Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Gentlemen of Intrigue Book 1)

by Samantha Grace

  Given enough time, he expected he could prove himself trustworthy and break through her resistance to marriage. Unfortunately, time was not a luxury he had. Perhaps he should tell her the true reason he’d broken into Wedmore House—despite the threats made to her and her family—and pray she would see the wisdom in coming under his protection.

  He would have to tell her eventually if he hoped to have the type of marriage he desired, but he worried she would use his confession to support her unfavorable opinion of him and toss him from Wedmore House. He couldn’t risk losing the small gains made today when time was running out. On the other hand, he could lose her forever if he made the wrong decision.

  There was much to mull over before the picnic. He’d fabricated the outing on the spot and hoped his sister would agree to it without giving him too much grief. He would introduce the topic over dinner, but he wished to pay an early visit to Covent Gardens to ask about an actress he’d befriended two years ago.

  He didn’t know if Claudine Bellerose had remained in London after his disappearance—for her sake, he hoped she hadn’t—but if she’d stayed, she might have overheard something that could lead him to the person responsible for his incarceration.

  Serafine spotted him as he reached the ground floor and passed the drawing room. “Are you leaving again?”

  Xavier stopped short then returned to stand at the threshold. His sister was perched on the edge of an upholstered chair, her back as rigid as if her spine had been replaced with a lightening rod. A leather bound book rested on her lap. Her husband Isaac’s blond head remained bent over his desk where he was carefully marking lines on a large sheet of paper.

  Over breakfast, Serafine had explained how Isaac’s family disowned him when he married her, so he had discovered a way to earn his keep and support his wife and child without his father’s fortune. He had become a draftsman in secret, adopting an alias to keep his identity hidden. Isaac Tucker posed as the go-between for the reclusive and highly acclaimed Mr. Dixon and the gentlemen who wished to hire him. Since Isaac had no part in handling money, he maintained a respectable standing in Society for Serafine and Simon’s welfare. The more Xavier learned of his brother-in-law, the more he respected the man.

  “I have an errand to tend,” Xavier said. “I will be back before dinner.”

  “An errand?” Her thin brows rose on her forehead. “You were out all afternoon. Why didn’t you see to your business earlier?”

  Years ago, the suspicion in her tone would have instigated a row between them. Now her inquiry caused a bittersweet smile to cross his face. Two years with no contact altered his view of her interest in his affairs. She was worried. He came into the drawing room to sit for a moment to show his values had changed. He was no longer the reprobate who chose sinful pleasures over his family. He would never be that man again.

  Isaac glanced up from his drawing. “Would you like a private moment together?”

  Serafine shook her head. “You should be aware that I keep nothing from Isaac,” she said to Xavier.

  “Nor would I ask you to.” Xavier flashed his most disarming smile. “I did not attend to my business earlier, because I was otherwise engaged. Last night I met a young woman. Miss Darlington.”

  His sister’s eyes expanded. “Oh?”

  “Do you recall I partnered with an older woman for the waltz? Miss Darlington is her niece.”

  “Yes, I know of both ladies.” Her back lost some of its stiffness and her lips turned up slightly at the corners. “I didn’t see you speaking with her. In fact, I lost sight of you for a while.”

  “I lingered in the refreshment room for a time. We must have missed one another.” He cleared his throat and reassured himself that lying to protect a lady’s reputation was less damning than one told for personal gain. “Miss Darlington and I find we have much in common, and she was agreeable to me calling on her this afternoon.”

  A full smile lit Serafine’s face. “How lovely. Will you call on her again?”

  “Mmm,” he muttered vaguely while he debated when to tell his sister about committing her to an outing without having consulted her. If he dallied much longer, the actresses would be ready to go on stage, and he would have to wait to ask after Claudine. But his sister appeared so hopeful that he might be settling down, and he wanted to please her. “I’m afraid I overstepped my bounds and invited Miss Darlington and her family to join us for a picnic tomorrow. I should have spoken to you first, but—”

  Serafine held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t mind. We haven’t picnicked together since before Mother died. I will look forward to it.”

