Sins of a Virgin (Sinners Trio)

by Anna Randol

  “More details.” Gabriel’s voice was cold.

  “He was portly. Graying hair. Tried to dress poor but his clothes were too clean.”

  “Was he French?” Madeline asked.

  Toole shook his head. “No. One of those bloody sausage eaters. Prussian or some such.”

  Gabriel looked in question at Madeline. She searched through her mental list of suspects, but shook her head. She’d dealt with plenty of Prussians but none in Paris. Who was she forgetting?

  Gabriel easily handled Toole as he dragged him out to the main street and down several blocks to the night watchman’s box. Gabriel gave a few curt orders to the constable there, and Toole was taken away.

  Gabriel turned back to Madeline. “I’ll go after him tonight.”

  “Yes, we will.” As if she’d shuffle home and allow him to go alone.

  “Madeline—”

  “As Ian and Clayton quickly learned, you either take me or I go on my own.”

  Gabriel glared at her but nodded.

  “We should take them as well. They might recognize someone I’d miss. I’ll sneak into the card game pretending to be—”

  Gabriel caught her chin, the gentle contact sending tremors through her body.

  “Sometimes things can be simple,” he said.

  As he strode in the direction of the card game, he removed his hat. A man standing watch on the corner dashed into the building, and seconds later men streamed out, some running, some burrowing deeply in their coats and trying to saunter as if they had nothing to hide.

  After the press of people disappeared down the street, two gentlemen strolled toward them.

  “Either you’re a fool, or you have news,” Clayton said.

  Ian surveyed the now quiet street. “My vote’s on the former.”

  Madeline stomped on Ian’s foot, then explained about Toole and the information he’d parted with.

  Gabriel’s lips twitched as Ian shook his sore foot. Well, Gabriel had done his share of protecting her; at least she could return the favor.

  When a cold breeze snaked between the buildings and raised gooseflesh on her arms, Gabriel opened his greatcoat and wrapped it around her, sharing his warmth.

  She should have protested, but the patched shawl she’d brought along did nothing to warm her. And it was pleasant. In fact, it was so pleasant that she didn’t step on Ian’s foot again when he viewed her new cocoon with a smug, knowing smile.

  “The Bull and Bear is a common meeting place for all types of criminals,” Gabriel said, continuing on as if it wasn’t at all unusual to have a woman sharing his coat.

  Ian nodded. “Ah, I thought I knew it. Just a few blocks east of here. We’ll meet there in ten.” Ian and Clayton moved off in different directions.

  Gabriel removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders. She thought perhaps his fingers lingered on the nape of her neck on purpose. When he smoothed the back of the coat and his hand cupped her bottom, she knew he had.

  His hand tightened for a moment. “Just staying in character.”

  She grimaced at the reminder and relinquished the delicious warmth of the coat. “No man, no matter how noble, would lend his coat to a lightskirt.” She interrupted his protest. “The coat is worth more than you’d pay me. I’d most likely abscond with it, leaving you cold and unsatisfied.” She cupped Gabriel’s cheek, her finger tracing the stubborn set of his jaw. “I do appreciate the thought, though.”

  Madeline hugged close to Gabriel as they walked. A smile kept invading her face, so she turned it into a saucy grin she wouldn’t have to hide. She had missed this. Not the missions exactly, but the sense of being on a team. Of knowing exactly what she needed to do and how to do it.

  She also had missed the challenge of it. Once she put herself to pasture in the country, would she be able to survive without going mad? What would she do when she had nothing more strenuous to plot than where to plant the turnips?

  But for now, all she had to worry about was keeping alive and unseen in the dark alleys . . . and not giving in to the temptation to let her hand brush Gabriel’s as they stalked the shadowy, wandering lanes.

  The Bull and Bear squatted dull and disreputable between sagging dockside warehouses. The animals on the sign were so crudely drawn it was impossible to tell which was the bear and which the bull. The scent of onion, gin, and stale urine clung to the weathered wood. A few fat tallow candles coated the windows with greasy smoke, making the patrons inside little more than dark smudges. Two familiar figures loitered on a nearby corner.

