Very likely. As they approached him, Carlington smiled a welcome. Thank heavens he could put an end to this conversation. He shot Travis a warning look as they joined Carlington.
Their host offered them a welcoming smile. “Travis. Hunter. Are you enjoying yourselves?”
“Very much so, Lord Carlington. Good of you to invite us.”
“Ah, well. A ball is not complete without three or four Hunters in attendance. And since I do not have a wife, having the event here relieves me of the responsibility of finding a hostess. Quite satisfactory, in all.”
Carlington had had some great disappointment in love, according to the rumor mill. Charles was beginning to suspect just what that disappointment had been. He gave his brother-in-law another quelling look. Travis was discreet to a fault. If he caught on to Charles’s ploy, he would not say anything.
“I am curious about what you meant when you said that Mrs. Huffington’s reputation preceded her,” he said.
Carlington looked chagrined. He raised his glass and took a drink before he spoke. “I have watched Mrs. Huffington from afar. I knew her guardian, you see. Lady Caroline Betman. Lovely woman. For her sake I’ve kept my eye on the girl since Lady Caroline brought her home. I had not met Mrs. Huffington’s mother, but I knew a great many of Caro—Lady Caroline’s friends. She certainly is a beauty.”
“I think so,” Charles admitted.
Travis put his glass down on a side table. “Charles has just announced to the family that he and Mrs. Huffington intend to marry.”
Carlington’s eyebrows shot up. “Indeed? Well, that is very interesting.” The older man grinned. “I had not known that you have a death wish, Hunter.”
Charles laughed. “Go on. Tweak me all you want. It won’t change a thing.”
“I am glad to see you have a sense of humor about this.” Carlington laughed. “I hazard you are going to need it.”
Charles grinned and steered the conversation back to his original purpose. “Then you knew Mrs. Huffington’s guardian well?”
Carlington sighed. “It is a little-known fact that she and I were on the verge of betrothal. Her father and mine were in accord that it was a good match. There seemed to be no impediment.”
“What happened?” Travis asked, and Charles made a mental note to thank him.
“One night we were dancing and laughing, the next she was gone. The first thing I heard was that she’d had a tragic accident that had left her scarred. Her father swept her back to Kent and she declared she would not return to London. She begged I would not hate her for her change of mind. I couldn’t hate her, of course. I only wish she’d allowed me to visit.”
Charles recalled those shocking scars. He could well understand Lady Caroline’s reticence. She could never have been the sort of wife a man in Lord Carlington’s position needed—a public hostess, the mother to the Carlington heir, a force in London society. And her pride would have prevented her from allowing Carlington to see her in such a condition.
“But when you have a moment, Hunter, bring Mrs. Huffington to me for a visit. I would very much like to hear about Lady Caroline’s life. I always imagined she’d found a way to fill it when she took in her goddaughter.”
“I shall. I believe she would enjoy talking to someone who knew Lady Caroline.”
* * *
So that was Lord Carlington. From across the room, Georgiana watched the handsome man with silvery-gray hair—the very same man to whom she would deliver a packet from her aunt. The man who had caused Aunt Caroline to sigh whenever his name was mentioned. The man who might hold the secret to what had happened to Aunt Caroline all those years ago.
“You seem distracted, Georgiana,” Lady Sarah said.
“It is just that I almost feel as if I know Lord Carlington. I heard my aunt mention him on occasion and with a great deal of respect.”
“He is a very good man from what I hear,” she agreed.
“Is he married?”
“I do not believe so. I’ve never met a Lady Carlington.”
Had he remained single because of Aunt Caroline? It was quite unusual for a man in his position—a man who should be providing an heir for his title—not to marry. Or was he simply not inclined toward matrimony?
“Georgiana, may we speak frankly?”
She suspected what was coming. Questions about her relationship with Charles. “Of course.”
Sarah took her hand and led her to a small settee on one side of the ballroom. “I want you to know that I...I have reservations about your engagement. Please understand that it has nothing to do with you. But, well, I suppose it does, in a way. Until we find out what is behind your ill fortune with husbands, do you really think it is...ah, prudent to be announcing yet another engagement?”
Georgiana sighed. “Not prudent in the least. And I have begged Charles to delay the announcement, but he is determined. He thinks it will be a help to me. He means to draw out the villain, if there is one. Believe me, I have warned him, begged him, threatened him. I have sworn that I will not marry him at all. But he intends to go through with this, no matter what my wishes are in the matter.”
“You could simply refuse him. Tell him that you have no intention of marrying him. Ever.”
She glanced around to be certain they were quite alone before speaking. “I have, in fact, thought of that. But it would make no difference at all. He was determined to help me even before he proposed that we...marry. For some unaccountable reason that eludes me entirely, he has taken on my cause.”
Sarah blinked her wide, violet eyes. “Love, perhaps?”
Oh, how she wished she had not promised Charles she would not divulge their plan! “P-perhaps. All I know is that he will not be dissuaded. I have tried everything I can think of, to no avail. But...”
“But?” Sarah prompted.
