Lord Ruthven's Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

marquess’ interest nothing more than wanting to know who entered the noble ranks, or was there something more?
    “How would you suggest I begin, my lord?” He set his teacup on the table.
    The door opened and Lady Annabelle entered. She came to an abrupt halt, her eyes wide. James shoved to his feet.
    Her gaze swung onto her father. “Pardon me. I assumed you were in the drawing room.”
    “Annabelle, you remember Lord Ruthven,” Lady Montagu said.
    “Oh, yes,” she said. “It is good to see you, my lord.”
    James gave a slight bow. “It is good to see ye, my lady.”
    “Forgive the intrusion.” She started to back out of the room.
    “What was it you wanted?” her mother asked.
    “I left a borrowed book here. It doesn’t matter.”
    “Fetch your book, Annabelle,” the marquess said.
    She glanced at James, then seemed to catch herself and hurried to the secretary located in the far rear corner. James followed her progress across the room, then realized he was staring and yanked his eyes to the bookshelf opposite him. He stared at the books so hard that when Lady Annabelle crossed his field of vision he started as if waking from a trance.
    Lady Montagu rose as her daughter neared the door. “I will leave you gentlemen to your business.”
    The marquess rose. “My dear,” he began.
    “I have matters to deal with.” She stepped up to her husband, gave him a light kiss on the cheek, then walked to the door. The marquess watched her go, a soft light in his eyes. When she’d gone, they sat, and James was surprised at the grudging respect he felt for Lord and Lady Montagu. They cared for one another. Last night, Lady Montagu had gone on the offensive. That, he now realized, had been to protect her daughter.
    James cursed. He suddenly knew what he had to do.

Chapter Four
    Once James told the marquess he had caught Lady Annabelle in Lord Harley’s study, then explained his suspicions that Lord Harley was a murderer and was responsible for the highwaymen attacking his wife’s coach, he braced for the marquess to throw him out of his home.
    The man’s mouth thinned. “Annabelle snooping in Harley’s study.” His eyes narrowed. “You have proof of the murder allegations against the earl?”
    “Not enough to convict him, but enough to assure me he is guilty.”
    “You should have told me of this last night when you arrived with my wife and daughter.”
    “It was late. They were out of danger once they reached your home.”
    Understanding sparked in the older man’s eyes. “You didn’t intend to tell me at all. I warn you, do not make such a mistake again.”
    The mistake, James realized with a jolt, had been telling the marquess the truth.
    “What changed your mind?” Montagu asked.
    James wavered, then decided honesty—as much as was possible—was the best course of action with this man. “You,” he said.
    A long silence followed the single word before Montagu said, “Are the police involved in your investigation?”
    “They ruled Lady Julia’s death an accident. But I have no doubt Lord Harley murdered her and, to be honest, sir, I feel certain he murdered others, as well.”
    In fact, James had evidence he believed pointed to three additional murders of genteel ladies.
    The marquess studied him a long moment. “I have known Monroe many years. I find it hard to believe he is a murderer.”
    “I advise you to err on the side of caution,” James said. “He likes young ladies such as Lady Annabelle.”
    “Were the ladies paramours?”
    “I believe so.” James hesitated. “I am sorry, my lord, but I can no’ go into more detail. I work for Lady Julia’s father. This is a private matter.”
    “Yes, this is a private matter. A private matter that became my concern when you dragged my daughter into your investigation.”
    “I didn’t exactly drag her into my investigation,” James replied mildly.
    Lord Montagu’s stare bore into him. “There is only one reason Harley would perceive