by Anna Randol
Madeline, laughing at some inane folly, whipped open her fan and brandished it flirtatiously in front of her, accomplishing the same separation from the crowd. As the men laughed at one of her sallies, she drew toward Gabriel, lifting her fan to conceal her mouth. “Your scowl could eclipse the sun.”
He directed the aforementioned expression at some striped popinjay who attempted to insert himself next to Madeline. “Good.”
“I’m not paying you enough for this much diligence.”
She’d provided him more than she’d ever know—the perfect opportunity to watch Lenton and Billingsgate interact with the others. “I do my job. You do yours.”
“For the record, I wish I could scowl rather than wave this fan. It is much less tiring.”
The corner of his mouth quirked, ruining his scowl. “You’re welcome to try it.”
“I should. So many men fantasize about dour-faced women.” A comical grimace flashed across her face for the barest instant before Madeline redirected her energy back to the pack in front of her.
After several minutes, the other courtesans, realizing the shifting interest of their customers, wove their way through the men around Madeline, hoping that the dejected supplicants would turn to them for comfort.
But they’d underestimated Madeline’s skill.
She held court like a pagan queen—jesting, flirting, drawing them all in while keeping them at bay. Except for a few fellows who wandered over to examine the commotion rather than Madeline, she kept their rapt attention.
Which, unfortunately, left the eager, ambitious women at loose ends.
As they grew more bored, his scowl reduced in proportional efficiency.
He batted away a hand that slid down his side. “Can I borrow that fan?” he muttered, inching a step closer to Madeline.
She cast him a glance from the corner of her eye. “Perhaps a sword?”
A hand pinched his backside, startling him into taking a step. His back pressed into Madeline’s. “Tell me that was your hand.”
She laughed. “You should hope. But never fear, it’s time to break up this mob. I need to leave them longing, not trampled.” She accepted the hand of an older gentleman to the cries and groans of her other admirers, then let him lead her to the dance floor.
Without Madeline luring them closer, the group of men slowly dispersed, snared by Madeline’s competition.
Gabriel rolled his shoulders a few times, relishing his newfound space.
Lenton appeared next to him, an untouched wineglass held dejectedly between two fingers. “It’s almost my dance with her, isn’t it?”
Who knew what the woman had planned? But he wasn’t about to give up the chance to speak with Lenton if he was feeling sociable. “She’ll return after the set. Is she the type of woman you normally fancy?”
“She’s like the air in my lungs. I’ve loved her as long as I can remember.”
“How long have you known her?”
Lenton blinked. “Oh, same as everyone, I suppose. Since she showed up in London six months ago.”
Gabriel followed her laughing progress across the floor. “Where was she before that?”
Lenton sighed. “I never asked. Heaven, I suppose. Or Shropshire.” He frowned at his wine. “I need something stronger. I’ll return.”
As Lenton wandered away, Gabriel reviewed all the gossip he’d heard in the past months. Her name had been on every man’s lips, noble and common, until he’d been sick of it. She featured so prominently in the scandal sheets it had been difficult to learn anything else. But before that, he couldn’t think of any mention of her.
If she’d been in London for only the past six months, where the devil had she been before that?
Madeline disentangled herself from Wethersly. Really, the man was more octopus than octogenarian.
She searched out Huntford, now blessedly isolated from the swarming mass of humanity that filled the ballroom.
Not that his cocoon of space would last once she returned.
She kept her step light and carefree even though she wanted nothing more than to dive through the nearest open window. Why had she come tonight?
Her stomach gave a very undainty rumble. Ah yes, money.
A drunken gentleman stumbled into her path and she skirted around him, leaving him to the dubious comfort of the woman he’d selected to entertain him tonight.
Alcohol had flowed abundantly throughout the evening, and, as she well knew, wine and lust were a potent duo. She skipped around a hand grabbing for her backside. But there was a fine line between inspiring lust and fending it off. It would soon be time to leave.
