Guarding the Countess: (The Scandal Sheet Series Book 5) Read online

  Guarding the Countess

  (The Scandal Sheet Series Book 5)

  Jess Michaels

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Also by Jess Michaels

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Guarding the Countess

  The Scandal Sheet Book 5

  * * *

  Copyright © Jesse Petersen, 2019

  ISBN: 978-1-947770-16-4

  * * *

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  For more information, contact Jess Michaels

  www.AuthorJessMichaels.com

  * * *

  To contact the author:

  Email: [email protected]

  Twitter www.twitter.com/JessMichaelsbks

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/JessMichaelsBks

  * * *

  Jess Michaels raffles a gift certificate EVERY month to members of her newsletter, so sign up on her website: http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/

  Dedication

  This book is sexy. Be warned. For those of you who are bouncing up and down with glee, you are my people.

  * * *

  Also, for Michael who likes my sexy books.

  Chapter 1

  When a man of Society dies, it is always a tragedy. More so when it is under suspicious circumstances. A recently deceased Earl has come to the attention of all those who matter. Not only were the circumstances of his recent death quite suspicious, but the “grieving” wife he leaves behind has been in this position before. More than once, in fact. So that leaves us with the question, is this black widow going to strike again, or will what has been left to her finally be enough to satisfy whatever urges wake her in the night?

  * * *

  Naomi Barnaby, Countess of Walridge, shifted nervously in her seat as her carriage turned into the drive of the townhouse across from Kingscross Park. She glanced at the paper beside her and cursed as she flipped it facedown so she would no longer have to read its ugly, accusatory words. The items in the weekly gossip rag were supposed to be blind, but it never took any kind of brains to determine who they were about. In this case, it was her. So what had been mere whispers would now become a roar.

  Worse, it might hurt Naomi’s chances to succeed at the duty laid out in front of her today. Unless the gentleman she was coming to call on did not receive the paper. He wasn’t titled or from a family of the Upper Ten Thousand. It was possible he hadn’t seen the Scandal Sheet.

  “One can only hope,” she murmured as her footman, Jarrett, opened the door for her and offered a hand down.

  “I beg your pardon, my lady?” he asked as she released his fingers and stepped to the gravel drive.

  She shook her head. “Nothing at all. I do not know how long I’ll be.”

  He nodded and she started up the steps toward the house. It was a nice home, well situated across from the park. It wasn’t one of the larger parks, but still…the man was obviously not struggling for money. That boded well for the job she wanted to hire him for.

  As she reached the top step, the door opened and revealed a butler. He was dressed in fine livery, but he also had a harsh scar that slashed across his face and a patch covered one eye. She started at the unexpected appearance of the man.

  “Good morning,” she managed to squeak out.

  “My lady,” he said, taking her wrap and her card. “They are expecting you. Please, come with me.”

  She wrinkled her brow as she followed the man through the winding halls. At the last door on the very end of the hall, the butler knocked. A deep voice called out, “Enter” from the other side of the door, and the servant did so.

  “Lady Walridge, sirs.”

  He stepped aside and Naomi took a long stride into the room. It was a study, it seemed, rich with mahogany bookshelves and with a roaring fire along the back wall. Only this study contained two desks, each facing the other, and two men were rising from them as she entered the room.

  Her breath caught, for it was rare to be in a room with one such specimen, but two? That was uncommon, indeed. Both men were outrageously handsome. The one on the desk to her right was well over six feet tall, broad shouldered and with thick thighs that filled out his fawn trousers quite nicely. He had brown hair streaked with blonde and dark brown eyes that were now focused on her. He was also smiling in greeting, an expression she supposed was meant to make her feel a little more comfortable.

  And she needed it, for the man on the left was also staring at her. He was also tall, but not quite so much as his friend. He was dressed a bit more formally, his posture more rigid. He also had a wiry build, still strong, but not quite so thick. His face had more harsh angles and his hair was darker, almost black. As he stared at her, she was drawn in by a pair of bright blue eyes, eyes that flitted over her from head to toe. He was frowning, a dark, unreadable expression that left her shifting with discomfort. He seemed…familiar, but she couldn’t place why.

  “My lady,” the taller man said, coming around with a hand extended. “Good day.”

  “Good day…are you—are you Mr. Ridgeway?”

  “Captain Ridgeway,” the other man corrected quietly from behind his friend.

  “Captain Ridgeway,” the taller of the two repeated as he took her hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves and the butler had taken hers, so when his rough hand slid across her skin, she caught her breath.

  What in heaven name was wrong with her? Her husband was not a week cold in the grave and no, she hadn’t loved him, but to feel such a jolt was unseemly at best. At worst? Well, she wasn’t going to think about that.

  “Captain Ridgeway,” she corrected. “My apologies.”

