He pulled in a breath and took her hand in his. “There will be none of that.”
She straightened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I won’t be sleeping with you.”
Her heart raced. “Ever?”
He smiled and dropped her hand to her side. “Good evening, Belle.”
“You’re not still thinking to find me a husband, are you?”
“In a way.”
“You’re being purposefully irritating.”
“Now you know how it feels.” He lifted his hand and stroked his fingers over her shoulder before he touched her necklace.
“Don’t even think to take it back,” she said.
“I wouldn’t dare.” He held her eyes. “It belonged to you since the moment you put it on.” He dropped his hand and stepped back.
Belle had been struck by his words that it actually took him walking away for her to realize he was gone.
She headed up to her room and was about to remove her dress when a voice spoke.
“Stop.”
She jumped and then retreated into the corner as Husher stepped from behind her dressing screen. He had his hands out.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
“I know that.” She frowned. “Why are you here?”
He lowered his hands and calmed at once. “Sorry we have to meet this way. Cassius is trying to keep me out of this. Still, I’ve been following Noel and the children as they try to uncover who gave Violet my note. Who was the gentleman that Remy brought to Van Dero’s home?”
Belle didn’t know if it were a good idea to share information with Husher, but she trusted him. If he’d wanted the money from the kill, he’d have killed her by now.
They were running out of time either way. Would another man come after her once Husher’s time had expired?
“He was Mr. Kennicot, but he’s Cassius’ cousin.”
“A cousin?” Husher frowned, and she noticed his eyes were slightly unfocused.
“Are you drunk?”
“It’s something else,” he told her. Then he touched his side. “It’s the only way I can get around with this injury.”
She’d forgotten that Noel had stabbed him.
“What happened at the meeting?” he asked.
She told him everything and then asked, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try and find the girl.”
“She’s still missing?” Belle asked.
He nodded. “No one has seen Violet for days.”
“Children should not be involved in your work.”
Husher moved to her window. “There are only so many ways a pretty little girl on the street can make money.”
Belle’s stomach tightened at what Husher was implying. “I didn’t know Violet was an orphan.”
Husher nodded. “She’s got a little brother as well. They get by thanks to her.”
“They should be inside. They should have parents.”
“You can’t save everyone, Belle.”
She knew that.
He was gone before she could say anything else.
She decided to write to Oliver about Husher’s visit. Truly, she knew there would only be one outcome by telling him. He’d come to her.
Oliver arrived less than an hour after she’d had the message delivered. “Is he still here?” He remained just within the front door. Belle had dismissed the servants for the evening, so she’d opened it herself. Shepard stood behind her, but at seeing Oliver, he left the foyer.
“Husher is gone,” Belle said. She moved back to follow him room to enter.
Oliver gripped the doorpost. “What did you tell him?”
“Everything.”
He lifted a brow. “That could have been a bad move.”
“I trust him and that is not something I say about all men. Would you like to come in?”
He leaned against the doorpost and studied her. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“I want to finish our conversation from earlier.”
He chuckled and crossed his arms. “If I cross this threshold, we won’t be having any conversations.”
Her lower muscles tightened anxiously.
He groaned, and she gasped when the lantern by the door went out.
Oliver had plunged them into darkness. No one on the road could see them now.
When his head bent forward, she rose up and sought his mouth. The kiss was slower than earlier. Warmth ran like thick syrup down her veins.
He tucked his hand behind her head and his tongue dove deeper. He groaned again. She heard wood splinter and broke the kiss. His other hand still rested on her doorpost. “I should go.” His voice was nearly foreboding.
He was so powerful. She wanted that power over her, inside her. She wanted him in a way she’d never wanted anything else before.
“Oliver.”
“Shepard!” Oliver shouted right before he kissed her again. Quick and deep.
When she opened her eyes, he was gone.
∫ ∫ ∫
2 8
* * *
“Your name, my lord?” the young secretary at the back of the Good Fellow coffee shop asked. Downstairs, patrons of wealth and class filled in the table and chair on the busy morning.
The air had the heavy rich aroma of spices and sugar. Most of the conversation centered on politics. It was a place to see and be seen. The fraternity allowed anyone who could afford their offerings into the building, but only members and their special guests were allowed on the upper floors.
“Venmont,” Oliver said.
“May I take your bag?” the young man asked.
Oliver tightened his hand on the carpetbag. His belongings would never leave his sight. “No.”
The young man paled slightly. “Very well. This way.”
He led Venmont upstairs and into a waiting area.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Lord Berret came out. The short happy man managed to look more joyful at the sight of Oliver. “My lord. I’m so glad you could join us. Please. The others are anxious to see what you’ve brought. Your grandmother said it was magnificent.”
“Before we go any further…” Berret turned around, and Oliver went on, “Know, I have no intention of selling my ideas. I am only here because Lady Serveck insisted.”