  “As will I,” Isaac said, “and Simon loves the park, as I am sure you discovered this morning.”

  Xavier was surprised by how quickly the boy had taken to him. Serafine believed talking about Xavier since Simon was a babe had played a role. Sixteen months seem too young for the boy to grasp a word of what Xavier’s sister had likely said about him, but Serafine was happy they got on well. And so was Xavier.

  “Then it is settled,” Xavier said, smacking his hands against his thighs before pushing to his feet. “As I mentioned earlier, I have an errand to run, so if you will excuse me...”

  “Of course.” Serafine lifted her book to continue reading. “Be certain to choose something nice for Miss Darlington.”

  A gift was a splendid suggestion. Make it two errands. He bade his sister and her husband good-bye then secured a hack to carry him to the theatre.

  As he’d walked home from Wedmore House earlier, he’d reflected on his stay in London before his abduction. He had spent a good deal of time being entertained by actresses, both from the stage and in their dressing rooms.

  Claudine hadn’t been one of his offstage entertainers. She’d been a quiet sort who mostly kept to her dressing room, and the gents who frequented the theatre had known to leave her be. Claudine Bellerose had belonged to a duke.

  Xavier kept his distance as well in the beginning. She seemed to have made a comfortable life for herself, and he hadn’t wanted to cause any trouble. He had appreciated her talent, however, and became as captivated during her performances as everyone else in the audience.

  The Duke of Stanhurst’s abuse hadn’t been obvious at first. The actress had never borne bruises—at least not in places readily visible to others—but the light in her beautiful blue eyes had started to dwindle. Perhaps he recognized hopelessness in her because it had attempted to take root in him once. Realizing one’s own father hated him tended to sow the seeds of despair, but Xavier hadn’t allowed them to grow. He hadn’t wanted Claudine to become defeated either.

  One evening, he’d approached her in the Grand Saloon at the Theatre Royal to offer his congratulations on her splendid performance. The duke stood guard not far away, but he was otherwise occupied. Stanhurst was known for his jealousy and rarely allowed Claudine to venture from his side, but his duchess had accompanied him that evening. Xavier had raised Claudine’s delicate hand as if to place a courteous kiss on her glove and instead whispered his offer of help in the native language they shared.

  Several days later, she had approached him backstage and asked if he could help her reach Vienna where a fellow actress she knew would offer her lodging. He and Claudine were to sail as far as France together, then she planned to travel on to Vienna, and he was to sail home to New Orleans.

  The morning after he’d been taken, she would have been waiting with her trunks for him to collect her, nervous and eager about what her life would be like in Vienna. In his heart, Xavier hoped the actress had escaped her lover without his help. Nevertheless, if she had stayed in London, he would like to speak with her. He needed someone who might be able to help him make sense of the last two years of his life.

  The hack rolled to a stop outside the Theatre Royal by way of Russell Street, ending his musings on the past. He paid the driver and approached the stage door used by the players and crew. The main doors would not open to theatre patrons for
a couple of hours, but the actors, actresses, and stage crew had much to do before a performance.

  A stage door keeper with biceps the size of hams and a puffy red scar extending from the corner of his mouth to his temple glanced up as Xavier approached.

  “Good evening,” Xavier said and passed him two shillings.

  The man accepted the offering with a satisfied grin before stepping aside to allow Xavier access to the theatre. Stage door keepers were hired to chase away undesirables and encouraged to look in the other direction when gentlemen arrived at the door.

  Xavier stopped inside the shadowy bowels of the theatre to get his bearings. The stagnant air reeked of perspiration and mildew, just as he remembered. In the trap room beneath the stage, two stagehands were arguing over a misplaced feather prop and paid him no notice, so he headed for the stairs leading to the dressing rooms a floor above.

