Sins of a Virgin (Sinners Trio)

by Anna Randol

  Heat invaded Madeline’s cheeks. She relaxed her neck and shoulders, settling more firmly into the pillow.

  “There is something between us that cannot be explained away. And neither you nor I wish for it. Unless I am wrong.” He slid his hand through the opening of her robe, engulfing her breast in his hand. His thumb teased her nipple to a hard peak. “And you do wish for it. In which case, all you have to do is ask.” His lips dropped to her neck.

  Her breath hissed through clenched teeth. Yes, please, yes! But her logic refused to cede dominance to the new, reckless desire of her body. “You make it sound extraordinary. Lust lies between us, nothing more.”

  Easing the satin of her robe out of the path of his mouth, Gabriel’s lips skimmed the line of her collarbone to her shoulder. “And what do you want to come of this lust?”

  How could she answer when breathing seemed a horrible distraction from the silken touch of his lips? For all her fine words, she’d never felt lust like this. A molten crucible of desire that burned away all else, until nothing remained but the surety that she would give up everything for another kiss.

  The realization terrified her.

  And terror was familiar territory. She’d dealt with it every day for the past ten years. “Nothing will come of it”—she drew her sleeve back up her shoulder—“unless you’re so weak you cannot control yourself. I assure you I have no such problem.”

  Gabriel straightened, the lines of his face hard and unreadable. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

  Gabriel studied the maid. She shifted nervously, clutching her skirts in her fists. When a carriage clattered by, she pressed herself more closely against the wall.

  “You are sure Haines didn’t leave at all this evening?”

  Her head bobbed and her pale face disappeared into the shadows. “His mother is entertaining. He was at dinner, then they retired to the parlor for one of Her Ladyship’s fortifying reads.”

  “There was no chance for him to have slipped out?”

  “No. His mother has him paired with Miss Eustace and she’s been clinging to him all evening.”

  Gabriel sighed and handed the maid a guinea. She tucked it in her skirt and ducked back into the Haineses’ house.

  It wasn’t Timothy Haines, the would-be poet, who’d thrown the bottle tonight, and Madeline’s overzealous admirer hadn’t been at the theater yesterday. Gabriel kept to the far left of the sidewalk to avoid the water splashed by the coach wheels. Haines wasn’t the person trying to kill Madeline.

  Gabriel flipped up the collar of his greatcoat to keep the cold drizzle from his neck. She had put herself in the public eye. It was inevitable that she would attract some negative attention along with the notoriety. But this was more than an impulsive attack.

  He should be the one protecting her. Not Kent. Kent was a good man, sharp, and totally devoted to his wife and baby. Only the knowledge that Gabriel was to meet with his murder witness kept him moving in the right direction. Away from Madeline’s house.

  Assigning Kent to watch her had been the right thing to do. They had made their boundaries clear tonight, and the less time they spent together the better.

  When an empty hackney approached, Gabriel motioned to the driver and climbed in. It was only a short walk to the tavern but with his concentration wavering, he didn’t want a knife in his ribs because he wasn’t paying attention. She did this to him. Madeline tangled his thoughts. He didn’t like not being in control of himself. He’d been honest when he told her that earlier. He needed focus right now and the very thought of her disarrayed his mind. He didn’t trust himself and he sure as hell didn’t trust her.

  The coach drew to a halt in front of the tavern and Gabriel climbed out. He’d already questioned the drunken coachman, Bourne, once, but he hoped the man might have remembered some more details. He stared for a moment at the school across the street. This was why he needed focus. Another woman was dead. He wouldn’t allow any more.

  “Huntford?”

  Gabriel turned at the familiar voice. Danbury strode toward him, a smooth black cane in his hand.

  “I had no idea this was such a popular bit of London. I just passed Billingsgate a few moments ago. What brings you to this part of town, Huntford?”

  If Billingsgate was lingering around the scene of the crime, that made him all the more suspicious. “Bow Street business. And you?”

