Suzi Love (28 page)

“We’ve nothing whatsoever to say to each other.”

Sybila looked taken aback and he realised that, like Julia, she was unused to rejection by a man. “And I’d be obliged if you’d refrain from coming near me ever again.” He strode away without another word. Locating Becca with her family was easy. Trying to extricate her so he could have a private word with her was difficult. As he waited with clenched jaw to gain her attention, Baron Mitchell and Viscount Melrose sidled up to him and pulled him aside.

With a conspiratorial whisper, Mitchell advised him, “Sherwyn, a word of advice from a few friends. While known to be an attractive wench, Lady Rebecca’s reputation is such that if you continue to be seen with her, your own will suffer.”

Viscount Melrose stood with his over starched necktie, nodding in agreement with everything the baron said. “We’re only telling you this for your own good, Sherwyn. The lady is sharp witted, although nothing to compare to her brother, of course.”

Trying to contain his annoyance and not create another scene, Cayle asked in an even tone, “Why of course?”

The viscount looked at him as if it were an obvious answer. “Well, well, because she’s a female.” He pronounced the last word with such disdain that Cayle had to fight the urge to laugh in his face. The viscount was regarded by all of society as deficient in logical thinking, yet he had the audacity to denigrate Becca’s intelligence because she was not born a man.

“Naturally,” the viscount added, “her intelligence can’t be as highly toned as her brother’s. He’ll one day be an earl.”

“Let me understand. Being male, and titled, allows you more capacity for rational thinking, is that it?”

“We knew you’d see reason.”

Fighting his first instinct to tell the two fools what he thought of their reasoning, he saw an opportunity to impel them into revealing names of their associates. “So, you think that dancing with an opinionated lady will do me permanent harm. Is that correct?”

“Exactly,” the viscount agreed. “And we all know you can’t allow any scandal to smear your name at the moment.”

With a cool smile, Cayle said, “I imagine you’re referring to my stepmother, the Duchess of Sherwyn.”

The baron’s smile was reminiscent of a serpent about to strike an unsuspecting prey. Cayle hadn’t been in London long enough for any rumours to start of how he’d spent his time when abroad and having been seen for months playing escort to Julia, the fools concluded he was an easy target. Someone who’d retreat with a stern warning on whom it was acceptable to be seen with. Or in Becca’s case, who to avoid.

The smarmy baron continued as if every word he uttered was absolute truth, “Come, come, Sherwyn. Your playing doormat to your dissolute stepmother is the talk of the clubs. She has you by the balls and she’ll not let go.” He smirked, relishing making Cayle squirm with his intimate knowledge of the situation. “Unless you keep your reputation as polished as a pair of new boots for the next two months, Julia will stay around to haunt you for the rest of your days.”

“And may I enquire what business it is of yours whom I keep company with, or whether or not my stepmother approves?”

“I make it my concern to know everything about people who may interrupt my financial dealings in any way.”

“And you think I’ll do that, interrupt them?”

The baron scoffed, “Of course not. Not you. If I was to be cruel, I’d point out that your reputation is for retreating, not fighting.”

Cayle schooled himself to show no emotion at the jibe. Better to be seen the fool and give the baron leeway to reveal information to help protect Becca. He laughed out loud.

“Yes, it was always rumoured that I was more of a lover than a fighter. I’m uncertain if that’s still what’s thought of me. I really don’t care what the general population thinks as long as my family and my friends understand my motives.”

He pretended to assess the baron, to weigh him up as a confidant. “Although a man has needs, if you take my meaning. Perhaps you can point me towards the best gaming, or other, establishments in town.”

Mitchell visibly relaxed as Cayle confirmed his misassumption. The baron and viscount spent several minutes pointing Cayle in the direction of the gambling establishments most well known for their underhand dealings. The two men must really assume he was an unseasoned boy. Cayle did nothing to disabuse them of their notions, as in their benevolent state they were more likely to reveal things.

