Never Entice an Earl (10 page)

With a shove, he opened the window, and muttered, “I don’t know how you would have
managed even this part of the night without me. You can’t even reach the ledge.”

“The window didn’t look so high from inside. Good thing I found a tall man to bring
me home,” she teased.

He braced his hands on her waist, and lifted her to the ledge—

Only to drag her off again, and pin her against the wall, his mouth crashing onto
her lips.

She moaned and sighed, consumed by wanting him. By wanting this. By wanting more.

“You’re so lovely, Kate,” he breathed reverently, his lips moving to her cheeks. “Whoever
he is, he doesn’t deserve you.”

Her arms went round his neck, claiming him as her own for one perfect moment. His
mouth found hers again, his tongue moving over her bottom lip to explore the inside
her mouth. She savored the taste of him. Touched his hair and the warm skin of his
neck, determined to remember the textures, and this moment, forever.

Then he was gone from her arms. The night spun round her, as with a sudden jolt of
movement, she found herself on the ledge again, legs dangling down. His hands encircled
her ankles, and boldly smoothed over her calves, as if he, too, sought to memorize
her.

Gray eyes stared up, burning in the night. “I’ll find this Mr. Bynum and I’ll pay
your debt.”

Her pulsed leapt. “Cormack,
no
.”

“It is done, Kate,” he hissed. “Just promise me you’ll never step foot in the Blue
Swan or another place like it again for as long as you live. Stay here, where it is
safe, and live your life well.”

The words he spoke stole her breath, but still she managed somehow to speak.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I will.”

In a blink, he was gone, only to emerge moments later from the shadows at the edge
of the house. Daphne closed the window and watched until he arrived at his carriage,
climbing atop to take a seat beside Jackson, where he seized the reins from the other
man’s hands. The horses started in their harnesses and the vehicle disappeared down
the lane.

Daphne maneuvered the dark corridor and the stairs to her room, managing to avoid
notice. Distant voices sounded from the vestibule, two night footmen talking about
new boots and blisters.

Only after Daphne closed the door to her room did she exhale. Never before had she
experienced such an overwhelming sensation of relief. She felt giddy with it, as if
she’d executed the greatest, most forbidden dare. She threw herself onto her mattress
and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. What a terrifying night.

What a magical night.

Cormack.
The memory of their kisses and the fervency with which he had insisted on paying
her debt—
Kate’s debt
—inspired a bittersweet ache deep inside her chest. In the days to come, she would
relive her memories of him, a hundred and perhaps a thousand times.

But she would never tell anyone what she had done. Not Kate. Not Sophia and Clarissa.
Because if no one else knew, well…

Then it was as if her visit to the Blue Swan had never happened at all.

T
hree hours later, and Cormack still hadn’t slept a wink. After leaving Kate at Hamilton
Place, he’d gone straight to Rosemary Street, fearful the only trail that might lead
to the Invisibilis would grow cold. He’d haunted the alleyways until a wagon loaded
with chandeliers and chairs had led him here.

Now he and Mr. Bynum sat on opposite sides of an old desk, both wearing the same clothes
as they had the night before, sizing one another up through bloodshot eyes.

“You ’eard me.” The man’s upper lip curled in contempt. He lifted the ledger and snapped
the book shut in Cormack’s face. Early morning light filtered through threadbare curtains,
along with the sounds of bells clanging on the nearby ships moored off the quay. “I
prefer to carry Kate Fickett’s debt…er, Mr. Fickett’s, that is, thank you very much.”

Kate Fickett.
The name didn’t seem to suit her, but he supposed a person, upon being born, did
not choose one’s own surname nor complain to one’s parents about its unsuitability.

Quite on purpose he had brought up the matter of Kate’s debt first, wrongly believing
that particular matter of business would be quickly and simply settled. He’d thought
it was just a simple matter of monies to be paid. Obviously, he’d been wrong.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. I’ve offered you payment of the amount in full, including
the ridiculous amount of interest you just quoted.”

