Lady Reckless (Notorious Ladies of London Book 3)

by Scarlett Scott

  “Your wife,” Gabe repeated. “Aiding me how?”

  Decker grinned. “She is making a delivery to your wife.”

  He remained nonplussed. “Do not you have servants for such things, Decker?”

  “Not with a matter this delicate, no.” Decker’s grin faded. “Would you care to take a seat in my office or here?”

  “This will suffice.” Along with his patience, his ability to be polite was also waning. “Are you going to tell me the reason for my presence here, or are you going to continue being coy?”

  “Calm thyself, Huntingdon.” Decker gestured to the pair of leather chairs in the corner of the room. “If you cannot be civil, I will force you to sit through another half hour with Macfie. Have a seat.”

  Gabe reluctantly sat. “Happy now, Decker?”

  His host folded his tall frame into the chair opposite him. “I dare say I could be happier. However, this shall have to do for now, no?”

  Gabe resisted the urge to growl. “You are enjoying this too bloody much.”

  Decker’s grin returned. “You did have the temerity to flirt with my wife once at a dinner party before we were married. Forgive me if watching you squirm is cause for enjoyment.”

  Had he? Gabe could not recall. Lady Jo Decker was a lovely woman, short, dark-haired, and quiet. He favored tall, golden-haired, and reckless.

  “My apologies for any flirtation, Decker. Now out with it, if you please.”

  His host studied him, drawing out the moment. “Very well. The delivery my wife is making to yours consists of a pearl-and-emerald necklace she lost.”

  Gabe knew the piece of jewelry Decker spoke of—the strands of pearls Helena often wore kissing her throat, adorned with the emerald pendant that matched her eyes. “I was not aware Lady Huntingdon was missing it. Did she lose it at a Lady’s Suffrage Society meeting?”

  “Indeed not. She lost it at the rooms of Lord Algernon Forsyte, and the maggot was holding it over her head, using it as leverage for blackmail.”

  Rage shot through him, and immediately thereafter, a hundred different questions followed. “How did you come to be involved in this matter when my wife failed to mention it to me? How in heaven’s name did Lady Jo come to be in possession of the necklace if Lord Algernon had it? Why am I in the dark about all this when you are not?”

  “Because your wife came to my wife and I this morning seeking our help,” Decker explained. “Said maggot threatened to spread damning rumors about your wife, using the necklace as proof, if she breathed a word of it to you. He also demanded one thousand pounds, which Lady Huntingdon requested to loan from me, in payment.”

  Gabe was going to kill the bastard.

  He started to rise from his chair.

  “Do not go running off to slay the spineless weasel just yet, if you please.” Decker stopped him. “This story is far from over.”

  Grimly, Gabe forced himself to heed his host’s decree. “I shudder to think what more there could be, and I still fully intend to rip his arms from his body and bludgeon him with them. But do go on.”

  “Perfectly reasonable.” Decker nodded. “Now, then. I sent some of my acquaintances to pay Lord Algernon a call. These acquaintances of mine are a bit…rough and ragged, one might say. Our maggot was no match. I also threatened to see him banished from my club and from every gambling den worth a damn. You would be amazed at the effect of a few meaty fists and the prospect of never again depleting his family coffers in style. He was only too pleased to return the necklace, forego the one thousand pounds he demanded, and provide the reason behind his sudden campaign to discredit you and Lady Huntingdon. Or rather, I should say the person behind his campaign.”

  Gabe’s mind was swirling with the ramifications of everything Decker had just revealed. The last sentence in particular.

  “Who would dare to go to him and put him up to this?” he gritted, clenching the arms of his chair in twin iron grips. “And why? What was to be gained?”

  “According to our maggot, the person responsible is your former betrothed,” Decker said. “Lady Beatrice Knightbridge did not take kindly to your jilting, I am afraid. Lord Algernon had been suffering recent losses at the tables to the point his father the marquess was threatening to cut him off. In an effort to pay his debts, he sought out Lady Beatrice with the necklace. The two formed a plan. Our maggot was to receive the one thousand pounds from Lady Huntingdon and a matching amount from Lady Beatrice.”

