The Mystery of Mr. Daventry by Adele Clee

Author:Adele Clee
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2020-03-27T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Leave now while the corridor is empty.” The deep masculine growl reached Sybil’s ears, yet it was not Lucius Daventry who spoke.

Panic held her rooted to the spot.

She daren’t peer around the jamb.

“Follow me downstairs, Daventry,” the angry gentleman continued, though his voice was almost drowned out by the laughter spilling out of the private drawing room. “My wife will attend to Miss Atwood and escort her back to the ballroom.”

Sybil waited for Lucius’ steadfast denial, his bitter retort, but he simply said, “Very well.” He stepped back from the doorway, looked at her and whispered, “Remain calm. I shall meet you downstairs once I’ve dealt with Wycliff.”

Wycliff?

Oh, Lord!

“Now, Daventry.”

Sybil’s breath quickened upon hearing Mr Wycliff’s murderous whisper. People said he was as skilled in combat as Lucius Daventry, said he bore the scars from numerous battles, said he thought nothing of meeting a gentleman on the common at dawn.

A sickening dread shot to her throat when Lucius left the room. A few seconds later Mrs Wycliff entered, her ebony hair fashioned in the latest style, her sapphire and diamond necklace complementing her midnight blue gown.

“Miss Atwood,” the lady began in the compassionate tone of a woman who had survived many scandalous situations. “I see your obsession with Mr Daventry is still very much your focus.”

Two weeks ago, Sybil had sat with the Wycliffs in Cassandra’s drawing room and told them about spying on Mr Daventry, about her urgent need to attend the auction. Then, she had thought Mr Daventry a heartless devil, too.

“It is not an obsession,” Sybil corrected.

“No, you’re just desperate to purchase your father’s journals from a man who enjoys playing games.”

“Mr Daventry has no intention of selling the journals and has expressed his deep regret over the misunderstanding.”

A smile played at the corners of Mrs Wycliff’s mouth. “Regret so deep he had to lock you in a dark library to make his point.”

“It’s a complicated situation.” One of a secret society, of murder, treachery and a sworn oath. “One you wouldn’t understand.”

Mrs Wycliff’s smile deepened. “I know what it’s like to fall under a rogue’s spell, Miss Atwood.”

“Mr Daventry is not a rogue.”

“And neither is Mr Wycliff.” The lady tugged her long white gloves up past her elbows and then offered her hand. “Now, while the men talk of threats and violence, let us speak calmly and honestly. Walk with me.”

Sybil hesitated. But what choice did she have?

She linked arms with the lady—once known as the Scarlet Widow throughout the ton—and they descended the stairs.

“Mr Daventry will never commit to one woman,” Mrs Wycliff said, leading Sybil through the hall towards the supper room. “The man lacks integrity. His only interest is his latest conquest.”

Sybil stiffened. “Did people not say the same about Mr Wycliff once?”

“They did,” the lady had to admit.

“And yet I have never seen a man as loyal or committed.”

Mrs Wycliff gave a satisfied sigh. “Damian is everything a woman could ask for in a husband.”

“And do you not credit me with

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