It would have been glorious, regardless of the scandal. But she would have made a fool of herself, her leg would have ensured that. And not for the first time, and most certainly not for the last time, did she curse her limp.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Did you have any luck following McGinchy?” Sebastian asked Rowan as he entered the manager’s office at Club Tartus on Monday morning. He shrugged off his jacket and threw it onto the settee before settling himself in the chair behind the office desk. It was one of the many work spaces he frequented, and aside from his main office on Baker Street, this one was his most favorite.
He had a lot of good memories about opening this club, and every time he was in the office, it really brought home all he’d achieved and all that he’d made of himself.
But he had other, more pressing, matters to think of at the moment. The Lads of Leybrook Lane being the main one. Particularly if they had anything to do with shooting at Livie in Bethnal Green Cemetery last week.
“Aye. After we released him this morning, he tried to cover his tracks, weaving and ducking down streets and alleys, but I had no trouble staying hidden as I followed him to a warehouse down by the docks.”
Seb expected nothing less. Rowan had grown up in the streets of the Rookeries, too, and even with his gangly six-foot-two frame, no one was better at sneaking around without being discovered than Rowan. The lad was almost like a ghost when he wanted to be. “I knew I could count on you. Is this warehouse their hideout?”
The word on the street was that the gang had gone into hiding when it became common knowledge that Sebastian was seeking retribution against them. But everyone knew you couldn’t stay hidden from the Bastard of Baker Street for long. The Lads were fools to think that a warehouse by the docks would be able to hide them from him.
Rowan nodded. “It appears so. I recognized the snake tattoo on several of the men coming and going from the place. And I’ve heard the leader calls himself Orestes and has a purple snake tattooed on his neck.”
“Orestes?” Seb leaned back in his chair, his mind quickly calculating possibilities. “Interesting. In Greek mythology, Orestes’s main purpose was to avenge the death of his father. In any event, have some of our men watch the place. I want to know who comes and goes, but if anyone catches sight of this Orestes, I want to know immediately.”
“Consider it done.” Rowan bobbed his head and turned on his heel but stopped at the doorway as Lance came barreling into the room.
“Good, you’re both here,” Lance said by way of greeting. “It’ll save me having to tell it twice.”
“Tell what twice?” Seb asked, noting the concern on his friend’s face.
“I’ve confirmed that it is Lady Olivia who is being targeted.” Lance pushed Rowan back into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. “Someone wants to get rid of both her and a maid by the name of Mary and is willing to pay handsomely to have it done and done quickly.”
“But what about Seb?” Rowan asked. “He was targeted as well.”
“I don’t think the Lads of Leybrook Lane need any payment to try to get rid of Seb,” Lance replied. “The leader of that gang seems to hate him with a vengeance.”
“He can join the queue,” Seb replied drolly.
“He’s different, Seb,” Lance said. “I think he has a real vendetta to destroy you. And he’s now getting the funds to help in his endeavor by essentially running a group of thugs for hire, and we still don’t know his identity. He means trouble, he does. Mark my words.”
“He doesn’t worry me.”
“Perhaps he should.” Lance’s eyes were devoid of any humor, and Seb knew his friend was truly worried for him.
“He’s not the first to try to unseat me, and he won’t be the last.” The man didn’t bother Seb, for he’d dealt with men like him many times before in his lifetime, men trying to claw power through any means they could. Inevitably, though, they didn’t have the true hunger Seb had. A hunger born from desperation and honed into an unflinching willingness to do whatever he must. “What does interest me is who is paying him his fee to try to murder a maid and a duke’s daughter. Do we know that?”
“Not yet,” Lance conceded. “But I have men asking around to see if they can find that out.”
“Tell them to look at Lord Daverell too,” Seb said. Once they knew who was actually behind the attempts, then they could take some true action. And if it was Daverell, Seb would make certain the man was stopped. Permanently. “We also need to find this maid before the Lads do.”