  “And this is my partner,” he said, turning to motion the other man closer. “The Marquess of Glenmarrow.”

  Naomi’s lips parted. That was why the man had seemed familiar. She had seen him before, in the halls of Society. Dancing, brooding, glowering… She hadn’t been able to place him because a man like him didn’t belong in a middle-class home like this, the office of an investigator.

  “My lord,” she said, bobbing out a little curtsey out of pure instinct.

  “Verrick, if you could have the tea brought, that will be all,” Ridgeway said over her shoulder to the waiting butler.

  “Of course, sir.”

  As he left, closing the door behind himself, Naomi blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say partner?”

  Now it was Glenmarrow who inclined his head as he stepped closer. “Yes. It isn’t something talked about often in Society circles, of course. Before I inherited, Marcus and I formed this investigative endeavor. I have not given it up.”

  Ridgeway glanced toward him. “And I hope you never shall. We work better as a team.”

  Glenmarrow arched a brow in his direction. “I agree.”

  Naomi shifted, for there seemed to be a conversation going on that was just under the surface of the words the two men were saying. One that perhaps had very little to do with her.

  Ridgeway pursed his lips and returned his attention to Naomi. “What can we do for you, my lady?”

  He
motioned for her to take a chair before the fire. She did so, and the two men took the settee across from her. She swallowed hard. She had pictured this exchange a dozen times since she’d made the appointment two days before. Never had she thought that it would be two handsome men she’d have to speak to so intimately. One of whom was in her own Society, who she would likely have to see again.

  Unless she was never invited back into her old circles, thanks to the rumors that were only fueled by that awful gossip rag waiting on her carriage seat outside.

  Either way, she felt awkward now. She cleared her throat and fought to find the words. “I suppose you both know my story,” she finally managed with a blush.

  The Marquess of Glenmarrow held her stare evenly. “Don’t want to say it out loud?”

  Ridgeway shot him a look and leaned forward, his expression a little kinder. Gentler. “Lady Walridge, it is true that we have heard a bit about your circumstances. But I find it’s always better for a potential client to tell us their story in their own words. So we can fully understand.”

  She glanced at the marquess again and he gave a small nod. His expression wasn’t as hard anymore, and that helped somewhat. Still, she chose to put her focus on the captain as she drew in a long breath and began to speak.

  “My husband died last week. I’m sure you know that.”

  Ridgeway inclined his head slightly.

  She continued, “I believe he was murdered.”

  Glenmarrow folded his arms and those bright blue eyes held hers again. “Some believe you murdered him.”

  “Everett,” Ridgeway said softly, without looking away from Naomi.

  She felt the heat rush to her cheeks, her heart rate increasing and her hands beginning to shake even as she clenched them in her lap. “So you saw that awful Scandal Sheet this morning,” she whispered.

  “Give me the story in your words,” Ridgeway repeated, reaching out to take her hand.

  She jolted again at the unexpected contact, too intimate by far. And yet as his fingers stroked over hers, she felt a sense of calm. Safety. Feelings she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. She felt Glenmarrow watching them. When she dared to glance at him, his gaze was now focused fully on their intertwined hands.

  She pushed away the strange feeling in her stomach that fact generated and sighed. “I cannot begin with my latest husband—I must begin with my first.”

  Ridgeway nodded. “Very well. Start wherever you feel comfortable.”

  “Like many young women of my station, I was married off very young.”

  “Mr. Patrick Rosing,” Glenmarrow interrupted. “Second son of the Earl of Maingrove.”

  She straightened her back and glared at him, hating his dismissive tone. “Would you like to tell the story?”

  The marquess’ bright eyes snapped, but then a half smile curved his lips. “My apologies. Please, continue.”

  She folded her arms. “He died within a year, of a sudden and violent illness. It was tragic, and to add to that, during my year of mourning for Patrick, both my mother and stepfather died. I married as soon as my mourning period was over, in order to protect myself, to Sir Martin Handley. But a year and a half later, he had a carriage accident, and once again I was a widow.”

  “At age, what…twenty-three?” Glenmarrow drawled.

  She shrugged. “A true gentleman does not require a lady to give her years, but yes. I was almost twenty-four by then, widowed twice and under terrible circumstances both times. There were…difficulties during my mourning period.” She shifted, for she had no intention of getting into those. At least not right now. “Unforeseen circumstances in the household. I knew I must marry again in order to remedy that situation. I met the Earl of Walridge eight months ago and married him six months ago. And now…” Tears filled her eyes and she bent her head. “…he is also dead.”

  Ridgeway nodded slowly, as if pondering. “In preparation for your arrival, I obtained some of the records for his death. It was listed as a natural passing.”

  She clenched her jaw at the idea that these men had been digging around in Stephen’s records. And yet that was exactly what she needed them to do.