  “Maddox, Campbell, you cover the front and back exits. Stop anyone who looks familiar,” Gabriel ordered.

  “You’re sending yourself in?” asked Clayton, his opinion of that idea perfectly clear.

  “The innkeeper owes me a few favors.”

  “I’m going with him.” Madeline pulled her neckline lower so Betsy’s attributes would be on fine display. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t contradict her.

  Upon entering, Madeline decided God owed the innkeeper a few favors instead. None of the man’s parts matched. His tiny pear-shaped head perched on a mountainous body held up with two stumpy legs and flanked by arms that hung at different lengths at his side. It was as if God had dredged him from the leftover bucket.

  The innkeeper’s hooked nose twitched as they approached through the motley collection of sailors and dockworkers. “Damn it, Huntford. I’m having a good night. No one’s broken a thing.” The man’s voice was a surprise; rich, deep, and melodious. It was a baritone that could have graced opera houses in Venice.

  Gabriel planted his hands on the counter. “Why do you think that’s going to change?”

  “It always does when you’re around.” The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Madeline, his tongue sliding over his lower lip. “She with you or looking for work? I find myself in need of a new barmaid, and she looks like she’d be willing to service my customers.”

  Gabriel grabbed the big man by the front of his shirt and dragged him over the bar until they were face-to-face.

  The patrons fell silent, setting down their tankards of ale. Hands flexed experimentally, not from any desire to help the innkeeper but in anticipation of a brawl. Madeline moved closer to Gabriel, covering his back.

  The innkeeper gulped. “No offense meant, Huntford. Obviously, she’s with you.”

  That rumor would sweep the underbelly of London. The powerful Huntford dallying with a common whore.

  Ian would laugh himself silly. She’d have to step on his foot again.

  But since Gabriel had been fool enough to stand up for her honor, she returned the favor. “Me? Take up with a charley? Lawks, what a hoot!”

  Gabriel released the innkeeper, who immediately returned to wiping mugs with a dirty towel at his waist.

  “No, he’s helping me find the man who stole my da’s watch. Odd bloke thinks he’s a bloody noble knight.” She slid a hand down her hip. “How much would ye pay if I worked for ye?”

  “Three shillings a week.”

  “Bah. I didn’t think ye could afford me.”

  “I meant ten shillings—”

  Gabriel interrupted their haggling. “Do you have a foreign gentleman staying here? Prussian, perhaps. Older. Gray hair.”

  The innkeeper smoothed the front of his shirt. “Sounds like Schinder. He’s in the attic room. Think he might even be up there now.”

  Madeline winked at the innkeeper as she followed Gabriel toward the stair. “Twelve. It would take twelve shillings a week to win me.”

  The innkeeper grumbled in disgust behind her.

  “Twelve shillings?” Gabriel asked. “Perhaps I should have a word with your bidders.”

  “It’s all about seeming expensive.”

  “You are worth more than what you can convince other people to pay.”

  Before she could respond to that provoking comment, he motioned for silence. As they reached the top of the stairs, he counted with his finge
rs.

  One. Two. Three.

  Gabriel kicked open the door. “Schinder!”

  The man inside had been in bed, but at Gabriel’s bellow, he leaped to his feet, or at least attempted to. His feet tangled in the sheets and he sprawled forward onto the rough plank floor. He scrambled up, embarrassment and rage mottling his face. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  It took Madeline a moment to place him without his uniform. “General Einhern.”

  He gaped for a moment like a cod, then lunged at her. “You worthless whore!”

  Gabriel caught the man by the back of his nightshirt as he charged past. With a quick tug, he sent Einhern careening back in the other direction.

  “Einhern, you’re under arrest for attempted murder.”

  “You are arresting me? What about that slut? She seduced me, then robbed me. I was humiliated and disgraced.”

