by LeFey, Liana
Percy dismissed none of their ideas openly. Wells’s name was not included in their combined list of possible culprits. If they didn’t suspect him, surely no one else would, either. He’d planned the perfect revenge. Or so he’d thought.
He rose and stretched. “Gentlemen, I regret I must depart your fine company.”
Montgomery looked up at him in confusion. “It’s barely past midnight, old fellow. The night is yet young.”
“Well do I know it, but I’ve some important business to which I must attend early in the morning. Business which requires a clear head.”
“A gentleman has no business to which he must attend early on any morning,” Montgomery mocked, knocking back another swallow. “At least none important enough to call him out before the noon hour. Unless of course it’s a duel.” A heartbeat later he sat bolt upright. “It’s not, is it? A duel, I mean?”
Despite his black mood, his friend’s enthusiasm brought a smile to Percy’s face. “It is not, but I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to reveal the nature of said business. At least not yet.” He offered his friends a wry grin and added, “Also, I am, as you have both always been quick to remind me, no gentleman.”
“Gone to bed a new mistress and try to forget your troubles, then?” asked Hogarth. He lifted his glass high. “Off with you, then.”
Percy didn’t bother to contradict him. On leaving, he passed Wells in the hall.
“Oh, I say, Tavistoke. Sorry to hear about your having lost the Lowther girl to Ravenwood,” said he with a look of what Percy knew to be false sympathy. “No doubt she would have been fun to tame. Better luck next time, eh? I suppose we shall have to join each other for a brandy one of these days and commiserate over our both having been thrown over by the same woman.”
It was all Percy could do to grunt assent and hurry on past without shoving a fist through the man’s face. Arriving home in an ill temper, he consoled himself with yet another brandy and a pipe.
Sleep was long in coming that night. When it finally took him, it was filled with unpleasant dreams. The sullen morning sky that greeted him hours later merely darkened his mood further.
At precisely ten o’ clock, he exited his residence prepared to wage bloody war. “Bow Street, and be quick about it,” he snapped to his driver. Climbing into his carriage, he threw himself into the seat to brood on his next move.
When he strode through Loxdon’s door, his friend glanced up at him with a cheerless smile. “Quick to the call, as always. I’d hoped you’d come sooner rather than later.”
Confused, Percy frowned. “If you wanted me, you should have sent for me.”
“I did, less than an hour ago.”
“I received no message,” he replied, his frown deepening. “Must have crossed each other on the way. What news?”
“Rowell has fled.” Loxdon sat down with a grunt. “And I’m afraid it’s permanent this time. My man spied him climbing out onto his roof again in the wee hours and followed him. Said he carried a heavy bag and looked like he was wearing most of his clothes on his back. He made for the wharfs and took passage on a ship to the Indies.”
“Bloody hell,” swore Percy. “Any idea why he’d want to leave England?”
Loxdon shook his head. “My boys went through the place. There was a lot of burned refuse in the upstairs grate, looked like it might have been papers of some sort. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to have it on him or for anyone to find out about it after he’d left. He’s gone, and I doubt we’ll see his face again.”
“He’s either been paid and is making off with his ill-gotten gains or he’s fleeing something—or someone,” Percy surmised.
“I concur. If you want my opinion, I think it’s the latter. Everything says he’s jumped ship like a rat smelling smoke. My gut tells me something is about to happen and that Rowell got wind of it in advance.” He paused and peered at his guest. “If you never received my message, then what brought you here?”
Percy filled him in on what he’d learned. “What think you? Does Wells know Ravenwood’s secret?”
“Oh, I’m almost certain of it,” said the other man. “It’s the only thing I can imagine would serve to make a man of higher rank dance to his tune. But he didn’t learn it from me, which means Ravenwood either confided in him willingly or Wells witnessed him in a compromising situation.”
“I doubt it’s the former,” Percy mused. “If the latter, then Wells would have to have been in the right place at the right time to catch Ravenwood in the act—”
“Which means he’s got similar vices,” concluded Loxdon. “If you need something on the fellow, I can have him followed.”