  “Yes,” she said. “The doctor dismissed any other cause and wrote it down as a weak heart.” She shook her head. “He had no weak heart. His pastimes were quite…strenuous.” She blushed, and that blush burned hotter when Ridgeway lifted his brows like he understood those pastimes completely. “And the room where he died was in disarray. The doctor tried to tell me that Stephen might have thrashed about in his death throes, but I don’t believe it. I think he struggled with someone.”

  Now the marquess leaned forward, his posture matching Ridgeway’s. His expression was less judgmental, more intrigued. “We heard he had some last words.”

  She bent her head and the tears flowed now as she recalled Stephen’s stricken face, his gasping for breath as he lay on the carpet in their bedroom. “Yes.”

  “What were they, Lady Walridge?” Ridgeway encouraged.

  She swallowed. “The reason people believe that I murdered him is because I and several servants heard him say ‘you’ as I knelt beside him. The rumors went from there.”

  Ridgeway turned to Glenmarrow and the two men met glances. A world of unspoken communication flowed between them, and Naomi wrinkled her brow as she watched it all play out. At last, Glenmarrow got to his feet in a fascinating unfolding of lean muscle. He paced away to the window.

  “Well, it certainly merits some investigation,” he said. “Especially considering the deaths of your prior spouses. Even your parents, in such short order.”

  She caught her breath at his tone and got up herself, pivoting toward him. “I can hear what you mean, my lord, and I resent it. I did not kill anyone.”

  He arched a brow. “I never said you did.”

  “You don’t have to, it’s written all over your arrogant face,” she snapped. “And in your tone. Do you not think I’ve heard it enough to recognize it? Why would I come here, asking you to investigate Stephen’s murder if I were the one who murdered him? Especially considering that the doctor has declared it a natural occurrence.”

  Ridgeway had stood when she did, and he said, “She makes a good point.”

  “People do a great many things when they feel cornered,” Glenmarrow pointed out softly. “I am not qualified to speak of motives yet. Not until I do more investigation.”

  Naomi clenched her fists at her sides and glared at him. She wished she weren’t so close to crying. Wished she could be as cool and detached as this man was. “Why bother?” she snapped, gasping for breath between words. “After all, you already think you know the truth. I made a mistake in coming here. I’m sorry I wasted your time. Good day.”

  She raced toward the study door and flung it open. As she hurtled herself into the hall, she nearly collided with a maid who was bringing tea. She rushed around the girl and down the long hall. She pushed out into the stoop, and relief filled her as she saw her carriage was still parked there, waiting for her. Jarrett got down, his eyes wide at her unexpected appearance and hustled to open the door to the rig.

  “Lady Walridge!”

  She heard her name being called from behind her and looked over her shoulder to find both Captain Ridgeway and the Marquess of Glenmarrow coming down the stairs behind her. She ignored them and moved to take Jarrett’s hand.

  But before she could step into the carriage, there was a loud sound from the park across the street. Bangs that echoed in the air around her. Jarrett dove away from her as the glass on the open carriage door exploded.

  She looked toward the park, not understanding what exactly was happening. Then a heavy body hit her, throwing her to the ground. Captain Ridgeway was now on top of her, his weight covering her as he shouted toward the marquess. She could see Glenmarrow running toward the park.

  “What is happening?” she whispered.

  “Someone is shooting,” Ridgeway said, and looked over at Jarrett. “Are you
hit?”

  “Just a bit of glass cut me,” the footman responded.

  Naomi gasped and looked toward him. Sure enough, his face had a small cut that was now bleeding. “Oh no,” she gasped, and moved to look closer.

  Ridgeway pressed his weight into her harder, holding her in place. “No,” he growled close to her ear. “Not yet.”

  She froze, and everything that was happening slowly sank in. Someone had shot. Not at her servant, not at the man whose heavy, hard body was pinning her to the pavement. They’d been shooting at…at her.

  Someone had tried to kill her.

  Chapter 2

  “Verrick, take Mr. Jarrett to the kitchen and have that cut looked at,” Marcus said as he held Lady Walridge against his side and helped her into the house. She was limping slightly, but he had no idea if that was because of the terror of what had just happened hitting her or if she was truly injured.

  He was going to find out.

  Verrick stared at him in shock. “Yes, sir. Shall I call for the guard?”

  “Not yet,” Marcus said. “Everett will decide that when he returns.”

  His stomach clenched at the idea of Everett chasing after some potential killer all alone. But the woman now shaking at his side needed protection, so he had to focus on that and know Everett was well capable of taking care of himself.

  As Verrick and the footman headed off together, Marcus took Lady Walridge into a parlor. He shut the door and helped her to the settee before the fire. Her expression was blank, her cheek striped with dirt and her dress torn. She began to shake, and he knelt before her.