  Laughter spilled down the dark stairwell and greeted him at the landing. In the corridor, a woman dressed in only her shift was flittering from room to room calling, “Who has the pot of lip rouge? I need it now.”

  “Go away,” another woman called from one of the dressing rooms. “Wait your turn.”

  “It’s not for me. Madame Parma is asking for it.”

  The blond pixie disappeared for a few moments then shot back into the corridor with the lip rouge clutched in her hand. She eyed him curiously as she sped in his direction. He expected her to sweep past to complete her task, but she stopped in front of him.

  “I remember you.” She drew out the last word and aimed a flirtatious smile at him. “If you haven’t come for anyone specific, I have a few moments to spare.”

  He nodded toward the hand holding the lip rouge. “Isn’t Madame Parma expecting you?”

  “She won’t keep me long. She likes her privacy,” she said with an exaggerated accent that he suspected was meant to sound mockingly sophisticated.

  A few of the other actresses wandered into the corridor.

  “I see,” he said. “Well, thank you for the offer, but I’ve come to inquire about Claudine Bellerose? Is she still an actress with the theatre?”

  The diminutive girl lifted her turned up nose. “I have never heard of her, but I am sure she is a talentless, old hag.”

  “Zoe, you know very well who Claudine is,” one of the older women grumbled. She spoke with a thick Austrian accent. “Stop being petty and take him to Madame Parma. She will know Claudine’s address, sir.”

  Xavier thanked the woman then followed the blond below stairs to Madame Parma’s larger dressing room closer to the stage. Zoe took a deep breath, released it slowly, and knocked on the door. “Madame Parma, I’ve brought the lip rouge you requested.” Her words dripped with sweetness now.

  “Enter,” an imperious voice said from the other side of the door.

  Zoe raised her finger to her lips, signaling him to stay quiet. “Let me talk to her first,” she whispered. “She doesn’t like being interrupted before a performance.”

  He gave a sharp nod. She slipped inside the room and closed the door. A muffled conversation ensued for several moments, and he was beginning to grow impatient with the wait when the door flew open.

  Zoe smiled sweetly. “She will see you now.”

  The door swung open fully, and he was met with the sight of Madame Parma perched on a gold velvet fainting couch. Her deep auburn hair was piled high on her head, and emerald earbobs swayed with her slightest movement. “You’ve interrupted my meditation, Mr. Vistoire.”

  She remembered him.

  “My apologies, Madame. It is a matter of importance. Otherwise, I would not have come.”

  One pointed glare from the leading lady sent the pixie scrambling for the corridor. The door closed with a soft snick, and they were alone.

  She reclined on the fainting couch, causing the white satin wrapper she wore to slide from her shoulder to reveal the plump swell of her bare breast. “Would you care to join me?”

  “Merci, but I do not practice meditation.” Xavier knew the real meaning of her invitation, but his days of dallying with actresses were finished. “I will be brief, so you may return to your preparations for the evening. I am searching for Claudine Bellerose. The women above stairs were under the impression you might know of her whereabouts.”

  Madame Parma pulled the wrapper tight around her and laid her head against the couch. “You cannot blame me for trying. My days at center stage are dwindling, and every actress is in the market for a benefactor. I’ve grown intolerant of hunger these last few years.”

  Xavier smiled in appreciation of her flair for drama.

  “I am afraid Claudine gave up the stage some time ago,” she said. “She has become a ladybird kept in a gilded cage.”

  “Does that cage have an address?”

  “It does, Mr. Vistoire. I will not share it with you, however.”

  “And why is that, Madame Parma?”

  All traces of congeniality faded, and the actress’s icy gaze narrowed on him. “Because you betrayed her. She was waiting for you, but you never arrived. When Stanhurst discovered her trunks, he knew she was lea—” Her voice cracked. She took a deep breath to compose herself. “She was leaving him, and he became furious. If you had seen what he’d done to her...”

