Confessions of a Little Black Gown (15 page)

And in the end, she’ll despise you for your deception, your betrayal. Just as you’ll despise yourself for killing Dashwell.

Larken shook his head, clearing such sentimental thoughts aside.

He had a task ahead, one that would brook no room for such foolish sentimentality. Held no room for the chance at something he dared not even name.

An hour before supper, Tally left the suite to make arrangements for a carriage for the next morning, on the pretense of taking Aunt Minty out for some air and a little bit of shopping in the nearby village.

They had gotten Dash into the house dressed like Aunt Minty; they should be able to get him out the same way, if they left early enough and had the luck they so needed.

Her thoughts were so awash in plots and plans she barreled right into a solid wall of chest.

Mr. Ryder’s, to be exact.

Oh, she didn’t need to look up to know it was him.

She just knew. Then she tentatively took a sniff, and found not that wretched stench of pomade, but a hint of something much more elegant, masculine and rich, something akin to the finest scents one might find at Floris on Jermyn Street back in London.

“Mr. Ryder,” she said, backing up clumsily and
smoothing out her skirts as she went, looking up to find that the man she’d long suspected lurked beneath his ill-fitting coat and horridly combed hair stood before her.

Egads, what had Felicity done? Or rather the tailor and Claver…they’d gone and transformed Hollindrake’s rumpled, bumbling cousin into a Corinthian.

“Mr. Ryder?” she whispered, reaching out toward him without even thinking and when she did realize it, she pulled her hand back and tucked it into the pocket of her apron.

What had she been thinking? Oh, she knew. She’d wanted to touch him to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

“Miss Langley,” he replied, bowing perfectly, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Um, may I help you?” she asked, fixing her gaze on a vase on a table, the portrait overhead, the yellow curtains on the window. On anything but
him
. “I believe you are in the wrong wing,” she pointed out, pulling her wits about her.

“I don’t think so,” he said, rocking back on his heels and looking at her. Really looking at her, as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Your room is two floors up and at the other end.”

“I wasn’t looking for my room. I was looking for
you
.”

She glanced up again. “For me?”

“Yes,
you
.”

The way he said it sent shivers down her spine. Whatever was he doing? Flirting with her?

His eyes narrowed and he glanced at her, a slight smile on his lips. And then he brought out his offering.

An entire bouquet of wildflowers. Pristine white flowers, delicate pink blooms, and more of those blue Devils he’d picked for her earlier. He held them out to her and when she took them, he held her hands.

“You dropped your other ones, so I thought…” his words faltered to a stop, but his eyes sparkled with something else.

Egads! Mr. Ryder was flirting with her.

Nay, he was courting her.

For one divine moment, Tally forgot everything. Pippin and Dash. That she was up to her ears in treason. That she was supposed to be going downstairs to ask Staines for the carriage.

Everything but the fact that this man wanted her…

But that wasn’t it. He wanted something. From her.

Demmit, Tally. He’s here to stop you. Trap you.

By any means possible…

Truly? Any means?
She wished she didn’t feel so pleased by that idea.

Tally stepped back, not only from him, but away from the realization that Felicity was so very right. There was someone here to spy on them. And he was standing right before her. She’d wager her black velvet gown on it.

She took a deep, steadying breath. “If this is a bribe to gain my assistance in keeping you out of my sister’s path, let me make this very clear: I won’t help you.”

“You won’t?”

Was it her imagination, or was he edging closer to her? She shook her head, both at her desire for him and at his question. “No, I cannot. Felicity rang a peel over my head for dawdling earlier and she already suspects you of avoiding her. ‘Dragging your feet’ as she put it.”

“Me?” He moved as he spoke, not really taking a noticeable step but moving like a great cat with his prey in his sights.

Prey? Her? A shiver ran down her spine. The part of her that delighted in this cat-and-mouse game. If she was the prey, wouldn’t it be wickedly fun to discover how he proposed to catch her?

“No, it would not,” she said aloud.

“Would not, what?” he asked, moving again.

If he got much closer he’d have her up against the doorway, with the sturdy oak at her back, and nothing but Mr. Ryder covering her.

Tally gulped and gave the first part of her imaginings life, bumping into the door and finding it as solid as she’d suspected.

And what of the other half of this trap?

Oh, yes, he’d be just as hard and unforgiving, she thought, gauging the inches between them and wondering how much courage she could muster. For if she were truly fearless, truly the woman she wanted to be, she’d let herself become as entwined with him as they’d been last night.

“Miss Langley, there is something I would like from you…” he whispered, drawing nearer, his words brushing against her neck, her ears.

