“We didnae think there’d be much harm in showing her a good time,” Blayne said.
The way he phrased that, almost earned him a fist to his face. Carlton bristled. By God he was almost shaking he was so damn angry. And worried, he realized. On her behalf, actually.
“She’s been cooped up in your parlor all day, Guthrie,” Patrick said, joining in to protect the lady’s decision to be reckless. “Anyone would be itching for a change of scene.”
“Not if they’re tryin’ to avoid gettin’ recognized,” Carlton gritted. He swung his gaze back to Regina. “Or do ye wish to return home now? ’Cause if anyone finds out who ye really are, it’ll be hard fer me to stop them from notifyin’ yer father of yer location.”
Regina froze for a second, then she dropped her cards on the table and pushed her chair back. “Thank you for entertaining me,” she told Carlton’s men, “but I fear the hour has come for me to retire.”
Carlton moved close to her as she stood, shielding her from prying eyes as best he could. Before leading her away, he met Claus’s gaze. “Did ye manage to post the letter all right?”
“Aye. It wasn’t any trouble at all. Should arrive by tomorrow.” Carlton nodded and then addressed Blayne. “I wasn’t able to learn anythin’ about Scarlet, although an unmarked carriage did barrel through St. Giles last night. Can ye look into that a bit more? Maybe ask some of the men here if they know anythin’ about that? And please let Philipa know that we’re doin’ what we can. We’ll keep our eyes an’ ears open, but as of yet, there’s no reason to believe any harm has come to the girl.”
“I’ll tell her right away,” Blayne assured him.
“And Claus and I will start inquiring about that carriage,” Patrick promised.
“You’re upset with me,” Regina stated when they returned upstairs to his parlor.
“Can ye blame me?” When she only stared at him, he added, “Decidin’ to go downstairs was incredibly foolish.”
Her jaw tightened. “I needed a change of scene.”
“Then I would suggest ye read a book.”
Her eyes widened while the color in her cheeks deepened. “You are being…” She drew in a breath. “Overbearing and insufferable.”
He placed one palm upon his chest. “Oh, how ye wound me.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”
“Well I dare say it’s better than yer prim tone!”
Her eyes hardened. “You of all people have no right to criticize someone else’s speech.”
“Oh, has me uncivilized way begun to offend yer haughtiness?”
She looked as though she might start sputtering. Or hit him over the head with her clenched fists. Which could be interesting.
Instead, she simply stood there for a long moment, until the rising tension between them fizzled away into nothing. And then, to his utter astonishment, she started to smile. “I’ve never engaged in a fight before.”
He stared at her. “That wasn’t a fight.”
“Well, whatever it was, it felt invigorating.” She suddenly looked uncertain and hastily added, “I hope I didn’t offend you too much with what I said. It just popped out and—”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. And to be fair, I owe ye an apology too fer the way I just spoke. But me point remains,” he told her firmly before he forgot what they’d been arguing about in the first place. “I cannot ensure yer safety unless ye’re willin’ to be more careful.” Damned if he wasn’t tempted to lock her in this room until he achieved his goal. But since his plan would be easier to accomplish with her cooperation, he couldn’t afford to lose her trust. Being friendly and showing concern for her was far more likely to meet with success. So he softened his tone and added, “It’s not just the risk of you bein’ recognized and forced to return home. It’s also the threat of some blackguard takin’ an interest in ye an’ causin’ ye harm.”
She swallowed and gave a small nod. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I just wasn’t thinking.”
Her willingness to accept her mistake and apologize for it reduced the strain Carlton had felt in every muscle and tendon since spotting her in the taproom. He exhaled slowly and offered a conciliatory smile. “I suppose I can understand yer reasonin’ though. It must have been borin’ fer ye to be stuck in ’ere all day by yerself.”
There was a hint of a smile on her lips. “Just a bit.” She tilted her head. “Who are Scarlet and Philipa?”
