by Cara Elliott
“First of all, what information is he seeking?” asked Cameron.
Sophie averted her eyes. “It had something to do with a long-ago church document.”
She still wasn’t a very good liar. The hitch in her voice told him that she was holding something back. But for the moment he let it pass. “More importantly, what deep dark secret do Dudley and Morton hold over the Lawrance family? I can’t imagine any of you engaged in the sort of skullduggery worthy of blackmail.”
She forced a bleak smile. “Neither could I. But apparently a half-dozen years ago, my father signed some church documents that make it appear as if he embezzled money from the bishop’s private charity. He was already becoming confused, and as the head of the household, I can assure you not an unearned penny came into our hands.”
“Surely the bishop’s secretary can vouch for his honesty.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Perkins died a year ago, and his replacement is a martinet who goes by the letter of the law. I do not look for any sympathy from that quarter.”
“Do you know for certain that Dudley possesses these incriminating papers?” he asked after a moment of thought.
“Yes. He showed them to me. As I said, their meaning is open to interpretation. But a hint of public scandal, even if unproven, would likely ruin Georgiana’s engagement.” Her face pinched in worry. “If jilted, she’ll likely be doomed to a life of spinsterhood in Terrington. And Penelope—she, too, would have little hope for the future. I can’t let that happen.”
“So you have been bribing Dudley and his friend to remain quiet?”
She gave a miserable nod. “Yes, I’ve been buying time.”
“To do what?” asked Cameron softly.
“I—I don’t know. I keep trying to think of something.” She lifted her chin, resolve rather than tears shimmering in her eyes. Strong, steady Sophie—even as a slip of a girl, she had possessed the same quiet courage. “The demands have been escalating, and I fear that with the loss of my earrings, the next payment he asks for will be one I can’t meet. And with the wedding fast approaching…” Her lashes flickered. “But somehow I will find a way to fight back.”
Despite the seriousness of the subject, he nearly smiled. For all her claims of being a cautious soul, Sophie was not afraid to cut loose on occasion and raise holy hell. The two of them had shared a number of devil-may-care adventures as adolescents.
“I’m well aware of your mettle. But to fight—” began Cameron, only to fall silent at the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Oh, bloody hell,” whispered Sophie as a figure shoved through the greenery.
Georgiana’s eyes went wide with shock.
“I-it’s not what you think,” stammered Sophie, trying to wriggle out of Cameron’s arms and straighten her clothing at the same time.
“Oh?”
“Truly. I can explain.”
“Please do,” said Georgiana, eyeing the disheveled state of Sophie’s bodice. “This should be exceedingly interesting.”
Cameron stepped back and calmly smoothed the wrinkles from his coat. “Nature truly works in wondrous ways. I would never have guessed that the plump little gosling I knew as Georgie-Porgie would turn into such a lovely swan.” He smiled as her jaw went slack. “Allow me to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials, Miss Georgiana.”
“Cameron? Is that Cameron Fanning?
“In the flesh,” he replied with a wink. “Though for various reasons, I now go by the surname of Daggett.”
“Why, we all assumed you were dead!” blurted out her sister. “That is…” She swallowed hard as a rush of color turned her cheeks a vivid scarlet. “Sorry, that was horribly rude.”
“Not at all,” replied Cameron. “Any sensible person would have come to the same conclusion. At your age, I was hellbent on breaking every rule in Creation, even if it led to my own destruction.”
Georgiana regarded him with undisguised curiosity, taking in his broad shoulders, tapered waist, and long, muscled legs. “Well, it appears that you came through your rebellious youth unscathed.”
“Life always leaves its mark, though some are more subtle than others,” he murmured. Seeing her brow furrow, he added, “At some point you will understand what I mean.”
Her puzzlement tightened to a scowl. “That is odiously condescending, Mr. Daggett.”
“So it is,” he agreed. “But that does not make it any less true.”
