Regency: Rakes & Reputations (Mills & Boon M&B)

by Gail Ranstrom

  She finally inhaled, trying to find her voice. How could she tell him that she had doubts, too. At least a dozen times a day, and twice already tonight. “Nevertheless.”

  He looked completely flummoxed by her refusal to see the matter his way. And her promise of utter confidentiality prevented her from mentioning that she had gained courage and support from his own sister and several of the most important ladies in the ton, so she merely held her ground.

  He released her and stepped back. “Very well, Miss O’Rourke. Have it your way, then. But you cannot stop me from shadowing your footsteps.”

  “You shall soon become very bored,” she warned. “Unless you have a secret tendresse for one of the Thayer twins.”

  The hint of a smile twitched his lips. “Redheaded hoydens. Trouble, if ever there was any, and certainly incapable of keeping you out of it. That would be like setting the fox to guard the henhouse.”

  “I do not need anyone to keep me out of trouble. I am quite capable of that, myself.”

  His gaze swept her from head to toe. “Really?”

  A flash of heat washed through her. Was he thinking of that night in the catacombs beneath the chapel? He was right—she had gotten herself in trouble before.

  She drew herself up and spun on her heel to go back to the ballroom. He will not humiliate me into doing as he wants, and he will not intimidate me, either!

  Jamie watched her go, half wanting to go after her, and half wanting to lock her away in some safe place until this business with Henley was finished. Why had he never noticed that stubborn streak?

  He plucked a rose from a bush climbing the arbor he passed on his way to the stables and held it to his nose. Sweet and blossoming, like Miss Eugenia, herself. His body stirred with the thought of her soft heated flesh beneath him, her dark hair spread upon his pillow and those lush lips parted with a sigh as he entered her. He groaned and shook his head. He had no right to be thinking of her in that way. She’d made it plain that she disliked him.

  Happily, there were many who did, and he was not adverse to settling when his first choice was not available. He’d find Devlin, see if there was any news, and then go look for female companionship. Perhaps that would take the edge off his adolescent yearning for Miss O’Rourke. And Charlie? Well, Charlie would catch up when he could. Aye, Charlie always knew where to find him—some sort of brotherly instinct.

  He tossed a coin to the stable boy who brought his horse, then mounted, turning southeast toward Whitefriars and the Crown and Bear. If Devlin was not there, Jamie would have a drink or two and go find ease at Alice’s. Her girls were known for their enthusiasm and accommodating nature. God knows he could use a bit of that.

  Clouds had gathered, obscuring the moon and bringing a chill. This was a night made for chicanery and it was early yet in Whitefriars. Anyone who made an honest living was home abed, and the others…well, the others never slept. As he arrived at the Crown and Bear, the place was alive with noise and laughter. Somewhere down an alley, voices raised in a quarrel carried to him as he left his horse in the stable yard behind the tavern and tossed another coin to Cox, the toothless and bald man who tended the stock.

  A few faces turned to look when he entered, then went back to their tankards. A quick scan of the room told him that Farrell wasn’t there. He crossed to the bar and waited while Mick Haddon, the barkeeper, poured a measure of his favorite rye whiskey and brought it to him. Haddon was a good man fallen on hard times, and a cut above the usual trade in the Crown and Bear.

  “Farrell in back?” he asked.

  “Home. Rarely see him these days,” Haddon answered.

  Jamie raised his glass. “To domestic bliss,” he said before he swallowed the contents.

  Mick snorted in reply. “Anything I can do for you?”

  “What has Farrell told you?”

  “To keep an eye out for Henley, and an ear to the ground.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing, though this is the sort of place Henley would come if he were in a drinking mood. And had he not already crossed Farrell.”

  Silently, Jamie agreed. Henley wouldn’t go to his club or to any reputable tavern or gambling hell. He’d frequent only the dregs of London. Places where he’d be unlikely to run into any of his old friends or new enemies. But someone, somewhere, knew where he was and was helping him. Sooner or later, Jamie would find him. He was a very patient man.