He contemplated the offer, but then shook his head. “No. I cannot risk him learning of our association. I’ve a better idea.”
“As you like it,” conceded his friend. “As for Abigail, I doubt we’ll find her now. With Rowell gone, I’ve got no trail to follow. The other two haven’t shown themselves since we last talked.”
“God,” Percy muttered, passing a hand over his face. He would have to tell Fanny he’d failed. It wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but that didn’t make it any easier. Every loss was felt as keenly as a knife in his heart. He sighed, nodding. “I’ll take care of informing her sister. It won’t be this week or likely even the next, but I’ll arrange a meeting with her as soon as I manage to resolve this business with Ravenwood and Wells.”
It was only eleven o’ clock, and already he craved a bloody brandy. Just as he was about to leave, there arose a great clatter in the hall outside. A moment later a young lad burst into the room, gasping for breath.
“What is it?” demanded Loxdon.
“It’s a panic, sir,” huffed the boy. “All morning they’ve been findin’ bodies in Covent Garden—women, sir. Harlots, the lot of ’em. Eleven so far.”
Percy felt the blood leave his face. “Where, exactly?”
“Down the back alleys.” Turning to Loxdon, the boy continued his grisly report. “Laid out they was, all of ’em, with ’alf empty bottles of liquor to make ’em look like they was just passed out, but they’re all dead. I ’eard Constable Danbury say they’d all been garroted. Every one. They’re sayin’ there’s a mass murderer on the loose. All the Garden is in a riot over it.”
“Anything else?” prompted Loxdon after giving the boy a moment to catch his breath.
The lad nodded. “One o’ the men with Danbury said ’e recognized the one they was lookin’ at. Said she was the fourth one from the same bawdy ’ouse—a place called the Temple of ’Rora or some such. Danbury said ’e ’spected they was all from the same one.”
Percy uttered an oath. The Temple of Aurora was an exclusive brothel servicing clients with a preference for very young girls. He and Loxdon had been trying to shut the place down for more than a year, but it had proven impossible. Whenever they got close, it vanished without a trace, only to resurface somewhere else, forcing them to find it all over again.
“Well, that would certainly explain why Rowell left in such a rush,” muttered Loxdon. “I would imagine anyone who knew anything about your missing girl and the proprietress who took her is now dead, with the possible exception of the girl’s buyer and her sister.”
He nodded. “Rowell was either directly involved in the killings, or he knew he’d be blamed for them.” Reaching into his pocket, Percy turned to the boy. “You’ve never seen me, is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” The lad grinned as he took the shiny guinea.
Loxdon nodded to the boy, dismissing him. After he’d gone, he turned to Percy. “You could have kept your money, you know. He’d never have said a word.”
“I know, but I thought it prudent to sweeten the deal.”
His friend shrugged. “It’s your coin.” Reaching under his desk, he withdrew a flask and two glasses. Without asking, he poured for them both and handed one to Percy. “Here, have some whiskey. Where do we go from here?”
&nb
sp; Downing the burning fluid in one swallow, Percy plunked his now empty glass back on the desk. “The Aurora is gone, which means you go nowhere. As for me, I’ll see Fanny is moved out of London at once.”
“She’ll not want to go without her sister.”
“She won’t have a choice. She knows about me. Once she learns Abigail is still lost, she’ll be tempted to run away and look for her herself. I cannot allow her to remain here and potentially be caught by Abigail’s abductor.”
His friend nodded. “You can’t keep it from her forever.”
“No, but I can for a little longer. Send me a message when you have a final body count. And a detailed description of each of the victims, if at all possible. I’ll have Fanny look it over and let me know if our murderer missed anyone. If so, it’ll be up to us to find the poor soul before the killer—if it wasn’t Rowell—can do so.”
“Consider it done,” said Loxdon. “I know Danbury. Good man. We work together often enough he’ll give me what I ask for without questions. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he came here to seek my assistance in solving these murders.” He poured himself another finger of whiskey. “What of Ravenwood and Wells?”