  Danbury pocked his cane down the street toward the docks. “My father was expecting a ship he’d invested heavily in to arrive.”

  “Any luck?”

  Danbury grimaced. “Do you think I’d be wandering home like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs if it had? It’s over a month overdue and no one has heard anything about it.”

  “Can he take the loss?” Gabriel asked.

  Danbury snorted. “The loss of the ship is nothing more than a pebble on the mountain of his fortune, but money is money. And he won’t be happy to lose it.”

  Gabriel had met Danbury’s father once when he and Danbury were down from Oxford. The man had refused to acknowledge Gabriel even though he’d been standing next to his son. Gabriel was too lowly to even warrant a tip of the hat. Even though Gabriel had laughed it off, it had pierced his youthful arrogance.

  A few days later Susan had tried to tell him that a fine gentleman fancied her. Remembering the sting of humiliation, Gabriel had refused to listen to her and mocked her naïveté.

  Danbury eyed the tavern. “Do they have decent ale here? I’m not in a hurry to make my report to my father.”

  “The ale might burn a hole in your gut but it will get you drunk enough. I’ll join you for a glass after I finish talking to someone.” Gabriel rarely drank but he found the idea quite appealing tonight.

  Laughter and bawdy songs spilled through the door as they entered. A comfortable fire glowed in the hearth, and with a few tallow candles sputtering on tabletops, the place almost managed to look inviting.

  “Who are you here to see?” Danbury removed his hat. Droplets of water dripped to the rough wooden floor.

  “A witness in one of my cases.”

  “What’s the case?”

  Gabriel had never believed in discussing his work. The cases weren’t entertaining stories; they were the pain of real people. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

  Danbury shrugged. “I’ll get us a table.”

  Gabriel nodded, then turned to where Bourne normally lounged.

  The chair was empty.

  Gabriel pulled his watch from his pocket. He was precisely on time. As the barmaid, Loretta, shuffled by, Gabriel stopped her.

  She blew a lock of rusty red hair from her flushed face. “I already told you I didn’t see anything that night. I don’t have time for any more of your questions. I’ve got customers.”

  “Have you seen Bourne tonight?” he asked.

  She shifted her tray of glasses to her other hip and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s over—” Her brow furrowed. “Well, he was. He’s still got half a pint of ale over there. I can’t think he went far. Maybe into the alley to take a piss?”

  A group of millworkers called for her and she hurried away.

  Gabriel sat at Bourne’s customary table by the window and waited. After several minutes, the coachman still hadn’t returned. Gabriel went out to the alley, but other than the odor of human waste and a few rats, the alley was empty.

  Gabriel swore. Bourne must have staggered home only a few minutes before he arrived. He shouldn’t have tried to meet him at night. The man would likely be more sober in the morning.

  Frowning, Gabriel reentered the tavern. Danbury had secured a table next to the fireplace. Danbury waved him over and Gabriel settled into a chair. It was stained and worn, but at the moment, perfectly comfortable.

  “No luck, eh?” Danbury asked.

  Gabriel shook his head. “Not tonight.”

  Danbury grimaced. “I’ll drink to that.” He waved the barmaid over. As Loretta approached, he sm
iled lazily at her, then flipped her a guinea.

  She flushed and straightened, the sway of her hips exaggerated. The anticipation that lit her eyes made years of hard living melt from her face. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

  “Bring a pint for my fine Runner friend here.”

  She curtsied low, her eyes never leaving Danbury, her fingers playing with her bodice. “As you wish, my lord.”

  Danbury patted her on her backside. Loretta giggled and tapped him playfully on the lips before sauntering away.

  Gabriel raised a brow. “I would have thought you’d outgrown barmaids by now.”

  Danbury chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Do you know what I like about barmaids? They’re honest. There’s no hiding behind the pretense of morality. They are what they are.” He lifted his mug in an imaginary toast. “And I’m quite grateful for it.”

