Free Ivory and Steel by Janice Bennett

gave his horse the office and moved off.
    The marquis ignored him. He turned to Lord Ingram and a slow smile touched his tired eyes. “I see you meant what you said.”
    “About what, m’lord?” Mr. Frake asked at once.
    Ingram answered, “I promised my friend to lend you any assistance in my power in settling this unpleasant matter.”
    Phyllida’s cool gaze moved across the men. “I don’t see where that requires the three of you to follow me about.”
    Ingram’s eyebrows quirked upward in sudden amusement. “Not ‘requires’, perhaps,” he murmured.
    The deliberate provocation was not lost on Phyllida. She regarded him with appraising eyes.
    Mr. Frake directed a reproving glance at him. “It’s nothing of the sort, miss. I just happened to see you enter that shop over there then his lordship come out of that one yonder. I thought I’d make sure as everything was all right.”
    “Yes, one can never tell what dangers might lurk in the establishment of a respectable modiste, can one?” She smiled sweetly at him.
    He merely smiled back, unperturbed by her sarcasm then turned to Allbury. “And what brings you here, m’lord? Quite a coincidence, one might say, us all being here.”
    “Not in the least. I came for a purpose.”
    “And that being?”
    The marquis glanced down at the gleaming toes of his polished Hessians, looking much younger than his one-and-thirty years. “I wanted to make sure Miss Dearne and Miss Yarborough had all they required. My mother doesn’t always pay attention to little details.” He didn’t meet Phyllida’s eyes.
    Her temper faded at his embarrassment. “We are quite all right, thank you, Allbury. Your mother has been kindness itself.”
    He looked up quickly, frowning. “Has she? You know you may stay on as long as you like. Both you and Miss Yarborough. No matter what she may have said—” He broke off.
    Her smile warmed, though if it came to a battle between the gentle marquis’ sense of duty and his determined mother’s iron will she was not at all certain he could enforce his promise. She had never known him to openly defy his mother, except in the matter of his marriage. Nothing less than Louisa’s tearful insistence that he had raised her expectations, indeed, compromised her reputation beyond repair, could have caused such an unprecedented occurrence. The fact the dowager had been out of town at the moment of Louisa’s declaration had not been a coincidence.
    Phyllida shook her head and said merely, “That is exceedingly generous of you.”
    “Not at all.” He looked uncomfortable at her praise. His glance strayed toward the shop door. “Miss Yarborough has nowhere to go.”
    “I understand yours is a double loss, m’lord.” Mr. Frake returned the subject to the investigation. “In the family way, was your wife, as I understand it.” He shook his head. “A possible heir.”
    The marquis’s jaw tensed and the open candidness of his expression closed, becoming unreadable. “Quite. As you say.” He awarded the Runner a curt nod, which could be interpreted as an acknowledgment of the condolence.
    To Phyllida it seemed more a stiff dismissal, both of the questioner and the topic.
    Allbury’s gaze met Lord Ingram’s for a moment then the marquis excused himself to Phyllida and continued on his way, the ebony cane swinging forcefully with every step.
    Mr. Frake rocked back on his heels, his lidded gaze following Allbury’s retreating figure. “Rather cold,” he murmured. “Or…?” He quirked an eyebrow at Phyllida.
    “Or?” she inquired, refusing to be led.
    “Or he’s not overly grieved by his double tragedy.”
    “Of course he is,” snapped Ingram. He glared at the Runner. “Allbury is not one to display his emotions for the edification of the vulgar.”
    “Not one to display any emotions?” Mr. Frake asked, picking up on this likely sidetrack. “And how did her late ladyship feel about that?”
    “I have not seen Allbury since his