Sighing, Carlton removed his hat, set it aside on a chair, and proceeded to peel off his gloves. “Scarlet’s a prostitute,” he told her plainly. “Philipa owns Amourette’s.” Tossing his gloves aside, he raised his gaze to hers. The fierce curiosity in her eyes stirred something deep in his chest. Briefly, he considered closing the distance between them so he could reach out and touch her.
“And Scarlet is missing?” Regina inquired. She spoke the words slowly, as if adjusting herself to a topic she’d never imagined she’d ever address. But there was something else in her voice too – an indication of grave concern.
“Since last night.” Because touching her would be unwise, Carlton went to collect the half-filled decanter he’d left on the sofa table.
“And you’ve been trying to discover what happened to her?” When he nodded, her eyes seemed to sharpen. “I hope you find her soon.”
“As do I,” he murmured.
“No. You do not understand. I…I had a friend once who was taken and…and she suffered terribly before she was found.” Regina shivered. “To this day Katarina remains reclusive and utterly silent. It’s almost as if she’s dead inside.” A shudder went through her, compounding her distress on Scarlet’s behalf. “Promise me that you won’t give up on this woman.”
Holding her gaze, he stared back at her, losing himself for a few blessed seconds in pools of infinite blue. “To do so would be unthinkable.”
A look of relief washed over her features. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Have ye eaten supper?”
“No.” When he turned to her in surprise she said, “I had a snack around three and didn’t feel very hungry after that.”
“And now?”
She watched him pour the brandy into a pair of glasses. “Is one of those for me?”
He gave her his most innocuous smile. “If ye like?” There was no comprehending the thrill racing through him as she stepped forward to collect her glass. She reached for the tumbler and her fingers brushed his.
The contact was so brief it barely happened. And yet a dart of awareness sped through his veins like wildfire.
Regina sucked in a breath and retreated a step. She took a quick sip of her drink and winced, but not even that could distract Carlton from her troubled expression. Whatever it was that had just passed between them, she’d felt it too. The deep rosy hue coloring her cheeks, the flutter of her lashes as she turned her gaze away from him and the increased pitch to her voice when she spoke next, confirmed it.
“I believe you’d just mentioned supper when I changed the subject.” The wave of her hand, like a nervous breeze swirling around her, only made her look more out of control.
It also made him want to pounce on her, to capture some of that energy for himself.
He coughed to mask his response. “I can ’ave somethin’ brought up from the kitchen. Some roast, a mince meat pie or perhaps some stew?”
“What sort of stew?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
A slow smile curled her lips. Christ, how he wanted to kiss her. “Let’s try it.”
“Feelin’ adventurous are ye?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
Carlton turned away and went to put in the order. If he kept himself busy, then perhaps he wouldn’t wonder just how adventurous she might be willing to be.
“I’ve been thinking,” Regina told Guthrie when she was half way through eating her stew. It was wonderfully delicious. Much better than she had expected.
A crease above the bridge of his nose dre
w his eyebrows together in a sharp V. “About what?”
“Freedom.” Trapped in the depths of Guthrie’s captivating gaze, Regina wondered if she would ever be free again, though she was determined to try. “This is the only place where I’m sure my father won’t find me, but—”
“Unless ye’re careless.” Guthrie set his tray on the sofa table and reached for Regina’s. “Finished?” When she nodded, he removed her tray as well and went to the door. “Can ye please return these to the kitchen?”
MacNeil entered, collected the trays and was just about to leave when he caught Guthrie’s eye and told him, just loud enough for Regina to hear, “Be careful, my friend.”
Guthrie nodded and shut the door behind MacNeil as he left. Returning to the armchair he’d been occupying all evening, he leaned back and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Propping one elbow on the armrest, he stroked the edge of his moustache while studying Regina. “Ye’re welcome to stay as long as ye like.”