Mr. Bynum scratched his cheek. “Sorry. Not interested.”

“I can get you cash, instead of a bank cheque,” he gritted out from between clenched
teeth. “If that is the issue.”

“It’s not.” He flashed a weaselish smile. “Was there anything else? I’ve got business
that needs attending.”

Cormack enforced calm over himself. Leaning forward, toward the desk, he crumpled
his gloves in his hand. “She’s worth more to you on that stage than what she owes.
That’s it, isn’t it?”

Bynum shrugged. “’At’s what keeps the customers throngin’ through my doors, nubile
pieces o’ fluff like ’er. Not their posing and prancing, of course, but every man’s
’opes of takin’ ’em to bed—which often, I can arrange.” The man’s lips curled into
a dirty smile. “I ain’t no saint. Never claimed to be. People know when they come
to me, I lend generously, but on my terms. ’At girl will pay off ’er father’s debt
on my stage, even faster if she’s willing to lay on her back.”

Fury seared Cormack’s veins and he lunged from his chair, half over the desk, to seize
the man by his collar. The violence of the movement toppled the inkwell. Indigo liquid
spilled across the documents beneath them, to drizzle over the edge and drip, drip,
drip onto the floor.

Mr. Bynum’s chair balanced precariously on its two back legs. Behind him were stacked
boxes of liquor, mirrors, and paintings, salvaged fixtures from the Blue Swan.

“Careful, man.” He breathed heavily through his nose. “Once my blood’s been shed,
there’s no negotiating terms.”

Bynum’s words kindled an even hotter fire in his chest, and Cormack seethed, “I’ll
pay you double what her father owes.”

“She’s ’at good, is she?” His laughter revealed a row of yellowed and crooked teeth.
“No, don’t tell me. Think I’d prefer t’ find out for m’self.”

Five minutes later, Cormack stormed down the alleyway, shaking the pain from his throbbing
fist, supremely satisfied at having knocked that bastard Bynum off his block. Better
yet, in his pocket he carried one Arthur Fickett’s note marked
Paid In Full
. He did not normally resort to violence to settle business disputes, but in just
one night it seemed a singularly pretty face had turned him into a Neanderthal. No,
not just a pretty face. Kate Fickett, whom he intuitively knew to be so much more,
and had known from the first moment he saw her on that stage.

When Bynum had said such filthy things about her, he’d lost his mind. He liked to
tell himself it was because of what had happened to Laura, that he’d become a champion
of the downtrodden, but he knew his motivations weren’t as altruistic as that.

The only problem now was that he’d burned his only known bridge to finding the Invisibilis.
Too late, after obtaining Bynum’s signature on Kate’s note, he’d attempted to extract
the answers he needed, but by then heavy bootsteps and male voices sounded on the
stairs, and he had decided to make his exit before he found himself outnumbered by
Bynum’s thugs.

“’Ey, you there. Wait!” called a woman’s voice from behind.

He turned to see her running toward him, wearing a cloak with the hood up to conceal
her hair.

“Me?”

She peered at him through hard eyes, rimmed with smudged kohl. He caught a glimpse
of black hair, and in that moment, his mind said:
Cleopatra
.

“I ’eard what you did in there for ’at gel.”

“You know her?”

Her two pale hands held the cloak together at her throat. “Just from talking to her
the few minutes before we went on that stage last night. She’s…nice. She ought never
to ’ave been in a place like that.” She bit into her lower lip. “But then, once, we
were all nice girls.”

Only then did he make out, from inside the shadowed recesses of her cowl, the dark
bruise on her cheek.

“Why did you follow me?” he asked.

“I ’eard you ask ’im about something else,” she said in a hushed voice, before glancing
over her shoulder. “About those men who follow the club, and meet in the back rooms
from time to time.”

“It’s very important that I find them. Do you know something that might help me?”

