Sins of a Virgin (3 page)

“Shall I tell him you will attend him shortly?”

“No. Our appointment isn’t for another half an hour.” She had no problem making the Runner wait until then. She was hiring him, not the other way around. If he was going to prove impossible to work with, she needed to know immediately.

“Very good, miss.”

Madeline hurried up the stairs to the parlor. The room provided a clear view of the front door where Huntford waited.

As before, a tingle slid down her spine. It was a primal response, one she’d experienced only when her life was in danger. She shouldn’t be in danger now, yet her senses sharpened. The clatter of each horse hoof. The glint of the sun on the puddle behind him. She became aware of the weight of the knife sheathed at her calf.

Even though Huntford’s second knock had gone unanswered for several minutes, he still waited on her doorstep. He didn’t fidget. He hadn’t turned away in frustration. He simply waited. Still and silent like a wolf.

An arrogant wolf.

Below, the door opened. Huntford must have been surprised by her butler’s hat—she often had to fight the urge to blink owlishly at him herself—but the Runner’s posture didn’t change. He simply removed his own hat and stepped inside.

Madeline moved to the door that joined the parlor to the study. Cracking the door open, she waited as the footsteps sounded on the stairs.

A moment later, Canterbury ushered Huntford inside. “Miss Valdan will see you when she is available.”

Huntford nodded once. When the door closed silently behind Canterbury, Huntford remained in place while his eyes searched the room. She didn’t doubt he saw everything from the ink stain on the desk to the threadbare patch on the rug, and he never once allowed his back to be to the door.

Perhaps he might be of some use after all.

She also liked the way he stood, weight centered, arms loose. There were scabs on his knuckles, too—at most, a week old. The calluses on his hands were far older.

His clothing gave her pause, however. Ian had said he’d earned a fair amount of money from his private investigations, but she wouldn’t have picked him as a man to spend much of it on clothing. But there was no doubt that his clothing wasn’t some ready-made attire. It had been tailored specifically for him, skimming his broad shoulders and trim waist. The cravat at his neck was tied simply, but with crisp, clean lines. His boots, while not new, were polished to a shine.

Who was he trying to prove himself to?

Not her. He’d been dressed just as precisely at the police office yesterday.

Huntford’s gaze swung to the door she was hiding behind. He couldn’t see her. She knew that. She’d hidden this way a hundred times before. She was out of sight. Her breathing was light and shallow through her nose. There were no shadows under the door. There was no way he could know she was there.

Yet when his attention lingered there, she had to fight the urge to back away, her heart fluttering in her chest like that of a cornered rabbit.

Madeline narrowed her gaze, annoyed at her body’s betrayal.

Huntford suddenly disappeared from sight and Madeline had to shift to find him again. He stood at her desk, flipping through the blank sheets of paper on top. After a quick pause, he moved behind it and opened a drawer. When he discovered that the only thing inside was a list of her current bidders, he’d be disappointed.

Madeline smiled. She’d intended to make him wait until eleven but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. Keeping her steps silent, she left the parlor and walked to the study door.

G
abriel’s hand rested on the brass drawer handle. He’d meant to come here and refuse the assignment, a task Potts thought so important that he’d reassigned not only the Simm murder, but all Gabriel’s other cases until Miss Valdan’s job was complete. But now Gabriel stared at the page of names. It must be a list of the men bidding on her.

Lenton. Billingsgate. Darby. The names seared across his mind. They were three of his suspects.

Potts had said she wanted to hire a Runner to investigate the men bidding on her. What if he could use her investigation to hide his own? Potts was right, most of his suspects would do everything they could to avoid a murder investigation. But if they meant to win Miss Valdan, they’d be willing to—

The door suddenly swung open.

Miss Valdan paused in the doorway, eyebrow raised, her gaze on the paper in his hand. Gabriel straightened but he didn’t bother to scramble away from the open drawer. It was too late for that. But why hadn’t he heard her coming? And damnation, his cheeks were heating like he was an errant child.

She inclined her head. “Can I help you locate something?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I thought since you were occupied, I’d leave a note and come back when you were available.”

