Lord Libertine

by Gail Ranstrom

  Dash hoisted Henley over his shoulder while Andrew took charge of Jamie. They went back toward Petticoat Lane—the nearest place they’d find a coach for hire.

  Dash began to chuckle. “Damn, that was fun.”

  A month ago, even a week ago, Andrew would have agreed, but tonight had seemed excessive. From Jamie’s drinking to Dash’s beating of the nameless drunk, there seemed to be no purpose to any of it. Maybe, if he wasn’t sober, it would hold more appeal, but now it just bored him to distraction. Had his dissipation finally run its course?

  Jamie shrugged Andrew’s hand away. “I can walk, Drew. I might have drunk prodigious quantities of gin, but I can still stand on my own.”

  Andrew gave him a wry smile. “No doubt, brother, but perhaps I need someone to lean on.”

  “Ah,” Jamie nodded, “glad to help, then.”

  Dash snickered and shifted Henley’s weight on his shoulder. “We ought to go back and teach that barkeeper a lesson. He cannot afford to offend his betters.”

  “You’re drunk, Dash. You will thank me in the morning.”

  “I’m as sober as a spinster,” he protested. “What say we go whoring after we’re rid of these green cubs?”

  Actually, the prospect of his own bed was more alluring, but he’d never make progress with Wycliffe’s investigation at home. He smiled at the irony. Whoring for king and country? Surely there was something wrong with that, but he couldn’t think what at the moment. And maybe he could purge the memory of Bella. “Aye,” he said.

  Chapter Ten

  Bella was certain she and her sisters looked odd in their muted mourning, but Lady V. had been correct in her color choices. The dark mauve did complement Gina, and Lilly glowed in the midst of a rich puce that set her fair beauty off to advantage. Her own grayish plum infused her complexion with a warmth she did not feel.

  “Ah, and here are Lord Lockwood, and his wife, Lady Lockwood,” Lady V. proclaimed as a tall man took her hand. “Lockwood, may I present the Misses O’Rourke—Isabella, Eugenia and Lillian.”

  The earl was tall and darkly handsome with lively deep-blue eyes—Bella always noticed the color of eyes these days—and vaguely familiar. Lady Lockwood was quite lovely and carried herself with an unassuming grace.

  Bella curtsied, and her sisters followed suit. When she glanced up again, she noted that Lord Lockwood was watching her rather intently. “Miss Isabella, have we met before?”

  Her heart began to pound. She knew she’d never kissed him, but he might have noticed her at one of the affairs she’d sneaked into. A bluff was her only choice. “I must doubt that, Lord Lockwood. Unless…have you been to Belfast in the last several years?”

  “Alas, no. I shall be certain to send my bachelor brothers, though. If you and your sisters are examples of what Belfast has to offer, I begin to think I would have them married and settled in no time.”

  “Is that your ambition for them, Lord Lockwood?” Gina asked.

  Lady Lockwood laughed. “He will need more than ambition for that task, I fear.”

  “Perhaps they will not need to go so far.” Lockwood looked at their hostess with a quirked eyebrow. “Would you consider introducing your protégées to my brothers, Lady Vandecamp?”

  “Charming rogues, every one of them,” Lady V proclaimed with authority. “But, as I told your sister yesterday, Lockwood, I could not do so in good conscience without the reassurance that they have mended their ways.”

  Lockwood guffawed. “So my sister and I are hawking our brothers to all and sundry? What a sorry state of affairs we’ve come to.”

  “A state of affairs that you yourself were also in, not so very long ago,” Lady V reminded him. “Reformed rogues and rascals can make the very best of husbands, but not until they’ve put their scoundrel ways behind them.”

  “Then, alas, I shall have to decline to recommend my brothers. I am certain they could have benefited from such delightful company.”

  Bella smiled as he gave every appearance of regret. “Thank you for the compliment, Lord Lockwood. I shall hold hope that there will be others who suit your brothers.”

  “No doubt, but I cannot help but think you are an opportunity lost for one of them, Miss Isabella.”

  “Lockwood!” Lady Lockwood feigned shock.

