by Jane Charles
It wasn’t a long drive to Dagger’s Haven and this time Jordan prepared himself before entering the smoke filled environment. It was crowded this evening, each table filled with young and old lords alike, chancing their quarterlies and estates on the throw of the dice or toss of the cards. Jordan enjoyed gambling as much as the next gentleman, but he never sat down at a table with more in his pocket than he was willing to lose and there had been many times he left an establishment with an empty purse. But, he never continued gambling on credit and knew when luck had abandoned him. Just as many times he had left with far more than he entered. That is why these games were considered chance and he couldn’t understand how gentleman could wager their future in such a manner.
“Trent,” Stanwick called out from across the room.
Jordan walked over to meet with the man.
“Come into my office.”
Jordan followed him down a wide hallway to a door at the end. Stanwick fished keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door before opening it. Lights already burned in the lamps and Stanwick shut the door behind them.
He turned to face Jordan, hands fisted on his hips. “Creighton returned.”
“Did you let him in?”
“No, but he informed me that Jester’s wasn’t too high in the instep and they were glad to have him patronize their establishment.”
Jester’s had the worst reputation as far as gaming hells went. A man might as well as hand over his purse the moment he stepped across the threshold instead of dragging the night out sitting at a gaming table. The result in the end would be the same. Many suspected dice were loaded and cards marked, but nobody had ever been able to catch the owner or dealer cheating. Jordan also knew he would not be as successful in removing Creighton from the establishment. Men have tried in the past and ended up with a knife wound for their trouble. When Bow Street showed up because of complaints there was always a reasonable explanation and nobody was punished. For tonight, he would need to leave Creighton where he was and hope young Rothsbury didn’t lose an estate in the process.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“The others agreed not to let Creighton in. I knew Mac wouldn’t.”
“Mac?” Jordan had never heard of the man.
“He owns Jesters.”
Jordan nodded in understanding.
“The rest will not refuse him for long however.”
“I know. It is bad for business.”
Stanwick settled in a chair behind his desk and Jordan took one on the opposite side.
“There is little you can do to stop a man who has an addiction for the cards, or is waiting for a change in fortune on the roll of the dice.”
Jordan knew Stanwick was speaking from experience. His father suffered from the sickness and how many others have crossed the threshold of Dagger’s Haven with the same hunger? “I know. I am working on what I can do to break his guardianship.”
Stanwick nodded and reached into a desk drawer and withdrew a purse before tossing it to Jordan. “I went over my calculations and I believe this is close to what Creighton lost the other night.”
Jordan weighed it in his hand. “Why are you giving me this?”
“See that Lady Rothsbury receives it. It may be all her son has left by the time Creighton is done.”
“Thank you.” Jordan shoved the purse into a pocket.
Stanwick led him back to the smoky gaming room but Jordan didn’t get far before Dalton stepped into his path. “She is mine and you will leave her alone.”
Jordan stepped back and studied the young buck. “Who?”
“Millicent, Lady Lydell.”
“You are welcome to her.” Jordan moved to go around the man, who by the way he was swaying was already deep into his cups.
“Not good enough.” He grabbed Jordan’s jacket and pushed him up against the wall. “She says you will not leave her alone. Always wanting under her skirts and that is why you followed her into the garden.”
Jordan opened his mouth to argue that was the last place he wished to be but Dalton’s fist slammed into his jaw.
“If you don’t stop bothering her I will make you wish you had never met the lady.”
Jordan bit back a laugh because his jaw hurt too badly at the moment. Did Dalton really think he was pursing Lady Lydell? Had he forgotten that it was Lady Lydell who called after him as he walked away from them in the garden? Had he behaved as if he were jealous? “I promise never to look at Lady Lydell again.” That should pacify the man.
He attempted to push Dalton away from his person but the man would not budge. Where were Stanwick’s burly guards when they were needed? Several of the patrons were watching. As most of the gentlemen were also of Society, no doubt this would be gossiped about come tomorrow. Not that it mattered to him. He simply wished Lady Lydell would forget he existed.
“You are to stop calling on her and making advances.”
“Your meaning is clear,” Jordan bit out. That woman has caused him more trouble. He would need to speak with Lydell about telling his wife the truth so she could stop interfering in his life.
This time when he shoved the man off of him Dalton stumbled back, falling onto a table. The patrons moved quickly enough, salvaging their glasses of ale before the table splintered underneath Dalton’s weight. Jordan itched to punch the man in the face now that he had the advantage, but instead glared at him and walked away. It was late and he wanted to be home in his bed.
His footman was waiting for him outside when he emerged. Now what?
“Lady Rothsbury needs to see you immediately.”
Had Creighton come for the children already? At least the man could have had the decency not to wake the boys in the middle of the night before he moved them.
Jordan vaulted into his carriage as the footman jumped on the back. Thankfully the streets were not overly crowded as most of society had returned home. It didn’t take him long to reach Lady Rothsbury’s home and as he alit from the carriage he sent it back home. The walk was not far and just because he needed to be awake at all hours of the night and morning didn’t mean his staff had to as well.
