Duke of Pleasure

by Elizabeth Hoyt

  The boys were making admiring sounds at this detailed description of Alf’s criminal past. Hugh might be worried at their clear hero worship were it not for the fact that he’d seen Alf’s face last night, peeking in the nursery. The boy had obviously heard Peter’s terrified nightmare scream and come to see if he was well.

  Alf might try to hide it, but he had a soft heart under his cocky bluster.

  Hugh was distracted at that moment by the nursemaid, Annie, appearing at the top of the stairs, a tray of tea in her arms.

  “Oh, Your Grace.” Annie stopped, looking apprehensive. No doubt she had his dismissal of the other nursemaid fresh in her mind. “I… that is, I only left the boys because that lad Alf said he’d look after them while I popped down for their tea.”

  Hugh sighed. Obviously he needed to tell the butler to hire a replacement nursemaid for the one he’d thrown from the house. A single nursemaid wasn’t enough to mind two active boys.

  He nodded. “That’s fine.”

  Annie looked much relieved, and he entered the nursery on her heels.

  Alf was sitting on the bed with the boys. They were on either side of the older lad, exactly as they had been yesterday morning when he’d found Alf telling them gory tales.

  All three looked up at his entrance. Peter’s blue eyes wide and innocent and looking as if he was entirely recovered from last night, Kit’s black eyes immediately going sullen and wary, and Alf’s looking cocky as if he was hiding a secret.

  For some reason it was the last that provoked Hugh into speech. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d pay a visit to Peter and Kit ’ere. See what ’appens on the floor below me.” The boy got to his feet and shot Hugh a mocking glance. “Wasn’t a footman sitting outside my door this morning so I thought it was all right to come out. I can go back of course if that don’t please you, guv.”

  “Naturally you may have the run of my house—”

  Alf’s eyes widened. “Oh, guv, that’s right generous of you, truly!”

  “—within reason.” Hugh glared. “And I prefer you stay in the house for the time being.” He glanced at the boys, who were watching their exchange avidly. “We can discuss this later.”

  “We certainly can,” Alf muttered under his breath.

  Hugh turned to his sons. “Peter. Are you feeling better this morning?”

  His younger son immediately straightened. “Yes, Papa.”

  “And you, Kit?”

  But his heir was scowling down at his toes.

  Alf turned and poked the older boy in the side. “Your father’s speaking to you, Kit.”

  Kit glanced up, blinked, and then said, “I’m well, Father.”

  “Good.” Hugh pressed his lips together. “I’ll leave you to your tea and your lessons, then.”

  He turned to the door. And found that Alf was by his side.

  “Thought I’d come with you, if’n you don’t mind.” The boy smirked up at him. “’Aven’t ’ad my breakfast yet and I’m right peckish.”

  “Ah.” Hugh strode to the stairs. “Then you may join me and I’ll tell you what we found at the gin house last night—though I warn you it wasn’t much.”

  The boy shook his head. “Told you you should’ve taken me, guv. They weren’t like to talk to toffs.”

  He grunted as he descended the stairs. “I’ve a mind that they weren’t like to talk to anyone.”

  Alf shrugged. “Maybe so. Maybe so. But ’twas my information and ’twasn’t fair to leave me behind.”

  “You made your opinion on the subject more than plain last night,” Hugh replied, amused at the boy’s brashness.

  They made the dining room and Hugh called for tea and breakfast before he started telling Alf what had happened at the gin house—omitting mention of the Ghost of St Giles since he didn’t see how her appearance figured in any way into the investigation of the Lords of Chaos.

  The footmen had just finished leaving tea, eggs, fried kidneys, kippered herring, and toast when Cox the butler showed Iris in.

  Hugh rose, frowning. “You’re very early this morning.”

  Her face was white, and she didn’t even seem to notice that he wasn’t alone.

