Sophia shrugged one shoulder. “And yet you seem unable to resist stalking me around the ballroom floor. He thinks he is being discrete,” she said to Regina as if Crispin had suddenly lost his hearing, “but I see him staring daggers at my partners. More than one gentleman has made a quick escape at the end of the promenade, thanks to Lord Margrave’s dark glowers.”
Oh, dear. Sophia was truly put out with him if she’d reverted to his formal address.
Regina glanced at Crispin for confirmation that he had been following Sophia. Ruddy patches appeared on his face, and he snatched up the contract to scrutinize it more. “With Charles away someone needs to keep watch over you. All of you.”
Xavier’s eyebrow arched. “I am capable of caring for my betrothed and her family.”
Crispin lowered the sheet of foolscap. “Who are you, exactly? You seemed to have appeared from nowhere to whisk the Darlingtons to Hyde Park for a picnic, and suddenly you and Regina are to be married.”
Sophia bounded from the settee, eliciting a startled bark from Cupid. She hugged the dog and kissed his furry head to soothe him before nailing Crispin with a scathing glare. “It appears you not only follow me around the ballroom, but you’ve taken to spying on me at the park. How else would you know about our picnic?”
“I was riding, as I do every day. I happened to notice the lot of you as I was leaving.”
The little dog whimpered and wiggled to break free of Sophia’s arms to reach Crispin. He ignored the dog and returned to questioning Xavier. “How do you know Mr. and Mrs. Tucker?”
Regina grumbled under her breath, but Xavier simply lounged on the chair with an insolent slant to one side of his mouth. “Serafine Tucker is my sister. Are you well acquainted with my kin? Do speak with them if you require a personal recommendation, although it seems clear Miss Darlington is not seeking your blessing.”
The muscles in Crispin’s jaw bulged. “No, she isn’t. She wishes to use my connections to secure a special license, but she cares nothing about my thoughts on her marriage.”
Regina’s frustration began to ebb. Uncle Charles, Aunt Beatrice, Regina, and her sisters were all Crispin had in his life. His desire to protect them while Uncle Charles was away was rather sweet. She placed a hand on his shoulder to express her thanks and friendship, but she held his steady gaze to let him know she wouldn’t be swayed.
“Your blessing means a great deal to me. You must know I care, but I have always been of an independent mind. I have made my decision. Mr. Vistoire will be a good husband.”
A whisper of doubt caused her heart to flutter, but she maintained her confident demeanor. How was one to know with certainty if a man would be a good husband until it was too late?
“I’ve made my decision.” She smacked her palm against the desk to punctuate the finality of her choice.
Crispin’s brow wrinkled “I heard you the first time.” He dropped the contract on the desk. “It is a generous agreement. Your interests will be protected, if he signs the contract as it is.”
Xavier rose from the chair, towering over Crispin and reached for the contract before snatching the quill and ink from the corner of the desk. The curling of his top lip communicated his disdain for Crispin and his insinuation. “I will sign the agreement if it meets with your approval, Miss Darlington. I ask for nothing in return.”
He bent over the paper with the quill poised to sign his name, looking to her for consent. She gave a quick nod. He scribbled his name on the contract, then slid it toward her and held out the quill. Her hand shook slightly when she signed her name.
“Sophia.” She passed the paper to her sister to bear witness and held her breath as Crispin followed suit after a lengthy hesitation.
“I will call on James Hillary next,” Crispin said as he replaced the quill and stood. “I am aware of at least one occasion when he was able to expedite the approval of a special license. That was for his son, however. I cannot promise Mr. Hillary will grant my request.”
Regina nodded. “We are grateful for whatever you are able to do.”
“You are welcome.” The viscount brushed past Sophia en route to the study door, pointedly avoiding eye contact with her. At the threshold, he spun on his heel to aim one more unnerving scowl at Xavier before jerking open the door and stalking away. The front door slammed a few moments later.
Regina gaped at her sister. “What in the world has Crispin in such a foul-temper?”