She glanced pointedly at the blank paper and ink on the top of the desk. She didn’t believe him, but then he hadn’t really expected her to.

“Like at eleven, our appointment time?”

“I’m afraid I have a pressing matter to attend to then.” Because he hadn’t thought he’d stay here longer than it took to refuse her job.

Madeline checked the clock on the mantel, then gestured to the door with a flick of her hand. “Well, it’s almost eleven now. If you cannot stay, feel free to send someone in your place.”

Gabriel almost agreed. But those three names on the list beckoned, too tempting to ignore.

No, he needed to stay even if it meant giving her the capitulation she sought. “The other meeting can be postponed.” Hopefully. His witness, the old coachman, Bourne, was always at the tavern. Gabriel could ask his additional questions later.

“Good. I assume Potts told you what I will require?”

“He did, but perhaps you should tell me so there will be no misunderstandings.”

She walked toward him. Gabriel moved to the other side of the desk, reluctant to have her near him again. Rather than claim the chair as he’d expected, she stopped and glanced out the window.

The daylight poured across her face, and Gabriel studied her afresh. Surely the unforgiving rays of the sun would reveal some flaw. A freckle. A pockmark. A heavy dusting of rice powder. But if anything, the sun rendered her skin more radiant. More pristine.

His teeth ground together as lust rose unbidden. Everything from the lush cupid’s bow of her lips to the way her fingers rubbed at a knot in her lower back whispered of sensuality. It surrounded her like fine perfume. It wasn’t gaudy or overpowering, but rather a subtle fragrance that drew one closer to explore the complex notes.

Her eyes lifted from the window, sweeping him with similar methodical intensity. And being male, part of him was very curious what she concluded.

Hell. He didn’t want Miss Valdan. He wanted to catch a murderer. “What is it you require?” he asked, his voice curt even to his own ears.

She shrugged, drawing his eyes to the luscious hint of bosom visible above the neckline of her cream-colored dress. “Contrary to what you obviously believe, Mr. Huntford, I’m not a fool. I need to be sure of two things—first and foremost, that the man who wins can pay. I need you to examine the bidders’ financial records and discover if they have the blunt to honor their bids.” She sat and straightened the papers on her desk. “I’m not going to hand over my virginity on the empty promise of being paid in the future. I want my money as soon as the deed is done.”

Gabriel looked for any sign that she wasn’t as cold about the pronouncement as she appeared. But she met his gaze without flinching. He further resolved to ignore his baser urges. A woman who could sell her virginity without any hesitance must have ice in her veins.

Or wasn’t truly a virgin.

Yet that suspicion didn’t matter if she gained him access to what he needed. If he had his suspects’ financial records, there was a chance he’d be able to find some tie to both murders. The purchase of the mourning brooches, perhaps?

Yet in his experience, gentlemen weren’t eager to part with anything, let alone their most private financial dealings. “What makes you think anyone will comply with your demand for proof?”

“Because I’ll ask them.”

Curse it. Perhaps it would be best to refuse the assignment after all. If that was her plan, she had about as much chance of succeeding as he did on his own. “And if they don’t agree, Miss Valdan?”

The steady calm in her gaze fractured and she rose to her feet. She chewed nervously on her lip, leaving it moist and rosy. “Madeline. My name is Madeline.” She peered up at him with wide eyes. “They will agree, won’t they? I mean, it makes sense.” She placed her hand on his chest, its weight light, uncertain. “I didn’t want to do this, but what other option do I have? What lady would trust me in her house as a maid? And I’m not well-bred enough to be a governess.”

Despite the seductive warmth of her touch, he wasn’t about to feel sorry for her. He removed her hand. “You chose this.”

She drew in a deep breath. “You’re right. And I do have a plan.”

“Your plan is to
ask
them?”

“It’s a good plan. The men are gentlemen. They’ll honor their bets.” When her hands trembled, she tucked them behind her.