  Gabriel shook his head as Loretta hurried back with a tankard. She clanked it down on the table and pressed plump breasts against Danbury’s arm. “Anything else?”

  Danbury met Gabriel’s gaze. “See? Honest.” He shook his head. “Not right now, love.”

  She sighed, glaring at Gabriel as if it was his fault Danbury had refused her. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  Gabriel sipped the liquid, then grimaced. “This is worse than I remembered.”

  Danbury nodded but took a swig from his half-empty tankard. “It gets more tolerable after the first pint.”

  Gabriel pushed the mug away. “I don’t think I’ll test that.”

  “So did the man you were going to meet have to do with Miss Valdan?” Danbury asked.

  “No.”

  “Miss Valdan. Now there is a woman who could use a lesson from the barmaids in honesty.”

  Gabriel’s muscles tightened across his shoulders at the other man’s words. “You don’t have to bid.”

  Danbury didn’t seem to notice Gabriel’s quelling tone. “Of course I do. Do you know how she is going to fake her virginity?”

  When Gabriel remained silent, Danbury looked at him incredulously. “You don’t actually believe her, do you?” He slapped his knee. “Perhaps you aren’t the crack Runner I thought. I knew most of my peers are too blind to see her for what she is, but I thought the truth would be obvious to you.” He leaned in, propping his elbows on the table. “Well, let me tell you. I’m sure she’s not. Other men might be paying for her virginity. I’m paying to see how she intends to get around not being one.”

  The tension in Gabriel’s jaw made it difficult to speak. “As I said, there’s nothing forcing you to bid.”

  Danbury gave a bark of laughter. “She’s gotten to you, hasn’t she? So much that you can’t even talk about her. But how well do you really know her?”

  Gabriel stood, the idea of prowling the dark streets of London in the icy rain suddenly preferable to sitting at this tavern with Danbury. “She’s an assignment. As to her virginity or lack thereof, I simply don’t care. I apologize, but I have other business I must attend to this evening.” He flipped a shilling on the table, the thought of Danbury paying for his drink no longer palatable.

  Danbury shrugged and motioned the barmaid over with a smile. “I have business this evening as well.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  As they exited the milliner’s, Madeline handed Gabriel a large package. “You don’t mind, do you?” Her lips curved into a beguiling smile, her eyes sparkling.

  And Gabriel had never hated an expression more.

  His hand tightened on the cord encircling the box. Since he’d collected her this morning, she’d teased and flirted and laughed. But it was as if she were a pretty china doll with nothing behind the glossy eyes and sable curls.

  And she hadn’t changed. That was the worst part. As he watched her banter with the other men, she was exactly the same as she’d been every other day. They fawned and lusted and she responded in kind, still as gorgeous and teeth-achingly seductive as always.

  The difference was, now she treated him the same as her other male acquaintances.

  The occasional wry glance when one of her suitors said something particularly outlandish was gone. Absent, too, were any hints she was something more than she appeared: a desirable, young courtesan eager to hold court over her swains.

  He should be happy. She was upholding her bargain.

  Yet his jaw ached from grinding his teeth together. He was mad. Who but a madman would want her to be cold? To ignore him? To be angry at his words last night? To be anything but this glossy caricature?

  It was as if he’d been tossed from the wings of the stage into the audience with all the other fools.

  But that didn’t make him one of her suitors, eager to jump at any small task to win her favor. “Perhaps instead of buying a hat, you should have hired a footman.”

  She laughed. “Why, when you’ll be providing me one free of charge?”

  “I’ve assigned you a guard. Two very separate things.”

  “Really? Do you think he’ll hesitate to assist me if I ask?” She ran her tongue over her lip.

  “Kent has a wife and child.”

  “Well then, he shouldn’t be tempted by me.”

  “Don’t torment him because you’re angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry with you. I would have to care about you to be angry. Besides, I don’t dally with my servants, remember?” Her tone was cheerful and patient. She could have used that tone to ask after the health of his mother. “If the package is too heavy for you to carry to the carriage, I can have the milliner send it around later,” she added.