“Only that last night, after the constables busted in, one of them dropped this as
he climbed into his carriage. I hope you find it of some use.” She pressed something
into his hand, and backed away. Turning, she disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway.

Cormack looked down. She’d given him a handkerchief that bore a large heel print at
its center. But then he thought to turn the folded square of linen over, and saw it:
a monogram, sewn in gold thread in the shape of a coronet—with the four distinct “pearls”
of a marquess and an ornately scrolled letter R beneath.

“Daphne Bevington!
What have you done?
”

Daphne turned from the window, where she’d been daydreaming over a handsome face and
ardent kisses for the past quarter hour, to see Kate marching across the breakfast
room, her face pale and drawn above her black lace collar.

Oh, no.
The look in her lady’s maid’s eyes told her that some aspect of last night’s secrets
weren’t secret anymore.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed still?” Daphne asked with wide-eyed concern, placing herself
behind a chair for protection, and resting her hands on the upper frame. “Last I recall,
you were an invalid.”

“I felt very much improved this morning, thank you very much.” Kate’s lips curved
into a sudden smile, but her eyes did not follow suit. Instead, they narrowed. Knowing
Kate as well as she did, Daphne realized she was angry. “That is, until I saw
this
.”

The piece of paper in her hand crackled. Now not even her lips pretended to smile.

“What is that?” Daphne asked, praying she projected innocence, though she could think
of only one subject of recent discussion that might require any sort of formal documentation.

Kate threw a glance over her shoulder as if to be certain no one had entered the room
to observe them, and hissed, “It is the note for my father’s debt, previously held
by the owner of the Blue Swan.”

Daphne’s heart leapt. “Ah, I see. ‘Previously,’ you say? Do you have good news to
share?”

At that moment, a footman in knee breeches, coat, and white gloves brought in a large
covered chafing dish with steam frilling out at the edges, which he deposited on the
sideboard. Kate stood woodenly, the paper clasped in her hands. As soon as he’d gone,
Daphne reached for a plate.

“These eggs smell delicious.” She heaped a pile on her plate, hoping the smell forced
the still-recovering Kate to keep her distance, or even better yet—go back to her
room. She didn’t want to have to answer any questions. “My, I’m starving. Are you?
Or is your stomach still unsteady? You do look dreadfully piqued. Don’t worry about
me, you go and rest.”

“Daphne.”

“I swear, Fickett,” she blurted in a breathless rush, “I’ve never seen that paper
before.”

She snapped her mouth shut. Even to her own ears she sounded guilty of something.
Because, of course, she was very guilty, and not good at hiding secrets, so why had
she thought she’d suddenly developed a talent for subterfuge? Certainly Kate saw straight
through her.

“Well, have a good look at it,” Kate said, raising the page by its two top corners,
where Daphne could not help but see the lines of its bold black print. “Because it
says here ‘paid in full.’ Can you read it? Yes, I know it’s difficult to make out
for the
blood that has been splattered on the page
.”

Cormack had spilled more blood so that she—or rather, Kate—could be free! Was it wrong
that everything inside her went happy and warm?

She glanced at the page. “There’s just a tiny bit there at the bottom edge, from what
I can see. Aren’t you happy? We ought to celebrate. Your family has been released
from its obligation, and you’ll never have to go back to that place again.”

Kate folded the paper and thrust it into her apron pocket. “It is
blood
, Daphne. I fear it was shed on my behalf.”

Anxiety knotted her insides. “I wouldn’t know.”

She didn’t know, not for sure. She didn’t know anything.

She prayed the blood wasn’t Cormack’s.

Kate came very close, her brown eyes earnestly pleading. “You know something about
this. I know you know, because you’re the only soul I told about this debt. And you’re
the only one I told about my agreement with Mr. Bynum.”

Daphne experienced a wave of nerve-shattering alarm. Had Cormack come here looking
for her? How else would Kate have come into possession of the document?