Huntford’s jade eyes locked on her as she approached. Under his gaze, the natural sway of her hips felt exaggerated and wanton. Her bodice tightened uncomfortably over her breasts. And again the awareness returned. Not of her seductiveness, she knew that tool too well to pay it any heed, but of the woman beneath it who wanted to be seduced.
That woman was a stranger. And a terrifying one at that.
But it was more than just physical attraction that slowed her steps as she returned to Gabriel. When she’d stood back to back with him earlier, she’d been surprised by the warmth that spread through her. It wasn’t the heat of an additional body pressing against her or even the simmering lust. No, it was something far more singular in her experience—security. There weren’t many people she’d trust at her back in a fight. As a matter of fact, there were only two.
Three now, apparently.
She wanted to pinch Huntford’s scowling cheek. “Come, let’s get you some food. I won’t have them saying that I’m a cruel taskmaster.”
“I believe Lenton hoped to find you.”
“You’re right. We’d better hurry before he succeeds.”
He tipped his head in acceptance, and she led the way to the dining room. She stopped just inside, a snort of laughter escaping before she could contain it. She’d promised Huntford scandalous, hadn’t she?
On the table in the center of the room, a nude woman had arranged herself across several silver platters. Fruit had been placed over her body. As the men selected the fruit, more of her bare skin was revealed.
Perhaps they should stay away from the fruit table. In fact, the beef looked rather good. But Madeline couldn’t resist peering back at Gabriel. “Hungry?”
Gabriel’s scowl deepened. “Not anymore.”
“Madeline!” A gentleman called out, pausing in the act of lifting a bunch of grapes from the woman’s hips.
Madeline repressed a grimace as a new group of men formed around her, cutting her off from the food.
“Shall I get you a plate?” one of the men asked.
Only if it didn’t come from the table with the woman.
A fast-moving object flashed in the corner of Madeline’s vision. She reacted without thinking, her body jerking to the side. A large strawberry hit the man next to her square in the chest.
“Greedy witch! The men were supposed to be falling all over themselves for me tonight! Do you know how long I had to stay still while they arranged all that fruit?” The formerly food-bedecked woman had risen to her feet, her colorful costume in piles at her feet. She picked up a bowl of cream and hurled it in Madeline’s direction. Gabriel stepped in front of her to block the projectile. Luckily for him, the woman’s tantrum affected her aim, and the bowl sailed through the air and bounced off a man four feet to Madeline’s left.
“My best waistcoat!” With a huff, he flicked the cream off his chest. The foamy treat splattered over the man next to him, who looked down at his sleeve with the bleary intensity of one who’d had too much to drink. Then with a laugh, he tossed a pastry from the nearby table back at the man.
Suddenly, pastries and globs of gravy were flying around the room as the rest of the gentlemen joined in.
Madeline caught Gabriel’s arm. “It’s nice to know the future of England is in such responsible hands.” They dodged a spinning slice of beef as he led her out
a side door. As they exited, a footman carrying a tray of almond biscuits entered. Without pausing, Madeline snatched three of the sugary treats with him none the wiser.
“Were you ever a pickpocket?”
Only once or twice; that had been Clayton’s area of expertise. “At least we know these biscuits haven’t been worn. Let’s find a less crowded place to eat. Through here, I think.” Except that she didn’t think, she knew. She’d scouted the location dressed as a scullery maid earlier this afternoon. She’d gotten lax about such things the past weeks, but she could no longer afford that. She hurried through a set of doors at the far side of the corridor and down a narrow, dimly lit passage.
He glanced up and down the narrow space. “Servants’ corridor?”
“One of them. This one leads to the laundry and cellar.” The space smelled of coal dust and lye, perhaps not the most appetizing aromas, but she’d eaten in far worse. Madeline handed Huntford a biscuit and lowered herself onto the top step.
After a moment, Huntford followed suit. “I didn’t picture you as the type to sit in a stairway.”