  A sick feeling twisted in Gabe’s gut at the revelations, understanding dawning. “They were planning to make it seem as if my wife and Lord Algernon were having an affaire, were they not?”

  Decker inclined his head. “An anonymous note was to be sent to you, and when you arrived, Lord Algernon would have made certain you were witness to a spectacle. Lady Beatrice, meanwhile, was to have been watching all unfold from an unmarked carriage across the street.”

  Anger and disgust warred for supremacy within him. His hands shook. “If that bastard had dared to force my wife…”

  He could not finish his sentence. The thought was too awful to even contemplate.

  “I do not blame you for your rage,” Decker said quietly. “If I were in your place, I would not stop until I destroyed the people responsible.”

  Lady Beatrice, his perfect, composed fiancée. The bride Grandfather had selected for him, had attempted to hurt Helena. And not just hurt her, but worse. She would have had Lord Algernon force his attentions upon Helena. Bile rose in his throat as bitter memories of the crime perpetrated upon Lisbeth renewed themselves. Gabe burned with fury.

  “Thank you for your intervention,” he managed. “I am indebted to you.”

  “Think nothing of it, Huntingdon. Our wives are friends, and Lord Algernon was overdue for a sound drubbing.”

  Though Decker was nonchalant, Gabe heartily appreciated the actions the man and his wife had taken on behalf of both himself and Helena. Good God, to think of what may have occurred. And all because the incomparable Lady Beatrice Knightbridge was a conscienceless witch.

  Gabe stood. “Nonetheless, I will be more than happy to return the favor to you however I may. Lady Huntingdon and I would be honored if you and Lady Jo were to join us for dinner one evening soon.”

  Decker stood. “I am sure it would be our pleasure to be your guests.”

  He bowed. “But first, Lord Algernon and Lady Beatrice must face their reckonings from me.”

  He was going to trounce Lord Algernon Forsyte, and he was going to make certain Lady Beatrice would never again hurt Helena.

  No one dared to threaten his woman, damn it.

  “Of course,” Decker said. “I completely understand, Huntingdon. When you love a woman, you will crawl through the fires of hell on broken glass for her. And when someone tries to hurt her, you are going to bloody well destroy them.”

  His host’s words gave Gabe pause.

  When you love a woman.

  “I am not in love with my wife, Decker,” he bit out. “I respect her. Admire her. But love has no place in a marriage that is going to weather the storms of life. I have no wish to indulge such fanciful notions.”

  Decker had the effrontery to laugh. “Oh, Huntingdon, you dense shite. You cannot decide not to fall in love with someone. Love is not a choice. Love is a force. And at this moment, you have the distinct look of a man who is hopelessly, helplessly mired deep within its clutches. Whether you like it or not.”

  “I do not like it, nor do I want it in my life or in my marriage,” he denied coolly. “Love leads to disaster and hatred and bitter enmity.”

  “Trust me on something, Huntingdon. The best decision I ever made was to embrace life with my wife, to accept her love for me, and to give her my heart in return.” Decker paused, quirking a brow. “Accept your fate. Thank me later.”

  Accept his fate? Nonsense. Gabe was not in love with Helena.

  Or was he?

  He had never shared the truth of what had happened to Lisbeth with
anyone other than Grandfather. Nor had he ever longed for a woman the way he burned for Helena. He spent every hour he was apart from her telling himself it was for the best and counting down the minutes until he would have her back in his arms.

  “I am not in love,” he said, with far less assurance than he would have preferred. “I am in lust. Obsessed, perhaps. Not in love.”

  “Is she all you can think about?” Decker asked, his tone knowing.

  Yes.

  “That is none of your affair, Decker,” he growled.

  “You have never been happier than you are now, have you?” the blighter pressed.

  Gabe searched inside himself. No, he had not. And there was only one reason for the vast feeling of contentment he had been steeping in ever since making Helena his countess.

  The woman herself.

  He cleared his throat. “I have always been happy.”

  Liar.

  Decker’s grin told him he was not fooling either of them with his response. “Love only leads to disaster when you allow it to, Huntingdon. Take my word for it.”