  “Hugh,” she said, her voice trembling. “Katherine’s death may not have been an accident.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

  Iris looked up at him, and he saw her gray-blue eyes were tear filled. “I think she may have been murdered.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Golden Falcon flew high up into the blue sky, afraid and grieving and confused. She flew over hills and forests and lakes until her weary wings could hold her small body aloft no more.

  And then she plummeted from the sky and landed on the terrace of a castle—the home of her family’s enemy: Castle Black.…

  —From The Black Prince and the Golden Falcon

  Iris halted and blinked as she realized that Hugh was not the only one in the dining room.

  But he was already advancing on her, a dark look on his face. “What are you saying?”

  She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the ragged boy—really more of a youth—boldly staring at her over a plate of eggs. “Perhaps we ought to discuss this in private.”

  “What?” He scowled as if she had suddenly lapsed into Chinese and then followed her gaze to the boy. “This is Alf. One of mine. You may speak in front of him. Alf, Iris Daniels, Lady Jordan.”

  The youth nodded at her.

  Hugh turned his full attention back to Iris, which was rather disconcerting, actually, what with his rough voice and intense gaze. “Now. What in hell did you mean that Katherine was murdered?”

  “I…” Iris swallowed and pulled out a chair and sat without waiting for him to offer. Sometimes he didn’t. Perhaps it was a result of his rough upbringing or his years in the army. Oh, her mind was wandering from the point! “I said she may have been murdered.”

  “Iris!”

  She inhaled and closed her eyes to order her thoughts. It helped that she didn’t have to see his dark eyes staring at her so… so threateningly, almost. “When I came to visit the boys the other day I discovered a diary under Christopher’s bed—Katherine’s diary. I think he must have found it and hid it. I can’t imagine otherwise why it would be hidden there. I know I shouldn’t’ve taken it, but I missed her so, and…” She opened her eyes and looked at him apologetically. “She did things that she should not have done as your wife. Things that hurt you. I feared that she might have written them in the diary.”

  He nodded curtly, waving an impatient hand at her delicacy.

  Iris sighed. She’d never understood him. He’d not acted as she thought most husbands would on realizing they’d been cuckolded. As far as she could tell, he’d simply up and left for the Continent. Quite a cold reaction, really, considering that he and Katherine had initially married for love—and a blazing, passionate love at that.

  She shook her head and continued. “Katherine did write about”—she darted a look at Alf—“those things.”

  Hugh nodded. “As I said, you may speak in front of him.”

  Had he no heart? No male pride?

  She took a deep breath and decided to be frank. If he wasn’t embarrassed, why should she be? “She wrote of a particular lover last summer. A man she was initially enthralled with. Katherine thought she loved him. But then, in September, she discovered a book of terrible illustrations hidden in his bedrooms. They depicted grown men with small children.” She felt her face heat, but she forced herself to go on. “The men having intimate relations with the children, you understand.”

  Alf made some sort of movement, and his fork clattered to the table.

  Hugh never even blinked, though his gaze grew savage. “What did Katherine do?”

  “That’s just it,” Iris whispered. “In the last entry in the diary, Katherine vows to confront her lover—and to expose him to society.”

  And at last Hugh closed his eyes, l
ooking pained. “Oh, Kate.”

  Iris felt the tears start. She’d cried late last night after she’d read the passage and realized what it meant.

  Impulsively she leaned forward and covered his hand. “You understand, don’t you? She must’ve gone to him. She was so brave. So determined in her convictions. If she thought that this man could hurt a child, she would’ve gone in like an avenging angel.”

  He nodded.

  “’Ow did she die, your lady wife?” Alf asked.

  Iris sniffed, straightening and fumbling for her handkerchief. It seemed so odd to have this intimate conversation in front of the boy, but if Hugh trusted him…

  It was he who answered Alf. “She fell from her horse. She was found in Hyde Park, her neck broken, by her groom. The horse was grazing nearby. The groom said that she had told him to wait while she met someone. When she did not return after an hour, he went in search of her.”

