by Laura Landon
Nick didn’t know how long he stayed in the garden. Eventually, he walked from where he was to the gazebo where he and Winnie had spent so much time talking and laughing. He considered how he should handle this. What he could say that would convince her that she could trust him to do what was best for her. And make her believe him.
He thought of what she wasn’t telling him: The reason she needed such a large amount of money. It couldn’t be just for the amount it cost her to keep her mother wherever she was. There had to be something else. But what?
An hour passed before he returned to the house. The first person he saw was the Townsend butler, Willis.
“Did your mistress say what time she intended to leave, Willis?” Nick asked him as he took his first step up the stairs.
“The Lady Winnifred left for London nearly an hour ago, sir. She left a carriage and driver to take you whenever you were ready. But she said there was no hurry. You are to take your time. The driver will deliver you to your London residence.”
Nick stopped his forward progress on the third step. He clenched his hand around the railing on the stairway and held on to keep his knees from giving out beneath him. He felt as if a dozen doubled fists had slammed into his gut in one blow and he nearly doubled over from the pain.
“Should I send for your carriage, Mr. Stillman?” Willis asked.
“Yes, Willis. But there’s no hurry. It will be a few moments before I’m ready.”
“Very well, sir,” Willis said.
The butler might have said something else, but Nick didn’t hear anything besides the voice inside his head screaming that…
Winnie had left him.
CHAPTER 19
It had been nearly three weeks since Winnie had left Nick. Nearly three weeks since she’d last seen him.
Not that he hadn’t tried to see her. At first he arrived on her doorstep at least twice a day. Some days three times. Each time he was told she wasn’t receiving visitors. But he didn’t give up. He refused to accept that she was serious when she’d told him they had no future. That they couldn’t see each other after they returned to London.
And each time she was told he was there, her heart ached a little more. Each time she had to refuse him, the pain inside her chest grew more intense. Winnie knew if she held out long enough, he’d eventually stop coming. Nick was a man of pride, and she knew he would take only so many refusals before he gave up.
His appearance at the social functions she and Anne attended was more difficult to manage. She avoided him as much as possible, but there were only so many places to hide in a ballroom. Only so many excuses she could make as to why she wouldn’t dance with him. If only he would leave her alone. But even when he wasn’t near her, she found herself searching for him in the crowd. Found herself watching him when she was certain he wasn’t looking. Found herself wanting him when she knew she couldn’t have him.
Each night when she went to bed, she told herself that when she woke up tomorrow, having him absent from her life wouldn’t hurt so much. But that never happened.
Every morning when she woke, his face was the first image she saw when she opened her eyes. She thought of him a hundred times during the day, even though she vowed she’d put him out of her mind. He consumed her every thought during the day, and each night when she closed her eyes, his face was as vivid as if he were in her room with her. In the bed next to her.
And if that weren’t enough, night after night he invaded her dreams. She woke up seeing his face. With the feel of his hands on her. With the feel of his body inside her.
Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?
She felt as if she hadn’t slept at all as she walked down to breakfast. She didn’t know how she’d ever survive this day. It was a very special day. Tonight they were hosting a grand ball to announce Anne’s betrothal to the Earl of Montroy. She still had a dozen things to take care of, and her mind felt as if it were stuffed with cotton instead of a brain.
Winnie walked into the breakfast room and stopped. Her father was already up, and seated at the table.
“Good morning, Father,” she said, going to the sideboard to place a sampling from the selections onto her plate.
“Good morning, Winnifred. Is that all you intend to eat this morning?” he said, when she sat down beside him.
“I’m not overly hungry this morning. And I promised Cook I’d stop by the kitchen later and sample the dessert she’s serving tonight for dinner.”
“Ah, that explains it.” He took a healthy bite of the sausage and coddled eggs on his plate.
“I’m surprised to see you up already,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I’m usually the first person down in the morning.”
“Like you, I have several things to see to today, too. And Mack Wallace and some of his men have asked to see me later this morning.”
Winnie swallowed past the lump in her throat and took a sip of water to clear her throat. “Did he say why he needed to see you?” Winnie’s hand clutched the napkin on her lap and wadded it into a wrinkled ball.
“No, other than it was a matter of some importance.”
“Would you like me to join you?” Winnie made the offer, even though she knew her father would refuse. But she was desperate to hear the reason Mack Wallace needed to speak to her father, and couldn’t come up with another excuse to be there.
“No, from the sound of Mack’s missive, I think the matter might be private.”
“I see. Then I’ll leave you to your meeting.” Winnie didn’t feel at all comfortable about Mack Wallace needing to meet with her father. What if he’d discovered that the duchess was still alive? What if he discovered where Winnie had taken her? What if Nick had told his supervisor that she’d made her mother’s death appear to be a suicide? That this last year had been a lie?
Winnie placed her hands in her lap before her father noticed how badly they shook. Of all times for this to happen, this was the worst. The day of Anne’s betrothal ball.
Winnie rose from the table. “I’d best take care of the items on my growing list, or the only one of us who will be ready for the ball tonight will be Anne.”