Heaven save him from naive fools. Without her veneer of bravado, she appeared barely out of the schoolroom. “Just because they’re gentlemen doesn’t mean they’ll act like it.” He wanted to brush his thumb across her lower lip to save it from the abuse of her teeth, but he feared if he touched her lips, he’d want to touch the slender column of her throat. And once his fingers had skimmed over her throat, he’d be unable to stop them from dipping lower.

And he wasn’t one of her lovesick swains.

“You’ll help me?” She reached for him again but then dropped her hand as if afraid of rejection.

The small sign of vulnerability ensnared him in a way her seductive glances never could. “I’ll do what I can.”

Her breath came fast and shallow, causing her breasts to strain against her bodice. “I know.”

He swallowed roughly as she leaned toward him. He needed to tell her he wasn’t interested. But when he spoke, his voice was raspy and deep. “Madeline—”

She pulled back with quick determination. “That is why they’ll agree.”

He stared at her through the muddled haze of lust. “What?”

She dusted off the front of her gown as if to rid it of any hint of their interaction. “Every man has a weakness. Pride, vanity . . .” She allowed a deliberate pause, a mocking grin curving her lips. “The desire to protect. Any weakness can be turned to my advantage.”

Gabriel stalked to the far corner of the room until the urge to wrap his hands around her neck faded. She had played him. She hadn’t even needed to snap her fingers to bring him to heel. “You intend to manipulate every man in England?”

“As amusing as that would be, it isn’t necessary. Once the first few agree, I’ll point out that anyone who refuses must have something embarrassing to hide.”

He exhaled through clenched teeth.
Forget she made a fool of you
. He’d wanted her to have a plan, and apparently, hers was far better than he’d given her credit for. But fury, and a disturbing amount of frustrated desire, still drove him. “So you plan to dupe them into paying you a fortune?”

She frowned. “No. They’ll get what they pay for. My virginity. I’m merely trying to ensure they don’t cheat me.”

“By preying on their weaknesses.”

She crossed her arms. “It’s not a crime to discover fantasies. You do the same thing.”

He glared at her. “Nonsense.”

“When you capture a suspect, you ferret out their weaknesses first, do you not? You watch for the lies and the fears, then you exploit them to gain a confession. The only difference is that my process ends with a pleasant interlude in bed and yours ends on the gallows.”

His fists tightened until his hands ached. But Miss Valdan was right, curse her. Besides, he couldn’t risk provoking her further. The more he thought about it, the more perfect this opportunity was. By working for Madeline, he could investigate the men of the
ton
without their knowledge. Hell, perhaps they’d even help. “What else do you need me to do?”

She hesitated, and for a moment, he was positive his bitterness had lost him the assignment.

The door opened and the butler entered. This time a blue ribbon and pheasant feathers trimmed the man’s hat. He carried a tray containing tea and biscuits, which he set on a small table. Madeline didn’t spare the butler’s strange attire a second glance. Instead, she lowered herself onto the settee and motioned to the chair across from her.

Gabriel sat. He’d be harder to throw out if he was drinking tea.

She poured with a grace more befitting a lady of the manor than a woman of the streets. Even his mother would have approved. She offered him a plate of biscuits. “I will also require the sexual histories of the top bidders. That information, I assume, they will be less anxious to part with.”

At least she’d decided not to throw him out.

“My desire to fulfill fantasies only goes so far. I won’t share a bed with a madman, no matter how much he pays. Nor do I want to end up with the pox as a memento of the evening. While financial information can be supplied by a banker or solicitor, this portion of the assignment will require an investigator familiar with the darker environs and back alleys of London.”

That he was. Since Susan’s death, he’d spent little time anywhere else. The more violent and depraved the criminal he hunted, the better. He held out hope with each arrest that someone would have a clue that would lead him to his sister’s killer. As the months and years had passed, he’d recognized the growing improbability of that hope. Yet he couldn’t stop.

Besides, if Miss Valdan wanted a proper investigation, not only would he look into the whorehouses and bordellos, he’d have to interview her bidders’ staffs as well—butlers, valets, maids. All people who would know of their masters’ proclivities.

And their whereabouts the night of the Simm murder.

Gabriel nodded in acceptance.

“Also, for the next fortnight, I need you by my side when I’m seen in public.”