Free The Untamed Mackenzie by Jennifer Ashley Page B

asked.
    Louisa’s smile was thin and forced. “Investing with my father became the fashionable thing to do. Everyone wanted to say they’d of course entrusted their money to Earl Scranton.”
    All the worse when the scheme came tumbling down. “And Hargate was angry when everything fell apart?”
    Eleanor broke in. “Of course he was. So many were, unfortunately. But when I spoke to Hargate earlier this Season, he seemed unconcerned about it. No grudges there. But Hargate’s family have always given him piles of money, even though he was the second son, and he never had to worry much about the ready. Seems to me Hargate led a charmed life. He would have found a seat in the House of Lords soon and lived happily ever after. Well, happy except for being a bit bullied by Hart. But then his luck ran out, poor man.”
    “And I need to find out who killed him, and quickly. That’s why I’ve come to you for help,” Fellows said, looking at Eleanor.
    Eleanor contrived to look surprised again. “I don’t know what I can do.”
    She did know, but she was making Fellows spell it out. “You know everyone. When
I
talk to them, they see a policeman prying into their affairs. No, don’t bother telling me I’m one of the family and they should treat me as though I’m a true Mackenzie. I’m the illegitimate son and always will be. When
you
talk to them, they see their friend Lady Eleanor Ramsay. They’ll tell you things they’d never dream of telling me.”
    “And then I report it all to you.” Eleanor gave him a severe look. “You are asking me to spy on my friends.”
    “I am, yes.”
    Eleanor’s severe look vanished, and she beamed a smile. “Sounds delightful. When do I begin?”
    “As soon as you can.”
    “Hmm, Isabella’s supper ball would be a good place to start. Absolutely everyone will be there. She’s hired assembly rooms for it, because her house is far too small for such a grand event—even this house isn’t large enough to hold the entire upper echelon of English society. Besides, Hart has become quite tedious about having any large affairs here now that there’s a baby in the house, although I—”
    Eleanor broke off when a small cry—more of a grunt—invaded the silence, even over Old Ben’s snores. Fellows saw now what he’d missed by focusing all his attention on Louisa—a bassinet hidden behind the sofa, its interior shielded from the sunshine by a light cloth.
    Eleanor rose immediately, went to the bassinet, and lifted out a small body in a long nightgown. “Here’s my little man,” she cooed, her voice filling with vast fondness. “Forgive my abruptness, dear friends, but I wanted to pick up my son before he started howling. He can shatter the windows, can little Alec.”
    Fellows had risen automatically as soon as Eleanor left her seat. Eleanor lifted the boy high, gazing at him in pure rapture. “Did you have a good nap, Alec? Look, Uncle Lloyd has come to see you.” Eleanor turned the baby and held him out to Fellows.
    Fellows looked at a sleep-flushed face, tousled red-gold hair, and the eyes of Hart Mackenzie. At the age of four months, Alec—Lord Hart Alec Mackenzie, Eleanor and Hart’s firstborn—already had the hazel-golden Mackenzie eyes and the look of arrogant command of every Mackenzie male.
    As Fellows stood still, unwilling to reach for this little bundle he might drop, Alec’s face scrunched into a fierce scowl. Then he opened his mouth, and roared.
    Fellows had heard plenty of children cry in hunger, in fear, or in want of simple attention. Alec’s bellowing possessed the strength of his Highland ancestors, calling out for blood.
    Old Ben woke up with a snort, looking around in concern. Eleanor laughed, turned Alec, and cuddled him close. “There, now, Alec. The inspector can’t help looking at you like that. He scrutinizes everyone so.” Alec’s cries quieted as he snuggled into his mother’s shoulder. Ben huffed again then laid his large head back