“Yes, I know.” Lance stood and strode over to the door, but then he paused. “Should I arrange protection for Lady Olivia?”
“I’ve already done so.”
“You have?” Lance seemed surprised.
“Yes. I have three of our men protecting her,” Seb briefly explained, not liking the look of interest that crossed between Rowan and Lance upon hearing this. “Is that a problem for either of you?”
Both men quickly held up their hands and shook their heads, muttering “no” quite a bit. If he wasn’t so annoyed at them, he may have laughed.
“I’ve never known you to organize protection for a lady before.” It was Lance who spoke and shrugged slightly with the observation. “It’s unusual for you, that is all.”
“I’m protecting my investment.” Seb didn’t know why he felt the need to defend his actions, which were completely logical given the circumstances. “There’s nothing unusual about that.” Not to mention his sister would be with Livie today. But they should be fine in London’s richest areas. Even the Lads wouldn’t dare accost them in the middle of Bond Street.
“Very well.” Lance said, pulling open the door. “I’m off to find the maid, then.” He nodded at both Seb and Rowan before leaving just as swiftly as he’d come.
“I’ll help him find the maid, too,” Rowan affirmed. “After I sort out getting eyes on the warehouse to watch for the leader of the Lads.”
“Good.” Seb returned his head to study the papers on his desk.
“One thing though?”
Seb glanced back up. “Yes?”
“I know Lance often overreacts and is very protective…”
“And?” Seb prompted the lad.
“Well, I think in this case he has good reason to be worried.” Rowan squared his shoulders. “Whoever this man is, he’s out to get you, Seb. And I know you’ve built a reputation as being practically infallible, but we both know you’re not.”
“I’m well aware I can bleed, Rowan.”
“Just don’t take the threat lightly is all I’m saying. And I’ll not add anything more on the matter.” Rowan twisted on his heel, leaving Seb alone with his thoughts.
Both Rowan and Lance were carrying on like worried nursemaids. It was damn annoying. Seb knew how to look after himself; he’d been doing it since he was a child. And no leader of any other gang was going to threaten all Seb had worked his life to achieve.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“So, this is the girl I am to sponsor, is it?”
Livie’s aunt held a monocle up to her left eye and peered through it, looking Charlotte up and down from her feet to the top of her head. “Hmm…I see there shall be a lot of work required to get her up to my standards. Particularly if she is to attend my ball in a fortnight.”
Beside her, Charlotte bristled and Livie placed a hand gently on the girl’s forearm. “Remember our conversation in the carriage,” Livie whispered to her.
Charlotte gave a sharp little nod and Livie dropped her hand, hoping the girl wasn’t going to lose her temper.
“Well, if anyone is up to the task of turning her into a diamond of the first water, Aunt Demelza, it is you.”
Demelza’s eyes, glistening with keen intelligence, snapped over to Livie. “You know how I detest flattery, my dear. Those who flatter are on
ly ever after something from me. I can see through it a mile away.” She banged her cane on the floor for emphasis.
“You may detest it, though you like it equally as much.” Livie smiled.
“Hm…perhaps,” her aunt allowed, her eyes swinging back to continue her assessment of Charlotte.
Livie sighed. “Of course, like I have said before, dear Aunt, if you think this project is too difficult for you to succeed in, I shall completely understand if you give up on it.” She wandered over to her aunt and threaded her arm through Demelza’s. “No one would think any less of you for failing.”
Failing was the one word Livie had learned over the years her aunt could not stand to attribute to herself.
“Fail?” she scoffed, lowering her monocle and facing Livie. “I never fail at anything! And this shall be no different. This young lady will be the toast of the town when I am done with her. But, good gracious, girl.” She turned and snapped at Charlotte. “Stand up straight! When you slouch like that, you look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. It is most unattractive and will not attain you a suitable match.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped open, and Livie could see a fierce expression creeping into her eyes; it was the same one Sebastian got whenever he was about to give Livie a piece of his mind.
