Regency: Rakes & Reputations (Mills & Boon M&B) (15 page)

He spied Hortense and Harriett surrounded by beaux, and signaled Charlie to him. “Can you escort the ladies home tonight, Charlie? I find I have other pursuits.”

His brother studied him, then laughed. “Our Miss Eugenia is responsible for this sudden dark mood, is she not?”

“Do not tweak me, Charlie. I am not in a mood for it.” In fact, his body was still throbbing with unrequited lust and his
head was filled with the memory of Gina, flushed and dewy from his lovemaking.

Charlie grinned, as if he guessed the reason for Jamie’s ill temper. “Go on to your ‘other pursuits’ then, but leave Suzette alone. She has just warmed up to me, and I do not want her confused in her affections.”

“Suzette is yours,” he growled. “But mind that you do not neglect your duty where Eugenia is concerned. She is still in grave danger.”

“Where did you leave her?”

He pointed down the corridor. “The small parlor.”

Taking the front steps two at a time, he gained the street and hailed one of the hackneys that always waited outside large events such as the one at Duchess House tonight.

As the carriage turned onto Oxford Road, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure, revealed through the clinging rain-soaked cape she wore. Missy Metcalfe? Should she not be home in mourning? “Ho, there, driver!” he called.

The carriage stopped and he hopped down with instructions to follow. He caught up to Missy just as she was rounding a corner.

She gasped as he took her elbow and turned her around. “Miss Metcalfe. Are you alone?”

Her eyes widened. “I am going home, Mr. Hunter. I beg you will not tell anyone you saw me.”

“I shan’t. I have a carriage. May I offer you a ride?”

She glanced over her shoulder toward the following carriage. “I do not think so, sir.”

“You should not be out alone after dark, Miss Metcalfe. There are dangers for an unprotected woman.”

A sardonic smile curved her full lips. “Would you be one of them, Mr. Hunter?”

He could scarcely miss that she was flirting with him. Or
that he found himself responding after Eugenia’s stinging rebuff. “If encouraged.”

“Then perhaps we should take that carriage.”

Jamie signaled the hackney forward, handed Miss Metcalfe in and followed her, settling himself beside her.

She loosened the strings of the cape around her neck. “Would you mind terribly if we took a turn or two through Hyde Park, Mr. Hunter. I cannot go home too early as my parents might still be up, and they think I have already retired for the night.”

“You pled a headache?” he guessed.

“Mourning,” she replied with a little smirk.

Something about her answer set him on edge. He could not imagine his own sister behaving in such a manner if one of her brothers had been killed less than a week previously. According to the rules of mourning, Missy Metcalfe should not be seen in public for three months, and she should be clothed in dark or drab colors instead of the vivid persimmon she wore now.

“And are you not in mourning, Miss Metcalfe?”

“I am devastated, Mr. Hunter. Simply devastated.”

Clearly an exaggeration if ever he’d heard one. Had there been no love lost between the siblings?

He leaned out the window and called to the driver. “Hyde Park, please, and keep driving until I tell you otherwise.”

“Aye, sir.” The driver laughed and Jamie knew he was thinking that he and Miss Metcalfe would be making the two-backed beast.

“Tell me, Miss Metcalfe, were you and your brother close?”

“As close as some,” she demurred.

“Then I wonder at your being abroad so soon after his death.”

“What good will grieving do Stanley now? If there was a time to help him, it has passed.”

“Help him? Was he in trouble?”

She gave another little smirk as she nestled closer to him. “Enough trouble to get him killed.”

She was a cold little piece. “Do you know who did it?”

“Now why would you ask such a question? If I knew, would I not have told the authorities? “

That would very much depend upon what Missy had to gain. “Unless you were frightened of the consequences,” he suggested.

“I do not frighten easily, Mr. Hunter.”

“I can see that, Miss Metcalfe. I confess to wondering what could have been so important as to bring you out to this particular place at this time.”

She settled back against the cushions and gave him a sultry look. “Perhaps I was looking for excitement.”

She’d been looking for something, or someone, of that he was sure. “At Duchess House?”

She shrugged, allowing her cape to slip open and reveal a very naughty décolletage. He was man enough to avail himself of the view, even if he was not inclined to take advantage of it. Her corset had pushed her breasts high enough that the rosy rims of her areolae were peaking above the lace ruching. An invitation?

“I thought I might recognize someone. Truly, I have been longing to see friends, and craving human contact.” She heaved a sigh and the sleeve of her gown slipped down over her shoulder. She gave him a coy sideways glance from beneath her lowered lashes.

What a coquette! Human contact? Just how much contact did Missy Metcalfe crave? No stranger to flirtation, Jamie was nonetheless at a loss. He’d never been as expertly seduced by courtesans or demireps.