  “Any unusual activity? Rumors?” he asked.

  “Just the usual sort,” Haddon said as he poured another measure for Jamie. “A woman turned up dead in an alley not far from here last night. The charleys were asking around, but it seems she and her husband had a row, and you can guess the rest. I believe the husband has been taken away.”

  “Domestic bliss,” Jamie repeated as he finished his drink.

  Haddon laughed this time and nodded.

  Jamie left his glass on the bar and returned to the stable yard. Old Cox handed him the reins and ducked his head, as if avoiding Jamie’s eyes. His horse danced sideways, skittish about something. Rather than mount, he led his horse out of the yard to the cobblestones, an uneasy feeling raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right.

  He bent down to slip the dagger from his boot just as the report of a gunshot sounded close at hand. Brick and mortar scattered in a wide pattern behind him and his horse reared, frightened by the noise. He released the reins, knowing the well-trained animal would not bolt. He rolled to the side, coming up on his feet again near a doorway, his dagger in hand.

  Suddenly the price on his head was not quite so amusing. He’d left his pocket pistol at home, not anticipating that he’d be visiting the rookeries tonight. The sound of running footsteps down an adjacent alley told him that the assassin had taken his best shot and was now making his escape.

  He was in full pursuit down the alley, gaining on the culprit, when it occurred to him that this had all gone off too smoothly. He knew these streets well enough to know the assassin was leading him toward a blind alley. An ambush? But who would be waiting for him? Henley? The Gibbons brothers? He was alone. Should he take the chance?

  “Oh! I nearly swooned when I saw him waltz you out the terrace door!”

  Gina gave Hortense a bland smile. “Nothing happened. He was merely inquiring as to my mother’s health.”

  “Was he, indeed?” Harriett teased. “And why should your mother’s health be a concern of his?”

  Gina laughed. “My mother’s health is everyone’s concern. She makes it so at every encounter.”

  “Then you cannot confirm or deny the rumors concerning Mr. Hunter’s…skills?”

  “Alas.” Indeed. The memory of that brief moment of promise brought a little smile to her lips.

  “Ah! I see you are gaining confidence, Gina.” Harriett squeezed her hand and winked at her sister. “Our little protégé is blooming.”

  Yes, she was gaining confidence but she was far from being at ease. She was acutely aware that there could be men present who had heard of her ordeal. Perhaps even a few who had been there, who had seen her. Though they were unlikely to mention it, she had felt the weight of clandestine eyes upon her.

  She glanced around the ballroom as they strolled toward the punch bowl, wondering if James Hunter was still there, watching her. When her eye caught Miss Metcalfe dancing a lively reel with an eager young man, she was suddenly struck with a memory. Metcalfe! Was that not a name she’d heard before? A man who had been a friend of Mr. Henley and who had been at that scandalous tableau?

  “Harriett, what can you tell me about Miss Metcalfe?” she asked. “Does she have family?”

  “Goodness, yes! A handsome brother by the name of Stanley.”

  “Is he here tonight?”

  Hortense craned her neck to look about in one direction while Harriett scanned the other. “I do not see him. Come to think of it, Harri, have we seen him at all in the last few weeks?”

  Harriett chortled. “
No, but it does not matter. I do not think he would suit you, Gina.”

  “Oh?”

  “He is engaged to a dear friend of ours. Miss Christina Race. Have you met her?”

  Gina shook her head. In truth, she’d met very few people since arriving in London.

  “She and Missy have been almost inseparable since the engagement, have they not, Hortense?”

  Hortense nodded. “Like peas in a pod. Would you like to meet them? The reel is almost over and I believe I saw Christina near the fireplace.”

  Her heart beating harder, Gina donned an airy smile. “That would be lovely. The more people I meet, the less you will have to coddle me.”

  “Pshaw!” Harriett laughed. “We adore coddling you, Gina. Why, introducing a pretty newcomer lends us a certain mystery and importance we do not possess on our own.”

  Gina laughed. She had noted how many heads the twins had turned, and not just because they were identical. They certainly did not need an unknown newcomer to gain attention.