“The girl is barely slouching at all,” Livie quickly interjected.
“Slouching is slouching, no matter how small.” The duchess narrowed her eyes at Livie. “Goodness, girl, you are slouching, too. Shoulders back! I taught you better.” She returned her sharp gaze to Charlotte. “She’s attractive, I suppose, which will assist, though she needs her hair done properly, and, of course, she will need a whole new wardrobe for the season. The dress she is wearing is not even fit for my maids.” She turned back around to face Livie. “Do tell me you have an appointment for her with Madame Arnout.”
“We’re going there straight after here,” Livie confirmed, noting in some alarm that Charlotte now appeared murderous rather than simply annoyed. Of course, her aunt was saying such things on purpose to see how far the girl could be pushed, and she had warned Charlotte that is what would occur. But she somehow got the sense that Charlotte had forgotten her warning.
“Good,” her aunt declared. “Be sure to convey the urgency of the requirement for new clothes, and that it is I who is requesting it be so, though I daresay when Madame Arnout sees the girl’s dress she will completely understand the urgency of creating a wardrobe for her.”
“There is nothing wrong with my dress, Your Grace!” Charlotte ground out from where she stood on a pedestal in the middle of the room, as if she were on exhibit, which Livie supposed she was. “Perhaps you need your monocle prescription checked?”
Demelza turned to face Charlotte, her back ramrod straight and her hands resting on the top of her cane, which she deliberately held in front of her, tapping the tip of it on the marble floor with a crack. “What did you just say?”
Livie knew that tone of voice, and it was not a good sign. When the Dragon Duchess used that tone, she usually flayed alive the person she was speaking to.
“I don’t mean to be rude.” Charlotte smiled tightly. “Though, if you can’t hear me properly, either, then perhaps you also need to get your hearing checked along with your eyes. Age can deteriorate a person’s senses greatly.”
It was now Livie’s jaw that was hanging open. Oh dear. This did not bode well for her bargain with Sebastian. If Demelza reneged, then the gazette would be dead in the water before it even began.
“You are a most impertinent gal!” Demelza sniffed aloud.
“And you are rude to so severely criticize someone,” Charlotte retorted. “It’s un-Christian of you, Your Grace.”
For a moment it had seemed as if Demelza’s jaw had opened for a second, but it was hard to tell, as now her lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed into thin slits as she stared at Charlotte. “Un-Christian of me… No one has ever dared call me that before!” Demelza’s voice rang through the house like a cannon.
“Perhaps not to your face,” Charlotte replied. “But if you speak to others the way you are speaking to me, then they most certainly would have called you that, and worse, I’d wager, behind your back.”
There was utter silence in the room, as everyone stared at the duchess, awaiting her reaction. Most of the servants were cringing in anticipation of what was sure to be a tongue-lashing Charlotte was about to endure, yet some appeared as if they were at a boxing match, completely drawn to the spectacle of who would win the round.
“Are you always this bold?” Demelza peered at Charlotte as if she were from the stars.
“I do try, my lady,” Charlotte answered in earnest. “One has to be bold to enter the domain of medicine. A domain dominated by men.”
A crackle of laughter emerged, almost rusted in sound, from Demelza.
Livie couldn’t remember the last time her aunt had laughed. One didn’t normally attribute laughter to the Dragon Duchess.
“Good!” Demelza declared after her laughter had subsided. “You will need to be bold to become a diamond of the first water.” Demelza glanced over at Livie. “She’s got spirit, this one. I like her.”
“I knew you were up for the challenge, Aunt.” Livie smiled at her.
“Humph. We shall see.” She pointed her cane at Charlotte. “You will attend here at precisely twelve o’clock every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, where I shall teach you etiquette lessons. Now both of you get to the modiste and leave me in peace for today.”
Demelza kissed Livie on the cheek, and then with her cane in tow, she swept from the room.