The butler was waiting and opened the door before Jordan reached the last step. “Mrs. Bell will show you to Lady Rothsbury’s chamber.”
Jordan didn’t need to be shown the way as he had visited it often in the past but why was he meeting her there and not the library or parlor.
The woman moved quickly and Jordan hurried to keep up with her. Was Lady Rothsbury so distraught over her sons being taken that she couldn’t leave her bed?
The woman entered the chamber and Jordan followed, stopping just inside the door. Mr. Bridges, the lady’s brother, was pacing before the fire while Dr. Radley washed blood away from Lady Rothsbury’s face. There was a horrible gash that ran from the outside corner of her eye, around the cheek and almost to the corner to her mouth. Her gown was covered in blood as were the bedclothes. Lady Rothsbury lay against the pillows, her eyes closed, breathing even.
“What happened?”
Bridges turned to look at him. “Someone broke into the house and attacked Gilda.”
“The boys?”
Bridges shook his head. “Asleep in the nursery. They are unaware of what happened.”
Jordan glanced back at the bed. Dr. Radley had begun stitching the wound closed. Lady Rothsbury didn’t even flinch. “Why isn’t she awake?”
“I gave her something for her nerves and the pain,” the doctor answered. “I thought it best that she not be awake for this and I need to be able to concentrate. I want to keep the scar at a minimum.”
Jordan didn’t say anything but simply stared. He hoped there wasn’t much of a scar, if any, but given how deep the wound was he was afraid Lady Rothsbury would carry the reminder of this night for the rest of her life.
“Who would do this?” Bridges asked.
Jordan focused on him. “Did you get a chance to speak with her?”
Bridges visibly swallow
ed. “She said a cloaked man woke her. She couldn’t see his face because of the darkness but he said she was not to take what was not hers to have.”
“Creighton!”
Bridges shrugged. “That would be my first assumption as well, but he was, and probably still is, at Jesters.”
“How do you know where he went?”
“I’ve had a man following him. I knew he wouldn’t leave town.”
Jordan glanced back toward the bed. If not Creighton then who else would do such a thing? “He could have hired someone?”
“Given the company he keeps and the gaming hells he frequents, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“But how do we prove it?” Jordan asked, knowing neither of them had an answer to that question until Lady Rothsbury was awake and prepared to answer more questions.
Jordan and Bridges remained until after the doctor had left. Lady Rothsbury’s face had been bandaged and the maid instructed on proper care to minimize scarring. As there was nothing left for him to do, Jordan finally exited the home as the sun was rising.
Audrey kicked back the covers and rose from the bed. “Will I ever be on London schedule?” Despite the time she fell asleep she still woke with the sun, as she had done for most of her life. Morning was the time she spent with her father, seeing to the horses, riding and racing, before her mother awakened to curtail Audrey’s unladylike activities.
One would think that after being in Town for a few weeks she would be able to sleep later, but such was not the case. Perhaps if she was to forego the morning nap she always found herself in need of she would be able to sleep later.
Audrey shrugged on her robe and vowed to not succumb to sleep after she broke her fast, which would be hours from now.
As she did every morning she wandered to the window to anticipate the weather for the day. There were clouds, like most days and the streets were wet with rain. She dearly hoped it didn’t rain most of the day. But, they were in London; it was spring, so it was expected.
Though it wasn’t any of her concern, nor her business, Audrey found herself looking across the square to the Rothsbury’s townhouse. Lights were lit in the lower rooms, which wasn’t unusual. She had never seen the home completely dark, as if someone was always awake. The upper floors, which held the chambers, if the home was designed as this one, were dark.
A moment later the door opened and closed. Audrey closed her eyes and hoped it wasn’t Jordan Trent. When she opened them again, the man had moved toward the center of the square, toward her house, as Mr. Trent had done the other morning. This time he did not look up, but he did glance in each direction before crossing to her side of the square.
There was no denying that it was indeed Jordan Trent. He wore the same clothing he had at the ball the night before. His hair stood on end and his cravat was askew. Perhaps she should suggest he keep a clean set of clothing and brush at the lady’s home so he didn’t look so disheveled upon leaving in the morning.
Tears sprang to Audrey’s eyes but she blinked them away and yanked the curtains closed before Trent knew she had seen him. It was bad enough he noted her the other day, she did not want him to think she watched for him at every turn or spied on him. In fact, she wanted him to think she had lost interest completely. Any further courtship with Jordan Trent was doomed and no matter how much it pained her heart, Audrey knew that there could be nothing between them. If he wished to court her he would not be visiting the widow. Or, he saw nothing improper about carrying on an affair with one woman while he courted a respectable one during the day.
If that were the case, such a man would not hesitate to carry on affairs after marriage and Audrey would not be the type of lady who shared her husband with any woman. With a huff she threw herself back onto her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. It was the perfect day to remain in bed.
“What did you wish to tell me about Millicent?” Grace asked as she handed Audrey a cup of tea.
Audrey glanced at Mr. Trent. She couldn’t tell Grace everything. Not in front of a gentleman and certainly not in earshot of her former vicar. She would simply need to choose her words carefully so as not to make any of them uncomfortable. “She has developed a strong attachment for your brother-in-law.”