She tipped her head and shivered at the delicious intimacy of it.

Thalia Langley! What are you thinking? Duck around him. Stomp on his foot. Knee him, for goodness sakes.

“Yes, Mr. Ryder?” she managed to whisper, standing her ground. To run would be cowardly…wouldn’t it?

“I was wondering if you—”

“If I?”

He paused and looked down at her, hungry, dark desires burning in his gaze. He wasn’t even wearing his spectacles, she noticed, and without them, his eyes were even more piercing.

“Miss Langley, I would be so very delighted if you would indulge me—”

“Indulge you?” she repeated, while her thoughts ran wild yet again.
Mr. Ryder, I would indulge you anything at this moment…

“Yes, indulge me,” he repeated, “with a small favor.”

Just a small one? Tally felt flushed from her head to her toes, her body trembling with the same sort of wild desires she’d discovered in the maze last night.

Just a small indulgence? Nay, sir. I would have you entirely indulge me…

“If you would but allow me into—”

His dark, passionate eyes held her gaze with a hypnotic power. Tally’s hand closed over the latch on the door, about ready to pluck it open and tow him inside the suite by his cravat. One she hoped he wasn’t overly fond of, for she wasn’t going to waste any time in removing it.

For there was nothing between them now, nothing to stop them except…

Pippin and Dash.

Tally shivered and came to her senses, glancing up at him and catching sight of something else in his eyes—something she hadn’t noticed before in her desire-plagued distraction.

Triumph. At the idea that he was about to gain entrance to her suite.

He’d played her like the greenest of innocents.

Tally’s passion turned in another direction—something more akin to rage—and she was about to put both hands on his chest and give him a hearty shove onto his ass, when from behind them, she heard a voice she hadn’t welcomed in some time.

Felicity’s.

“Mr. Ryder! There you are! I have been searching high and low for you,” she called out from the end of the hall, the sharp click of her heels like the staccato beat of a drum.

Thank heavens for her busybody ways
, Tally thought, sagging against the door.

Felicity marched to a halt before them. “Mr. Ryder, whatever are you doing with my sister?”

L
arken nearly leapt out of his skin at the sound of the duchess’s voice behind them. And if he wasn’t off his mark, Miss Langley looked relieved for the rescue.

Demmit.
He’d nearly had her where he wanted. Seduced and willing to help him.

“Mr. Ryder, I will ask you again,” the duchess was saying. “What are you doing with my sister?”

Holy mother of God, it was like looking his Aunt Edith in the eye when she’d suspected him (and usually rightly so) of some misdeed.

“I um, I was—“he stammered. “Your sister—”

The duchess tapped her toe, her impatience prodding him to find a suitable answer.

Other than the obvious one.
I was attempting to seduce her so as to discover what she knows of Dashwell’s escape.

The duchess’s blue eyes narrowed.

Eyes…that was it.

“I discovered Miss Langley out here in the hall with something in her eye and I was assisting her in removing it.” He hastily reached inside his jacket and retrieved a handkerchief, handing it over to Tally with all due haste. “Perhaps that will manage the task better than my blundering,” he offered.

“Might help if you wore your spectacles,” the duchess observed.

“Yes, yes, quite so,” he said, fishing them out of another pocket and sliding them on his nose. “Ah, yes, that would have made the task much easier.”

For her part, Miss Langley obviously didn’t want to draw her sister’s attention too close to her portion in their interlude, and covered for him nicely, dabbing her eye and exclaiming with some conviction, “Oh, I believe it is gone, sir. Thank you.” As she handed him back the linen square, their fingers touched for the briefest second, and when they did, she drew hers back as quickly as if she’d touched a hot grate. “You must have gotten it out,” she added, glancing away.

“Harrumph.” The duchess wedged herself between him and his quarry and sent him a withering look. “Mr. Ryder, is there a purpose for you to be in this wing?”

As in, what the hell are you doing lurking about my sister’s room?

“Most certainly, Your Grace.”

“And that reason is…?” the duchess pressed.

Oh, hell, what good reason could he give that
would wipe that look of suspicion off the duchess’s face?

He had to come up with some reason as to why he was skulking about her suite of rooms like some Lothario in a Covent Garden tragedy.

Covent Garden!
That was it.

“Her play,” he blustered. “Your sister promised me the most delightful diversion of reading her play.”

Behind the duchess, Miss Langley gaped at him as if he’d gone mad.

“Are you sure you want to spend your time thus employed?” the duchess asked, her brows arched skeptically. “I fear you might find it rather—”

“Lacking in moral foundation,” Miss Langley said. “Yes, Felicity. I warned him that it wasn’t the most proper of stories.”