Berret nodded. “Well, we enjoy thinkers nonetheless. Your insight will be most welcome. Come.” The man hadn’t been put off at all by Oliver’s warning. He still spoke with enthusiasm as he led Oliver to the door at the end of the bright hall. “This floor is all business. The floor holds private rooms for members and above that is strictly a members-only area. The Grand Fellows can usually be found there.”
“Grand Fellows?” Oliver hadn’t heard of them.
“They are the leading members. Usually, they are descendants of Good Fellows past. The fraternity has had many names, but it’s been around for hundreds of years.”
“Hundreds?” Oliver hadn’t known that.
Berret smiled and nodded. “Oh, yes. We’re quite ancient. The brotherhood goes back to the time of the Greeks, tied to men of power and myths.” Berret lowered his voice and asked, “Do you believe in magic, my lord?”
Oliver lifted a brow and wondered if Berret were serious. He tended to stay clear of anything that seemed… unusual. His family had a penchant for madness. Had it started with his grandfather and the Good Fellows?
“Clearly not, which is good. We’re not a cult, my lord.” Berret laughed and Oliver calmed. “We only gained our Royal Charter in the last century, but we have our legends, so don’t fault us for them.”
They walked into a room with a long table and conversation immediately quieted.
The well-decorated room had rich dark tones and gilt finishes. The order’s crest rested on the wall. In the center of the shield was a bear with bones on its belly. A bell was in one hand and an hourglass in the other.
The men stood and Berret began the introduction
s.
Oliver knew half the men in the room. There were a few knights, an earl, and some members of the peerage he’d met at Society functions. A few he recalled from his days working with Gregory. While he hesitated to call any man a ‘friend’ of Gregory’s, he could not deny that many had been in the man’s inner circle. He wondered what they were up to these days.
He stiffened as his eyes fell on Mr. Kennicot.
Cassius’ cousin did not seem surprised in the least to see him. He smiled.
“We’re anxious to see what you’ve brought,” Berret said as he took his seat.
Oliver sighed and placed his carpetbag on the table. He went about pulling out his device, yet all the while his mind was on Kennicot. What was he doing here? Did the men at the table know about his connection to Cassius?
Oliver’s lighter was the size of a flask. Actually, it had been the burn of his brandy that had given him the idea one day. He told the men how it worked, without giving them too many details on the fuel he used and the intricate details of the mechanics.
Then, with a flick of his thumb, the flame appeared.
The men in the room gasped or simply looked impressed.
“Might I see it?” Kennicot asked.
Oliver tossed it to him and the man caught it with a little grunt.
Kennicot shook it and frowned. “It’s kind of heavy.”
“Not for me.”
A young gentleman asked, “What sort of gas did you say you used?”
“I didn’t.”
Another man said, “How much did this cost to make?”
“Can’t remember.”
“How many more do you have?”
“That’s my business.”
“I wish to see the mechanics inside,” one of the lords said. “Do you mind if we cut it open?”
“Do you mind if I cut you—”
“Well!” Berret stood and clapped. “Good show, my lord. How marvelous.”
The other lords slowly began to applaud. A few men, the ones who’d asked questions, looked rather disgruntled. Kennicot looked ready to laugh.
The lighter went around the table, and Oliver put it back in his bag once it reached him.
“Have you brought other things?” Berret asked.
“I think I’m done for today.” Oliver sat. His bag was full of items. He hadn’t known which ones to bring.
“Another time then.” Berret led the men into a discussion of various charity projects they were interested in. Like Belle, they had a vision of helping the young boys in the area. He was surprised to learn they fed street children in the alley behind the kitchen downstairs in thanks for keeping their portion of Mayfair clean of horse droppings and other odorous objects.
Oliver kept his eyes on Kennicot. He was surprised by the man’s involvement. The men before him seemed to know him pretty well, which troubled Oliver. How had these men been present in London and right under Cassius’ nose?
Oliver was asked a few more questions, which pulled him into the discussion with the others. There was another gentleman with an interest in explosives and they spoke of chemical reactions. The conversation didn’t irritate him as much as he thought it would.
When the conversation turned back to children, he mentioned Belle’s homes and his plans to take a few of the older young men up to his property. That got much interest and a few of the lords volunteered to assist.
Oliver didn’t know if any of them could actually assist him in any way. A few of the men seemed the outdoors sort, but he wouldn’t be taking any dandies up to his property. The fancy clothes irritated him.
He told them to let him think about, but he’d already made a decision. He wouldn’t be sharing his land with these men. Not this year anyway.
The fraternity also promised a donation to Belle’s cause and Oliver imagined the pleasure that would come over her at the news. He was reminded of the reason he’d first agreed to come. He was supposed to find her a husband, but that idea had been set aside for another possibility
He would marry Belle himself. He could no longer deny the truth. She heated him in so many ways. She burned life into his blood.
When the session ended, Berret invited Oliver to return and Oliver agreed that he would. He’d actually had a pleasant time.
