Gideon's shoulders tensed. He didn't know how the earl planned to assure that Julianne didn't make such an error again, but he did know that all his protective instincts were on alert. "Perhaps you weren't robbed, but I believe this so-called ghost meant to burgle Lord Daltry last night." After telling the earl about the opened window at last night's soiree, he said, "I checked the area outside Lord Daltry's home early this morning. There were footprints in the flower bed beneath the window. Someone had tried to gain entry. The window, however, had not been opened after I'd jammed it closed. I interviewed Lord Daltry's entire staff this morning. Except for one footman who believes he saw a shadowy figure leaving the garden about an hour after the party ended, no one saw or heard anything."
"So Daltry wasn't robbed, and no one was hurt."
"No. Not yet."
"And neither was I robbed."
"No. Not yet."
"Nor do I intend to be."
"An excellent sentiment, one I applaud. However, the so-called ghost criminal may have other ideas."
The earl pushed his leather chair back from his polished mahogany desk and stood. "My home is secure, and there is no proof that anyone attempted to gain entry. There is nothing here to investigate, Mr. Mayne-"
A knock cut off his curt dismissal. Shooting a dark scowl toward the door, the earl said, "Come in."
The door opened, and Lady Julianne crossed the threshold. And it felt to Gideon as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.
Bloody hell, she literally stole his breath. She wore a high-waisted blue gown that exactly matched her incredible eyes. The garment, although modest, hinted at lush feminine curves. Golden hair framed her beautiful face, the glossy curls upswept except for the artful tendrils that curved next to her cheeks and along her slender neck. Caught in a ray of sunshine, she looked like an angel.
His gaze settled for several seconds on her mouth… on those lush lips that had parted so eagerly beneath his. Lips he now knew were pillowy soft. And warm. And tasted like vanilla. He felt a sudden urge to squirm and forced his gaze upward, where it collided with hers.
Although he did his damnedest to conceal the flare of desire that ignited in him every time he looked at her, he wasn't certain he succeeded, especially after a scarlet flush washed over her cheeks.
"Did you come to stand mutely in the doorway, Julianne, or is there some reason why you've seen fit to interrupt my meeting?" There was no missing the annoyed chill in the earl's words. Gideon watched her attention jump to her father. She moistened her lips in an unmistakably nervous gesture then ventured several hesitant steps into the room.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Father, but I wished to speak to both you and Mr. Mayne. Regarding this." She drew what appeared to be a bracing breath then crossed the rug, her steps more confident, and held out a dirty piece of vellum to her father.
"What is it?" the earl asked in an impatient tone.
"A note. I found it on my bedchamber floor just inside the door-as if someone had slid it underneath."
"And why would either I or Mr. Mayne find that of any interest?"
"Because the note is… odd."
"What does it say, Lady Julianne?" Gideon asked.
"It says-"
Before she could say, the earl snatched the missive from her and snapped it open. Then he frowned. "What the devil does this mean?"
"May I?" Gideon asked, holding out his hand.
The earl thrust the note at him. Gideon looked down at the crudely printed, misspelled words. "Yor next." He raised his gaze to Lady Julianne. "When did you find this?"
"Just a few minutes ago."
"How long since you'd been in your bedchamber?"
She considered then answered, "At least two hours."
"You're certain the note wasn't there earlier?"
"Positive. I saw it as soon as I opened the door. I would have noticed the pale paper against the dark wood floor if it had been there earlier."
"Do you recognize the handwriting?"
"No."
"Have you ever received a missive such as this before?"
She shook her head. "No."
The earl cleared his throat. "Clearly it was written by someone nearly illiterate. Probably one of the servants dropped it and it was kicked beneath the door."
Gideon raised his brows. "That's an abundance of coincidences, my lord. And I must tell you: I cast a very suspicious eye on coincidences."
The earl favored him with a cold stare. "Then what are you suggesting, Mayne?"
"I'm suggesting that your staff be questioned. Because if one of them didn't coincidentally drop this note, which then coincidentally found its way beneath Lady Julianne's bedchamber door, then we must consider that it's exactly what it appears to be." His insides tightened, and he had to force out the words. "A threat against Lady Julianne. Made by someone who was or still is inside your home."
Chapter 7
Julianne stood in the music room, her fingers restlessly braiding the gold fringe edging the heavy blue velvet drapes. Dust motes floated in the long, gilded rays of sunshine streaming through the windows. Her beloved dog lay curled near the hearth, a tiny bundle of energy temporarily at rest, the tip of her tiny pink tongue sticking out while she dreamed doggie dreams.
With a sigh, Julianne paced to the fireplace. She usually found a profound sense of peace in this room, with its cream silk walls, muted shades of blue and green reflected in the draperies and Axminster carpet, polished cherrywood furniture, and grandly ornate pianoforte. It was her favorite spot in the entire house, the place she considered her sanctuary, cozy in spite of its size. A place she felt calm and safe.
But not today.
No, today restless nervousness jangled through her. What would Gideon discover? And how much longer must she wait until she knew? He'd left Father's study over two hours ago to interview the staff. Surely Johnny was no longer around the household-
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock. "Come in," she called.
The door opened, and Gideon entered. Their gazes met. And for a single instant she fancied fire flared in his dark eyes and the floor beneath her shifted. Then his expression went blank. Feeling the need to support her less-than-steady knees, she took a single step backward to brace her hips against the pianoforte.
What felt like an eternity but was surely no more than ten seconds passed in silence, a quiet space of time during which her entire body heated under his inscrutable regard. She wished she could read his thoughts. Had he discovered the truth? Did he know what she'd done? Unable to stand the suspense any longer, she asked, "You interviewed the staff?"
Instead of answering, he closed the door behind him. The quiet click reverberated through her, a soft confirmation that they were alone. She should have demanded he leave the door ajar. Instead, she had to press her lips together to keep from asking him to turn the lock into place.
With his gaze steady on hers, he walked toward her, his eyes so intense, she felt like a mouse stalked by a large, hungry cat. Surely she should want to flee, or retreat, rather than longing to run toward him and be devoured.
He halted when an arm's length separated them, a distance she instantly yearned to erase. Indeed, she had to lock her knees to keep from doing so.
"No one saw or heard anything," he said, "nor did anyone claim ownership of the note."
She prayed her relief didn't show. Clearly Johnny was no longer about. Either that or the coal porter was an accomplished liar. Thank goodness.