  Einhern had been pompous as a Prussian general years ago; apparently, time and a change in position had done nothing to temper that. “You were selling supplies meant for the allied troops to the French. Do you know how many men died because they lacked ammunition and food?” She really should have kept her mouth shut, but the last time she’d seen him, she’d had to simper and do things with him that still revolted her. It was refreshing to finally be able to say what she wanted.

  “They stripped me of my rank. Me! As if I hadn’t given them thirty years.”

  “Now you will hang.” Gabriel’s voice sliced through the man’s blustering.

  “I will hang? For attempting to rid the world of a whore? The bitch drugged me. Did she try the same tricks on you? Did she rub her pretty tits all over you? Milk your prick in her hot little hand?”

  Nausea churned in Madeline’s stomach. Einhern was nothing but a vindictive bastard, yet everything he said was true. She’d done what she needed to discover the location of the documents proving his treason.

  She forced herself to look at Gabriel. Muscles bunched at the corners of his jaw, his lip curled slightly.

  She swallowed twice, but the burn in her throat didn’t abate. Good. Now he would no longer pester her with awkward nonsense about her goodness and inner worth.

  In some ways perhaps it was easier. She’d told Gabriel of her past as a spy, but she suspected he’d chosen not to dwell on the reality of it. Now he couldn’t ignore the truth of what she was. Not when it was standing before them, crimson with rage, spittle flying from its mouth.

  “How did you find out I was in London?” Madeline asked.

  Einhern shrugged. “You want information? Why don’t you spread your legs and earn the—”

  Gabriel’s fist connected with Einhern’s face.

  The general collapsed on the floor.

  Gabriel shoved the unmoving man with his boot. “I’ll have him taken to Newgate.”

  “No, I need to find out how he connected me with my past. If we take him to my house, Ian can get the information.”

  “Torture?”

  Madeline shook her head. “He has other methods.”

  Gabriel lifted the body none too gently over his shoulder. “Pity. I was looking forward to seeing him cut into ribbons.”

  They headed down the stairs and located Ian and Clayton.

  Luckily, in this part of London, the hackney driver didn’t ask questions as they climbed into the coach carrying an unconscious man.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Madeline’s eyes were fixed on the room where Maddox had closeted himself with Einhern. Gabriel moved into her line of sight, but she turned away again. Much to his frustration, she hadn’t allowed him a chance to speak with her since the inn. Instead, she seemed to occupy herself by keeping her chin lifted high enough to prove she didn’t care for any opinion Gabriel might have formed.

  She wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever.

  True to his prediction, a few moments later, her gaze flickered to him. When she met his regard, her focus jerked to Campbell. “I think I’ll go change out of this monstrosity.” She gestured down at her garish dress.

  Gabriel stepped to her side and captured her arm before she could flee. “Let me escort you.”

  “To her room?” The disapproval was clear in Campbell’s voice.

  If anything, Madeline’s chin lifted even higher, but there was a hint of resignation in her tone. “It’s fine, Clayton. It’s not as if I have much virtue in need of protection.”

  Madeline led him to the room she had moved into after the fire. It was decorated in fussy splashes of peach and white, and it suited her no more than the oppressive master suite. She needed a room with a clear view of the street so she could relax. A comfortable chair or two by the fireplace—he was picturing her in his own room. Hell, now it would be even harder to sleep there.

  Madeline tugged on the neckline of her dress. “What is it you want?” Without the added padding, the bodice was large enough that she simply slipped it off her shoulders. Her eyes held a challenge as she disrobed, daring him to be shocked—or worse, he suspected, not be shocked at all.

  Instead, he settled for honesty. His eyes skimmed the creamy perfection of her skin with appreciation before returning to her face. “Einhern is a bastard.”

  Her walk was provocative as she moved to the washbasin and rinsed the paint and rouge from her face. “But a truthful one.”

  Gabriel recognized a gauntlet when he saw one, but he was more than willing to pick this one up. “I don’t judge you based on what he said.”

