Cast in Ice

by Laura Landon

  “We should catch up with my sister and her beau,” she said. “I’m afraid Anne will get the wrong impression of us holding back like we have, and I’ll never hear the end of her thinking that I wanted to be alone with you.”

  “Which of course you don’t.”

  She paused for emphasis. “Which, of course, I don’t.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Lies. Everything she’d said had been a lie.

  Nick made his way to the Bedford Street Brigade office, and with every step, he replayed Winnie’s lies over in his head. Lie number one―the kiss they shared wasn’t significant. Except it was. He was experienced enough at kissing females to know just how significant the kiss they’d shared had been. For both of them.

  Lie number two―that she was relieved when he’d promised he’d never kiss her again. Except she wasn’t. The disappointment on her face told him as much. Only a marble statue would have missed how affected she’d been by his kiss. And how much she would enjoy the experience again and again.

  Lie number three―that she didn’t need his help. Every bone in her body cried out for him to help her. The worry, fear, and desperation in her eyes was proof enough that she was being forced to handle something that was far too much for her to manage on her own. She needed his help more than anyone he’d ever met.

  Lie number four―that she didn’t enjoy being alone with him. She enjoyed being with him as much as he enjoyed being with her. She enjoyed sparring with him, talking with him, and walking with him. And she enjoyed kissing him. The expression on her face when she saw him walking toward her told him as much. Her hesitation to touch him was more evidence that his effect on her was as powerful as her effect on him.

  And he was as frightened of his feelings as she was. But ignoring what was growing between them wouldn’t make it go away. At least he was honest enough to admit that, even if she wasn’t.

  Not that he could ever act on those feelings. But at least he was brave enough to admit they were there.

  Nick opened the door of the Bedford Street Brigade office and greeted Simons, the office clerk.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Stillman,” Simons said when Nick entered the office.

  “Good afternoon, Simons. Is Mack busy?”

  “No, he’s expecting you.”

  Simons rose from his desk and tapped on Mack Wallace’s door. As head of the Bedford Street Brigade, Mack was in charge of all the brigadesmen.

  “You may go in.”

  “Thank you, Simons.”

  Nick entered Mack’s sanctuary. The office was of moderate size, with an old oak desk to one side, and two cushioned chairs angled in front of it. There were another couple of chairs scattered around the room that could be added if they were needed. To the right of Mack’s desk was a door. It was through that door that the brigadesmen went when all seven of them needed to meet.

  The meeting room was large by any standard. There were no windows in this room, and only one door other than the main entrance, and that door was barred and bolted at all times.

  A huge round table took up most of the room. It was large enough that the seven of them could sit around it and discuss various cases on which they were working.

  This room wasn’t used often, since most of the cases involved only two or three brigadesmen, but for those special cases that required all of them, the meeting room was the perfect place to make plans, compare notes, and discuss future strategies.

  “Nick,” Mack greeted when he walked through the door. He rose to his feet and faced Nick. They were of an equal height. “I’ve got a case I think will interest you.”

  Nick walked across the room and sat in one of the two chairs in front of Mack’s desk. “There’s only one case that would interest me at the moment. Does this have anything to do with The Soiled Dove?”

  “It does. You’ll be working with Jack on this one. He should be here any minute.”

  Before Mack could say more, Jack Conway entered the room.

  “You’re just in time,” Mack said after the brigadesmen greeted each other. “I was just about to tell Nick the case I want the two of you to work on.”

  Jack sat in the chair beside Nick and listened while Mack explained the details.

  “We’ve been hired to check out rumors that have surfaced regarding sex trafficking and The Soiled Dove. Basil Ellsworth and Harvey Willard’s names have both come up in connection to the allegations. There have also been reports of some questionable, if not illegal practices going on at The Dove.”

  “Rape, for one,” Nick interjected.

  Both men turned to face him.

  “I see you already know something about what’s going on there,” Mack said.

  “I know that much of the clientele that frequent The Dove are young and lack the ability to make wise decisions at the tables. Their youth and inexperience are often no match for more mature, skilled gamblers. I also suspect that some of the players are in fact experts hired to assure the less skilled players lose more than they win”

  “Are the games rigged?” Jack asked.

  “I won’t go that far. I’ll just say that the advantages are tilted to the house, and not the players.”

  “What happens when the players lose too heavily?” Mack asked. His curiosity was evident.

  “The losers are given a twenty-four hour grace period to come up with the money—with the addition of a hefty interest fee. Or, if they can’t cover their loss, they have the option of being auctioned off for the night to a bidder who is willing to pay their losses.”

  Mack and Jack both sat straighter in their chairs. “They’re running a bordello?” Mack asked.

  “You could say that.”

  “Do you think they might also be involved in sex trafficking?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if Willard and Ellsworth were taking young girls off the streets and auctioning them off, too. There’s always a demand for young virgins.”

  “Are you a member of The Dove?” Jack asked. “I thought membership to that establishment was limited to London’s nobility.”