“Well, you were right,” Charlotte said, stepping down from the small pedestal. “She really is a dragon, but I actually like her.”
“I think you and I will be the only ones in Society who do.” Livie wound her arm through Charlotte’s. “Come along then, you heard what she said. You need an entirely new wardrobe and a particularly stunning ball gown for my godmother’s ball. It’s time to go and spend a considerable amount of your brother’s fortune.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“She’s dead.”
Sebastian glanced up from the paperwork on his desk, his whole body automatically clenching at the pronouncement. Rowan stood at the entrance to his office with a look of clear upset and frustration on his features. “Who the devil is dead?”
“The maid, Mary. And it weren’t pretty.” Rowan strode over to the side table and began pouring some whiskey into a glass. “Want one?”
Letting out a breath, Seb nodded as Rowan held up the bottle. He damn well needed a stiff drink after hearing those words. The same words he’d heard when his mother’s bruised and battered body had been discovered on the river’s edge. Abandoned but left on display to send a message to Seb.
He hated those words.
And for a split second after Rowan had uttered them, images of Livie had swam through his mind, a flicker of dread accompanying them.
Shaking his head free of the dark thoughts, he took the outstretched glass from Rowan’s fingers. “Tell me what happened.” He swallowed the amber liquid in one quick gulp, enjoying the warmth as the fluid washed down his throat.
“Lance received word she might be at Jeremiah’s barracks on the south side,” Rowan began. “So, me and a couple of our men went down there to find her. But we were too late. Someone had already paid the girl a visit and left her with a bullet in the brain.”
Seb carefully put down the glass on his table before rubbing his temples, mounting frustration starting to cause a headache. “And no journal, I’m guessing?”
“No. The place had been ransacked before we got there.”
“Of course it had.” It seemed all Seb had been doing of late was playing catch-up. And for Seb, such a thing was unacceptable. “Did anyone see anything?”
“Aye. Apparently, one of th
e Lads was seen in the vicinity. In a bit of good news, though, one of my spotters has also sent word he’s seen the man with the purple snake on his neck at the warehouse we’re keeping watch on. Want me to go there and suss it out, see if it may be the leader of the Lads?”
“No. I have a far more important job for you.” Seb paused for a minute, Livie’s words echoing in his head about not trusting people. Rowan had been as trustworthy as any of his men over the years, more of a brother to him than perhaps even Lance. He was young and motivated, and as completely loyal as a dog. But, still, Seb was hesitant to tell him about Charlotte, a secret he’d been guarding against telling others for years.
But perhaps Livie was right, too. It was a sad state of affairs if he couldn’t trust anyone close to him. So, with the woman’s voice in his head, he briefly told Rowan about the situation involving Livie’s friend Alice, and about Charlotte. Rowan needed to know about her, because the more Seb thought it over, the more he didn’t like how the situation was deteriorating, and the more he was beginning to think Charlotte might need protection.
Secrets had a way of being discovered, as Livie so rightly pointed out.
After he was done telling it all, Rowan looked like he’d been bowled over by a tram.
“Aye, I can see why you’d want to keep it all a secret,” Rowan managed to eventually reply. “Liabilities, especially family, are dangerous in this world of ours. But, gosh, you have a sister, Seb? I hope she’s prettier than you.”
“Why the hell do you say that?”
Rowan held his hands up in appeasement. “No need to bite my head off. I’m asking because I imagine you’ve told me all this as you’ll be wanting me to keep an eye on her, especially with what’s going on of late. Am I right?”
Rowan was always quick on the uptake. “You are. She’s with Livie, and though three of our best are protecting her, I want you to find them and keep them safe.” His throat tightened reflexively. Placing his faith in someone else had never come easy, and when it related to his sister and a woman who was starting to mean something to him, it made it especially hard. He pressed his lips together briefly before exhaling. “I…trust you to keep them safe.”
The Bachelor Bargain (Secrets, Scandals, and Spies) Page 19