He spent a little more time acting the fool but all he discovered was that the baron was full of his own self-importance and believed himself invincible. The viscount was an unwitting pawn in the game being played out. He believed himself a major investor in railways, yet Cayle was sure the baron only used him for his connections, and would discard him when he’d outlived his usefulness.

• • •

Excusing himself after noticing Becca’s glare arrowed at him, he moved to her side, placing her hand on his sleeve in a deliberate gesture of intimacy as he walked her to the door. It was a declaration that Becca was under his protection and in direct conflict with the act he’d performed minutes before for the baron. He’d didn’t know who’d be the most confused from all these games they were playing, them or him.

“What were you discussing with the baron?”

He chuckled. “And I missed your pleasant company too, my dear.”

Suitably chastened, Becca bowed her head. “I apologise,” she muttered. “When I saw you talking to them, I became worried.”

He smiled, perversely pleased that Becca’s thoughts and feelings were in as much turmoil as his.

“You were worried about me,” he teased. “I like that you care.”

“I didn’t say I cared — ”

“It sounded like it to me.”

“Oooh. You’re doing it again.” She stopped and pulled out of his grasp. “Deliberately being annoying just to avoid answering my questions.”

“I’ve had expert tutorage from you in doing that, minx.”

Even her stance was strong and confronting. He’d use that to his advantage; goad her into doing exactly what he desired. Right now, his greatest desire was to have her. All of her. Any way he could manage.

Over the years, he’d seen plenty of more beautiful women. Yet it was this bundle of energy, this aggravating woman who was immune to his commands and resistant to his entreaties, who tied him in knots. Becca was different to any simpering miss pushed at him during the endless round of boring parties. Though, the bad timing of his growing hunger for her made him want to yell out loud.

His late father had bequeathed Julia enough money to live in comfort yet greed pushed her to demand more, and more. Soon, he’d settle on her a considerable amount of money in order for her to withdraw to the continent or wherever she desired to travel with her latest lover. He really didn’t give a damn so long as he never set eyes on the cheating witch again.

“I did get one useful piece of information from the baron. The group uses several higher end gambling houses as a net to scoop up unsuspecting young men, ones still wet behind the ears. They coerce them into handing over their quarterly allowances in the hope of a rapid return.”

“They’re trying to raise capital. Major investors need to have the money ready to hand over to the government bank the moment the Exchange releases a new railway prospectus.”

“It’s a case of first in, first served?”

“Exactly,” she said, grabbing his hand in her excitement.

“So, that means we might find the consortium controller combing the gaming tables. Looking for new prospects.”

Becca’s face glowed with renewed hope and she looked more beautiful to him than any woman he’d ever seen, making it hard to concentrate.

“Depending on how desperate he is, yes. Melrose let slip that the entire group is very tight for money. Mitchell stopped him saying more but he’d already disclosed they were held up waiting for their last venture to pay dividends.”

Becca’s brow creased as her active brain worked. “Which may not be for two or three months.” She tapped her forefinger on her bottom teeth as she thought and Cayle’s eyes followed every movement, wishing it were his finger being sucked between her moist lips. “Or, they may try to squeeze more money from their blackmail victims.”

He shrugged. “Desperate men, desperate times.”

“Cayle, this worries me. If the ringleader knows he’ll have a large shortfall of funds available at the start of the month when the new shares are released, he’ll push his underlings to more desperate measures.”

“Don’t fret. Their level of desperation will play out in our favour. They’ll make more mistakes.”

“But what if they decide not to give us any more time, like they did with Peggy? They’ll try to take the journals by force, without waiting for me — for us — to finish our calculations.”

“When they do, my friends and I will be ready for them.”

“We’re running out of time. Using me as a lure in the ballrooms didn’t work. He didn’t approach me. Didn’t talk to me. We need to do more to draw out the ringleader.”

He was so distracted by her slip of the tongue over who made the calculations that it took him a moment to register what she was suggesting.

“Becca, I won’t allow you to put yourself in any more dangerous situations. You were nearly killed at the theatre.”

“But any day now, if we haven’t handed over our lists, the baron or whoever’s giving the orders, will start hurting my family. I have to stop it. Anyway I can.”

