A Promise of More

by Bronwen Evans

  Clarice had placed lit candles round the room, and a fire was roaring in the grate, making the room very, very warm. But what had his temperature rising was the sight of Clarice lying naked upon her bed, a string of pearls wrapped around her neck and dangling down between succulent breasts. He took a deep breath and swallowed. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

  There was no doubt Clarice was a beautiful woman. She would be classed as every male’s fantasy, hence why he had been eager to sample her wares five months ago, even knowing she was Doogie’s mistress.

  She rose from the bed, a goddess among mortals, a woman who knew she had his every attention.

  She walked toward him until her breasts were almost touching his chest. She reached up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his mouth. It took all his willpower not to respond to the feel of the soft curves pressing up against him, and the lips on his mouth, but he did not return her kiss. She drew back at his lack of response and gave him a puzzled look.

  Then her eyes lit with a new dawning, as if she realized why he was here, and she immediately halted her seduction routine.

  “I’ve come to find out who set me up,” he told her bluntly.

  She sighed, then said, “I don’t know. If I did, I would tell you.”

  “I’m not leaving here until you tell me what you do know. And if you are hiding anything from me, I promise you, you won’t like me when I’m angry. I really don’t care how I pry the information from you.”

  She turned away from him and walked across the room to gather her robe. As she put it on she looked over her shoulder and said, “I knew you’d come knocking on my door. I’m surprised you waited this long. But I don’t know anything. All I know is I received a note informing me that if I invited you to my bed on the night of the fifth, I would be paid three thousand pounds.”

  He had to control his shock. “An amount that large, didn’t you wonder why?”

  “I didn’t care why. Three thousand pounds was a lot of money.” She smiled up at him like the professional courtesan she was. “Besides, I wanted the challenge—to see if I could persuade one of London’s most notorious rakes to finally take a mistress.”

  Sebastian gawked at her. “It was a considerable sum. Surely you must have wanted to know what was going on. It could have been—it still likely is—dangerous.”

  She shrugged her shoulders as she tied the sash of her robe. “I knew something wasn’t right, but then, I spend all my time around men who have more money than sense. However, I made sure Doogie was going to be at one of his gambling hells, and I arranged for someone to keep him occupied in a game. I wanted to make sure he didn’t turn up and ruin our fun.”

  “You played a dangerous game that didn’t work. I suspect someone sent a note to Doogie to ensure he was here that night.”

  She held up her hands in defense. “How was I to know Doogie would challenge you, or that the duel would go to the death? Usually duels are to first blood only.”

  Sebastian looked away in disgust. “He wasn’t killed in the duel.”

  Her mouth fell open and for the first time fear crept into her eyes. “Then how did he die? And why did you flee?”

  Sebastian moved to the small sideboard against the wall and took up the whiskey decanter that had been strategically placed there. He poured himself a drink, took a gulp of it, and then turned to face her. “It was made to look as though I killed Doogie, but the shot came from the trees. He was shot in the back and not by me.”

  She moved toward him and took the glass of whiskey from his hand and drank a large gulp that made her eyes water.

  “Why on earth would anyone want to kill Doogie? He didn’t have any money, and I doubt he had caused anyone any harm. He was a perfectly harmless young man.”

  “It wasn’t Doogie the enemy was after. It was me. Someone has set out to disgrace and ruin me. You’re a loose end I’m surprised they have left alive.”

  “Perhaps it’s because I haven’t bothered to look into the matter any further. I had no idea Doogie was murdered, so why would I?”

  “But now you do. That places you in danger.”

  She took another sip of his whiskey. “You’d best pour yourself another drink. I think I need to hold on to this one. I kept the note.”

  Their first real lead! Elation surged hot and fast in his blood. “Show me.”

  She sighed, said, “Wait here,” and put down her glass before disappearing into her dressing room. It wasn’t long before she returned and handed him a folded note on plain but expensive writing paper. He wasted no time opening it, but disappointment awaited. “Nothing to signal who may have sent it. The handwriting looks like a child’s.”

  “I assume to hide the true penmanship,” she said, taking up her glass again. “But turn the note over.”

  He did as she directed and noted charcoal on his thumb. Someone had shaded the back of the note. He ran his finger over the impression the charcoal had indented. The letters HB were clearly evident, and each had a flourish. He raised his eyebrow at Clarice.

  She shrugged and whiskey sloshed over the brim of her glass. “It would appear that someone used paper that had a previous note written on top of it. The shading to see other tidbits underneath is a trick I learned early in my career. If I received a note from one of my protectors, I would check the paper for other notes hidden within. Of course, if the man didn’t have a heavy hand on the quill, there would be no indent. I found out I was going to be replaced by one of my protectors that way. For a courtesan, information like that is vital to our survival.”

  Sebastian could understand her position, but he wondered how many of his peers had given away secrets without their knowledge. He would remember to write on only one piece of paper at a time from now on. “I deduce this writing paper belonged to an aristocrat. The flowery strokes of the initials are not the work of a commoner.”

  Clarice said, “I have no idea who H.B. is; however, I kept the note as a form of insurance should someone come after me.”