Sophia frowned. “I don’t know what has gotten into him lately. He’s as grumpy as an old toad.”
“I had no idea toads were so emotive,” Regina teased.
“I said they are grumpy—not performing Shakespearean plays. Have you ever seen a toad without a frown?”
She laughed and tweaked her sister’s cheek. “Try not to be too harsh with Crispin. He misses Uncle Charles when he is away.”
“We all do, but you won’t find me lurking in corners plotting the dismemberment and death of others.”
“You shouldn’t say such things about Crispin, even in jest.”
Sophia sniffed as if to say she was not joking.
Regina abandoned the topic. “Retrieve your gloves and bonnet. If you are still accompanying us to the Commons, we should hurry along. We have quite a task facing us this afternoon after we apply for the license.”
She had updated her sisters on the recent development of the map while Aunt Beatrice had a private word with Xavier. Both conversations went much better than she’d anticipated. Aunt Beatrice hadn’t asked for her pistol, and her sisters seemed more intrigued by the mystery of the map and who wanted it than indignant over Xavier deceiving them. There had been time to rummage through Uncle Charles’s study before Crispin arrived, but many hiding places still needed to be explored.
Sophia pulled on her gloves in the foyer. “The library itself could take a few days to search. How long do we have?”
“Four days,” Xavier said.
Regina turned toward him. “Now that we are betrothed, do you think the risk of Farrin sending in another man will be eliminated?”
“Perhaps once word reaches him.”
“Can’t you speak with him? Do you know where to find him?”
If Xavier had a meeting place, perhaps it would provide a useful clue to lead them to Farrin’s employer.
“Farrin finds me when he wishes to speak. He says the streets have eyes and ears.”
“Then we must herald our good news, so the message reaches him. Lady Faldingworth’s ball is this evening. We’ll dance several sets, whisper in corners together, and tell everyone we encounter of our betrothal. That should earn a mention in the gossip rags.”
Xavier caught her shoulder when she tried to sweep through the front door. “I’d prefer no one is under the illusion this is a love match.”
Sophia gasped, and Regina experienced his words like a physical blow.
“I simply mean I don’t want Farrin knowing I actually care for you.” He squeezed her shoulder and drew her close, soothing her hurt. “If the blackguard realizes my true feelings, I’m afraid you would become another target to control me, and I won’t place you in any more danger.”
“Gigi, you never said anything about being in danger if you marry.” Sophia’s blue eyes had grown to twice their usual size.
“I’m not in danger. There is no cause for concern.” She held Xavier’s gaze, daring him to contradict her in front of Sophia.
“I agree to one dance,” he said. “Possibly two as long as the appropriate time has elapsed between sets. We may tell others of our agreement, but there will be no whispering in the corner.” A sultry smile spread across his face. “And no slipping off to the gardens together.”
A thrill swept through her at the reminder of their encounter in the Norwick’s gardens. Xavier had accused her of wanting him to bed her and vowed to win her hand. She’d thought he was arrogant and deluded at the time.
Sophia cleared her throat, causing them both to startle. “I
don’t want to know what the secret smiles between you mean, but I agree with Mr. Vistoire. Placing yourself in danger is not an option.”
Regina’s smile widened. “Very well, Mr. Vistoire. I won’t try to tempt you into taking a moonlit stroll or demand your attention on the ballroom floor. But I hope you don’t expect me to congregate with the wallflowers while you pretend to barely know me. I would hate for anyone to think I am smitten with you and use the knowledge against me.”
“That might be the closest I will ever get to a profession of love from you, darling. I will take it.”
Twenty-three
As soon as the hack rolled to a stop in front of his sister’s home, Xavier spotted Farrin’s men across the street. The larger one met his gaze through the carriage window and smirked. He was an ugly fellow with pocked skin and dead eyes that exuded hatred for anything with a heartbeat. Xavier knew his type. Most men were too intimidated to challenge brutes like him, and he probably enjoyed beating the hell out of the ones that did.