“We know Mitchell and Melrose are syndicate contributors, even if only low level. If we stop them, it may frighten the others off.”

“But we still haven’t uncovered the leader. He’s still unknown to us. Still the dangerous one. If we don’t flush him out now, he’ll haunt us for the rest of our lives. I can’t live like that. My family can’t live like that.”

He nodded. “We need to finish it. But you need to leave it to me, and my brothers, and my friends. We can go places you can’t without raising any eyebrows.”

Guilt flickered in her eyes. She was planning something, something dangerous. Walking away wasn’t even an option. His whole childhood had attuned him to Becca’s schemes and needs.

Fixing her with his most intimidating look, he asked, “Becca, what are you planning?”

She shrugged and turned away. “Nothing important. Just a little gathering of statistics.”

“When, and where, will this unimportant gathering occur?”

He was determined to find out exactly what was going to happen. Determined to stop her. And of course if that failed, which it would because this was intractable Becca, he’d be there to protect her.

She tried to out-stare him but her silent war didn’t dent his resolve. The years had made him stronger and more domineering than her softer nature could ever allow her to grow and he read her far too well. Only now did he it occur to him how calculating and manipulative he’d become with Becca in such a short time, making him no better than the women who’d pursued him so relentlessly.

“Oh, all right. You’ll force an admission out of one of my family anyway. When you get that ferocious look in your eyes, nobody can withstand you, not even my sisters.”

“Regrettably, you alone see gainsaying me as a noble pastime. Your sisters understand that I’m inflexible when it comes to your safety and they bow to my wishes. Now, stop prevaricating and tell me.”

She sighed, as if badly put upon. “I’ll ask Madame Faberge to arrange an entrée for me to several of the highest stake gaming establishments where the baron is known to meet his protégés.”

He was speechless. Even for Becca this was too much. Too dangerous. Too stupid. “Absolutely not. I forbid you to go to those places. You’ve no comprehension of the obsession, the debauchery, in those places.”

“You’re forgetting. I’ve visited several brothels in the past four years. The girls who work there have told me what happens. Gambling hells cannot shock me. It’s something I must do if I’m to save Michael.”

He recognised the flash of fire in her angry eyes. Knew he should never dictate to Becca or she’d always choose the opposite road. Yet, the thought of her wandering the streets at night, flitting from one gaming table to another, was enough to turn his hair grey.

“And who’s going to accompany you? Not Michael.”

“No, not Michael. Every time he leaves Oxford, someone follows him.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I hoped you might accompany me.”

“I presume you’ll not obey me and stay away.”

“I don’t take orders from any man. Now or ever. I’m asking you as a friend. For your help.”

He inwardly groaned, knowing they were more than friends. They both recognised that much, therefore trapping him in a web of his own making.

“I can’t refuse to help.” He gave a half smile of resignation. “I could never refuse to help in any of your madcap schemes in the past. And I find myself unable to break the pattern of a lifetime.”

He shook his head in something close to despair. “God, save me from manipulative, obstreperous, females.”

“Oooh, Cayle. What a lovely, lovely word. Thank you for adding to my vocabulary for the day.”

She blew him a kiss and walked off. As was becoming her habit.

Each night, Becca and Cayle waited until well after midnight before doing the rounds of the clubs, using hired carriages instead of Cayle’s easily identifiable ducal carriage.

Becca convinced herself that their simple plan was fail-safe. Cayle remained unenthusiastic and made it clear he accompanied her for the sole purpose of keeping her safe, while he grumbled without ceasing. She’d never admit to it, but his presence at her side was comforting and reassuring. Necessary.

“At this hour, the most dissolute gamblers will be well entrenched in every salon, betting huge sums,” he informed her. “Despair over losses or joy over winnings has an identical effect. It causes tongues to loosen.”

“So, I’ll seek out the young men who look ripe for fleecing, or who have already lost their money to predators, and coerce them into talking.”

“And I’ll scour the back rooms, where women are not encouraged,” he glared at her in warning, “and where you will not under any circumstances intrude, to see if anyone is throwing large sums of money around.”