  He pocketed the note and Clarice said nothing to stop him. Wise woman. As he poured himself another whiskey, he asked, “Did you get paid?”

  She hugged her glass tightly with both hands and sat on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t really think I would get paid. I didn’t care. I wanted you. To try to win your custom.… Everyone knew you never kept a mistress. I’d be set for life if I managed to procure you as my protector. Once you tired of me, every man in London would want the woman who’d ensnared Lord Coldhurst.”

  Sebastian didn’t let the surprise show on his face. The attention of a beautiful woman was flattering; however, he had more sinister things on his mind. “But you did get paid?”

  “Yes, I did. They put it into my bank account. Don’t ask me how they got the details, but I suspect any bank with a request to deposit that amount of money into a customer’s account would not have said no. Or they could have got the details from any of my previous protectors.” She frowned. “You could try Coutts bank. I haven’t followed it up, but I would imagine the bank must know who deposited that amount of money into my account. You could see if it was by anyone with the initials H.B. I didn’t see the point in asking any questions after the duel ended in Doogie’s death.”

  “Then why tell me now?”

  She looked sad. “Because I thought Doogie had been killed in a duel.” She took another large sip. “If he wasn’t killed in the duel, and he was killed by foul play, that changes everything. Doogie was young, silly, impetuous, but he was a nice boy. He certainly didn’t deserve to be killed by a shot in the back.”

  Sebastian looked at the tears welling in her eyes. “You’re right. He didn’t deserve to die. And your idea of checking with the bank is a good one. Thank you.”

  He put down the glass of whiskey and made to leave.

  “I will ask around for you,” she said. “I will see if anyone knows anything about the night that note was delivered to my ho
use, or about a man, an aristocrat, who uses the initials H.B. I might have avenues a gentleman such as yourself does not.”

  “Just be careful. The enemy is prepared to kill. They killed Doogie.”

  Her brows drew together and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth before saying, “But they didn’t kill me. Why? Why leave me as a loose end? It would have been much simpler to dispose of me too. There has to be something more to this.”

  It would appear that Clarice was as clever as she was beautiful. “I may know the answer to that, but I’m not prepared to share just yet. If you provide me with further information, then I might reveal all I know.”

  Sebastian thought it might be because their enemy was a woman, a woman who was perhaps also a courtesan. He could perfectly understand why she wouldn’t want to kill one of her own, especially if she had been raped and this was personal revenge. “Have you got adequate protection?”

  She nodded. “Yes. A woman in my profession is silly not to have protection. My men are loyal.”

  Yes, Clarice was not a stupid woman. He had his hand on her door handle when she said, “If I do hear anything, I will come to you immediately.”

  He nodded his thanks, and before he closed the door he said, “Be careful. They may not have wanted to tie up a loose end, but if you start asking too many questions, make sure you are well guarded.” She merely nodded and went to the sideboard to refill the whiskey glass as he closed the door behind him.

  Satisfaction lifted his mood. They had a lead.

  Beatrice was getting entirely sick of balls. Balls were the place where people went to be seen, to gossip, and to be as malicious as possible, and news of Sebastian’s hunt for a mistress had escaped the cardroom and was smirking on certain women’s faces.

  She hated being here and didn’t really see any other purpose for balls except perhaps if you were in an unmarried state, and even then she hadn’t had much luck.

  But she had to be there in her capacity as chaperone for Marisa, Aunt Alison having felt unwell this evening. Hadley was standing in for her husband.

  She wished for the hundredth time that she’d been the one feeling ill; in fact she did feel ill. Her argument with Sebastian made her sick to her stomach. She didn’t know how she would face him.

  If not for Marisa, she’d scurry home like a lost puppy. However, tonight was for Marisa. The young lady was enjoying her first season. It was a joy escorting the beautiful Marisa. She was the belle of the ball. Plenty of young bucks were eager to please, keeping her on the dance floor for most of the evening. To Beatrice’s relief, Dunmire wasn’t at the ball, and she had just finally relaxed and was sipping a flute of champagne when Lady Christina Rossiter sat beside her.

  “All alone already? I see your husband is not with you this evening.”

  Why was it not a surprise that Sebastian’s absence was the first thing Christina would notice? “No, he had a previous engagement. I’m here to chaperone Marisa.”

  “A previous engagement? That sounds interesting. Is he entertaining someone else?”

  Beatrice felt her face heat. Christina knew where Sebastian was, and if she weren’t in the middle of this ball, Beatrice would have loved to throw the contents of her glass in Christina’s smug and knowing face.

  Trust the beautiful widow to think what probably everyone here this evening thought. Her husband didn’t wish to be seen with her and had tired of her already.

  She really longed to be able to tell Christina exactly where her husband was, but of course she couldn’t.

  “Yes, he is out with the Duke of Lyttleton.”

  “Out gambling, I suppose, and doing things that lords do of an evening. Perhaps visiting old friends of his and your brother’s. Escaping from Henpeck Hennessey. That’s a pity, I was hoping to speak with him tonight.”

  The stem of her flute almost snapped under the pressure of her fingers. Pity it wasn’t Christina’s neck.… “I’m more than capable of taking a message to my husband, if you’d like.”