  She laughed as she wandered into her dressing room. “Whyever wouldn’t you? Ignoring the facts is simply delusional.” She emerged carrying a sage green gown.

  “I don’t ignore facts. I simply assign them their correct value.”

  “Shall I tell you how many more men there are like Einhern? How many other men I lured away? That I let kiss me and fondle me?”

  “I think I’d prefer not to know.” Anger pounded between his temples at the thought of her being forced to endure what she did, but he held it in tight check. “But if you need to tell me, I’ll listen. It won’t change my opinion of you.”

  She regarded him with a mixture of fear and pity, then whirled away and pulled her dress over her head, the hem rippling around her feet.

  “How many soldiers did you save by eliminating Einhern?” he asked, stepping behind her to fasten her buttons.

  She remained silent, but she trembled under his fingers.

  “If you’re going to take credit for all the wicked things you did as a spy, you must also take credit for the good.”

  “Life isn’t a scale, Gabriel.” The fight had gone from her voice. “Good deeds don’t cancel out the bad.”

  He turned her slowly toward him. “You did what needed to be done.”

  “I also accepted the repercussions.”

  “I think you hide behind them.”

  She flinched away. “Enough. You may not like who I am, but claiming I’m something I’m not won’t change anything.”

  “Neither will letting the past define you and hiding from new risks.”

  That sparked her temper. “I wouldn’t call this auction fearing risk.”

  “I would. You’re afraid to discover if you’re anything more than a wanton. You refuse to give yourself the chance to find out.”

  She planted her hands on her hips, a flush sweeping into her cheeks. “I have known myself for twenty-four years. How long have you known me? Slightly more than a week?”

  “And it’s enough to know you’re better than this.”

  “Better than what? Better than making a fortune? Better than arranging my life so I can live comfortably? What would you have me do instead? Marry? A man who will desert me for the next pretty face and lush body?”

  “Not all men are like that.” If he married Madeline—and he could no longer reject the idea out of hand—there was no way he’d be tempted to look at another woman. Hell, he wasn’t even married to her and he already feared no other woman would ever interest him. Ho
w could he settle for someone else when he’d already tasted perfection?

  “Congratulations to your future wife then.”

  “Why won’t you consider marriage?” Suddenly, nothing was more important to him than her next words.

  “Have you ever eaten something that makes you ill, and afterward you can’t stand the sight of it?” Air escaped her in a rushed breath. “My father was a poor actor and an even worse gambler. When we had nothing left to sell to pay his debts, he sold my mother. He forced her to whore herself to pay off his debts. He said the men would kill him otherwise. When he left us, she had no other choice but to keep earning money that way. Tell me why I’d want to place myself in that situation?”

  Madeline’s shoulders were straight and her face calm, but her eyes stared with remembered horror. Gabriel knew she wouldn’t welcome his touch, but at the same time he knew she needed comfort. He wrapped his arms around her.

  Although she stood as if steel ran the course of her spine, tremors shuddered through her. “I often wonder why she agreed that first time. Did she still have feelings for my father or was she trying to protect me?”

  Gabriel’s hands smoothed small circles over her back.

  He expected her to remain rigid until she’d regained enough control to push him away, so when she melted against his chest as if she no longer had the strength to stand, a moment passed before Gabriel gathered his wits enough to tighten his hold.

  “She gave up everything so I wouldn’t have to be like her.” She snorted, but the sound emerged more like a choked cry. “After all she did, I couldn’t even manage that one simple thing.”

  “Do you think she wanted you to die on the gallows?”

  “I—”

  “Your life may not have been the one she would have chosen for you, but I think she, of all people, would have understood.”

  “Why do you keep trying to convince me?” When she tilted her face toward him, anguish shimmered in her eyes. “Neither of us want anything more to come of this.”

  So she kept reminding him. Yet each additional second he spent in her company made his reasons seem more insensible. He felt like he was going mad, but it was a glorious madness.