Xavier climbed from the hack and stood on the walkway until it drove away. With the street clear, he stalked toward the men. The brute’s partner came forward to meet him at the edge of the street. Xavier wasn’t intimidated. He could hold his own when allowed to square off with a man. Even the giant ones posed little threat with Xavier’s speed. He stopped inches from the man’s face.
“Tell Farrin I want to speak with him.”
The ugly one sneered over his friend’s shoulder. “Do we look like servant boys? We don’t deliver messages for anyone.”
Xavier ran his gaze over the men from head to toe and shrugged. “You look more like the post coach horses’ asses, but I fail to see how your appearance is relevant. Give Farrin the message.”
“Go to the devil,” the smaller man spat.
The brute shoved his partner aside and rolled up his sleeves. “Make another demand, and I’ll rearrange your pretty smile, you fop.”
Xavier flashed his pretty smile and bit out each word to taunt him. “Give. Farrin. The. Message.”
He ducked when the man swung for his nose, weaved to his left to come up behind his opponent and drive his own fist into the man’s kidney. Xavier’s opponent arched his back, howling in pain. Xavier punched him twice more in the same spot in rapid succession. The man’s knees buckled, and he collapsed on the walkway, his body jerking with spasms.
The brute’s partner charged him. Xavier bent low to slam his shoulder into the man’s doughy middle and flipped him flat on his back on the cobblestone street. As both men gasped to catch their breath, Xavier retrieved one of his calling cards and flicked it on the ground where they lay. “If I have to ask once again, I will no longer be polite. I want to speak with Farrin.”
He wanted news of his and Regina’s betrothal to reach Farrin, and he was unwilling to trust it to chance. He would deliver the word himself and tell Farrin to keep his men out of Wedmore House.
As he spun on his heel to return to his sister’s side of the street, the neighbor’s curtains fell back in place. He frowned. It appeared the town house to the left of Isaac and Serafine was no longer vacant. He’d discussed with his brother-in-law letting the town house from the owner, a widow who preferred a quiet life in the country and didn’t appear to have the funds to pay board wages to keep up the house. It had seemed like a perfect solution for everyone until he could persuade his sister to return to New Orleans. Moving next door would have allowed his sister and her husband privacy while Xavier remained close enough to watch over them.
If he hadn’t decided to alter his plans after his audience with Regina, he would be disappointed to have lost out to another tenant. Letting rooms at the Pulteney Hotel made more sense until after the wedding. Once he’d drawn Farrin’s men away from his sister’s home, Xavier would encourage her and Isaac to visit their American cousins in Brighton. Lisette was lying in wait with her first child and would likely welcome Serafine’s company. The women had always been close like sisters.
Apparently, Lisette had met and married an Englishman when she and her younger brother Rafe traveled to London with Serafine to search for Xavier. After Xavier settled the score with Farrin and the man financing him, he would call on his cousins, too. He was Rafe’s guardian, and he should see to the boy’s welfare, even though Serafine reported Lisette’s husband loved Rafe as if he were his own child.
Xavier jogged up Serafine’s front steps and closed the door behind him. Small footsteps pounded down the corridor.
Simon screeched with joy, and it was the sweetest sound Xavier had ever heard. The tot’s wide smile made him forget about the confrontation on the street and the coming meeting with Farrin. Xavier scooped him into his arms and tossed him over his shoulder. Simon kicked and giggled all the way down the corridor as Xavier carried him back toward the drawing room. Serafine looked up from her knitting with an expectant smile. “Are congratulations premature?”
He shook his head. “Miss Darlington accepted my proposal.”
Serafine cried out and launched from the settee to come place a kiss on his cheek. “It is sudden and unexpected, but I couldn’t be happier for you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. Xavier drew back in shock. His sister had never been demonstrative or sentimental, but she was beginning to resemble a watering pot lately.
“Tears and a kiss, Serafine? Are you under the weather?”