“Speaking of truths…” Sophie cringed as her sister fixed her with a pointed look. “You were just about to explain to me why the two of you are trysting here in broad daylight.”
“It’s not a tryst,” Sophie hastened to explain. “It’s a…”
“A business meeting,” finished Cameron smoothly. “Your sister is in need of someone to conduct a few discreet inquiries, and given my skills at moving through the dark shadows of Society, I offered to take on the job.”
“Ha! I knew there was trouble!” exclaimed Georgiana.
“There is,” conceded Sophie. “However, that is all I mean to say on the matter.”
Cameron lifted a questioning brow. “You think that wise? In my experience, such refusals often do more harm than good. The person who is kept in the dark may feel compelled to take reckless action in order to discover the truth.”
“If new information comes to light, I will reconsider the decision,” replied Sophie. Cameron didn’t yet know the full depths of Dudley and Morton’s depravity, and she hadn’t decided just how much of the tale to tell him. “But for now, that is all I will promise.”
“Fair enough,” he answered, earning an injured look from Georgiana.
“I thought you were on my side,” she groused. “When I was little, you always stood up for me.”
“Let there be one thing very clear between us, ladies.” His smile turned sharply sardonic. “Don’t look to me for noble idealism, for you will only be sadly disappointed. I serve just one interest—my own. If this strikes you as hard-hearted, so it is.”
Georgiana bit her lip. “But you just said that you were going to help Sophie.”
“No he didn’t,” intervened Sophie. “He said he was willing to accept a job. There is a big difference.”
Her sister had no answer, save for an aggrieved sniff. “And what did I just interrupt? A business discussion of what payment he wishes to receive for his services?”
“That’s quite enough, Georgie. You are acting like a child,” snapped Sophie. “Please return to Hatchards. I will join you as soon as Mr. Daggett and I have finished discussing our transaction.”
Tears beaded on Georgiana’s lashes as she fisted her skirts. “Very well.” Ducking under an overhanging branch, she brushed past Cameron. “But I, too, wish to make something clear. Hurt my sister again, and I shall have Anthony carve your liver into a thousand tiny pieces.”
Cameron waited until she had stalked out of earshot. “Who is Anthony?”
“Her fiancé,” answered Sophie. “He’s very skilled with a cavalry saber.”
“Ah.” He fingered the pearl-studded ebony hoop in his ear. “Luckily, so am I.”
“Does that mean you were a soldier?”
“I have been a great many things in my life, including a soldier.” A pause. “And a fool.”
“And what are you now? Your clothing is finely tailored…” She eyed his earring. “…and your baubles are expensive. So I assume you have come into some money.” A horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. “Perhaps you have married an heiress?”
His expression remained inscrutable. “No, I earn my own keep,” he said softly. “Though I daresay you would be shocked to know how.” Dead leaves crackled beneath his boots as he shifted his stance. “I steal into the fancy mansions and country estates of the aristocracy and purloin their valuables. Mostly jewels, but occasionally I take paintings and other objets d’art.”
“A thief?” she said softly, trying to read the undercurrents rippling in his eyes.
“O
h, I do have some scruples. I only take from those who can well afford the loss. But other than that, you are right to sound appalled. I am a hard-hearted bastard.”
Sophie flinched at the word “bastard.”
“Yes, a bastard,” he repeated. “We both know the ugly truth of my heritage.”
“You aren’t,” she whispered. “The truth is—”
He was quick to cut her off. “It doesn’t matter what the truth is. I can’t prove it, and who do you think Society will believe—me or my illustrious half brother?”
She looked away, knowing he didn’t expect an answer. Instead she asked a question of her own. “Is that why you have chosen to lead such a dishonorable life? To punish Society for being unfair to you?”
He let out a low laugh. “I’ve learned that honor exists only in storybooks. So, like a pirate, I live by my own rules. It has proven to be the perfect life for a devil-may-care fellow like me.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Sophie.