“But, please, if you can, change his mind. Should something happen to him, it would be my fault. I could not live with that. “
Sarah sighed heavily and laid her hand over Georgiana’s. “Charles is stubborn. If his mind is set on this course, then he will follow it. But, Georgiana, dear, I would be remiss if I did not remind you that he may have his own enemies. He does not speak of it in front of me, because he knows it would upset me, but last fall when he was shot outside the Argyle Rooms the assailant escaped. The villain is, by all accounts, a very dangerous man, and may still be stalking Charles.”
Georgiana could scarcely comprehend the enormity of this information. Charles had been the other man shot when Adam was killed? Why hadn’t he told her that? She pressed her fingertips to her temples, trying to remember what she’d overheard between Charles and Lord Wycliffe outside the theatre. Gibbons? Was that the name?
“Oh, dear. I’ve upset you,” Sarah said.
Georgiana shook her head. “I simply cannot think straight. There are so many things filling my head that I cannot put them in order. Sarah, why did you not tell me your brother was the other man injured the night Mr. Booth was killed?”
“I thought you knew. Why, it was in all the newspapers a day or two after it happened. The two of them were dear friends.”
By then, Georgiana and Aunt Caroline had been in a coach on the way back to Kent. She shook her head and forced a smile. “It is of little consequence, Sarah. Since Charles did not mention it to me, I imagine he does not wish to discuss the incident. And, truthfully, neither do I.”
“Good, because here come the men. I shall see you Wednesday, if not before. We can discuss it then if you’d like.”
They stood and Charles offered his hand. “I hear a waltz, Georgiana. Will you favor me?”
She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor and into the dance. He spared an unconcerned glance at the sidelines. “The rumor is already under way, Georgiana. The s
peculation has begun.”
She noted a few elderly matrons watching them and talking behind their fans. “How could people possibly know? We’ve been here less than half an hour and talked to only a handful of people.”
“It takes less than that to start a rumor in the ton. I did not lower my voice when announcing our intentions to Lord Carlington, and that was enough.”
“I thought they’d at least wait until we left.”
Charles merely laughed. “Are we about to fuel the fire by making our first quarrel public?”
“The whole plan was ill-conceived and a dreadful mistake.”
“Is that you speaking, Georgiana, or my sister?”
“Me! Oh, your sister is dismayed, but she covered her disapproval. She is quite concerned about you.”
His face froze with a frown. “I warned you that might be the case.”
“You’d have done better to warn me who would approve.”
“Do not goad me.”
“I am not goading. I am deadly serious. We must stop this silly rumor at once. I cannot think what convinced me to go along with it.”
“Would you like me to remind you?”
“You took advantage of my desperation. I should never have allowed it.”
“I feel compelled to ask you again, Georgiana. Have you grown fond of me? Are you worried for my well-being?”
She deliberately missed a step and allowed her heel to come down sharply on his instep. A wince and narrowed eyes were her reward.
“Is this how you’ve treated all your fiancés, Georgiana?”
“I treated them as they deserved.”
“Ah, so a cross word was provocation enough to kill?”
Did he really think...? A twisting in her stomach warned her to say no more where they might be overheard. “I have a sudden headache. I would like to go home, please.”
“We’ve scarce arrived.”
“Now.” She left him standing on the dance floor and headed down the corridor to the grand staircase.
* * *
Charles caught up with Georgiana as she entered the street looking for a hackney in the crush of evening traffic and late arrivals for Carlington’s ball. Fortunately his coach was still at the corner. He draped Georgiana’s mantle over her shoulders and took her elbow to guide her toward his vehicle. She looked up at him with such deadly cold that he feared she might pull away and denounce him.
He supposed he deserved that. He really had gone too far with that last accusation. Ah, but her denouncements and unwillingness to go through with their charade had reminded him of her jilt so many years ago. He was dismayed to find that it could still cut so deeply.
A prickling of his skin warned him to glance around. Something in the air was not quite right. Again, that uneasy feeling that something was about to happen. But there was nothing in the crowds surrounding them to cause a threat.
He scanned the sea of milling faces across the street and his gaze caught on one. Despite the beard he’d grown, Charles would know Dick Gibbons anywhere. The man grinned and drew one filthy finger across his neck in an unmistakable threat, then pointed it at him.
He released Georgiana’s arm and stepped in front of her. He had not taken two steps before a passing coach cut him off. By the time it passed, Gibbons had disappeared. Or was he still hiding in the crowds? Should he give chase and abandon Georgiana to her own devices? Or get Georgiana home safely and pursue Gibbons another day?
He turned back to her, finding a perplexed look on her face as she, too, gazed across the street, then back at him. “Who was that?”
He returned and took her arm again. She relaxed ever so slightly and without hesitation allowed him to escort her to the coach and hand her up before calling their destination to his driver.
The coach pulled into the street at once, but immediately stalled in the traffic. “Do you know that man, Georgiana?” he asked without preamble.
To her credit, she did not ask which man. “I have seen him before, I think, though I cannot remember where.”
“Outside the Theatre Royal?”
She frowned. “I...do not think so. Everything happened so fast that I only saw shadows and movements, but I have no recollection of faces.”
