The Cursed Countess (The Daring Drake Sisters 1)

ope had something to do with her husband’s death.”

“And if she didn’t?”

Fairchild smirked. “Please tell me you have not fallen for her infamous charms. She is a renowned temptress, enticing all three of her husbands into marriage.”

“Is she? I thought we were supposed to find the truth, not just confirm what the gossips say.”

Fairchild glared over at him and shook his head. “Stanhope knows his stepmother killed his father and all we need to do is find the proof.”

“And if Stanhope is so certain, where is his proof?”

“Raynerson, enough. What have you discovered so far?”

“Very little, Fairchild. The gossips are all convinced, yet I am not so certain. She has a great friend in the Duke of Worthington. I rather doubt he would continue his friendship with her if he thought she was actually a murderess.”

Fairchild rubbed his chin. “Perhaps, but either way we need tangible proof.”

“Which is going to take some time. I need to get closer to her, infiltrate her home, and look around. So far, I have not been past the receiving salon.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Fairchild asked.

Jack shrugged. “Seduction has crossed my mind.”

Fairchild shook his head slowly. “I do not like that idea. If she truly is a killer and discovers what you are about, she might attempt to kill you, too.”

“I have considered that, Fairchild. But it is the only way to get into the house, befriend the servants, and have full access to what she might be hiding.”

“I suppose so, but it puts you at risk.” Fairchild rose from his chair. “Stanhope believes his father was poisoned with something that acts relatively slowly. That could explain the other two husbands dying sometime after leaving their homes. I must tell you that Stanhope is not a patient man. If he doesn’t receive some indication of progress soon, he will take this to Bow Street.”

“I will investigate the poison aspect,” Jack said, wondering whom he might know with knowledge of poisons, other than the dowager. But first, he needed to see Lady Stanhope one more time. “Good day, Fairchild.”

He left Fairchild’s office just as the light of day started fading to a dewy pink of evening. After meeting with Fairchild, Jack realized he needed to increase his pace. Fairchild’s business depended on his investigators’ secrecy and speed of finalizing his client’s requests. Being in competition with the Bow Street runners meant all Fairchild’s investigators had to be the best.

As the carriage stopped in front of Lady Stanhope’s home, he disembarked the carriage and then headed for the door. Before he could even reach for the knocker, Roberts opened the door with a slight frown on his face.

“Good evening, Roberts. Is Lady Stanhope at home?”

“Please come in, Mr. Raynerson. I shall see if her ladyship is receiving callers at this late hour.” Roberts opened the doors to the small receiving salon. “Please wait here.”

Once the butler left him alone, Jack moved to the small tables by the sofa and opened the drawers. Nothing inside, save a few letters from relatives and a book of sonnets. He quickly closed the drawer as the sound of footsteps drew near.

“Good evening, Mr. Raynerson,” she said as she entered the room. “This is quite a surprise.”

He turned around and swore softly under his breath. Wearing only a simple yellow muslin gown, she looked as if she had just stepped inside from a walk in a field of sunflowers. But he wondered why that brought his lust to the surface. There was nothing particularly daring about the dress with the fichu insert hiding her beautiful rounded breasts, or her simple upswept hair. Still, one look at her and he wanted to slowly remove every pin holding up her auburn tresses and then strip away each layer of her clothing until she was naked under him.

“Mr. Raynerson?” she asked quietly.

“I apologize, Countess. You caught me woolgathering.” He walked over and bowed over her hand. “You look quite beautiful this evening.”

“Thank you.” She pulled her hand back slowly from his grip. “What brings you here at this hour?

Why hadn’t he thought of an excuse for calling on her? He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I do hope I’m not too late?”

Confusion crossed her face. “Late for what?”

“Dinner, of course. You did invite me for dinner, did you not?”

“I did?” she mumbled.