  “She was never a very good rider,” Iris said quietly. “And the horse was a high-strung black gelding.” She smiled painfully at the memory. “She insisted on riding him because of how striking she looked.”

  “When I received your letter telling me how she’d died, I never questioned it,” Hugh said, looking at Iris. His lips drew back from his teeth. “But if she met him alone that day—if she went in, all righteous anger and threats…”

  Iris shivered. “She was so fierce and… and wonderful, sometimes one forgot how delicate she was. Her neck was quite swanlike.” She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to chase away the image of Katherine, her beautiful neck deliberately broken. Her body left to lie on the ground like so much debris in Hyde Park.

  “Did she give the name of this lover?”

  Her gaze jerked up at Hugh’s harsh words. His face was quite cold now. Calm, collected, and cold.

  She shook her head. “She referred to him only by initials: A.C.”

  “Did you meet him?” he asked. “You must’ve seen him with Katherine at some point. At a ball or an afternoon tea, perhaps? She confided in you I know.”

  Iris shrugged helplessly. “She could be quite secretive, especially when she took a new lover.” She felt her face heat again in embarrassment at discussing this with him. “She thought it made the affair more romantic.”

  He made a low impatient sound in his throat. “There was nothing else to describe him in the diary? The way he spoke or moved or what he wore?”

  “Oh,” she said, suddenly remembering. “There was one thing. He had a tattoo. On his wrist. Of a dolphin, of all things. But I don’t see how that…”

  Her voice trailed away, for Alf had straightened in his seat and was staring at Hugh now. Almost as if they shared some sort of secret.

  “The Lords of Chaos,” the boy said. “’Er lover must’ve been a member!”

  “That’s why he killed Katherine,” Hugh said grimly, staring at the boy. “And that’s why he tried to kill me the other night.”

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Lady Jordan said, but Alf wasn’t paying any attention to her.

  She was too busy watching Kyle, seeing his mind work behind those black eyes, those curling, almost pretty eyelashes. It was a bit like the feeling she had when flying over the rooftops. For a second she wished—oh, how she wished!—that he could see her as she truly was—as a woman.

  But that was folly, and dangerous to boot, so she’d take what she could in this moment instead.

  She leaned forward, holding his black eyes, holding his attention, all for herself.

  Just her, plain Alf from St Giles. “You couldn’t figure out why they’d attacked you now. Well, maybe one of the men you’re investigating as part of the Lords of Chaos was also your wife’s lover. Maybe ’e started sweating and worrying over why you ’ad men following ’im. Why you were so set on finding out about ’im. Maybe ’e thought you thought ’e ’ad something to do with poor Katherine’s death.”

  Kyle’s savage black eyes narrowed. “Sir Aaron Crewe.”

  Alf held his gaze. “And ’oo might ’e be, guv?”

  “One of the four men on my list,” he said, his beautiful lips curling with grim satisfaction.

  She was smiling at him now, her heart soaring at having made this discovery with him—sharing in matching wits and putting together the pieces.

  “What are you two talking about?” Lady Jordan said sharply, and Alf fell suddenly to earth.

  Kyle turned his attention to her, and Alf only just kept from scowling.

  She watched, a little amazed, as he told the lady about the Lords and the dolphin tattoos and tried to skip over the parts about rape and children, but Lady Jordan turned out to be surprisingly stubborn and in the end had gone bone white when he’d finished.

  “Dear God,” she said softly. “That such a society should exist, should operate in secret in England and none of us be aware…” She shuddered and then looked with determination at Kyle. “You must stop it, Hugh. You must.”

  “And so I shall,” Kyle said with utter certainty. “Now think: did you ever see Sir Aaron Crewe in Katherine’s company?”

  “If I did I was not aware of it,” Lady Jordan said. “I’m afraid I don’t know the gentleman.”

  Kyle rose from his seat. “Crewe has a town house in London. I’ll start there. You return home, Iris, and I’ll send word when I have news.”

  “What will you do?” Lady Jordan stared at him.