  Nick hesitated. Mack was the only one of the investigators who knew of Nick’s ties to London’s titled. “I used a distant relative to gain membership. Hopefully, no one checks too closely.”

  “What do you know about Ellsworth and Willard?” Mack asked.

  “Ellsworth is the strong-arm of The Dove. He enforces the penalties, and has a reputation for having a short temper, and for using his fists when he wants. Rumor also has it he’s handy with the whip he carries with him, and he’s not afraid to use it. The workers at The Dove are afraid to cross him. I doubt we get help from anyone there. Not if they want to keep their positions.”

  “And Willard?” Mack asked.

  “Willard’s in charge of the finances. He doesn’t spend much time below, but stays mostly in the offices on the second level. He oversees the high stakes games that are held in what they call the Gold Rooms. Of the two, he’s the more dangerous.”

  Nick crossed his right ankle over his left knee. “I also think it’s possible there’s a third partner involved in The Dove. A silent backer.”

  “What makes you say that?” Nick asked.

  “Neither Ellsworth nor Willard come from money or, from what I’ve gathered, would have been able to come up with the capital it would have taken to open such a lavish establishment as The Soiled Dove. Everything about the gaming hell is a show of elegance that far surpasses the upbringing of either of the owners. Its opulence contributes to its appeal. Its rich décor, along with the never ending supply of liquor, draws members of all ages, as well as from even the highest rankings of Society.”

  “Do you think this anonymous partner is titled?” Mack asked.

  “That would be my guess.”

  “What reason would any member of Society have for involving himself in something as questionable as The Soiled Dove?” Jack asked. “Surely no one would want to risk being identified as owning a gaming hell.”

&
nbsp; “They would if they were desperate for money,” Mack answered.

  “And what venture has the better potential for bringing in a steady and lucrative income than a gaming hell?” Nick said. “Especially one that is seen with an advantage toward the house, and not the players.”

  “So we need to discover which titled nobleman is in need of funds,” Jack said.

  Nick couldn’t help but laugh. “That would be about half of London Society. Perhaps more.”

  “How are we going to figure out who this mystery owner is, then?”

  Mack leaned forward in his chair and rested his chin on his steepled fingers. This was a typical thinking posture for him. After a few moments, he lowered his hands and lifted his gaze. His expression was serious.

  “Nick, you see what you can discover from the inside. Watch Ellsworth and Willard. You said Willard’s office was on the second level?”

  Nick nodded.

  “Is there any chance that you can get into the office without getting caught?”

  “Probably,” Nick answered.

  “That’s undoubtedly our best chance of finding anything that will expose our mysterious owner,” Mack said. “And, of course, you’ll want to attend a number of social events. That will provide you an opportunity to make some discrete inquiries. Perhaps the name of someone who is desperate for a large amount of money will surface.”

  Nick wanted to balk at Mack’s suggestion. The last place he wanted to be was at an event where Winnie might also be in attendance. The last person he wanted to be near was the woman who affected him like no other woman did. And yet, a part of him ached to see her again. To be near her, and hold her in his arms. Which she wasn’t ready to admit she wanted as desperately as he did.

  “Is something wrong?” Mack asked.

  “No,” Nick answered. “It’s just that mixing with Society isn’t something I enjoy overmuch.”

  “Which means you’ve associated with the likes of us far too long,” Jack teased. “Our lower upbringings have rubbed off on you.”

  “It only means I far prefer the likes of you.” His admission slipped out before he could take it back. It exposed more about his family than he wanted to reveal. Especially to men as perceptive as Mack Wallace and Jack Conway.

  Nick had never been sure of where he fit in. His father had been a commoner. A solicitor. A man who’d worked for the nobility, but was never one of the titled elite. And his mother was the daughter of a Viscount. A lady in her own right. A lady who belonged to the titled class, but who had married beneath her, and severed that tie to Society.

  And being their son left Nick neither accepted nor rejected by either side.

  Having feelings for the daughter of a duke only widened the gap between finding where he might belong.

  Nick felt as if he were walking down the same path his parents had traveled before him. And if he allowed his feelings for Winnie to continue, he’d force her to make the same choice his parents had been forced to make.

  And that was a choice he wouldn’t force on any woman. Especially the daughter of a duke.

  Another reason he should slam the door on the feelings he had for Winnie. Another reason he couldn’t let her become important to him.

  He knew he didn’t really have an option. Not if he intended to remain with Mack and the Bedford Street Brigade. He couldn’t divide his time being an investigator by day, and trying to fit in with the titled nobility by night. He knew it would be impossible.

  And he couldn’t expect Winnie to settle for someone without a title when she was the daughter of a man who held one of the highest titles in England.

  No, from this moment on, he wouldn’t allow her to have any effect on him. Because there were still the crimes the Duchess of Townsend had committed. She couldn’t be allowed to go unpunished for the people she’d murdered. And what he had to do would destroy Winnie, and any feelings she had for him.