  The twins flanked her as they headed toward the fireplace at one end of the ballroom, nodding at acquaintances as they passed. Their progress was slow and perfectly timed to coincide with the end of the reel.

  Gina had been watching the dancers and when they stopped she turned her attention back to the group at the fireplace. Surprise coupled with a twist of her stomach shot through her. There stood a lovely woman of average height with glossy black hair and eyes nearly as dark. Her fair complexion deepened with the pink of a blush as she recognized Gina’s face. The woman from the tableau—and she was engaged to Mr. Metcalfe!

  Hortense performed the introduction. “Miss Eugenia O’Rourke, I am pleased to present our dearest friend, Miss Christina Race. Miss Race, please meet Miss O’Rourke.”

  Gina noted the tiny plea in those eyes. Clearly the woman did not want to acknowledge their previous acquaintance. How could they ever explain that away? She took a deep breath. “Miss Race, how nice to make your acquaintance. I pray you will not hold these two against me,” she said with a nod toward the twins.

  The woman smiled and squeezed Gina’s hand in gratitude. “If you will do the same, Miss O’Rourke.”

  Harriett arched one elegant eyebrow. “Come now. Our reputations are not quite that bad.”

  Laughing and jesting with a young man over her shoulder, Miss Metcalfe returned from the dance floor and was quickly introduced. “O’Rourke? Is your sister the one who finally tamed Lord Libertine?”

  Gina frowned, unfamiliar with the title.

  Hortense laughed. “She means Andrew Hunter, Gina. That was our pet name for him until your sister domesticated him.”

  She smiled. “Yes, then. Isabella married Mr. Hunter and they seem quite content.”

  Miss Metcalfe sighed as she fanned herself. “That gives the rest of us hope, then. If he succumbed to the parson’s mousetrap, there can be hope that one of us might yet snare James or Charles Hunter.”

  “I…I wouldn’t know, Miss Metcalfe.”

  “Yet I saw you dance with James,” she said, almost like an accusation. “That is, until he sneaked you out to the garden.”

  Gina was taken aback by the woman’s bluntness. “He was doing his duty to me, Miss Metcalfe. And reminding me to mind my manners.”

  Miss Metcalfe fell silent after Gina’s rejoinder and Hortense introduced her companion. “Miss O’Rourke, may I present Mr. Adam Booth? Mr. Booth, please meet Miss O’Rourke.”

  The man bent over her hand and a flicker of something passed through his eyes as he straightened and met her gaze. “Have we met, Miss O’Rourke? I could swear I’ve seen those remarkable eyes before.”

  He’d been at the tableau. Had he been at the ritual? She slowly withdrew her hand from his and forced a smile. “You are too kind, Mr. Booth. I doubt we have met since I have not been much in society. In any case, I am certain I’d have remembered a gentleman as handsome as you.”

  He grinned and the tension went out of his posture. “Well, I shan’t forget you again, Miss O’Rourke. Alas, I must be off to meet friends but I pray you will save me a dance ‘til the next time we meet.” He bowed over her hand.

  She gave him a stiff smile. Had there been something familiar in his request, or was she being overly sensitive? “I shall look forward to it, Mr. Booth.”

  Alone now, the ladies proceeded to discuss Mr. Booth and his various attributes—the width of his shoulders, the color of his gray-blue eyes, the size of his…bank account. Gina relaxed, the conversation so similar to those she’d had with her sisters long before any of them married.

  “And you, Miss O’Rourke? Who do you prefer?” Miss Race asked.

  “I am far too new to the scene to have a preference,” she said, though Jamie Hunter’s face came to mind.

  “My dear,” Harriett said, “I know just what you mean. Why, if Miss Race hadn’t already taken Mr. Metcalfe, I might cast my cap in that direction.”

  Gina seized that opportunity. “When am I to meet Mr. Metcalfe?”

  Missy Metcalfe rolled her eyes heavenward. “I can’t imagine where he’s been keeping himself. Between his friends and his club, we scarcely see him at home anymore. Why, Christina sees him more than we.”