  Bella shook her head to deny that she’d been offended by his frankness. “Not I, Lord Lockwood. I think I shall not marry this season.”

  His smile faded and he lowered his voice. “I am sorry for your family’s loss. Such a tragedy. Had she been ill long?”

  “C-consumption,” she lied. Odd, considering her recent activities, how difficult that falsehood was for her. By now she should be capable of all manner of deceits—and all without blushing. And how convenient for her that Lockwood had assumed her unguarded remark had been due to Cora’s demise. “But the end was sudden. Had we known…well, we would not have left Belfast.”

  “I understand, my dear.”

  “We should be delighted to have you to dinner,” Lady Lockwood said. “Is your mother still in seclusion?”

  Bella nodded. “Lady Vandecamp has been so kind as to see to our introductions, but our mother has taken to her bed and we cannot coax her away.”

  Lady V. steered Lord and Lady Lockwood toward the parlor. “Very kind of you. I shall look at our schedule and see what may be convenient. And, of course, I will want to see the guest list beforehand.”

  Bella and her sisters trailed behind. The Lockwoods were the last of the guests to arrive, so Lady V. would be leading them into dinner soon.

  “Psst, Bella!”

  She turned to look at Lilly. “Yes?”

  “I thought Lady V. was going to introduce us to some eligible men. Where are they?”

  Gina covered her giggle with her fan. “Were you not paying attention, Lilly? There were three, to balance Lady V.’s table, no doubt. At least, I hope so. I would be loath to think she had determined these are our future husbands. You met them all.”

  Lilly groaned. “Not old Lord Simpson? And Mr. Griffin?”

  Gina nodded. “And Sir Cedric Hammersmith.”

  “But they are so old!”

  “Hush!” Bella cautioned them in a lowered voice. “Lady V. finds them eminently suitable. If they are old, then their money is old, too. Do not be so quick to dismiss them. They could be quite nice.”

  Gina cast a covert glance at the parlor. “Which one do you fancy, Bella?”

  She posed a thoughtful look. “Hmm. I think Mr. Griffin would be a possibility. He has children from a previous marriage, so I would not be pressured to produce an heir. And did not Lady V. say he had more money than Midas?”

  “Drat! He was my choice, too,” Gina teased.

  Lilly sighed. “I’d sooner meet one of Lord Lockwood’s naughty brothers!”

  “Yes, I must say they sound much more interesting than those we’ve met so far, with the possible exception of the young men you refused to introduce us to in St. James’s Park.”

  That was all Bella needed—Gina or Lilly in a pickle with a rogue! Mama would have her drawn and quartered. “Do not entertain any notions in that direction, or I’ll lock you in your rooms.” The dinner bell rang, and Bella hurried her sisters along. They would have to follow Lady V. into the dining room like good little children.

  Lilly held them back a moment. “Did Lady V. mention Lord Lockwood’s family name? I would not fancy one of the brothers if they were named Mackerel or Cod. Or something silly, like Mr. Piggly. I would not like being Mrs. Piggly.”

  “Lockwood’s family name was not mentioned, but it is of little consequence. You will not be meeting any unsuitable men. Lady V. would have vapors.”

  “But the unsuitable ones are ever so much more interesting.”

  Bella sighed. How could Lilly know such a thing? She had the sinking feeling that she and her sisters were doomed to poor marriages.

  The advantage of being the only sober contestant in a bar fight was that Andrew had
easily dodged most of the blows. While Jamie was home nursing a colossal headache and a blackened eye, he had nothing more than some skinned and bruised knuckles to show for his part in the fray last night. Ah, but afterward, when he and Dash had found their way to Miss Alice’s finishing school, he’d suffered deeper wounds.

  Miss Alice, formerly known as “Naughty Alice,” had come up in the world. Her place was still a bawdy house—and still catering to every desire, every sin, known to man—but it had become more acceptable with a fresh coat of paint, new furnishings, cleaner rooms and prettier females.

  With one hand around a bottle of whiskey and the other around a buxom wench named Sally, Dash had quickly disappeared into one of the upstairs rooms. Andrew had been left to suffer the attentions of women vying for his business in the salon below.