His voice was a low murmur that vibrated through her. Earlier, when his fingers had grazed hers, her entire body had hummed with awareness. It was almost as if she’d been sleeping her whole life and he’d jolted her awake. The entire experience had shocked her, not only because it was unlike anything she’d experienced before, but because she’d experienced it with him. Could anything else have been more inappropriate? But even as her mind resisted and the guilt over her reaction to him assailed her, there was no denying that her body wanted. For the first time in her young life, she’d met a man who filled her with questions, a man whose secrets she longed to discover.
“That’s a very generous offer, but one I cannot possibly accept.”
A flicker of something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes so briefly she almost missed it. “Did ye not just say that this is the only place where yer father won’t find ye?”
While his voice was pleasant enough, his penetrating gaze unsettled her. For some peculiar reason, she sensed that he didn’t want her to leave, and this caused the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck to rise with concern. “Yes,” she told him carefully, “and it will work well as a temporary solution, but in the long run, I need a more permanent plan.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
A little surprised by his shift in demeanor, Regina instinctively grinned. “To begin with, I’ll need to write my brother to let him know I’m all right.” When Guthrie raised one eyebrow, she added, “I love him too much to let him worry.”
He inclined his head. “Of course. I’ll provide ye with some writin’ materials an’ make sure the letter gets posted.”
“Thank you.” She considered the amicable smile with which he responded and decided she must have imagined his angry reaction to her comment about leaving. Encouraged by his willingness to help, she added, “There’s another letter I plan on writing.”
“Oh?” He sipped his drink while watching her over the rim of the glass.
Regina shifted in her seat. “It will be addressed to the Earl of Fielding.” When Guthrie said nothing in response to this, she went on, “He’s a respectable gentleman in need of a wife and I…I am not the worst match for him if he’ll have me.”
“Yer reputation would be secured if the marriage took place before word of yer disappearance got out,” Guthrie murmured.
“If it works, it will also prevent potential scandal from befalling my family.” Not exactly the romantic solution she’d hoped to find, but one that would have to do. For practical reasons. And who knew? Perhaps in time, love could grow between her and Fielding. At least he’d be able to dance and go riding and boating and play hide and seek with their children.
Guthrie nodded. “It’s certainly an interesting idea. Clever, even, I dare say.” He leaned forward in his seat. “But how will ye convince him without yer father’s support?”
Regina hadn’t gotten quite that far with her plan so this was a question she’d not yet considered. “I’ll be perfectly honest with him,” she said.
“And if he says no?”
“Then I’ll ask someone else.” A nervous smile pulled at the edge of her mouth. “Eventually I’ll find an eligible gentleman willing to marry an earl’s daughter.” A man whom she hoped she could turn to for friendship and guidance as well. “I’m sure of it.”
His flat smile convinced her that he didn’t share her optimism. But even if he thought her the silliest and most naïve girl in the world, he didn’t say so. Instead, he said, “When ye’re ready, I’ll ’ave a messenger drop yer letter to Fieldin’ off at his home so ye can receive an immediate response.”
Pleased to have found a temporary solution to work on, Regina thanked Guthrie for his assistance.
A couple of seconds ticked by and then he said, “It’s gettin’ late. If ye’d like a bath, me men an’ I can ’ave a tub brought up so ye can bathe before ye retire.”
Instinctively, Regina tensed. “No. Thank you, but I’d rather use a wash basin. If that’s all right.” When he gave her an odd look, she said, “I told you I don’t wish to swim but it’s more than just that. In fact, I never submerge myself in water at all. Not since I almost drowned as a child.”
Instead of telling her she was a fool, that it was impossible for her to drown in a small tub of water unless she was very determined to do so, he nodded. “Very well. I’ll make sure a towel, wash cloth, basin and decanter filled with fresh water are brought up.”
