The prince of pleasure n-5

by Nicole Jordan

  "Well, it seems there is at least a possible connection between Ivers and the companion's murder. The man I installed at the Castlereagh household found a witness who recognized Ivers as the lover Alice Watson had been secretly meeting. And he uncovered further proof that Ivers has recently been spying on Lady Castlereagh's doings-paying the servants to report to him."

  The tall, dark-haired stranger. Dare frowned at the implication. "You don't think Ivers could be Caliban, do you? I've known him since I was in short coats- his family seat is barely a dozen miles from Wolverton Hall-and while he might be capable of killing, I wouldn't think him cunning enough to be a criminal mastermind."

  Thoughtfully Lucian shook his head. "I tend to concur, although he may be ruthless enough. Last year one of his former mistresses was mysteriously disfigured after she sent Ivers packing in favor of a new, wealthier protector who could afford her extravagances. And it's common knowledge that he has been flirting with penury of late. Not only does he owe half the tradesmen in town, but he's been unable to repay his debts of honor. There are rumors he may be asked to leave his club. It's possible he is in Caliban's employ for the income, or simply because he's being blackmailed, like so many other of Caliban's victims."

  "What of Sir Stephen Ormsby and Martin Perrine?" Dare asked. "Did you discover any leads that might suggest either of them are involved?"

  "I had them both investigated as you suggested," Lucian replied, "and found nothing more to incriminate Ormsby. Perrine, we're now certain, was in town at the time of the companion's death, and also in January when our diplomat was killed. But there is no direct evidence linking him to either murder. Still, Caliban has always been extremely careful to cover his trail. His pattern is to remain behind the scenes while his victims execute his orders. In any event, this is the first real break we've had in the case-and we have you to thank for it."

  Dare remained silent for a moment while he debated how much to reveal about his knowledge of their chief suspect. Finally he decided it would be wisest to tell Lucian everything he knew on the off chance that there was a connection between events. "Ivers has a past relationship with Julienne Laurent," Dare said in a toneless voice.

  "Oh?" Lucian responded curiously.

  "They were lovers."

  Lucian's eyebrow rose. "The reason for your broken betrothal, I gather?"

  "Yes. So admittedly I have a vested interest in wanting revenge. I may not be the ideal candidate to pursue Ivers, since my judgment may be impaired, but I've been thinking of returning to Kent for a few days. I haven't visited the ancestral pile since Christmas. If you like, I could see what I can discover about him."

  "That's an excellent idea," Lucian commented. "Meanwhile I intend to keep my agents hard on his trail. Ivers is putting up at Limmer's Hotel for now, but if he should be evicted, he could go to ground and be impossible to find."

  Dare left London that afternoon and arrived in Kent late at night, startling his household staff. The Wolverton principal seat was a vast estate with a large, elegant brick manor and an attractive park surrounded by numerous tenant farms and orchards. Dare rarely visited, for it held such unpleasant memories for him.

  It was too late to begin inquiries tonight, but he intended to question his servants first thing in the morning, starting with his grandfather's elderly secretary. If anyone would know about the neighboring peers, it would be Samuel Butner. Butner had been privy to all the late marquess's business affairs, and while he'd been pensioned off when Dare succeeded to the title, he still lived in the manor as he had for the past thirty-odd years.

  Too weary and restless to sleep after his long journey, Dare found himself in the comfortable library, drinking an excessive quantity of his late grandfather's excellent brandy, remembering the last time they had been together in this particular room.

  It was the third day of their argument over Dare's marriage plans. Robert North, the sixth Marquess of Wolverton, had been enraged to the point of apoplexy because his grandson and heir refused once again to call off his betrothal to the scheming French jade.

  "She has duped you, you damned young fool! She only wants you for your fortune. She will bleed you dry!"

  "You are entirely mistaken, Grandfather," Dare responded tightly, barely keeping his own temper in check out of respect for his relative's advanced age and position as host. This was the marquess's house, after all.

  "I won't stand for it, do you hear me? I will disown you before I allow one drop of her blood to taint our line!"

  "I have told you more than once, your threat of disinheritance holds no weight with me," Dare reminded him.

  "Your jade is not as sanguine about you losing your inheritance. I think you will find her opinion of you greatly changed now that she knows she won't get a penny of my fortune."

  Dare's eyes narrowed. "You spoke to Julienne?"

  His grandfather's craggy brows knitted together in a scowl. "I made certain she understands the consequences of your insupportable marriage."

  For an instant Dare thought back to his last tryst with Julienne, remembering her reluctance to elope with him. But she hadn't known then of his grandfather's threat to disown him, for he hadn't told her. Dare shook his head. "She is not interested in your fortune."

  "The devil she isn't!" The marquess's voice rose again to the level of a shout. "Hell and damnation, lad, don't you see? You are letting your cock rule you!"

  "No, Grandfather. For once I am letting my heart rule."

  A dark and furious flush suffused the old man's cheekbones, but he made a visible effort at restraint. "I tell you, you are a blind fool. That Laurent trollop has been cuckolding you for months now with her lover. Ivers shared her bed long before you began sniffing at her skirts."

  Dare stiffened with instinctive jealousy. Ivers's attentions to Julienne had always made him grind his teeth. But the idea of her cuckolding him was laughable.

  At Dare's scoffing sound, his grandfather waved an accusing finger at the library window, in the direction of the earl's nearby estate. "Ask Ivers if you don't believe me."

  Dare returned a wintery smile. "You will have to come up with a better tale than that if you expect to turn me against her."