Lord Derrick Bing, the man who’d been most enthusiastic about other projects with Oliver approached. “I used to start fires for pleasure,” he confessed. “But I’ve cured that habit and am now cultivating an understanding of the chemistry that goes into a flame.”
Oliver liked him. He was the Duke of Astlen’s brother and seemed like an honest man. Oliver made plans to speak to him later.
Then he turned to the waiting Mr. Kennicot. “I must admit, when I first saw you at Lord Van Dero’s home, I didn’t think you the scientific sort.”
Oliver wasn’t sure he was the ‘scientific sort.’ He just liked efficiency and science just so happened to prove itself necessary for that. “How long have you been a member?”
“For years,” Kennicot said. “My father was a Grand Fellow.”
That was very interesting.
Kennicot said, “I’m telling you now before you discover so yourself. I had no idea until after my first meeting. I’d been invited and I thought them only interested in my mind and not my lineage. Since then, I’ve made certain they only address me by my mother’s surname.”
“And who were your mother’s people?”
“No one of any significance. Otherwise, she’d have been given the respect she was due as Lady Thomas Hayes.” The bitterness had returned to his tone. He truly did not like his father. “Alas, they are gone and I am alone in this world.”
“Cassius said he planned to invite you to dinner.”
“I know. I got the invitation. I plan to refuse. As I stated yesterday, I have no intention of connecting with my family any more than I already have. If I could change my blood but alas...”
“Cassius doesn’t deserve your scorn,” Oliver said in his friend’s defense. “He was a child, just like you. In fact, you should count yourself lucky that your father ignored you. He didn’t ignore Cassius.” Oliver didn’t say anymore. If Cassius wished to share his story with his cousin, that was his business.
Kennicot frowned. “He was still raised by the man, was he not?” Was that jealousy?
Oliver didn’t usually get into the business of others. In fact, he avoided it when he could, but he knew himself what it was like to be disappointed by a father. “My father tormented me and my brothers, Leo and Nick. I’m close to them. We bonded over our pain and now do so over our victories. I’d never blame them for what my father did. Don’t blame Cassius. If you give him a chance, you might find him an ally.”
Kennicot lifted a brow and then shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
“Also, there’s your cousin Irene. She’s a coddler, all but babies poor Cassius over the pain he’s gone through. She’d spoil you in trying to make up for the heartbreak you’ve suffered.”
Kennicot grunted. His lips twitched. “I’ll think about it.”
Oliver nodded and started away.
“Did you ever find that assassin you were looking for?” Kennicot asked.
∫ ∫ ∫
2 9
* * *
The people in the room had moved to private groups, so it was likely no one heard Kennicot’s question but Oliver.
He turned back to the man. “What do you know about the assassin?”
Kennicot looked Oliver over. “I know a man capable of anything when I see one.”
“Are you friends with any of them?” Husher perhaps?
Kennicot shrugged. “I may have met one a time or two. As a young man, I was very interested in finding out everything I could about my father. If you know anything about Lord Thomas Hayes, you know he was not a good man.”
Oliver knew Cassius’ version of events. “So, why join the Good Fellows?”
Kennicot looked around and then stepp
ed closer to Oliver and lowered his voice. “Honestly? I’m looking for those who may have been close to him.”
Oliver lifted a brow. “With what purpose?”
“To find out if the despicable things he did still go on.” Kennicot’s eyes grew hard. “Beware of who you trust in this room. I’ve been here for months and so far, I’ve discovered that many of them lead very private lives.”
“Most men do.” Oliver was one of them. He didn’t like anyone in his business, whether that he good or bad.
He looked Kennicot over. He still didn’t know what to make of the man. Would he be friend or foe? “What happens when you discover a man is not on the up and up?”
Kennicot smiled. “Well, that’s my business, my lord.”
Oliver decided right then and there that Kennicot was someone to be watched.
A servant came over and handed the man a note. Kennicot looked it over and his eyes flashed. But then he calmed his expression and smiled. “I wish we should speak more, but there is an urgent matter I must attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”
He dashed from the room. Oliver took his time following but didn’t let the man out of his sight. Something told him he should follow Kennicot. Where was the man going? What could possibly be so urgent for a man without a family?
Oliver preferred to walk, but when Kennicot took a hackney, so did he. They were going toward Covent Garden, and Oliver grew more curious when Kennicot got out in the square and began to look around.
The area was crowded and though Oliver was a tall man, he easily blended into these surroundings. He kept his shoulders hunched and his head down. He’d also had his hat cut shorter than most men to make up for his height.
Kennicot started from the square and Oliver followed. Not once did the other man check his surroundings as he moved.
Oliver stayed close to corners when Kennicot started down a path of narrow alleys and concentrated on listening to the conversation Kennicot began with the boy.
“I found her just a few hours ago,” the young boy said.
“How is Violet?” Kennicot sounded troubled.
“She was sick, but she’s getting better.”
The Marquess Who Kissed Me: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 15
