Trevillion snorted softly. “That’s nothing new, my lord.”
“No, yet now I wonder if the man is actively working against us.”
“For what purpose?”
Kilbourne gave him a sardonic glance. “For what purpose does he work for us?”
“He said so that you may finish his garden,” Trevillion replied, “but I take your point.”
Kilbourne glanced at him. “Have you found out anything about my cousin? Could he be the one behind the murders, not my uncle?”
“Nothing,” Trevillion stated. “He lives rather frugally, in fact. It’s only his father who is in debt.”
Kilbourne shook his head. “Should I trust Miss Goodfellow’s brother? Or Montgomery? Or neither?”
“Hmm. Point the brother out to me.”
Kilbourne looked around. “There. He’s just come in the door with Montgomery.”
Trevillion turned discreetly and saw a wiry man in a white wig a step behind the duke. On the other side was the Scots architect they’d met in the garden—MacLeish. “Strange that he should warn you against the duke and then keep his company.”
“Mmm,” Kilbourne murmured in assent. “I’ve been trying to think what Montgomery gets out of all this.”
“You don’t believe that he wants you for his garden?”
“Possibly.” Kilbourne shrugged. “But I’m hardly the only gardener he could hire. There has to be another reason.”
“He probably doesn’t do anything but for a minimum of at least two things to his advantage.” Trevillion stiffened as he watched Montgomery approach Lady Phoebe. “Damn.”
“What?”
He’d forgotten the obvious: rank. Lady Phoebe, as the daughter and sister of a duke, was most likely the highest-ranking lady in the room. And since Montgomery was a duke and thus the highest-ranking gentleman, naturally he’d be seated next to her.
Trevillion nearly growled. “I don’t like him near my charge.”
“He’ll hardly do anything in a crowded room,” Kilbourne said. “Besides, she has her chaperone. That one looks a Tartar.”
Trevillion grunted, not liking having to leave Lady Phoebe’s protection to an old woman, no matter how sharp.
The musicians began a tune, prompting the audience to quiet. After a moment an actor strode in with Miss Goodfellow and began an argument—something about a maid he wanted to woo. The male actor was apparently her twin brother.
A farce. Not to his taste—theater seldom was. Trevillion fixed his eyes on his charge instead, surprised to see that Montgomery had switched chairs with his architect friend. The younger man now sat next to Lady Phoebe, his red head close to hers.
Trevillion frowned and turned to Kilbourne, but one look showed that was a lost cause.
The viscount’s gaze was riveted on Miss Goodfellow.
Chapter Sixteen
Ariadne thought at first to flee, but the monster made neither move nor sound. At last, gathering her courage, she ventured near. He lay facedown and nude, his massive arms outstretched among the innocent flowers, his lower limbs in the water. Blood flowed from numerous cuts to his legs and torso. His bull’s head was turned to the side, and as she stared, he opened his eye…
—From The Minotaur
He’d made love to her, but he’d never truly seen her, Apollo realized as he watched Lily on stage. She’d changed the dress she’d initially appeared in to breeches and a coat, her dark hair hidden under a man’s white wig. Anyone with half a brain could see she was a woman disguised as a man, but the point wasn’t to fool the audience, but rather to entice it.
And entice she did.
Lily was… he stared in wonder. He didn’t have the words to describe the spell she cast over the room. It was as if she’d caught and channeled light, a prism of delight. She was quick and bright and he found himself leaning forward, to catch a little of her illumination. He wanted her to speak to him, only him. To hold her attention as she held his.