Attempting nonchalance, she asked, “Tell me, how did you receive that document?”

“It was delivered this morning by a fellow by the name of Jackson. He asked to see
me, but being that I’d been ill, the housekeeper told him I wasn’t available to take
callers.”

Jackson hadn’t seen Kate. The real Kate. Daphne breathed out a sigh of relief. “That’s
all very interesting.”

“Daphne, who is Jackson?”

Blessedly, just then, a figure breezed through the door: Clarissa, fresh faced and
smiling, followed by Lady Margaretta.

“Miss Fickett, what a relief to see you up and about,” declared Lady Harwick. “Though
I must say you don’t look fully recovered.”

Clarissa lifted a plate from the sideboard. “I agree, Fickett. You’re quite red in
the face, which is the opposite of how you looked yesterday, when you were so pale.
Are you certain you don’t have a fever now?”

“I think I very well might.” Kate expelled the words between clenched teeth, with
an all-too-obvious accusatory look to Daphne. “In my brain. It feels near ready to
explode.”

Daphne pursed her lips, and leveled a rebuking glare toward her lady’s maid. That
was all she needed—Clarissa and her mother asking questions.

Clarissa’s eyes widened. “Should we summon the doctor to return?”

Daphne announced, “Of course not. She’s being facetious.”

“Oh?” The viscountess smiled, spooning a golden scoop of eggs onto her plate. “Facetiousness
is not a quality I normally associate with Miss Fickett.”

“You don’t know her as well as I do,” Daphne replied drily.

“I rather like facetiousness.” Clarissa laughed. “I wish Miss Randolph would develop
such a trait. She’s always so dour, with not a bit of humor in her.”

Daphne followed along behind them, filling her plate. She truly was ravenous, and
her mood increasingly light. Kate’s debt had been resolved! Such an enormous debt,
and paid, she knew, on her behalf. While she would be eternally grateful to Cormack,
he could now fade into her past as a happy and treasured memory. Yes, truly and fondly
treasured.

“How was the Heseldon ball?” she asked, eager to turn the bent of the conversation
away from herself and Kate. “You must tell me every detail.”

“Wild fun.” Clarissa’s eyes shone at the memory. The youngest of the Bevington sisters
was such a social creature. She never tired of activity or making new acquaintances.
“So many people have only just arrived in town. Now the fun shall truly begin! And
if you can believe it, Kincraig actually behaved himself. He even danced with me,
though he has much to learn about footwork. Everyone wanted to know where you were,
and thought you quite the dear heart to have stayed home to take care of everyone.”

“Is that what you did?” muttered Kate beneath her breath.

Daphne pressed her foot down on top of Kate’s toe. “Of course it is. You just don’t
remember because you were insensible.”

Kate turned toward her, so that only Daphne could see her face and hear her whispered
words. “I suppose that’s true. If I were called before a court of law, or say,
your mother
, to vouch for your whereabouts last nights, I wouldn’t be able to do so.”

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Lady Harwick inquired.

“Kate’s being sweet enough to accomplish a few errands for me this morning.” Daphne
lowered her plate to the table. “Kate, just one more thing—oh, why don’t I just walk
you out?”

In the corridor, they waited until the footman traveled past, this time with a silver
tea pot.

Her voice still low, Daphne touched Kate’s arm and squeezed. “Fickett, I don’t mean
to be elusive, but please trust me, it’s better that you don’t know. All that’s important
now is that you and your family are safe, and won’t be turned out from your home.”

Emotion glimmered in Kate’s eyes. She inhaled, and bit her lower lip, which trembled.
“Thank you, Daphne. Really.
Thank you.
Whatever you did. But it was so much money, and I worry that somehow you placed yourself
in a harrowing situation, or…or compromised your reputation, by attempting to deal
with Mr. Bynum yourself. You mustn’t ever do that for me. I’d never forgive myself.”