Had she seen him when she had hired him to kill Booth?
“Who was it, and what did he want?”
“His name is Dick Gibbons, and he wants to kill me.”
Her little gasp was convincing. “Why? What have you done to him?”
“He thinks I killed his brother.”
“Did you?”
He shrugged. “I would have, given half a chance. I suppose I was the cause of his death, one way or another.”
“That is a very mysterious answer, Charles.”
“The truth is that I did not pull the trigger, but I caused it to be pulled.”
The coach lurched, the driver having apparently found a hole in traffic. They moved ahead slowly but steadily. Georgiana gave him an exasperated look, as if she could not trust a thing he said.
“He killed Adam Booth and wounded me, Georgiana. The question remains, why?”
Her eyes widened. “Adam... But he must have had a reason.”
“And I will uncover that reason. The person responsible will pay, and so will Dick Gibbons.”
“But you said Mr. Gibbons is responsible.”
“He is a thief and an assassin. He kills for money. I want him and the person who hired him. I thought I knew who that was.”
Her eyes widened into two pools of unfathomable green. “He is an assassin?”
“Among other things. He is the vilest of the vile. He is the worst sort of scum London has to offer. Dick and Artie Gibbons would do anything for a tuppence. They robbed, raped, pillaged and murdered their way through London. They were known for their filth and utter lack of morals. Artie is dead, thank God, but Dick needs to be put down like the rabid dog he is.”
He remembered his conversation with Wycliffe before this case began and repeated the words he’d spoken then. “If it’s birthed a Gibbons, you’d do the world a favor to exterminate it before it can spread,” he muttered under his breath.
She had gone quite pale and a deep shudder shook her body. To be fair, he could not picture Georgiana seeking out and meeting a man like Gibbons in a back alley to pay him money to kill someone. There had to be another explanation. He took a deep breath and got a grip on his anger.
“Then...then you think it was him—this Mr. Gibbons—outside the Theatre Royal? And that he wanted to kill you and not me? And that he never had anything to do with my situation?”
Never say never. “Unlikely, Georgiana.”
The silence stretched out for a moment and he finally turned to her to find her fixing him with a cold stare.
“When were you going to tell me this, Mr. Hunter?”
“I did not think it was necessary for you to know. As I said, Gibbons evidently has nothing to do with your situation. We are still searching for that person.”
“And when were you going to tell me that you had your own enemies? Enemies that have nothing to do with my ‘situation’?”
“Never. Unless it affected the investigation into your problem.”
She sat back against the leather squabs, staring straight ahead. Neither of them spoke again until the coach pulled up at Georgiana’s town house. She reached outside the window and opened the door herself. “Thank you for the escort home, Mr. Hunter. No need to see me in.”
But he was fast behind her. He had no intention of allowing her to back out of their arrangement. He waved his driver off and followed her up the steps to the door. Before she could turn the knob, the door opened and Hathaway’s stern visage blocked the passage. Georgiana slipped past him, but Hathaway moved i
n front of Charles.
Oh, he was not in a mood for this! “Step aside, Hathaway,” he warned.
“I believe Mrs. Huffington is retiring for the night, sir. Good evening.”
He caught a glimpse of Georgiana disappearing into the library, and something snapped when Hathaway began to close the door in his face. He put one arm out to stop the door and the other out to seize Hathaway by his starched collar, twist and slam him against the doorjamb.
“You presume too much, Hathaway. I’ve had enough of your insolence to Mrs. Huffington and her guests. Do not forget who is in charge in this house, or you and I will have words. Do you understand?”
Hathaway’s rheumy blue eyes widened and his mouth went slack. Lack of oxygen? The man could strangle for all he cared, but Hathaway nodded, a look of desperation on his face.
Slowly, Charles released him and pushed past him on his way to the library. “Do not wait up. I’ll show myself out,” he said over his shoulder.
Chapter Nine
Georgiana knew Charles had followed her into the house. She heard the sharp crack of the doorjamb when he confronted Hathaway and almost turned back. That was her fault. If she had dealt with Hathaway herself, this wouldn’t be happening. Oddly, she cared more what Charles thought than she did if Hathaway quit and left her in the lurch.
Hathaway had been Caroline’s servant and he’d always treated Georgiana like an outsider. She had hoped he would adjust in the months since Caroline’s death, but instead he’d grown even more churlish. Doing without his constant insubordination and disrespect might even be a relief.
Still, Charles was presuming far too much where she was concerned. He really had no right to intercede with the servants or to invade her home without invitation. The man needed to be taken down a peg or two.
She went to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of sherry. She’d never needed its calming effects more. One gulp finished the glass and she poured another as the sherry’s heat crept downward to warm her middle. One more and she’d be ready to deal with Charles Hunter.
Alas, there was no time for more. Charles, imposing and angry, came to stand beside her at the sideboard. He chose brandy, and not a small amount, either. More judicious than she, he only sipped.
Harlequin Historical February 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: Never Trust a RakeDicing With the Dangerous LordA Daring Liaison Page 58