“Ah, sorry to disillusion you, but it’s true. I’m an unrepentant rogue.” Cameron’s smile held no warmth. “But regardless of what you think about my morality, I can help you.”
She leaned down to pick up her shawl from the ground, using the moment to compose her conflicted emotions. “That was a clever faradiddle you told to Georgiana, but even if I wished to hire your services, I couldn’t afford to pay you.” She wound the silk around her shoulders, feeling suddenly chilled despite the sunlight filtering through the trees. “Th-thank you for returning my mother’s earrings, I am grateful—truly grateful. However…”
Sophie hesitated, telling herself she was right to have rejected him all those years ago. By his own admission, he had turned into a man unworthy of admiration. “However I think it best we leave it at that. I am returning home on the day after the morrow, and it’s highly unlikely that our paths will cross again. But I am happy to know you are alive and well.”
“Sophie, you would be wise to reconsider my offer,” said Cameron. “I have made it not merely out of altruism,” he added quickly. “I have my own reasons for wanting to take a closer look at Dudley and his cronies.”
She shook her head. Regardless of what sort of life he had chosen for himself, she was loath to draw him into further danger. “You have already taken enough risks for me. I couldn’t live with myself if you were suffer any consequences on my account.”
A flash of teeth, an enigmatic smile. “I assure you, I am quite skilled at taking care of myself. If you were to ask my friends, they would tell you the same.”
“Oh, Cameron, it would never work. We have both changed too much.” Sophie touched her kiss-swollen lips. “Furthermore, I need to keep my wits about me, and I can’t seem to think clearly around you.”
“Perhaps you should trust your instincts.”
Her throat tightened. It was oh-so tempting. Those broad shoulders had felt so solid, while her own were weakening.
“No,” she whispered. “I can’t take the chance.”
Cameron turned slightly and appeared to be contemplating the dust motes dancing in the air. A breeze ruffled his hair, the long strands falling to hide his face.
“Good-bye then,” he murmured, and before she could answer, he was gone, a black shadow flitting through the trees.
“Good-bye,” replied Sophie to the empty space among the swaying leaves. A tear trickled down her cheek, but she quickly blotted it away. Only a fool would try to reach out and recapture the past. The Cameron she knew from long ago was naught but a phantom memory. The man he had become was a ruthless stranger. “Good-bye.”
Chapter Five
Cameron paused for a moment in the doorway of the well-appointed library, inhaling the rich scent of beeswax, parchment, and age-worn leather. The lamplight cast a mellow glow over the carved bookcases and gilt-stamped bindings that filled the massive room, for despite his outward show of fun-loving frivolity, Gryff was a serious book collector whose lyrical essays on landscape design were earning kudos from experts in the field.
After another deep breath, Cameron entered the room.
His two friends were leaning over one of the work tables, paging through a folio of botanical watercolors. At the sound of his steps on the Oriental carpet, they both looked up.
“Are you thinking of growing roses as well as raising goats, Connor?” he drawled. “Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the Wolfhound would become so…soft.”
“These are Eliza’s latest watercolors,” said Gryff. “Which have been accepted for an exhibition at the Royal Academy.” His new wife was fast garnering critical acclaim in the art world for her prodigious talents. “And it’s me who is cultivating roses. The paintings show the new walled garden I’ve created next to her studio.” He smiled. “In the language of flowers, roses signify love.”
“No wonder their scent makes me ill,” said Cameron, crossing to the sideboard and pouring himself a glass of brandy.
“It seems the Sleuth Hound still has a bloody thorn in his arse,” said Connor, ignoring the earlier needling.
Gryff shrugged. “Considering all the foul holes he pokes around in, it’s no wonder.” To Cameron, he added, “If you’ve come merely to snarl and gnash your teeth, why not trot off elsewhere until whatever is ailing you has passed?”
Cameron quaffed a long swallow of his drink before replying. “Actually, I have come to ask a favor.” The words did not come out easily. Early on, he had learned that the key to survival was to make himself impervious to emotion. Even to his fellow Hellhounds, he hated to show any chink in his cynicism.