  Christina gave a malicious laugh. “I don’t think so. I had a far more personal message to give to him. One that is probably not appropriate to receive from one’s wife.”

  With a forced smile she replied, “Why don’t you find a man of your own? Especially as it appears my husband has moved on.”

  The sureness on Christina’s face faded. “He left me only because he had to flee after the duel.”

  Beatrice gave her a look filled with mock surprise. “A duel he faced because he was found in Clarice Hudson’s bed. It would appear he’d moved on before the duel. Perhaps you simply didn’t fulfill him as you state.”

  “And you think you will? Isn’t he back with Miss Hudson tonight? You watch and wait, soon I’ll have him back in my bed.” Anger scored Christina’s features and for once she looked ugly.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Beatrice rose to her feet. “I think you might be waiting a long time.”

  Marisa had finished her dance with Lord Proctor on the other side of the ballroom, and without giving Christina another thought, Beatrice left to join her.

  Christina plastered a smile on her face while inside she was seething. How had she let a woman like Beatrice Hennessey outwit her? She was even more determined Sebastian would be hers. She sat there scheming, all sorts of scenarios running through her head, like taking the gun that was in her study and shooting Beatrice between her eyes before she scratched them out.

  “It would appear we might be able to mutually help each other.”

  Christina turned her head to see Lord Dunmire standing just over her shoulder. “I thought you’d declined an invitation to attend tonight?” she said.

  “I don’t wish to be seen.”

  “I won’t bother to ask why. Well, it’s impolite to eavesdrop. But then, a man like you has never been known to be polite. What is it you want?”

  He offered Christina his arm and said, “Perhaps you and I could take a stroll in the garden; it is rather warm in here, as the flush on your face suggests. Or is that anger?” He held up a hand. “Don’t flay me with that vicious tongue of yours. I have a proposition that might be of interest to you.”

  Christina eyed him warily before standing and accepting his proffered arm. “I’d heard you had offered for Beatrice Hennessey, is that true?”

  He waited until they were out through the French doors and walking down the stairs into the darkened garden before replying. “Yes. A man always wants what he can’t have. You should heed that saying, my love. I’ve wanted her for a long time, and when Doogie Hennessey was shot in the duel, I assumed, given the family’s financial situation, she would have no option but to accept my offer. But the chit turned me down. Me!” He struggled to control the rage. “She outsmarted me by approaching Lord Coldhurst.”

  Christina laughed. “Well, that’s not hard to do, but what I don’t like is she outsmarted me as well. I thought with Sebastian returning from exile, in disgrace, that I might have a chance. Given his scandalous past, he needed a respectable woman to ensure the scandal died down, and I knew he would need to marry.”

  “It seems we both want things that are not mutually exclusive.”

  She twisted her head to take the measure of him before looking him in the eye. “It appears you are a little too late. Any plan should have been implemented before they married.”

  “Perhaps.” He halted beneath an oak tree, far from the terrace and out of earshot. “I don’t want Beatrice for long. All I care about is getting my hands on her. I wish to teach her a lesson. In fact, I don’t particularly care if she has a dreadful accident once I’ve finished with her. But I will decide how long she stays with me. I have a long memory and I don’t take kindly to those who make a fool of me.”

  Christina didn’t even flinch at his dastardly words.

  He continued, “With your help I shall have her, leaving you to console Sebastian.”

  “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. But humor me.” She looked him
over. “What on earth do you see in a woman like Beatrice Hennessey?”

  He struggled for words. Surprisingly, he had genuinely liked Beatrice before she threw his offer back in his face. She was intelligent and beautiful in her refined way. “Revenge. I want to knock her into the dirt, blow her off her high pedestal, and ground her beneath my boot. I want to make her suffer. There is no reason why I can’t take a trip to the Colonies. America is a big country and we can quite easily get lost there. Besides, I feel that she’ll have a terrible accident while we are at sea.”

  “Well, I never thought you had it in you, Dunmire. What has Beatrice done to deserve you?”

  He raised an eyebrow and gave a wicked smile. “It is what she didn’t do. A woman like her, a woman on the shelf, with no dowry and a stupid younger brother who was frittering away the family’s finances, should have been grateful for an offer from me. Instead, she held an action of mine against me and turned her nose up as if I were nothing.”

  “Tsk, tsk. That was rather silly of her, wasn’t it? For I know you are a man who does not take slights easily.”

  They had wandered into a darkened area of the garden and Christina turned to face him. “So tell me, what is your plan? I’m more than happy to help you get rid of Beatrice Hennessey, but I would be happier if I knew she was dead immediately. She’s too clever by far, and you …”

  Dunmire’s fists curled tight at her implication. “Well, you will just have to do it my way. I want Beatrice and I want her alive. So here is my plan …”

  As arranged, Sebastian made his way from Clarice’s house directly to White’s. He had arranged to meet Arend and Maitland and disclose any information he had coerced from Clarice’s sweet lips.

  They would be surprised to know that it hadn’t taken any coercion at all. He hadn’t had to taste her sweet lips and he was surprised that he wasn’t disappointed. His stride lengthened and anger hummed on the realization the only sweet lips he wanted were his wife’s.