  Alas, one after another, he’d eliminated possible companions for the remainder of the evening. This one was too fleshy, that one too skinny. Another was too blond and colorless, while yet another was too dark. All of them were far too eager. And none of them was Bella.

  Dash would have laughed if he’d known Andrew’s reluctance to chose a companion last night had been caused by his memories of Bella in the room at Thackery’s. None of the women at Alice’s came close to Bella’s odd blend of insouciance, beauty and self-possession. He admired her fierce independence and even, in a paradoxical way, her defiance. Yes, he wanted Bella with increasing ferocity, and that was a deeper cut than any he’d suffered at the gin house last night.

  And tonight, as he waited for Hank in the gin house on Petticoat Lane, she was still in his mind. Was she kissing some stranger in a room at Thackery’s? Waltzing with one at a ball? Had she found the “right” man? Or was she waiting for him?

  Dash nudged him. “You know it’s balderdash, do you not, Drew? Lace is no more responsible for Conrad’s death than she is for the Corn Riots. Conrad was muddled by opium and he was making stupid decisions. Had it not been Lace, it would have been another.”

  How telling that Dash had guessed the cause of his brooding. “But it was Lace, and that is the point.”

  “There is nothing you can do about it now, Drew. Unless you plan to make her pay for it.”

  “The thought had occurred to me.”

  A wide grin split Dash’s face. “Ah, and how might you accomplish such a feat?”

  “I cannot think of anything fitting.”

  “Come, lad! Think. Surely two such imaginative Corinthians as we can think of something. What would set her back? Make her pause before flirting so outrageously with another naive man?”

  “I would hardly call McPherson naive.”

  “Naive enough to kill himself.”

  An uneasy chill went up Andrew’s spine. McPherson must have been deep in his cups or smitten beyond reason.

  “She made light of his feelings. She dismissed him out of hand once she had what she wanted. Why, she even tried to set me against you the night you found me with her at Belmonde’s.”

  This was unpleasant news. “How so?”

  “She tried to persuade me to protect her against you. Stand between you two, so to speak.”

  “Bloody hell…”

  “I told her it wouldn’t work. And then, quite conveniently, you arrived.”

  Andrew remembered that night—the night he had declared war on her. Had it been only three nights ago? He hadn’t suspected she could be so duplicitous, and that was even more reason to keep his distance. His frustration grew and darkened in his belly like a roiling storm cloud. “I have been chasing her from public places of late, but perhaps I will play with her, devil her with anticipation and apprehension. I will tell her what I know about her, what I’ve found out, and then I will tell her I am waiting for the perfect moment to expose her. It could be amusing to watch her squirm.”

  “I had other ideas, Drew. But this sounds interesting. What have you learned about her?”

  “That—”

  “Psst, ’ere I am.”

  Hank’s whisper caught him off guard and he turned to the sound. “What have you got for me?” he asked.

  The man looked harried and wide-eyed. “An’’oo might this be?” he asked nodding in Dash’s direction.

  “Might be a friend of mine.”

  “What you asked about, gov’nor. I found somethin’ might be to yer liking.”

  Andrew hesitated, aware that his inquiry was to be kept confidential. When Dash had followed him here, he hadn’t been able to find a logical reason to send him away. He would have to let Dash think he’d made inquiries for himself. “Then spill it, Hank.”

  The man shifted his eyes to Dash and then back to Andrew. “There’s been talk, gov’nor. Talk about goin’s on that you wouldn’t speak out loud.”

  “You had better speak them aloud if you want more coin.”

  “Nothin’ sure. Just hints. Blood game, like ye asked for.”

  Andrew ignored Dash’s intake of breath. “I’ll need something more than that, Hank.”

  “Some of the local doxies ’ave disappeared, if ye knows what I mean. Gone, and no one knows where. A couple of ’em before, and more lately. Talk is, they’re bein’ used.”

  “Used for what?”

  “Games, gov’nor. For some toffs ’oo gots a mean streak. An’ the charleys ain’t doin’ a thing about it. Paid off, they is, or ignorant.”