  He shifted the large box to his other hand so he’d be free to draw his knife, then paused. The box actually felt remarkably light, even for a bonnet. “What did you buy?”

  “The box.”

  “What?” He jostled the box from side to side. “There is nothing in here.”

  She grinned. “I know.”

  That made no sense.

  “I didn’t actually buy a hat. I only need to appear like I have.”

  But she’d looked incredibly beguiling in the black riding bonnet, and he’d seen the way her fingers trailed over the brim. “Why didn’t you buy the hat?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps once I have my fortune. But until then, I only buy what I can pay for, which at this point is an empty box.”

  “Why shop then?” Why not sit in the comfort of a coach, rather than forcing herself to saunter about London on foot? Not once, even when they were alone, had she given him a glimpse of the agony she must feel from her wound as she strolled around Bond Street.

  Madeline winked at a gentleman passing by on his horse. “Appearances. I’m bright, beautiful, and expensive. Do you think I’d be nearly as appealing if I appeared poor, downtrodden, and desperate?”

  She could be dressed in burlap and still be appealing.

  He should let this conversation go. As much as he wanted the real Madeline again, it was easier for them both if she stayed hidden away. He’d done remarkably well resisting beautiful faces over the years. But she had gotten to him somehow. Perhaps through the damnable way her eyebrow twitched before delivering a quip, the way she wore huge flannel nightgowns when she thought no one would see, or her ability to delve to the core of every situation.

  Yet Danbury was right last night. He still knew almost nothing about her. “Are you desperate?”

  She shrugged, smiling at two pinch-faced matrons. They sniffed, wielding their fans like shields as they skittered away. “Desperation is a relative term, is it not?”

  Let it go.

  But he couldn’t. Gabriel wanted to blame it on his years as a Runner. Or the mystery she presented. But although the contradiction she embodied intrigued him, the woman responsible for creating the contradiction intrigued him more.

  Gabriel placed the box prominently on the seat of her carriage. “I’m sure the store would’ve extended you credit until after the auction.”

  Her lips thinned, the first time
that rosy flesh had expressed anything but polite cordiality. “And if something happened and the auction was never completed? Do you know what debt does to a person? The duns that knock on your door and take the linens from your bed? How the threat of prison flays you until you’re willing to sell your wife to put an end to it?” Her charm deserted her, replaced by a desolate intensity.

  One of the things Gabriel watched for in an interrogation were the outliers—facts, stories, and tidbits that weren’t asked for but the subject gave. “Selling a wife? That seems a bit extreme.”

  Madeline inhaled deeply, her mask dropping back in place. “You’re right, of course.” But her jaw was too tight and her lips stretched too far.

  Interesting. He continued to probe. “Lose too much in a game of piquet?”

  But her brief moment of candor had passed. She laughed, tilting her head to her precisely practiced seductive angle. “I never lose.”

  He stepped to the side, forcing her to alter her pose. “You’re skilled at cards as well?”

  She placed her hand on his arm and stood on tiptoe, her breath whispering over his neck as she spoke. “My skills are moderate at best.” Her breasts brushed against his arm. “But my partners find it difficult to concentrate.”

  Lust resumed its familiar cadence in his groin. But she hadn’t befuddled him as completely as she might have hoped. He trapped her hand when she would have trailed it down his arm. “I find that difficult to believe.” He traced a slow circle on the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, unable to resist making her suffer as he did. “Oh, I believe men find it difficult to concentrate around you, but I don’t doubt you know the card each man holds before he plays it.”

  Her brow lifted with idle amusement he might have believed if not for her pulse fluttering under his finger. “You’re accusing me of cheating?”

  “You might indeed cheat on occasion, but I’m referring to your talent for observation.”

  She freed herself from his grasp and strolled away to peer at a fanciful display of fans in a shop window. To anyone else she would’ve seemed enthralled with the merchandise, but Gabriel could see her eyes studying him in the reflection.