“I have problems sleeping,” he confided in an aside to the duchess. “I had rather thought—” He made a show of yawning, the implication clear: such silly drivel would surely put any sensible man straight to sleep.

Glancing over at Miss Langley, he found her nostrils flaring. Oh, he’d gotten her in a fine temper.

But then again passion and anger were but two sides of one coin. One that could be easily flipped.

“Well, Tally? What are you waiting for? Please fetch your play for Mr. Ryder, so I can take him with me to go over the entertainments for the week.” She smiled up at him. “For Miss DeFisser’s benefit as well as yours.”

“But Felicity—” Tally protested.

The duchess turned to her sister. “I daresay, if you
promised the man he could read it, you can’t change your mind now. Besides, isn’t that what you and Pippin want? An audience for your scribblings?”

Tally’s jaw worked back and forth, as if she were mulling just the right retort.

However, the duchess wasn’t finished yet. “Well, here is Mr. Ryder. Willing and able to read it—”

“Quite willing, ma’am,” he offered.

“Yes, so there you have it, Tally. Go get the play for Mr. Ryder.”

With no way out, Tally huffed and went back inside her rooms.

He smiled at the duchess, who returned his offering with a furrowed brow and an aggrieved glance.

Ah, Aunt Edith, you live on.

Miss Langley was back in a trice, a bundle of papers in her hands. “Please do use care, this is our only copy.”

He nodded, and took it carefully, thinking that it would be quite safe on his nightstand, for he had no intention of reading the melodramatic musings of a ramshackle pair of misses.

“There now, you have your entertainment and I have nearly completed my errand.” The duchess turned to her sister. “Do you recall Pippin having a cousin on her father’s side by the name of Hartwell?”

“Hartwell? No, I don’t believe—“Miss Langley replied, just starting the shake her head, when she froze, her gaze flying up. “Did you say Hartwell?”

“Yes, Tally. Hartwell. If you would but stop woolgathering for two seconds put together I wouldn’t
have to repeat myself all the time.” She sighed and continued. “Mr. Hartwell arrived and is downstairs requesting to see Pippin. He was traveling nearby and knew that she intended to summer here and took the chance of seeing her.” She sighed again. “I don’t remember the connection, but he does look vaguely familiar.”

“The Knolles all have that look,” her sister offered quickly. “Oh, I have no doubt Pippin would be delighted to see him. Most likely he carries news of her brother.”

“Oh, yes,” the duchess brightened. “Of course. I just couldn’t place him, but now you’ve put it all together for me. Should I put him in the Winter parlor?”

“Why not just send him up here,” Miss Langley suggested. “We still have a good portion of our tea tray left and the servants are most likely stretched to their wits ends with dinner in an hour.”

The duchess nodded. “Yes, yes. Perfect suggestion. I’ll have Staines show him up. Will you tell Pippin or shall I?”

“I will,” the chit offered quickly. “For didn’t you have plans for Mr. Ryder?”

“Yes, I did! Thank you for reminding me.” The duchess turned and took his arm. “Mr. Ryder, come. I have a long list of possible entertainments. Come tell me what you are best at.”

What was he best at? After years in the king’s service, he’d become quite talented at a number of things, and yet right now, only one thing came to mind.

Murder.

Staines brought up Mr. Hartwell a few minutes later and Tally only hoped that Felicity wouldn’t remember why he looked familiar…

He walked with an elegant stick, angling it as he stopped before the ladies. After the door was shut and Staines had retreated down the hall, he glanced at Pippin and then at Tally and bowed, low and perfectly.

“Ladies, I am honored,” he said in a cultured voice that didn’t hold a note of Bruno’s Cockney legacy. “Tarleton Jones, at your service.”

Tally and Pippin shared a stunned glance.

This was Tarleton? The brother of their good friend, Bruno Jones? When Bruno had said he would send his “little” brother if there was trouble, they hadn’t thought he meant that literally.

The two men could not be less alike. And though there was a resemblance around the nose and the forehead, where Bruno still claimed his pugilist physique, and was more like a walking bear than merely a man, his brother was, well, more of a mere man.

Short and thin, to the point of being diminutive, “Mr. Hartwell” wore the clothes of a dandy. A pea green jacket, lemon waistcoat and striped trousers were only usurped in grandeur by an elaborately tied cravat that nearly swallowed the small man alive.

“I come bearing a gift,” he said, pulling out a coin from his pocket and handing it over to Pippin, who glanced down at it and then nodded to Tally.