  Close. Oh, so close. “How do I get in on the game?”

  “Couldn’t say.” Hank backed away, looking at Andrew as if he’d grown another head.

  Andrew took two shillings from his waistcoat pocket and jingled them in his hand. “Bring me a time and place, Hank, and I’ll pay for it. Five quid. And here’s a token of my promise.” He placed the shillings on the bar and waited. Five pounds would keep Hank in gin for a very long time.

  Hank licked his lips and fixed his stare on the bar. Andrew could almost see his mind working—weighing moral principles against creature comforts. He snatched the shillings off the bar and had them in his pocket before Andrew could change his mind. “Tomorrow night, gov’nor.” He turned and scurried away through the crowd.

  Silence stretched out between him and Dash, and he did not know quite what to say. Dash had heard every word of his conversation. He turned his attention to his rotgut whiskey and took a drink.

  Dash exhaled and finished his own drink before he spoke. “Care to explain that, Drew?”

  “No, actually.”

  “Shall I collect that your interests have…expanded?”

  “Take it however you want.”

  “Come now, do not be surly. When have I ever judged you? This just…surprised me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve always thought of you as, well, more conventional.”

  “Conventional?” Andrew laughed. “Tell that to my brother. He thinks I am out of hand.”

  Dash smiled. “He does not understand men like us, Drew. Our rules were forged by necessity. And when the war was over, we brought them home with us.”

  “They have no place here. We are not at war, Dash.”

  “No, but the war is still with us, is it not?”

  Andrew did not answer. The question had been rhetorical. He tossed off the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass down on the bar. “Do not worry about me, Dash. I am just restless.”

  He nodded. “And that brings us back to Lace, does it not? Take her, Drew. Purge your blood of her the only way you can. She knows you want it. She expects it. Hell, she has provoked it. I daresay she wants it. Test her and see.”

  How persuasive his friend’s words were, and how seductive it was to be urged to do what he wanted to do anyway. What would it hurt? He’d been the one to call a halt at Thackery’s. She’d taunted him, and then held her ground.

  Yes, she was fair game, and had been ever since she’d entered society. Who knew how many men might already have succeeded?

  “I am relieved to hear that dinner went well,” Mama said. “And an invitation from Lord L
ockwood and his wife—well, that is somewhat of a coup, according to Eleanor. See that you make the most of it, girls. And you, Isabella, mind you keep an eye on your sisters.”

  Bella nodded, though she needed no reminding.

  “Eleanor—Lacy V., that is,” Gina amended, “said that Bella handled herself quite well. She said that she thinks Bella will receive the first offer.”

  “Humph! Lilly is the prettiest now that Cora…” Mama stopped long enough to sniff and apply a handkerchief to the corners of her eyes. “And you, Gina, are the liveliest and most charming. Bella is too serious and educated to charm a man. Too like her father. Why, some days I see him looking at me through her eyes—those condemning, greenish, all-seeing eyes.”

  Bella glanced away and put her teacup down. She hated when Mama started speaking of her as if she weren’t in the room.

  Gina, always sensitive to Bella’s discomfort, changed the subject. “Dinner with Lord Lockwood is tomorrow night. He said he would invite his sister and her husband. They are quite a force in society and know all the right people. I warrant there will be invitations in abundance after that.”

  “These affairs are being kept small, are they not? No more than a dozen or two? We would not want people thinking we are disrespecting Cora’s memory.”

  “Lady V. is being most circumspect,” Lilly contributed. “She knows all the rules for mourning and for getting on in society.”

  Bella stood and smoothed the black taffeta of her gown before turning toward the sitting room door. “I am going out for a walk. I shall be back by suppertime.”

  “Mind who you speak to. You should take Nancy with you, Bella,” her mother called as Bella swept her reticule off the foyer table and opened the door to the street.

  Yes, Lady V.’s dinner had been a great success, but she’d been all too aware that she could be unmasked with the arrival of the next guest. Mixing in society, however cautiously, was going to be nerve-racking. This had never been in her plan.