  A sour taste rose at the back of his throat. “Perhaps I can still help her. Please, tell me where she is.”

  “What is to keep you from breaking your word again?”

  He came to the side of the fainting couch to appeal to the actress. “I didn’t leave without her. I was set upon the night before we were to sail, and Claudine might have information that would lead to the person responsible.”

  “Claudine is not a criminal, sir, nor does she associate with them. I fail to see how she could be of any assistance.”

  Xavier sighed. “I know she wasn’t involved, but perhaps she heard something. Maybe she questioned others about my disappearance. There is a chance she knows something without realizing its relevance. I would like to speak with her. Whether you believe me, I’m sincere in my wish to help her break free of Stanhurst. She doesn’t deserve to be mistreated. Please, tell me where to find her.”

  Madame Parma shook her head. “If the duke catches her trying to leave again, he might kill her this time, and I cannot be responsible. She is my friend. If you want to save her, forget you ever knew her and keep your distance.”

  Perhaps she was correct about his presence placing Claudine in more danger, but he couldn’t walk away without her at least knowing the truth. “Could you give her a message? Tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t abandon her willingly.”

  “I can grant you that, Mr. Vistoire. I will make a point of calling on her soon and delivering your message.”

  “Merci.” He started for the door.

  “Do you love her? Is that the reason you refused my offer?”

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “Claudine and I shared a friendship. She is a good woman who deserves a better life.”

  “But you are not in love with her.”

  “No.”

  “Then perhaps you made your decision in haste.” Madame Parma slid the wrapper from her shoulders, baring herself to him. The satin puddled around her waist. “I rarely extend an invitation more than once, Mr. Vistoire.”

  She was practiced at seduction and temptation. Most likely, she never needed to ask twice.

  “There is someone else,” he admitted and stalked from the dressing room without hesitation. The only woman he wanted was Regina—his tenderhearted, strong, willful goddess.

  It was dark when he exited the building, then everything went black when his hat was knocked to the ground and a sack was shoved over his head. Two men grabbed his biceps and hooked their arms around his thighs. He was airborne for a brief moment before he landed on a hard surface.

  “Where is my bloody map?”

  Merde. “You again.” Xavier pulled off the sack and glowered at Farrin from his position on the carriage f
loor. One of the blackguard’s men shoved his way inside and dropped on the bench beside his boss. The carriage lurched away from the curb.

  “Was this necessary?” Xavier shook the sack in his fist.

  Farrin smirked. “I thought you’d enjoy the theatrics.”

  “You ruin my enjoyment of everything. What the devil do you want now?” He pushed off the floor and sat on the carriage bench opposite.

  “You’ve been strolling through the park, attending balls, visiting the theatre. What you have not been doing is retrieving my map. You have four days, Mr. Vistoire.”

  Xavier glowered at Farrin and the brute sitting next to him. “I am well aware the sand is slipping through the hour glass. I hope you don’t intend to interrupt my plans every day to remind me.”

  “What exactly are your plans?

  “And stop having me followed,” Xavier said, ignoring his inquiry. “One of the Darlington sisters is likely to notice your men lurking about and think he is with me. I could lose access to Wedmore House and the map.”

  Farrin’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “You clever devil. You think you can seduce your way into the earl’s home. Which lady has her eye on you?”

  “Who is responsible for my incarceration?”

  Farrin’s eyes hardened. “Some questions are better never being explored. If you were seeking clues at the theatre, you were wasting your time. Count your blessings you are still alive and pray that you stay that way.”

  “Likewise,” Xavier said through clenched teeth. “I need more time to search for the map. I was able to access Lord Wedmore’s chambers today, and I’ve been invited to borrow a book from his library any time I wish.”

  Farrin’s expression remained impassive for several moments. Eventually, he gave a sharp nod. “You have a week from today, but no longer. If I don’t have the map by then, you are no longer any use to me and I will send in my own man.”