For Tally and Pippin hadn’t broken Dash out of prison alone, but had enlisted the help of not only
their former schoolteacher, Miss Porter (now known to the world as Lady John Tremont, or by the unkind moniker “Mad Jack’s wife”) but also Jack’s trusted servant, Bruno Jones.

Before they’d parted in Southwark, Lady John had shown Tally and Pippin a clipped coin, and said she would give it to anyone she sent to them—so they could trust her messenger implicitly.

“Thank you, sir,” Tally said. “Please be seated. May I offer you some tea? You must be tired after your journey.”

“How kind, how kind,” he said enthusiastically, settling down onto the settee and taking the cup Pippin poured for him with all the manners of a perfect gentleman.

“I must say, Mr. Jones,” Tally said, “you aren’t exactly who we expected.”

“Ah, I suppose you imagined I would be a large brute, on the order of my brother. If you are disappointed, imagine my father’s dismay. However, our dear sainted mother saw my short stature as a chance for a different profession.” He moved his hand with a flourish from the top of his head to his polished boots. “The results are the gentleman you see before you. As it turns out, having one in the family helps when there is a need to move in more, shall we say, illustrious circles.”

Tally smiled. She liked the conniving Tarleton already. But then again, she had a soft spot in her heart for Bruno as well. But the arrival of Tarleton did not bode well. “Something has gone wrong, hasn’t it?”

For the plan all along had been for Lady John to bring Aunt Minty along with her when she and Jack
came for the house party. Then they’d make the switch, with Pippin and Dash riding for the coast during the hullabaloo of Felicity’s elaborate entertainments.

“Has something happened to Aunt Minty?” Pippin asked, handing him back the coin.

“No, no, Aramintha is well,” Mr. Jones said. “As incorrigible as ever. Actually, I’ve got her stashed nearby and we need to find a way to get her into the house.”

“So something has happened,” Tally pressed. For none of this was as they had planned.

“Yes. I might suggest, if it is possible, to bring your ‘Aunt Minty’ out so he can hear this as well.”

Pippin rose to her feet and nodded, before she went into her room and whistled softly, giving Dash the signal that all was clear.

He came out and introductions were made, with Dash bowing to Mr. Jones and expressing his appreciation. “My sincere and everlasting gratitude, sir.”

“I shall not forget your offer, Captain, if I ever have need to leave England in a hurry.”

They all laughed and then Tarleton’s face turned serious. “Miss Langley, your apprehension is well-placed. Lady John has discovered some very grievous news.”

The room chilled around Tally, as if an ominous reckoning was about to bind them into an impossible knot. It wasn’t that she regretted helping Pippin free Dash, or even driving the carriage, which at the time had seemed more a lark than dangerous, but now…well, suddenly their play brought to life was coming to an end, and she feared that the lines
being played out would be starkly different from those they’d written, despite their success so far.

Tarleton continued. “Her ladyship insists Mr. Dashwell be taken to the coast without any further delay. It has become imperative that he make it out of the country as soon as possible.”

“What has changed?” Tally asked. “Other than that the news of his escape has become the talk of the countryside.”

“It is far worse than that,” Tarleton said, leaning forward, hands folded over the top of his walking stick. “They mean to find you out, Captain, without delay.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time they tried to catch me,” Dash said, as cavalier as usual when it came to his safety. “But even if they do, they will only jail me again, and by the time their courts have sorted out all my offenses, this war will be over, and I will be free—they’ll have no choice but to release me.”

Brash and daring—it was why Pippin had fallen in love with him, but right now, Tally wished the man were a little more temperate, cautious.

“No, sir, there will be no more jails, no more reprieves for you, for you will be dead. You know too much to be let free. They’ve sent an agent after you to see you finished.”

Pippin gasped, and to his credit, Dash turned to her and wound his arm around her, holding her close. “Never happen, Circe. Mr. Jones is here and I assume he has come with a plan from your Lady John.”

“That I have, Lady Philippa, never you fear,” their guest assured her.

“What does Lady John have in mind?” Tally asked, still reeling from Tarleton’s news.

“They’ve sent an agent…”

Oh, dear heavens. It was true. Mr. Ryder!

“I must get you out of here as soon as possible, sir,” Tarleton was telling Dash. “You will travel as my valet—I have the necessary clothes and papers, so no one will suspect your identity.” He paused for a moment. “I overhead some of the maids mention there is to be a ball tomorrow night, yes?”

Tally nodded, suddenly seeing the convenience of the ball that she’d been dreading and what it was Tarleton was asking. “My sister has invited most of the countryside and a good part of our friends from London.” She paused, envisioning the overflowing house. “In the chaos, who is to notice if you were to leave with a valet when you arrived without one?”