Mr. Trent leaned forward. “I assume you mean Jordan?”
“Yes.”
“That is not unusual.” Mr. Trent relaxed back against the settee and placed an arm over the back, behind Grace’s shoulders. They were not touching but the possessiveness was there in his movements. Would anyone feel possessive of her one day?
“It has gone beyond a mere attraction. I even question if she isn’t a bit mad.”
Mr. Trent chuckled. “My brother has enjoyed a certain reputation and many ladies over the years have thought themselves in love.”
Audrey counted herself among them but that was neither here nor there. Unless they knew everything, they would not understand. “Do all these ladies believe he fathered their children?”
Mr. Trent stilled before he leaned forward. “My brother is the father of Lydell’s child?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“No,” Audrey hastily answered. She took a deep breath and sighed. “It would be much easier to explain if I was only speaking to Grace.”
“This involves my brother,” Mr. Trent insisted.
“But it is a delicate topic,” she argued back. “I can’t very well explain the circumstances with a gentleman in the room.”
Mr. Trent smiled. “I promise not to be shocked or mortified. We are speaking of my brother and I can assure you that I have probably heard much worse.”
Her face heated. “You were also a vicar.”
Mr. Trent laughed. “I am not any longer,” he reminded her.
He was not going to leave and unless they knew the truth they would simply dismiss her concern. Audrey took a deep breath, closed her eyes and blurted out the whole sordid affair. Audrey paused to breathe and hoped she didn’t expire from embarrassment. “I don’t know if Lydell has told her the truth and Millicent simply refuses to believe it or he has said nothing letting her think it was Jordan Trent that night.”
Mr. Trent lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were getting a headache. She didn’t blame him. This entire mess gave her one. A moment later he rose from his seat and strolled to the sideboard where he poured brown liquid into a glass. She suspected it was whisky by the color. He then poured two glasses of wine and handed them to the ladies.
“And she believes Jordan is the father of her daughter?” Mr. Trent asked as if to clarify.
“Yes.”
“Does Jordan know?”
“I did tell him.”
Mr. Trent relaxed back into his seat. “I am sure he did not take the news well.”
Audrey thought back over the conversation. He had not been nearly as upset as she would have anticipated. “Whenever I see Millicent, he is all she speaks of.”
“She was overly attentive to him at Madeline’s supper,” Grace agreed.
“And Jordan left the party while the gentlemen were still with their port.”
“There was a reason.” Audrey’s face began to burn again as she described the scene in the hall and what Millicent had said. “She pursues him at every turn and has now decided to use Dalton and Everton in hopes of making him jealous.”
“Why isn’t Lydell doing anything?”
Audrey shrugged. “I am not sure there is much he can do.”
“But you think she is mad?” Grace asked with a hint of censure. It wasn’t that long ago the residents in their community claimed Grace’s father should be locked away in Bedlam.
“It is not the same,” Audrey was quick to assure her friend. “Millicent is clearly not in her right mind. Have a conversation with her and mention your brother-in-law and see what she says. And, pay attention to her eyes. They gleam in an odd, uncomfortable way and her smile is, oh, I can’t explain it, but she sets my nerves on edge.”
“I
am sure Jordan can handle himself in this situation,” Mr. Trent assured Audrey.
“Excuse me,” the butler interrupted from the door. “Lady Lydell to see you.”
Audrey and Grace exchanged a look. “Now is your chance to find out.”
“Please, send her in,” Grace smiled. “And ask that a fresh tea service be delivered.”
Mr. Trent stood and took their wine glasses and placed them back on the sideboard, though Audrey suspected she would need to finish it before the day was through.
Millicent stepped into the room and glanced around. A frown formed on her lips.
“Do come in, Millicent,” Grace greeted their friend. “It is good to see you.”
“He isn’t here?”
Audrey glanced at Grace and then back to Millicent.
“Who?” Grace inquired.
“Jordan. I thought he would be here.”
“No,” Grace answered as she escorted Millicent to a seat. “I haven’t seen my brother-in-law since last evening.”
Millicent sighed and settled on the settee beside Audrey. “I had heard the Trent brothers had come here after hearing the horrible news.”
“They are not expected,” Mr. Trent assured her.
“What horrible news?” Audrey found herself asking.
Millicent seemed to shake herself from her thoughts, or perhaps disappointment that Trent was not here and brightened. “Dalton was found murdered.”
“The same Dalton who you strolled with last evening?”
“The very one.” Millicent took a sip of her tea. “Stabbed in an alley behind Jesters.”
“Jesters?” Grace asked.
“It is a gaming hell practically in Seven Dials,” Mr. Trent explained.
Audrey had heard of Seven Dials but she certainly had never gone there. All manner of unspeakable things could happen to a lady in that part of town. She wasn’t sure what since nobody ever actually spoke of them, just that they were unspeakable, and it frightened her enough just the same.
“Do they know who killed him?” Grace asked as she placed her cup back on the table. She had lost all color and her hands shook. Audrey suspected she was recalling the attempts on her life last fall.