  “Good day, Mr. Decker,” he bit out pointedly, having had enough of this unwanted discussion.

  “Give Forsyte a black eye for me, won’t you?” Decker asked.

  Yes, he bloody well would.

  But as he made good on his escape, he acknowledged inwardly that there was one inescapable fact he could not flee. He had somehow—against his will and against every one of Grandfather’s maxims—fallen in love with his wife. What in the hell was he going to do about that?

  “Tell her you love her, Huntingdon,” Decker called after him, as if Gabe had requested his advice.

  He did not need Elijah Decker’s counsel on the matter, confound it.

  Gabe thought of the look of undisguised adoration and happiness on the man’s face as he had spoken of his own marriage. Then again, mayhap he did.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The difference between right and wrong cannot be argued. The division is clear. The time to act, now.

  —From Lady’s Suffrage Society Times

  Helena took great pleasure in the expression of shock upon the ordinarily placid countenance of her nemesis. It was apparent that Lady Beatrice Knightbridge had not been anticipating her call.

  Excellent.

  “My lady,” said Lady Beatrice in a stilted tone, recovering sufficiently from her surprise to dip into an elegant curtsy.

  “Lady Beatrice,” she returned, grateful when her voice did not even betray a hint of a tremor. She refused to allow the other woman to see how shaken the incident with Lord Algernon had left her.

  Or to give any indication of the fury burning within her soul.

  The woman before her had conspired to hurt her, mayhap even to destroy her marriage. Fortunately for Helena, she had friends she could trust, friends who had helped her to unravel Lady Beatrice’s sick plan. Friends who had also enabled her to dismantle it.

  There only remained the pièce de résistance.

  “Do you care to sit, my lady?” Lady Beatrice queried, her complexion quite pale, her bright-blue eyes wide and laden with worry.

  “Thank you.” Helena seated herself on a chintz settee.

  The other woman sat on a chair opposite her, looking distinctly uncomfortable at the prospect of a tête-à-tête. Silence reigned, with Helena’s reluctant hostess making no indication she was about to attempt idle conversation or a lessening of the tension.

  Helena decided to take charge. “You may be wondering why I am calling upon you, Lady Beatrice.”

  Lady Beatrice’s lips tightened. “I will admit to some curiosity on my behalf, Lady Huntingdon.”

  She did not miss the bitterness in the other woman’s voice when she referred to Helena by her title. “Let us be candid then, shall we? I find no need to prolong this visit.”

  “Please do proceed,” Lady Beatrice urged coolly.

  “Of course.” Helena paused, trying her best to calm the raging emotions churning through her. “Mayhap we should begin with a common acquaintance of ours, though I truly wish my path had never crossed with his.”

  Lady Beatrice’s nostrils flared. “You would dare to disparage Lord Huntingdon, your husband, to me, his betrothed? And so soon after you have wed. Have you no shame?”

  Helena would have smiled at her hostess’ supposition were she not so thoroughly outraged. “I would never dare to disparage his lordship to anyone, least of all his former betrothed. You are mistaken, Lady Beatrice. The mutual acquaintance I refer to is, regrettably, Lord Algernon Forsyte.”

  Lady Beatrice’s sharp intake of breath gave away her guilt even as she attempted to lie. “Lord Algernon Forsyte is most certainly not one of my acquaintances. The man is a scoundrel and a rogue with a reputation that precedes him. I would never lower myself to consort with a man of his ilk.”

  “How odd, then, that Lord Algernon was only too quick to share a tale concerning your collusion with him in an attempt to make it look as if I were betraying Lord Huntingdon,” she countered.

  Her hostess stiffened. “I will not subject myself to your vicious lies, Lady Huntingdon. If this is all you have come here for, I am afraid it is truly best for you to go.”

  “It is not all I have come here for,” Helena said, smiling as the momentum of their visit changed in favor of her. “I have also come here to let you know that any future attempts at interference in my marriage by you—or anyone acting at your behest—will be dealt with swiftly and ruthlessly. I am showing you mercy on this occasion, Lady Beatrice. But do not fool yourself into believing I will not strike back if you ever dare to do something like this again.”