“Ah.” To his relief, Gryff did not reply with a barbed jest. Perching a hip on the table, his friend merely arched a brow. “Well, do go on.”
After refilling his glass, Cameron looked to Connor. “Are your gaming skills still sharp?”
“You may think me a domesticated lapdog, but my teeth have not lost all their edge,” replied the Wolfhound. In the past, he had kept The Wolf’s Lair in business through his uncanny luck at cards. “I take you want some sheep fleeced?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Cameron spun the glass in his fingers. “I was hoping you might consent to play a few hands with one, or perhaps two, of regular patrons at the Lair.”
“Who?” asked Connor.
There was no avoiding the answer. “Dudley is my first choice. If he is not there, then Morton,” he growled.
“Dudley—the fellow involved with the mysterious Miss Lawrance?”
As Cameron feared, Gryff pounced on the information, like a hungry dog scenting a meaty bone.
“Ha, ha, ha.” A low chuckle followed the question. “It seems that despite all his protests to the contrary, the sardonic Sleuth Hound has finally been bitten by love.”
“Love has nothing to do with it,” muttered Cameron. “I have my own reasons for wanting to know more about what those two varlets are up to.”
Gryff’s laugh grew louder, but Connor’s expression remained serious. “What is it that you have in mind?”
“I’d like you to win—and win big. According to my sources, their play is reckless and their debts are mounting.”
Connor tapped his fingertips together. “That may not be easy. With all due modesty, my reputation makes most of the regulars at the Lair loath to risk playing against me.”
“I’ll take care of that,” replied Cameron.
“And what shall I do with Dudley’s promissory notes when I win them? Feed them to my goats?”
Cameron allowed a faint smile. “Hand them over to me.”
“And then?” asked Gryff.
“And then, I shall make Dudley pay through the nose.”
“What has he done to earn your ire?” pressed Gryff. “Aside from bullying your Miss Lawrance.”
“I’d rather not reveal that quite yet.” He turned to his other friend. “What say you, Wolf?”
“Very well.” Connor raised his own glass in salute. “I must say, life in the country is idyllic
, but the prospect of raising some hell with my fellow Hounds is rather appealing.”
The soft knock on her bedchamber door was not unexpected. Sophie set aside her hairbrush and sighed into the looking glass. Georgiana had been grimly silent on the Green Park encounter throughout the carriage ride home and the evening’s card party with her aunt’s friends.
But she was under no illusion that the matter had been forgotten.
“Come in,” she murmured, though in truth she wanted nothing more than to slip between the bedsheets and pull the coverlet over her head.
Not that quilted cotton would keep unsettling Pirate dreams at bay.
Georgiana padded across the rug and plopped down on the pillowed windowseat. With a small cough, she cleared her throat. “You are still in love with him, aren’t you?”
“No.” Yes. “No. Absolutely not.”
A draft stirred through the draperies as her sister shifted and drew her knees to her chest.
“Cameron Fanning—or rather Daggett—was a youthful infatuation,” Sophie continued. “But I came to realize that he was too wild, too impetuous for us to ever suit.” And now I know that I was right—so why does my heart refuse to listen to my head?
“Is that why he went away?”
Sophie stared at her fogged reflection, wishing her breath had blurred the look of longing in her eyes. Blinking back the sting of salt, she picked up the brush and resumed combing out her hair.
“You would have to ask him the reason,” she answered. “We quarreled and exchanged some harsh words. Then he…he simply disappeared.”
Wood creaked as her sister shifted again.
“It was all for the best,” went on Sophie, echoing Cameron’s assertion. Perhaps saying it enough times would make it feel true. “We would only have hurt each other. He was too passionate and I was too practical.”
Silence, and then suddenly Georgiana’s arms were around her, enfolding her in a fierce hug. “You’re an awful liar, Sophie. Not to mention an overprotective mother hen at times.” A sniff. “But I love you so very dearly.”