She paused with the pastry halfway to her mouth. “I’m surprised you pictured me at all.”
He shrugged, ignoring her bait. “You don’t seem the type to tolerate dingy wooden steps.”
She feigned a delicate sniff. “Indeed, this exquisite derriere only condescends to grace the finest furniture.” She bit into the treat. “Unless I’m hungry, then I’ll sit anywhere.”
Gabriel’s lips twitched, then he lost the battle and grinned.
Her pulse skipped in her veins. His smile wasn’t one that transformed a striking man into a heartrendingly handsome one. No, the change was far more wickedly subtle.
It made him approachable. The pale green of his eyes softened and the tension that normally narrowed his lips disappeared.
She choked on the powdery sugar coating the biscuit.
He eyed her warily. “Are you well?”
She nodded and focused on eating. The confection was one of her favorites so she prolonged her enjoyment with small dainty bites, allowing herself full immersion in the rich, nutty flavor and the occasional pleased moan.
Huntford hadn’t touched his.
Perhaps she could ask him if she might have his—but no, she’d already eaten two to his one.
With a sigh, she raised her fingers to her mouth and began to lick each finger clean.
His sharp curse echoed in the narrow space.
With a swift movement, he placed the biscuit on his knee and caught her hand, pulling it toward him. His palm was warm and callused under hers. “I can help with that.”
His thumb rubbed small circles on the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, spiraling throbbing sensations to the sensitive places between her legs.
What did the man think he was doing? And why was she letting him? “Huntford—”
“Gabriel is better, don’t you think?”
She knew Gabriel’s type. There was no place for a woman in his life except as an occasional bedmate. And that she couldn’t be.
As much as she might be tempted to—
A handkerchief plopped into her hand.
“That should take care of the mess.” Gabriel released her hand with a satisfied smirk.
The beast!
But as her sexual frustration ebbed, an answering smile formed on her lips. She supposed she had deserved that. “Well done.”
He picked up his biscuit. “I thought so.”
That didn’t mean she was going to let him get away with smugness, however. “Have you enjoyed the evening?”
“Which part? The mobs or the food fight?” He dusted the sugar off his knee. It was her turn to watch the muscles bunch along the hard line of his jaw as he chewed. “I think you coerced me here under false pretenses. Other than seeing you eat stolen biscuits on the servants’ stair, I haven’t seen anything that shocks me.”
When would the man learn she couldn’t resist a challenge?
Madeline reached out and flicked a crumb from his lip, letting her finger drag over his smooth, firm skin. “That’s because you’ve hardly left the ballroom.”
Chapter Six
Why in the blazes did he allow her to goad him so easily? Gabriel followed Madeline around a half-nude couple fornicating in an open doorway. The man’s trousers hung down around his ankles revealing hairy, spindly legs. The woman under him emitted high-pitched sounds reminiscent of a screeching violin. Gabriel grimaced. They couldn’t make it another two feet into the room and shut the door behind them?
Gabriel hurried Madeline around the corner to escape the couple’s increasingly loud grunts. “That couple classified as more revolting than shocking.”
Her nose wrinkled. “You do have a point—” She froze placing her hand on his chest. “Listen.”
“I’d prefer not to.” But her sharp look silenced the rest of his snide comment. He struggled and failed to hear anything besides the overexuberant couple. Madeline, however, took off in a silent lope down the hall.
What the devil? No mysterious footmen were in sight this time.
She stopped abruptly. He collided against her. Only his arm wrapping around her ribs saved her from tumbling face-first into the carpet. The heavy weight of her breast pressed against his arm. If he turned his hand he’d be cupping—
A woman’s cry of pain aborted his lustful thought.
Madeline jerked her head in the direction of a door to their right. A man’s laughter spilled from the room.
She shoved at the arm encircling her, and Gabriel released his hold.