With great difficulty, he forced his mind back to his query. “Looking for anyone in particular, Miss Metcalfe?”

She shrugged again, allowing her sleeve to slip even lower and reveal a small beauty mark above one areola. Artifice? Or natural? “I thought I might find Mr. Booth. Did you see him there, sir? “

Adam Booth? He and Metcalfe had been friends. Wouldn’t Booth be as surprised as Jamie to discover Missy about town alone? Or did Adam have more intimate knowledge of Missy’s true nature?

He smiled down at the pretty girl, so unlike Gina in almost every way that the contrast was startling—and not particularly flattering to Missy. Ah, but Missy appeared to want him, and Gina did not. “I believe I saw him, but I did not have time to talk to him. Did you have business with him?”

“Business?” She gave another of those coy smiles that made him think she was enjoying a personal jest. “I suppose you might call it business. Though my motive was more that I am quite lonely.”

She wiggled closer to him, rubbing her soft breasts against his side and placing her hand on his knee. Very brazen for a girl of Missy’s class. He wondered how much further she’d go with even the tiniest encouragement. “Are you still lonely, Miss Metcalfe?”

She lifted her mouth to him as she slid the hand on his knee upward to cup his erection. Her voice was a purr as she answered. “Oh, I do not think so, Mr. Hunter. No, I think I am about to be quite thoroughly amused.”

The patter of rain against the hackney roof muffled her soft moan.

T
he guests laughed at some witticism of Mr. Booth’s and Gina smiled, trying to put the memory of her confrontation with Jamie from her mind. He’d been so angry he’d abandoned their group to Charlie and then disappeared. The mere thought of such a thing caused her to sigh.

“But I see our Miss O’Rourke is not much amused,” Mr. Booth said with a sardonic smile. “I admit my wit is not a universal taste, but I am rarely met with such indifference.”

Gina blinked as attention was shifted to her. “I am sorry, Mr. Booth. My mind was wandering.”

“Indeed?” He pushed a shock of blond hair back from his forehead and regarded her somberly. “But I have been entertaining your group with the sole purpose of gaining your attention. It appears I will have to try harder. I hear a waltz, Miss O’Rourke. May I have this dance?”

With all eyes upon her, Gina could do little else but accept. She had been meaning to talk to Mr. Booth anyway. “Delighted,” she said, taking his outstretched hand.

They had scarcely entered the dance when the music ended,
but instead of returning her to her friends, he kept her there awaiting the next dance. “Are you enjoying London, Miss O’Rourke?”

“As much as I’ve been able. My family has had no small amount of problems since arriving here.”

“I have heard, Miss O’Rourke. You have my sympathies.”

She believed him. His manner and speech were so warm that he was hard to doubt. “Thank you.”

He hesitated before he spoke again, obviously choosing his words carefully. “Am I correct in thinking matters have eased for you, and that you and your sisters are well?”

For Bella and Lilly, matters were much improved. As for herself, she had certainly regained a healthy measure of courage and self-confidence. “Very well, thank you.”

She fancied that he looked somehow relieved. But why would that be the case, unless he felt somehow responsible?

“I have heard whispers that you are leaving soon for Ireland. Is that so?”

She laughed. “I should not be surprised at the amount of information shared over teacups, yet I confess I am. Yes, it is true. My mother and I have berths aboard a ship departing on Monday.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Miss O’Rourke. I should very much have enjoyed getting to know you better.”

Warmth crept into her cheeks at his apparent sincerity. “No matter how much time we have to explore new possibilities, it is never enough, is it, sir?”

His smile was his answer. He looked around the ballroom and the expression on his face tightened, as if it had frozen in place.

Fear prickled the back of her neck and she turned in the direction of his stare. Dancers whirled past, obscuring
her view. What could Mr. Booth have seen to cause such a reaction? “Are you all right, Mr. Booth?”

He blinked and came back to himself. “Quite. I collect the orchestra will be taking an intermission. Would you consent to stroll with me in the garden?”

A request, that if made moments ago she would have accepted, she now refused. “Thank you, but the paths must be wet from the rain. I’d prefer to stay inside.”

“Oh. Yes, certainly. But I am loath to return you to your friends just yet.”

As harmless as he seemed, she knew she dared not trust him, but she desperately wanted to question him. “Shall we find a quiet spot? “

He nodded and she followed him down the same corridor she and Jamie had taken barely an hour ago. Knowing the room would be vacant, she went directly to the small parlor and went inside, leaving Mr. Booth to follow and close the door.

She no longer had the luxury of time. Only bluntness would serve her now. She turned and tilted her head to one side. “We have met previously, have we not, Mr. Booth?”

He bowed his head. “We have, Miss O’Rourke, but I gather you do not recall the particulars.”