“I’ll take care of them,” Percy answered grimly.
Chapter Sixteen
The Alderford ball
Two days. In just two more days she’d stand beside Ravenwood at St. James’s and lie before God and two dozen earthly witnesses. That she should be here, smiling and dancing as if she looked forward to the event, felt wrong when all she wanted to do was lock herself in a dark room and weep.
Appearances, however, had to be maintained. She must give the impression of happiness over her impending nuptials. So had her father decreed. So must she comply.
Her dancing partner’s manner was beginning to irritate her. That he should flirt in so outrageous a fashion with a woman he knew was to be married in two bloody days was preposterous. Had she not been under strict orders from Papa she would have left him standing there.
As she rounded the next turn, a familiar face flashed by. Her breath caught. He’s here. Her heart began to pound so that its rhythm confused her, and her steps faltered for a moment.
Fool! Don’t draw attention to him. Resuming progress, she cast her partner an apologetic glance. Each time she passed Percy, their eyes met for an instant. Every part of her craved his nearness.
The instant the dance ended she headed for the terrace. Glancing over her shoulder as she exited the room, she was able to see whether she’d been followed. Fortune was with her, for no one seemed to be paying her any mind at all.
Catherine, to whom she had not spoken a word in days, had washed her hands of her, electing to remain in the gallery amongst her friends. Their strained relationship had been noticed at the last event, thus Papa had taken on the duty of shepherding her about. His vigilance was less strict than his wife’s, a fact for which Eden was at the moment most grateful.
Going to the far side of the balustrade, she made a show of staring out at the moonlit gardens as though taking in the fresh air. Every muscle tensed in anticipation. He would come to her. He’d not have attended this ball unless it was for the express purpose of seeing her.
Footsteps sounded behind her. “Eden.”
As always, his voice sent a thrill through her and raised gooseflesh. “You risk much in coming here so close to the wedding.”
“It is for that reason I am here tonight. I cannot allow you to go through with it. I’ve spoken with my friends at court. They are prepared to refute any charges Ravenwood raises against your family should you choose to break the engagement. I can pay your father’s debts and have his name cleared with the crown.”
Something slid into her palm. Startled, she would have dropped the paper had Percy not caught her hand. Turning, she held it up to look at it in the lamplight and gasped. It was a marriage license. “You know my father won’t sign this.”
“Then come with me to Scotland,” he urged. “We can leave this instant. We’ll wed there and then, on your twenty-first birthday, have a proper ceremony here in London if you want.” Warm hands grasped her shoulders, turning her to face him. His eyes, so dark as to be nearly black, were filled with longing, pain, and need. “Eden…”
Vision blurred as tears sprang into her eyes. “Percy, I—”
All thought fled as his mouth descended over hers, as her heart’s desire became reality in the meeting of their lips, the mingling of their breaths, the joy of being physically connected with him again. There was only this. Nothing else mattered. Not her reputation, not her future, not her family—nothing. The blood whooshed in her ears, drowning out the rest of the world, as she slid her hands up to clasp them around the back of his neck and draw him closer.
The suddenness with which the sweet contact was broken jarred her. Ungentle hands gripped her arms, pulling her away and spinning her about.
Ravenwood stood before her, his expression wroth. “I demand to know the meaning of this betrayal!”
Before she could answer, Percy stepped between them, drew back his arm, and punched Ravenwood square on the chin with an uppercut that sent him staggering back. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will kill you,” he growled as the man regained his balance.
Ravenwood massaged his jaw. His eyes were wary now rather than wrathful as they flicked between her and Percy, assessing, calculating. “Eden, come away now,” he said as several people who’d come out behind him turned to see what was happening.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t move.
“She does not wish to marry you, Ravenwood,” said Percy loudly enough for those nearby to hear. “Have done with this ridiculous rivalry and release her.”
“She has agreed to become my wife,” countered the other man indignantly.