“But you haven’t eaten,” her father commented after he glanced at her plate. He lifted his gaze and looked at her. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You haven’t seemed yourself since you returned from the country. Is something wrong, Winnie?”
Winnie almost burst out in tears. Her father rarely called her Winnie. Only when he was truly concerned about her. And she knew he was. She saw it in the way he watched her. In the way he fussed over her. He’d even asked her brother Ben to have a word with her. But as she’d told Ben, everything was fine. And if there was something wrong, it was nothing anyone could do anything about.
“I’m fine, Father. I need to get busy.” She walked to the door. “I’ll make sure to send in a tray when your guests arrive.”
“Thank you. That will be appreciated.”
Winnie left the room with her heart pounding in her breast. What if Nick came with Mr. Wallace?
Winnie went to the kitchen to speak with Cook. She had a few details about tonight’s dinner to speak to her about, but most important was that she wanted to make sure that when Father’s guests arrived there was a tray for them…
…and that she was the one who would deliver it.
. . .
Nick didn’t think he’d ever have reason to return to Townsend House, but that isn’t how things had worked out. He didn’t know if he was desperate to see Winnie again, or if he was terrified.
It had been three weeks. Three weeks of thinking about her every minute of every day. Three weeks of dreaming about her every night. Three weeks of wondering where she was, what she was doing, and if she missed him a fraction as much as he missed her.
Three weeks of being rejected by her every time he made an attempt to see her.
He, Mack Wallace and Hugh Baxter, another briga
desman, entered the Duke of Townsend’s townhouse, and were admitted to the study. His Grace and his son, Lord Benjamin were already there. After introductions were made, Mack got directly to the reason for their visit: an inquiry into a shipping venture in which the Duke of Townsend was involved.
“Let me first assure you,” Mack explained, “that we were not investigating you, or your finances. Our discovery of your connection was purely accidental. Nick’s uncle, Lord Rummery, asked him to make some discreet inquiries concerning the investors in a Clipper venture he is considering.”
Nick focused on the duke’s reaction.
“Yes,” His Grace answered. “There are four other investors besides myself: Lord Rummery, the Viscount Bainburn, Viscount Cavenaugh, and the Earl of Sundhern. Lord Sundhern asked me to join the venture because Sundhern knows of my love for the Clippers. I already own one Clipper, the MaryAnn, which has done very well.
“Lord Sundhern was also concerned that if one of the other investors pulled out, I was in agreement that he and I would cover the amount the fifth partner owed. We wanted to make sure the whole venture wasn’t compromised.”
“And you have no concerns about Lord Sundhern’s ability to cover that amount should the need arise?”
“None whatsoever,” His Grace answered. “I have complete confidence in his finances.”
There was a soft tap on the door, and His Grace paused. “That will be one of the servants with a tray,” he said.
But the person who entered the room wasn’t a servant. It was Winnie.
Nick’s breath caught. He followed her every move, memorizing everything about her. It seemed as if she’d changed so much since he’d last seen her, yet hadn’t changed at all. Every moment away from her seemed like an eternity.
Fingers of need and want and desire clenched around his heart. It was all he could do to simply rise to his feet along with the others in the room. He wanted to rush to her and take her in his arms.
She hadn’t seen him yet, but was concentrating on her father and Mack Wallace, as if she were watching for any sign of conflict. Or impending disaster.
It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps she thought the reason for their visit was to inform her father that his wife was still alive. That he wasn’t an eligible widower like everyone in Society thought he was.
He looked at her more intently, wanting to assure her that she was safe – yet.
She walked into the room and placed the tray on the table in front of them. That’s when she focused on him for the first time.
Their gazes locked, and held. Then held a little longer.
“Ah, Winnifred,” her father said. “Thank you. But you could have sent one of the maids instead of coming yourself.”
“I’m afraid I’m keeping the entire staff so busy preparing for tonight that there was no one available. Besides, I don’t mind. I won’t be long.”
She poured the tea, and handed a cup to her father and brother, then to Mack Wallace and Hugh Baxter. Then she turned to hand him a cup.
Nick reached for the tea and felt the slight trembling of the fragile china. He met her gaze, desperate for any sign that she’d missed him, any indication that she wanted to see him again. But he didn’t see any such indication.
“My lady,” he greeted.
“Mr. Stillman,” she returned, then she turned to hand each guest a plate with a sandwich and pastry on it.
When she finished, she looked at her father and smiled. “Call if you need anything, Father,” she said, then walked to a different door than the one from which she’d entered, and left the room.
Nick didn’t know where that door led. All he knew was that it took her away from him, and he doubted he’d see her again—until tonight.
He hadn’t intended to attend the ball the Duke of Townsend was giving to announce his daughter’s engagement, but seeing Winnie again had changed his mind. He needed to try one more time to convince her that they had a future together.
“Perhaps you’d like to explain what you’ve uncovered, Nick,” Mack said, pulling Nick back to the reason they’d come today. He focused on the Duke of Townsend, and found himself looking into eyes the same deep brown as Winnie’s.