“Enlighten me, sir.”

“‘Twas about two months ago. An estate on the outskirts of Mayfair.”

“You were there that night?”

“To my shame.”

“And mine,” she whispered to herself. She sat and folded her hands in her lap to gain her composure before she dared look at him again. “I have always wondered what sort of man would attend such an affair. I would not have thought it of a man of your ilk, Mr. Booth.”

“‘Twas my first attendance at such an affair. I had been
led to believe it was voluntary by all the participants and for salacious purposes rather than the debacle it turned out to be. But then, I gather that was Daschel and Henley’s method of recruiting postulants into their ‘brotherhood.’ I’ve heard from others that one attendance was enough to be drawn in, and that it was impossible to leave. Blackmail, you see. Dash was determined to convert us all to elemental base practices, while Henley merely wanted us to sink to his level. To control us.”

Gina breathed deeply. As ugly as Mr. Booth’s words were to hear, at least they had the ring of truth.

“I realized, after the chalice was passed and we all drank, and once I saw you, that you’d been drugged as the postulants had been. I am not mistaken in that, am I, Miss O’Rourke? You did not volunteer to be a virgin sacrifice?”

A gurgle of hysterical laughter erupted from somewhere deep inside her. Volunteer? “Never.”

“Then I am glad to see you so well, and pleased that it ended the way it did, even though it had quite grim consequences for some of us.”

In her own self absorption it had never occurred to her that others might have been affected. “What, prithee, were the consequence to you and your friends?”

“We’ve been blackmailed, Miss O’Rourke. Half our fortunes have lined Henley’s pockets. We cannot denounce him without exposing our complicity. And we cannot expose our complicity without utter ruin to our families and loved ones.”

A small tingle of sympathy worried the back of her mind. Impossible! Sympathy for her tormentors, albeit unwitting ones?

“And I furthermore collect that you have been seeking us out, one by one, and disposing of us?”

“Disposing? You mean…no! I want Henley caught and
punished, as much for my sister Cora as for myself. I want the authorities to lock him away forever, but I have not taken the law into my own hands.”

“You did not kill Stanley Metcalfe?”

“No! I think he was trying to help me.”

“You were the last person to be seen with him alive.”

“Moments after he left me, I was assaulted by Mr. Henley.”

“Christ! If Henley was there that night …”

“He killed Mr. Metcalfe. Perhaps to prevent him from giving me information.”

Mr. Booth sank to the settee beside her. “He is a madman.”

“Will you help me, Mr. Booth? Will you tell me where to find him so that I can inform the Home Office?”

“I do not know where he is hiding. He comes to us with his demands in public places, where we cannot attack him without drawing attention. He is a marked man, Miss O’Rourke. Leave his demise to others. It is far too dangerous for you.”

“I cannot. I shall be taken back to Ireland soon, and I am desperate to have the matter concluded before then.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Yes, then. I will help you. A day—two at most—and I will find information for you.”

The door was thrown open and Charlie stood there, looking as outraged as a cuckolded husband. “Damn me, Miss O’Rourke! There you are! You gave me a bad turn. Come along now. ‘Tis time I took you home.”

“One moment she was dancing with Booth, and the next she’d disappeared completely. I swear, Jamie, that girl takes perverse pleasure in giving me apoplexy.”

Jamie smiled and tipped his chair back on the hind legs. Perverse pleasure is precisely what he’d had with Missy
Metcalfe. Well, a form of it, at any rate. He hadn’t taken her, even when she’d opened her legs in an invitation. Nor had he taken her up on those lush, full breasts so enticingly offered when she’d pushed her gown lower to reveal them in their full glory.

She’d been completely nonplussed that he’d refused her and had gone even further to tempt him, pinching and teasing those taut rosy buds herself until they’d tilted up to beg his mouth. Had it been Gina to do those things, he’d have found the scene insanely erotic. But Miss Metcalfe was so practiced, so contrived, that she’d been no more interesting to him than Suzette. And he suspected the rumors about her were kinder than the actual truth.

He suspected, in fact, that Missy might have been sent to distract him. He’d called her address to the driver and dropped her in front of her house a few minutes later, leaving her to adjust her own clothing.

Now, well past midnight and safely tucked away in a corner of the Crown and Bear, he merely sighed and nodded to Charlie’s complaints. Gina was, undoubtedly, elusive. And perverse.

“She was with Adam Booth, by God. The two of them sitting there in the dark, her hand in his. I thought she was sweet on you, Jamie. I’d have sworn there was something powerful between you two.”

Booth? Could she prefer Booth to him? The notion angered him. She’d given herself to him and, virgin or not, he damn well knew she hadn’t given that up to anyone before last night. No, there had to be another explanation for their meeting.