“She was coerced into accepting your offer only after she’d accepted mine.”
Ravenwood’s face darkened. “She accepted me freely.”
“The lady says otherwise. Will you call her a liar?”
Around them, the gathering crowd began to mutter.
Eden held her tongue. Why Percy had chosen this course was something she’d have to figure out later. Right now all that mattered was Ravenwood’s response.
“I was unaware of any prior understanding between—”
“You knew damned well my intentions concerning her,” interrupted Percy. “I told you of them myself. But you were aware of her regard for me long before then. You were just too proud to accept defeat. You’d force a woman to marry you against her will rather than admit you’ve lost. Such is the action of a coward.”
Gasps broke out among those watching. News of the disagreement had spread quickly, and they now had quite an audience.
Eden waited, every nerve jangling. Ravenwood could never leave such an affront unanswered.
Indeed, the man squared his shoulders and spoke, albeit a bit unsteadily. “My honor will not countenance such a slur. I challenge you.” Again the crowd gasped as he continued, “You will either retract your insult with an immediate apology or face me at dawn. Either way, I shall have satisfaction.”
“You’ll get no apology from me,” Percy answered without hesitation.
Ravenwood’s visage turned bone white. “Then dawn it is. Tothill Fields. Name your weapon.”
“Swords.”
“Done.” Turning, Ravenwood called out. “Wells, will you act as my second?”
Lord Wells pushed his way to the fore, malice glittering in his eyes. “Gladly,” he answered with a nasty smirk.
Turning to face her, Percy spoke. “In answering his challenge, I fear I’ve caused irreparable damage to your good name. The only recompense I can offer you is my own.”
Excited murmurs broke out all around as he sank to one knee. Her chest contracted as she looked down into his eyes.
“Eden, already you possess my heart,” he began, his voice carrying on the cool night air. “I ask you to do me the unparalleled honor of aga
in accepting my hand.”
Above the soft rush of feminine gasps over his declaration, another voice shouted, “Stop! Stop, I say!”
Eden’s heart sank as her father pushed through the crowd to stand before them, his scarlet face dotted with beads of sweat. “She will not accept. She is not yet of age and I will not permit it.”
“Papa—”
“No, Eden,” he rasped, his eyes wide and imploring. Turning to Percy and Ravenwood, he addressed them in a placating tone. “Come away, gentlemen, and let us discuss this in civility and privacy.”
Percy did not move. “Lord Ravenwood has issued a challenge, and I have answered it,” he went on, his manner as unruffled as a becalmed sea. “Sir Geoffrey, my cause is just. I requested the honor of your daughter’s hand, and she gave me her answer long before this man ever laid eyes on her. Immediately upon receiving word of her engagement to this usurper, I came to speak with you. I was, however, forbidden to see you by your lady wife. Thus did I inform her of my complaint with the request she relay it to you at once. My claim was obviously given no credence. Yet still it stands.”
“My wife never spoke to me of it,” lied her flustered papa, his eyes entreating her not to contradict him. “But that is irrelevant. What proof have you of your claim on my daughter?”
Eden’s pulse leaped in terror as Percy looked to her. He was right, only she could end this.
“It is true, Papa,” she finally managed. “I accepted Lord Tavistoke’s offer nearly two months ago. I wished to wait until my twenty-first birthday—but a month hence—to announce it because your wife admitted to me her strong bias against him. I feared she would persuade you to reject him unjustly.”
She glanced around at those watching. Among the many faces were those of Lord and Lady Montgomery. The fiery-haired Sabrina gave her an encouraging nod.
Taking heart, Eden continued. “The arrangement with Lord Ravenwood was made without my knowledge and the marriage contract signed without my consent. Despite voicing my strong objection to the match, I was forced to accept his proposal under pain of disownment.” Deep breath… “Disown me if you will, but I stand by my prior commitment to Lord Tavistoke.” Turning now to Ravenwood, she again spoke. “I was coerced into accepting you. Please believe I would not have misled you had I been given any other choice.”