She strode toward the occupied room, her voice loud and shrewish. “I swear if you don’t find something to remove this gravy from the hem of my gown I’ll scream. I give you two minutes to locate a maid with laundry powder. I’ll wait here.” She flung open the door.
A woman stumbled out, clutching her ripped bodice to her chest. A line of crimson dribbled from her mouth down her chin. Grotesque swelling around one of her eyes sealed it tightly shut.
“Get back here, whore!” a gravelly voice bellowed from inside the room.
With a terrified glance from her one good eye, the woman fled, revealing bloody stripes harrowed across her bony shoulder blades.
Rage built until each heartbeat thudded in Gabriel’s ears with deafening percussion. “Stay here.” He set Madeline to the side and strode into the room. Dealing with brutes like this was familiar territory.
A balding, heavy-jowled man stood inside. Dr. Horace Webster. “I thought we had discussed your problem before, Webster.”
Gabriel had investigated him seven years ago, not because he thought his sister would have fallen for the corpulent mass, but because his reputation for violence had made it impossible for Gabriel to ignore him. Unfortunately, the doctor had been in Bath at the time of Susan’s death. Four separate sources had confirmed it.
Webster stood in his shirtsleeves, no doubt to allow him a better range of movement to swing the riding crop in his hand. “Just enjoying a bit of sport, Huntford.”
“I don’t think the lady would agree.”
“That woman is a whore who I intended to pay. Now you’ve robbed us both of our satisfaction.”
“Then why isn’t she here complaining?”
Webster cracked his knuckles. “Probably embarrassed she enjoyed it so much. Perhaps I should finish up with that pretty thing you brought.”
Gabriel slammed Webster against the wall, his forearm pressed into the spongy column of his throat. Fury corded the muscles of his arm but he forced himself to stop an inch before he crushed the man’s windpipe. “You’re the only one who receives any enjoyment. But that’s what gets you off, isn’t it? The pain? Their terror?”
Webster’s throat twitched under Gabriel’s arm as he struggled to breathe. His words emerged in a hoarse rasp. “It ain’t a crime for a man to show his woman a little discipline.”
“She’s not your woman unless you have marriage lines to
show me. Your discipline’s a felony.”
“To have a felony, you need to have a crime.” Webster wrenched Gabriel’s arm from his neck and shoved him back. Gabriel crouched, preparing for the doctor to charge. Waiting for it. Anticipating it. The doctor outweighed him by a good five stone and was no stranger to violence, but he wasn’t accustomed to a target that could fight back. And Gabriel intended to fight back hard.
The doctor’s chapped fists balled at his sides, but then unfolded to rub his neck. A mocking smile stretched his face. “It wasn’t a crime. Ask her. I bet she won’t say a thing against me.”
Webster was right. His victims were always too afraid to stand against him, and without the victim to prosecute the crime, Gabriel was powerless.
“Without her complaint you can’t charge me with anything.”
Gabriel’s brows lowered, revulsion warring with his anger. “Except being a purulent cyst of a man.”
Webster growled.
“Or having the breeding of horse manure.” Gabriel tensed, hoping the man would take a swing at him. He couldn’t arrest him, but at least he could flatten the man’s ugly nose.
Unfortunately, Webster stormed to the door, spitting at Gabriel’s feet as he passed. “Bastard.”
“Indeed. Now leave.”
Gabriel followed the doctor into the corridor. If the man even looked in Madeline’s direction, Gabriel would shoot him in the back.
But Madeline was nowhere to be seen as Webster lumbered away.
Gabriel peered around with a frown. Had she returned to the ball? After a brief search, he found her sitting on a chair in the corridor a few passageways down. Her arms were tightly folded across her chest and her head was bowed.
“Madeline, I’m sorry if he frightened you. He’s gone now.”
Her head jerked up. “Frightened? No. If I had stayed I would have cut off his ballocks. And I didn’t want to stain my dress.”
Gabriel would have snorted in agreement but her eyes held no humor.
“Did you at least hit him a few times?”