  “You are a lunatic, madam,” Lady Beatrice charged, her voice shrill. “I would never lower myself to intervene in your marriage. You are beneath me. You are not worthy of Huntingdon. He could have had me at his side, and instead he had to settle for a woman who threw herself into the arms of every man in London, no better than a lightskirt.”

  Helena flinched at the vitriol in the other woman’s tone, but still, she refused to be defeated. “Better me than a woman who would bribe a man to rape someone she perceived as an opponent.”

  “I never bribed that disgusting scoundrel to rape you! I paid him to make it look as if you were lovers.”

  Lady Beatrice’s denial was so loud, it echoed in the silence of the salon. She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if belatedly realizing the confession she had made with her denial.

  The vindication sweeping over Helena was bittersweet. “Just as I thought. You admit to offering Lord Algernon money in exchange for his blackmailing of me. What was the plan, Lady Beatrice? I was to give him the thousand pounds and in exchange, he would pin me to the floor and force his attentions upon me until my husband arrived?”

  The notion of Lady Beatrice’s scheming made Helena’s blood boil. After Jo had returned to her with her necklace and the tale Decker’s men had wrung from Lord Algernon, Helena had been struck numb. The terrible thought of another man forcing himself upon her, coupled with Gabe bearing witness, had been too much to bear. After his heartrending revelation about what had happened to his sister, the news had sent Helena running to the water closet to cast up her accounts.

  Lady Beatrice was staring at her with a stricken expression, saying nothing in her own defense. Mayhap because her behavior had been indefensible. Helena could only hope the other woman knew it.

  “Have you nothing to say, Lady Beatrice?” she prodded, her tone biting. “No more false denials?”

  “Lord Algernon came to me with the idea,” Lady Beatrice gritted. “The fault for what happened is yours, and yours alone. If you had not been conducting yourself in such despicable, amoral fashion, none of this would have happened. But instead, you were flitting about London, lifting your skirts for anyone in trousers. Huntingdon was attempting to save your reputation because he is a gentleman, and in the end, you caught him in your web like any spider. I never stood a chance against someon
e like you.”

  Helena rose to her full, commanding height. “You are correct in that assessment, Lady Beatrice. You never did stand a chance against me, and if you ever again attempt to interfere in my marriage, you will discover all the reasons why.”

  Lady Beatrice rose, but she was far more petite, reaching no higher than Helena’s shoulder. “Are you threatening me?”

  Helena stepped nearer, her gaze trained upon the other woman, never so much as blinking. “I am not threatening you, my dear. I am promising you. Keep your distance from myself and Lord Huntingdon from this moment forward. You can desire to hurt me all you like, but I will not allow you to hurt him. If I ever hear even the tiniest speck of a rumor that you are attempting to hurt us again, I will come for you. And I will not be nearly as understanding as I was on this occasion. Consider this your first and only chance, my lady. There shall not be another.”

  “How dare you presume to speak to me thus? Who do you think you are?” Lady Beatrice demanded.

  Helena smiled. “I am the Countess of Huntingdon. Never forget it.”

  On that note, she turned and began taking her leave before recalling she had failed to play her final trump card. She waited until she had nearly reached the door to the salon before spinning about and facing Lady Beatrice for what she could only hope proved the last time.

  “Oh, and my lady? One more thing before I take my leave. Lord Algernon may be a disreputable scoundrel and an abysmal gambler, but he is also quite sly. You left him with a parting gift when you last met, and I have in my possession a handkerchief embroidered with your initials, complete with a delicate little rose in the corner. Roses are your favorite flower, are they not? If you ever dare to try anything like this again, I will not hesitate to return the mouchoir to Lord Algernon so that he may use it as evidence to anyone and everyone in London that Lady Beatrice Knightbridge shared a bed with him.”

  “You would not do something so despicable!” Lady Beatrice gasped.

  Helena laughed. “When it comes to protecting the man I love and my marriage, I would do anything. Do not test me, my lady, or you shall be sorely disappointed. I bid you good day.”