  A heavy pressure weighed against his heart. Even though he knew giving her up was the right decision, it was a decision that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  “What do you want me to do?” Jack asked, drawing Nick’s attention back to their discussion.

  “Keep an eye on The Dove. Watch who goes in and who comes out. Note any delivery schedules, and what entrance they use. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and our third partner will show up and we’ll recognize him.”

  After finalizing their plans, Nick left the Bedford Street Brigade office and walked down the street. He’d come on foot, and started to make his way back to the rooms he rented in a small boarding house. He’d gone a few streets over, then turned the corner and stopped. He stepped back around the corner of the nearest building so he wouldn’t be seen.

  The woman who’d consumed his thoughts was exiting a shop across the street. Thankfully, she wasn’t alone, but had her maid with her. This wasn’t the safest section of London for a single young lady to visit.

  He watched her until she was out of sight, then walked across the street and entered the shop she’d just exited.

  A small, balding man with a paunch belly and thick spectacles, came out from a back room.

  “Good day, sir,” he said, rushing forward. “May I be of assistance?”

  Nick looked at several items beneath the glass in the counter. “Yes. The lady who just left. Did she bring something in to sell?”

  “Why, yes, sir. She arrived with these items.”

  The store owner brought out a small tray with three pieces of jewelry on it: a diamond bracelet, a ruby and diamond necklace, and ear bobs to match.

  “Excellent quality, sir. I paid her handsomely for them.”

  “Did you?”

  “Oh, yes, sir.”

  “Is this the first time the lady has brought something she wanted to sell?”

  “Oh, no, sir. The lady is a regular customer. She’s been coming for nearly a year. And I always pay her an honest price. Her jewels are exquisite.”

  Nick took another look at the jewels Winnie had brought to sell, then gave the owner a nod in farewell, and left the shop.

  Winnie was either selling her own jewels, or jewels that belonged to her mother. And the reason was obvious—she needed money. Money she no doubt needed to keep her mother locked away so she could not be turned over to the authorities.

  Nick thought of how helpless she considered her situation, and how alone she felt. Cruel fingers of dread squeezed his heart until it hurt, because…

  …he’d played a part in her desperation.

  CHAPTER 10

  Nick leaned against the corner of an alcove in the wall of the Hagarty ballroom and watched her. She wore a gown of deep emerald satin that showed off every luscious curve of her body. Her shoulders were bare, and the cut of her gown showed more of her bodice than he thought should be exposed.

  Nick was jealous of every male fortunate enough to stand near her. More envious of the man who was dancing with her. So resentful that he wanted to walk across the ballroom floor and pull her from the man’s arms. Instead, he took another glass of champagne from a passing footman’s tray and downed half of it in one swallow.

  Two weeks had passed since he’d last seen her, and the time seemed like two months. Or even two years. He’d thought of her more times than he could count every one of those days, wondering what she was doing. Whether or not she’d had to pawn more of her mother’s jewels. How much longer she could go on before she had no more jewels to pawn, or the jewels that were left didn’t give her enough money and she had to resort to something else for money.

  A cold rush of unease washed over him. If—and when—she ran out of jewels, he knew to what she’d resort for the money she needed—her luck at cards.

  He was fairly certain she’d kept her word and hadn’t gone back to The Dove. So far, at least. He’d gone there several times since he’d forced her to promise she’d stay away from the gambling hell, and hadn’t seen anyone who even resembled her yet. No one had that same hair, with str
eaks of gold and reds the candlelight illuminated as they nestled among the darker locks. No one with her same natural style and grace.

  Nick shifted his gaze to where her dance partner had escorted her after the dance, but she was no longer there. Nick quickly scanned the area, and saw her just as she exited through a side door of the ballroom.

  It wasn’t a door that led to the card room, where he’d just been, but to the portrait gallery, where the Hagarty ancestors hung in all their glory.

  There was nothing exceptional about the long gallery, except that it provided a place where someone who didn’t want to spend time mingling and conversing, could escape to be alone. Nick gave Winnie enough time to be alone for a moment, then he followed her.

  The long gallery wasn’t completely dark, but neither was it as brightly lit as the ballroom. Several decorative candles sat in holders on the walls between the portraits, giving the room a shadowy, almost romantic, appeal. Lady Winnifred stood at the other end of the long room, as still and unmoving as the people whose images had been painted in the portraits.

  For several moments, Nick remained in the shadows and simply watched her. He didn’t want her to know he was there, but wanted to observe her.

  He should have known that wouldn’t be possible for an extended length of time. It never took her long to know when he was near, just as he always sensed when she was close.

  She turned and watched him as he approached her.

  “Have you chosen to escape the throngs of suitors who clamor for a dance by fleeing to a place where no one will look for you?”

  She lowered her gaze to the floor, but there was a smile on her face, although it was a weak smile. “The throng of noblemen wanting to dance are not suitors. They are friends of Lord Montroy, who my sister and her soon-to-be intended have coerced into partnering me. My sister is head over ears in love with Lord Montroy, and believes everyone in the world should enjoy such bliss.”