  They all turned to Miss Race for confirmation.

  “I, uh, did see him earlier tonight. I believe he said he was gambling with a few of his friends.”

  “Men,” Hortense said, as if that explained everything.

  Miss Race drew herself up as if she’d made a sudden decision. “Accompany me to the ladies’ retiring room, Miss O’Rourke? I’d love to hear about your native land. I’ve never been to Ireland, though Stanley and I have discussed taking our wedding trip there.” She linked arms with Gina, leading her away from the group.

  When they were out of hearing, Miss Race pulled Gina into a private corner. “I must thank you for not giving me away. I saw that you recognized me, too, and I prayed you would not mention it to the others.”

  Gina gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’d have had to give myself away, Miss Race, and I was not about to do that.”

  “Call me Christina,” she said before rushing on. “And I want to assure you that I do not frequent such places as the one where we first met. Stanley had been invited by some of his friends and did not understand the sort of…affair it was to be, or he swears he never would have taken me. And I …

  well, I could see that you were not accustomed to such things either.”

  “I had never seen a complete stranger unclothed before. But to do so in such a public manner, and in such a pose, was a great surprise to me.”

  “Wicked London,” Christina murmured. “There is quite a different world here than the one we inhabit, Miss O’Rourke.”

  She weighed the risk of mentioning Mr. Henley so soon, but she hadn’t much time herself. “You must call me Gina, then. Meeting you has been quite fortuitous. You see, I am actually looking for some of the people in our group that night.”

  The woman shuddered. “Why?”

  “I lost something that night, and I believe one of them might have it, or know where it is.”

  “I cannot recall anyone finding something that night. But I wish you luck of it, Gina, and I must say I admire your courage. For myself, I hope never to see any of them again.”

  “Oh. I understand.” Gina turned away.

  “I did not mean you!” Christina stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Did you know them all—the people in our group?”

  She shook her head and looked down at the floor as if searching her mind. “That was the first time I stole away to go anywhere privately with Stanley. I did not know many of his friends, then, and I have not seen those particular ones since. Most were like you, complete strangers.”

  “Would you ask Mr. Metcalfe if he remembers that night, and who was there? If he would be willing to meet with me, perhaps I could persuade him to help.”

  Christina
looked doubtful. “I shall ask him, of course, but I think he’d rather leave that night in the distant past.”

  “Tell him that I urgently and desperately need his help. Tell him that my entire future depends upon it.”

  Christina searched her face and then nodded. “My goodness! What did you lose?”

  “Something irreplaceable. Something I must recover.”

  “But of course I shall tell him, my dear. The very next time I see him.”

  “Tomorrow?” she urged.

  “I…Yes. Are you going to the Albermarle crush Tuesday next?”

  She recalled seeing that name in the calendar and stack of invitations Lady Sarah had given her and nodded.

  “I shall ask him to accompany me there.”

  “Thank you.” Gina squeezed her arm in gratitude.

  Chapter Five

  Jamie seized the reins again and swung up into his saddle. He hadn’t wanted to disturb Devlin Farrell tonight, but now it couldn’t be helped. The brazen attack on his life had raised too many questions that only Farrell could answer.

  The butler left Jamie to cool his heels in Farrell’s study, so he helped himself to a small glass of sherry and took the liberty of pouring one for Devlin. His nerves needed steadying. The warmth from the alcohol had just begun to untwist the knots in his stomach when Devlin entered the study, barefooted, his hair tousled, and still securing his dressing robe.

  Jamie was amused to note the lack of a nightshirt where the robe gaped. From the expression on Devlin’s flushed face, he gathered he hadn’t exactly been sleeping. “Sorry,” he said as Devlin downed the contents of the waiting glass and glowered at him.

  “I gather this is more important than what I was doing?”

  Jamie grinned. “That would depend upon your priorities, I suppose. My life?”

  Devlin looked him up and down. “You seem none the worse for wear.”

  “I was fortunate. Even so, I barely ducked in time.”