  “I’m going to arrest Crewe,” Kyle replied impatiently.

  The lady’s eyes widened. “But… Hugh, darling, we have only the diary and speculation. This is hardly evidence of a man’s guilt.”

  Kyle turned and stared down at Lady Jordan, his face a hard mask, his black eyes glittering. “Iris, I believe that a member of the Lords of Chaos murdered the mother of my sons. I’m going to arrest him and then I’m going to search his house until I find the evidence of his disgusting love for small children. With that I can blackmail him into telling me everything he knows about the Lords of Chaos. And after that? I’ll make him regret ever having drawn breath in this world. Now please go home.”

  For a moment Alf thought Lady Jordan would refuse his instructions—she got an almost mulish look on her face. Today she was wearing pink silk, delicate and pretty, and the contrast between her ladylike appearance and her expression almost made Alf laugh aloud.

  But then Lady Jordan composed herself and nodded. “Very well.”

  She stood and took a step toward Kyle so that now they were quite close and then…

  And then she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful, please.”

  Alf stared. Somehow she hadn’t thought, hadn’t considered, what Lady Jordan was to Kyle. She looked between them, Kyle so big and manly, Lady Jordan so delicate in that pretty pink gown.

  She had to duck her head. Hide her face. For she knew it burned with jealousy. They were like two halves that, put together, made a whole.

  They fit.

  The reminder filled her with black boiling bitterness, heaving in her chest, prickling in her eyes. She was nothing. Just a guttersnipe from St Giles, dirty and stinking, without education, women’s clothes, elegant ways, or the knowledge of how to flirt with a man.

  Oh, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t.

  But then most in life wasn’t, she knew that well enough from scavenging in St Giles as a child.

  She’d survived that and she’d survive this.

  Alf raised her head and threw back her shoulders—and only just in time, for Kyle was striding to the dining room doors.

  “I’m coming with you, guv,” she called.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder, his face dark and irritated. “I’ve no need of you.”

  “I’m still in your employ, ain’t I?” she demanded. “This here’s my investigation as well.”

  She could tell he was about to deny her.

  She smiled sweetly. “Or I can just go back to St Giles.”

  He swore under his breath and pointed a finger i
n her face. “Don’t get in the way. Don’t try anything that’ll get you hurt.”

  He pivoted toward the door again before she could voice her indignant protest.

  At least he was letting her come along this time. She hurried after him.

  He was already snapping out orders to the haughty butler when she caught up with him.

  He turned to her as she made his side. “We’ll take my men to Crewe’s house and I’ll question him there.”

  “Will you take ’im before the magistrates?” Alf asked as they clattered down the staircase.

  He grimaced. “It depends on what he says.”

  “But the diary, guv!”

  “Aye, we have that,” he said with satisfaction. “But it’s what Katherine wrote about the illustrations of children and men that Crewe kept that are most important there. He’ll not want that to get out, and I can use that fact in questioning him.”

  They’d made the lower level now, and she laid a hand on his arm to stay him. “But if ’e murdered ’er.”

  He turned at her touch, his black eyes stormy. “I know well enough what the stakes are, but Iris is right: the diary is tenuous at best as evidence. We’ll use it only as a last resort.”

  She opened her mouth to argue further, but at that moment Talbot, Jenkins, and Riley tromped into the entryway.

  “Sir?” Riley tilted his head in inquiry.

  “We’re to Sir Aaron Crewe’s town house,” Kyle said. “I’ve information that he may be behind the attacks on me and Alf. He also might’ve been involved in my wife’s death.”

  Talbot’s eyes widened while the other two men exchanged grim glances.

  “Yes, sir,” Riley said soberly, appearing to speak for them all.

  Kyle nodded curtly and led them outside to where his carriage was already waiting. Talbot took a seat beside the driver. Kyle climbed in the carriage and Alf followed with the other two men. She sat beside the duke and looked out the window as the carriage lurched into motion.