“Calm yourself, Charlie. We had a rather nasty argument before I left the ball. Perhaps she was just trying to prick my pride.” As he’d tried to prick hers with Missy Metcalfe?

“Must be a new experience for you, eh? A woman who does
not fall all over you? But I still think you should not amuse yourself with her. Keep your carousing to the demimonde.”

Jamie merely ignored Charlie, it being far too late for such warnings now. Still, the thought of Gina’s hand in Adam Booth’s caused him a bad turn. He would have to have a word with the man.

“Ah, here they are,” Charlie murmured. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jamie watched as Dick and Artie Gibbons sidled through the door, both scanning the room with a quick sweep of dull eyes. “They are utter strangers to truth and honor, Charlie. I really don’t know why we bother. If we weren’t so damned desperate …”

When Dick saw them he nudged his brother and they headed for Jamie’s table. “Hear you was lookin’ fer us t’other night at the Cat’s Paw,” Dick said.

“Aye, we were.”

“Y’gots somethin’ fer us?”

“We were hoping you’d have something for us.”

“Like what?”

“Information. Have you found Henley’s hiding place?”

Artie licked his lips, indicating he’d like a drink, and Dick eyed Charlie’s glass. Jamie signaled Mick to bring two more glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

The brothers dragged chairs from a nearby table and sat, staring at Jamie as if they could unnerve him. Jamie leaned back in his chair again and crossed his arms over his chest.

Dick broke eye contact when Mick brought the bottle and glasses. Two quick shots later, he seemed ready to talk.

“Found it, but he’d gone.” Dick rubbed the stubble that lined his dirty jaw. “Ain’t found ‘is new hole yet. Y’ want more, yer gonna have t’ pay fer it.”

Jamie ignored the clear extortion and addressed the other
subject that had been on his mind. “Did you hear that Stanley Metcalfe was killed a few days back?”

Artie gave one of his wheezing laughs while Dick merely grinned. “Well, now. Ain’t that interestin’.”

“Do you know anything about that, Dick?”

“Maybe I got my suspicions.”

“I’ve got mine, too. Want to compare?”

“You first.”

“Henley, himself. Someone saw him at the masquerade.”

Dick looked surprised. “So y’ knows about that, eh?”

“Why do you suppose anyone would want him dead?” Charlie asked.

“Got in somebody’s way, I’d say.”

“How so?”

“Dunno. Askin’ too many questions, ‘d be my guess. Kinda like you an’ yer brother.”

Was that a none too subtle warning for him and Charlie? “Metcalfe aside, there have been an extraordinary number of attacks of late. For instance, someone took a shot at Charlie the night after Metcalfe’s murder. I don’t take kindly to that.”

A shrug was Dick’s only answer, but he looked down into his glass and would not meet Jamie’s eyes nor look at Charlie. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Every instinct he had pointed to the Gibbons brothers for that attempt. And here they were, sitting across the table drinking their whiskey. His fingers itched to tighten around Dick’s throat and go for Artie after. Instead, he took a deep breath and gave Charlie a sharp warning look.

“Seems like London is getting dangerous for certain men of the ton.”

“I don’t give a ha’penny for nabobs,” Dick said. “They c’n all go to hell, an’ I wouldn’t care.”

“Who would you blackmail then, Dick? Where would you get your money? “

He gave a sideways grin. “We’d find a way. Right, Artie?”

Artie chuckled and bobbed his head.

Charlie narrowed his eyes. “Good idea, Dick. Because I’m thinking jobs might get pretty scarce for you. Hope you’ve put some money away for a rainy day.”

“Never you mind what we gots,” Dick snarled. Even Artie turned somber at the mention of money.

Jamie wondered again what these men did with their blood money and how much they’d be paid for killing Charlie and him. One thing had become evident—the Gibbons brothers were not their allies. Either Henley had something on the or he was paying more, and nothing Jamie could say would sway them.

Suddenly, Jamie was done with them. The price to his soul for dealing with such scum was too great and nothing but treachery could come from it. He pushed his chair back and stood, and Charlie followed suit.

“I’m out, lads. No more games. No more bribes. You’d do best to stay out of my sight.”

A look of such anger passed over Dick’s face that Jamie suspected he was planning revenge. “You sure you wants to make enemies o’ us?” he asked.

“Never surer of anything in my life.”

Dick and Artie stood together and measured themselves against Jamie and Charlie. The decision made, they backed toward the door and faded into the night.

From the bar, Mick Haddon grinned and raised a glass to them.

By the time Charlie arrived at the Argyle Rooms with his charges the next night, Jamie was waiting anxiously. After
what Charlie had told him last night about Eugenia and Adam Booth being closeted together in a darkened room, he’d been ready to call the man out. Never mind that he was one of Charlie’s best friends.