. I cannot give credence to your claim that your uncle is innocent since your opinion is undoubtedly biased.
“You are a blood relation, the child of his dead sister and his ward. You see only the good.” Moreham continued, “Your information is, however, correct. I have in my possession a membership list I believe to be the roster of the 1804 Social Club. You are also correct that your uncle’s name is on that list.
“What you may not know is the night of your aunt’s ball, Mr. Percy Arnold, was arrested for treason. Unfortunately, the next day, he escaped custody. Do not fret. My associates are in pursuit of him. You are in no danger–.”
“–my lord, you are jesting at my expense which I do not appreciate. Mr. Arnold is a lowly clerk bent on gaining my dowry. That man cares more for the lay of his cravat than he does for intrigue,” she scoffed.
Moreham ignored her and continued on.
“Some say your uncle encouraged Arnold’s attentions in your direction. I must warn you, Arnold’s public wooing for your hand also implicates you.” He held up his hand. “If you’re going to suggest this is all a random coincidence, don’t. I have worked behind