Sensing an opportunity to learn a bit more about him, she said, “Your hospitality is surprising, given your reputation.” His eyes glinted in response to the light from one of the four oil lamps brightening the room. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Ye’re a lady.” He spoke pensively and with great care, as if making an effort not to say the wrong thing. “It would ’ave been wrong to leave ye to yer own devices in this part o’ town. Any number o’ thievin’ villains could ’ave taken advantage. As ye well know, based on experience.”
She shivered as she recalled the men who’d accosted her in the alley. But then she pushed that unpleasant memory aside and said, “You’re supposed to be the worst of the lot though.”
Tipping his head back, he held her gaze. “Are ye afraid?”
Regina’s pulse quickened. There were times when she felt she could trust him completely and others when she feared he was trying to use her somehow. “I haven’t decided yet.”
His eyes darkened and she felt her skin tighten in response. “Per’aps ye should be. Just a little.” He dropped his gaze and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Behind him, flames danced in the open fireplace offering warmth to the room. “A healthy dose o’ fear is never amiss, me lady. It keeps ye on yer toes.”
She considered him, this enigma of a man who could wear a plum jacket, plaid trousers, and an unfashionable moustache with more confidence than she’d ever managed wearing a smart gown. He oozed self-assurance in a way that made her jealous, for although she’d been taught to look like she owned a room, she’d always longed to retreat to the corners.
“How did you end up here?” she asked. She longed to learn more about him, to discover why she was torn between wanting to flee him and wanting to stay. Even his men had treated her well. She’d laughed with them while playing cards, and that alone, along with what Laura had told her, was enough to make her suspect that there was more to Carlton Guthrie and his crew than met the eye.
She leaned forward in her seat, pinning him with an intense need for answers. “How did you become the Scoundrel of St. Giles?”
He held himself utterly still, like a statue frozen in time. Finally, when she thought he might never move again, he stood and went to add a log to the fire. It crackled in response to the dry wood, sparking a larger flame than before. “I left ’ome when I was thirteen, after me father died.”
“And your mother?”
He picked up a poker and gave the log a nudge. “Consumption took her when I was eight.”
Regina dr
ew a sharp breath. “I’m so sorry.” She wanted to go to him, to put her arms around him and hold him close. She wanted to ease away the pain he’d suffered when he was a boy. But she didn’t, partly because she knew it would cross a line and also because she knew the last thing he’d want was a hint of pity. Not him. Not this slum king whose power was known and yet quite impossible to prove.
“She was the best mother there was.” Still giving Regina his back, he spoke to the fire. “Her embrace could put everythin’ to rights. I never doubted her love, fer it was vaster than everythin’ the eye can behold.”
“And your father?”
He stiffened and when he spoke again his voice was measured. “I miss ’im every day.” The confession stunned her with its surprising display of vulnerability. “One of me favorite memories is of ’im and I buildin’ a tree ’ouse together behind our home. I’d been beggin’ him fer it fer years, but it wasn’t until I turned eleven that he felt I was ready to do me part with the project.” He chuckled lightly, lifting the melancholic air that blanketed the room. “He taught me how to use the necessary tools so that I could take pride in knowin’ I’d helped.”
“If only all children were as fortunate as you, to have a father who’s willing to play with them and teach them things.”
Rising from his crouched position, he turned to face her. “My father was taken from me, Regina. There’s nothin’ fortunate about that.”
The vehemence in his voice made her stomach contract. Wild fury tempered solely by whatever self-control he possessed, burned violently in his eyes, reminding Regina that this was no placid man. If unleashed in all its fullness, his wrath would likely be lethal. A thought that caused an unpleasant dip in her belly. “Forgive me. I only meant that—”
“What of ye? Did ye have a happy childhood in yer fine ivory tower? Did yer father buy ye a pony when ye asked fer one an’ tickets to the theatre when ye got bored?”
He was stalking toward her now, prowling like a cat on the hunt. All pleasantries about him had vanished, and she saw for the first time the man who deserved to be feared.
The Forgotten Duke Page 6