She puckered her lips and wiped the wetness from her eyes. “I’m perfectly well and capable of showing affection. I’ve even been known to cry occasionally.”
Never in his presence. When they were children and he’d teased her, she’d turned to stone. Xavier used to call her Medusa and say she must have caught her reflection in the mirror. Even with his merciless pestering, she’d not uttered a sound or cried like he’d wanted. He had apologized a thousand times over once they were grown.
“I know you have feelings,” he said with a smile. “But you must admit it is a rare occasion when you cry.”
She beamed at him and circled her hand over her flat stomach. “Not when I am expecting.”
Xavier’s gaze darted to the discarded knitting on the settee—a tiny yellow bonnet—then back at Serafine.
Merde. He would be gray before the end of the week.
Benny drew the brocade curtains aside to peek out the leaded glass window of the abandoned house. Garrick and Wolfe were gone, but he expected his brother’s men would return. He didn’t like them watching Mr. Vistoire or his family in the town house next door. Mr. Vistoire was the only friend Benny had ever had, and he didn’t want to lose him.
Nope, Benny didn’t like the men loitering outside one bit, but he didn’t know how to make them go away. Usually, he didn’t have to worry about what to do. Tommy gave the commands. Benny followed them.
He knew he was born without smarts. His father had reminded him every day before he was sent to live in the country. Benny was an idiot, a dolt, a fool, an embarrassment, and a disappointment. Sometimes his father referred to him as a bastard, but when he’d asked his mother what the word meant, she’d slapped him and forbidden him from ever uttering the word again. He still didn’t know what a bastard was, but he’d decided if he was one, he should never admit it.
Even his younger brother had come to realize Benny’s faults, and when their father died, he’d assumed Father’s role—including reminding Benny of the tragedies that would befall him if he ever left the farm or let anyone else know of his existence.
Mr. Vistoire was the only person who hadn’t seemed to notice Benny was a dolt. His friend had spoken to him as if he were a man, not a child or a beast to order around. He’d told him about his home in New Orleans and his travels around the globe. He’d recalled stories from his childhood and discussed men like Galileo and Aristotle. Benny rarely understood those talks about the men with unusual names, but he’d kept his mouth shut so Mr. Vistoire would keep speaking. A voice aside from his own had been a welcome addition to Benny’s silent and lonely
existence.
When Mr. and Mrs. Hull were alive, life hadn’t been terrible. The farm’s caretaker and his wife had treated him with kindness, invited him to their table, and taught him how to fend for himself. Even though they hadn’t quite thought of him as family, he hadn’t minded. In Benny’s experience, family was cruel, and the Hulls were vastly better than any family he could imagine. When they were gone, he’d mourned for them—just as he would grieve for Mr. Vistoire if Tommy ordered his execution.
A tremor wracked Benny’s bulky frame, and he peered out the window to reassure himself that his brother’s men were truly gone. The street was empty, but the command to kill Mr. Vistoire could come any moment, especially after the confrontation Benny had just witnessed.
He worried he wouldn’t be able to protect his friend or the family his friend loved, but he promised to fight until he drew his last breath. And if he were allowed to become a ghost when he died—and he did hope that was possible, for he would enjoy walking through walls—he’d still fight for Mr. Vistoire.
Benny owed the man a huge debt. At first, he’d held Mr. Vistoire prisoner out of fear. Tommy’s threats to have Benny skinned alive if he lost his prisoner had terrified him. His brother was known to order equally brutal punishments for others who’d displeased him. Later, Benny had an additional reason to keep Mr. Vistoire locked away. He enjoyed the other man’s companionship. He’d given Benny a reason to wake every morning. Benny had been wrong to keep his friend from his family, but he would set everything to rights again.
He didn’t know how, for he wasn’t born with smarts, but he would muddle through the best he could. Benny drew the curtains aside to peer out again. Until he figured everything out, he’d just keep watch over his new neighbors.
Twenty-four
Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Gentlemen of Intrigue Book 1) Page 18