“First,” His Grace said, “would you mind telling me why your uncle felt a need to investigate the investors?”
“Not at all. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me sharing his concerns. Although my uncle has the necessary money to join in your venture, he cannot afford to lose his investment. He was the owner of The Equity, which went down in a storm on its last voyage. The loss was substantial.”
“Yes, tragic event,” His Grace said. “Thankfully, most of the crew were picked up by a nearby ship.”
“Yes, he was very thankful for that blessing. But the loss of the ship and cargo set him back financially.”
“Of course.”
“He also has a daughter in the midst of her first Season.” Nick smiled. “As you are aware, Your Grace, that is no minor expense.”
The Duke of Townsend laughed as he heartily agreed.
“He therefore asked me to look into the other investors, Lord Cavanaugh, Lord Bainburn, and Lord Sundhern.”
“And you discovered something?”
“Yes. I did. Have you heard of a new gaming establishment called The Soiled Dove?”
“I have,” Lord Benjamin said as his father shook his head. “It’s a gaming hell that allows both men and women at their tables. It is very selective in the patrons it allows to gamble at its tables. Its clients are restricted to members of the nobility, and high-ranking Londoners.”
“I’m sure that draws quite a crowd each night,” His Grace said.
“It does. What we’ve discovered is that it is also being used as the front for a sex trafficking ring.”
The Duke of Townsend sat forward in his chair. “Do the authorities know about this?
“Not yet,” Mack answered. “We haven’t gone to them yet.”
“Why not?”
“The two men who run The Dove, as it is called, do not own the gaming hell. They only manage it.”
“Who is the owner?”
“The owner is either Lord Cavanaugh, or Lord Bainburn.”
His Grace and Lord Benjamin looked at each other in stunned surprise. When the Duke of Townsend turned back, Nick saw the fury in his eyes.
“Are you sure?” His Grace demanded.
“Whether the owner knows that the club is being used to traffic underage sex or not, isn’t known.”
“That doesn’t matter,” His Grace said, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair. “He should know. He should know exactly what goes on at each of his holdings. That especially includes a club of this kind.”
“It could be,” Nick continued, “that he prefers not to know. The reason for the club is probably to provide immense income. Both Lord Cavenaugh and Lord Bainburn are in need of the massive income The Dove provides.”
“Are you saying that Cavenaugh and Bainburn are in financial difficulties?”
Nick shifted his gaze to where Mack sat. He wasn’t sure how much his supervisor wanted him to reveal. Mack’s nod gave him his answer.
“I can’t say as to the exact amount of their need, but I’ve discovered that they both require a great deal of money on a daily basis.”
“Let me guess,” Lord Benjamin said. “Lord Bainburn needs the money to cover his son’s out-of-control gambling habit, as well as the thousands of pounds he spends annually on jewels and trinkets for his mistress. Then, there’s also his penchant for the latest fashions, both in clothing and in horses.”
Nick nodded. “From what I’ve discovered, if Bainburn doesn’t rein in his son soon, the boy will land his father in debtor’s prison.”
“And Cavanaugh?” His Grace asked.
“He is in the same situation. Only it’s not his son that overspends. It’s his wife and four daughters. That, plus the lamentable fact that none of his daughters are considered enviable catches. This
is the second Season for the younger two daughters, and the third Season for the older two. According to the gossip mills, all that will relieve him from having one or all of them under his roof for the rest of his life is providing them with a very large dowry.”
“Have you deduced which of the two is the more likely owner?” Lord Benjamin asked.
Nick looked at Mack again to get his approval. When he nodded his consent, Nick replied, “Viscount Cavenaugh.”
The Duke of Townsend’s glare turned murderous. “I take it you have a plan to prove what you suspect,” His Grace said.
“Yes, but we wanted you to be aware that one of the men in your venture is involved in a scandal.”
“Scandal be damned!” His Grace bellowed. “The sale of innocent young girls must be stopped. There is no excuse for allowing something so reprehensible to continue.”
“We were sure you would feel that way,” Mack said.
“I assure you, I do. So, do you have a plan to bring this unsavory reprobate out of the shadows?”
“We do,” Mack Wallace said. “Although there are some risks involved.”
“I will take any risk necessary,” His Grace said.
“The risk will not involve you,” Mack Wallace said. “But my men. Mr. Stillman to be precise. He will be the one at risk.”
. . .
Winnie stood with her back pressed against the wall of the adjoining room while Mack Wallace and his brigadesmen explained what they intended to do to flush out the owner of The Soiled Dove.
What did Mack Wallace mean when he said that Nick was the only one who would be in danger? How could Nick even think of returning to The Soiled Dove? Didn’t he realize that Ellsworth and Willard would recognize him, and take great pleasure in killing him?
Winnie listened more closely while the men talked.
“What is your plan?” her father asked.
“We’d like to enlist your son’s assistance in getting Lord Cavanaugh to The Dove.”