  Giving a growl of pure rage, Lord Wolverton shook his gnarled fist. "How about this tale then? Your jade is guilty of treason. I will see her in prison or worse if you try to wed her."

  A sudden chill swept through Dare. His grandfather was powerful and influential enough to make good such a threat if he wished to.

  When Dare hesitated, the marquess's rheumy gaze narrowed with malice. "They hanged two English sailors from Whitstable last month for treason. Your whore was their accomplice."

  "You know damned well that is a lie."

  "I know nothing of the kind! Those bloody emigres are always short of funds and willing to sell their loyalty for gain. I could easily find proof of your tart's guilt."

  Dare's hands momentarily clenched, but he kept his voice under tight control when he issued his own warning. "You would be ill-advised to threaten her with harm, old man."

  "Then do not force my hand, boy! I mean what I say. Your betrothal will not stand. It will not stand, do you hear me!"

  Ignoring the aging nobleman's shout, Dare turned abruptly on his heel and stalked from the room, intent on calming his own seething rage before he rode to meet Julienne at their trysting site.

  Until that afternoon, he had been fiercely determined to defy his grandfather's wrath, regarding the possibility of disinheritance as inconsequential to his future happiness.

  But this new threat against her was enough to give Dare pause. Certainly enough to make him question the wisdom of an elopement. He wanted Julienne as his wife, but not at the risk of endangering her. His grandfather was powerful enough to cause her a great deal of trouble, perhaps even to give real substance to any fabricated charges of treason.

  Dare realized he had a momentous decision to make. He couldn't stand by and allow Julienne to be hur
t. And even if he could convince her to elope with him against his grandfather's objections, there was still the problem of her invalid mother. The comptess refused to leave her home, and Julienne would never abandon her mother.

  One thing Dare knew for certain. He would end their betrothal before he allowed her to suffer from the old bastard's machinations. Despite his ardent feelings for Julienne-or because of them-he would give her up before allowing her to be hurt.

  Now, seven years later, Dare recalled what a bloody fool he had been. His grandfather had been right on that account.

  He felt his throat close on the bitter memory. Julienne had agreed to meet him at the cottage that afternoon if she could get away from her shop, but when she didn't come, he rode into Whitstable to find her.

  It was then he discovered her betrayal-her lover. Until then, he hadn't believed a word of his grandfather's accusations about her relationship with Ivers.

  His chest aching with remembered pain, Dare stared down into his empty brandy snifter. The old man had gotten his way; he'd caused the dissolution of the betrothal. But Dare had left Kent immediately afterward and never again set foot under his grandfather's roof until the marquess was dead and buried.

  With a raw, mirthless laugh, Dare threw the crystal snifter at the hearth, watching it shatter in the fire. He hoped the sixth Lord Wolverton was happy in his grave. His bloodline had remained untainted by the jade's French blood, even if he had lost his only grandson in the process.

  Dare slept poorly, enduring dreams of being entangled in his grandfather's malevolent spiderweb. The next morning, directly after breakfast, he summoned the marquess's former secretary, Samuel Butner, to the library in the hope of uncovering evidence linking Ivers to Caliban.

  "Is it a fair statement," Dare began after a spate of congenial small talk, "that after living in this district for so many years, you are somewhat acquainted with the Earl of Ivers?"

  "Yes, my lord," the elderly secretary answered respectfully. "I would say I am acquainted with him as well as most."

  "I'm interested in anything you can tell me about Ivers. It seems he has run up a vast number of gaming debts recently, and there are rumors that his loyalties might have been bought by the French." Dare regarded the secretary with a penetrating look. "Perhaps you'll recall the summer I spent here almost seven years ago: Two sailors from Whitstable were hanged as spies for collaborating with French Bonapartists. Could Ivers possibly have been associated with them or anything resembling treason, do you think?"

  Butner narrowed his craggy brows. "Lord Ivers was always a rum sort, but to my knowledge, he would not have stooped so low as to consort with the enemy. But… "

  "Yes?" Dare prompted.

  "He was regularly short of funds, even then. And I am aware that he found a way to line his pockets that summer. Lord Wolverton paid his gaming debts."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I wrote out the draft, my lord. It was a vast sum… six thousand pounds. I presume it bailed him out of the River Tick."

  "Why would my grandfather be so generous?"

  "I'm not certain, my lord. But I believe it had something to do with your… young lady. The one who owned the millinery."

  Dare felt his heart rate quicken uneasily. "Go on."

  Butner frowned thoughtfully, as if trying to remember. "His lordship summoned Lord Ivers here one afternoon and was closeted with him for the better part of an hour. I always suspected that large payment was for services rendered. That your grandfather employed Lord Ivers for some purpose."

  "But you have no idea what that purpose might be?"

  The elderly secretary hesitated a moment. "I have my suspicions. If I may speak freely?"

  "By all means."

  "His lordship was exceedingly pleased that you decided to stay here at Wolverton Hall that summer. I believe he thought he could groom you to assume his place… once you had sown your wild oats, that is."

  Dare pressed his mouth together to keep from showing his cynicism. "Instead I proved a grave disappointment to my grandfather," he said evenly. "I was never serious enough for his taste. Never had aspirations of settling down and becoming an apple farmer."

  "No, my lord. But it wounded him deeply when you became betrothed to the… French lass. He was a proud man, you know-"

  "He was a manipulating old bastard."

  "Just so. But he did not wish to see you wed her."

  "Because a Frog would taint his impeccable bloodlines," Dare said sardonically.

  "Yes. And because… he suspected her of treason. He intimated to me that she was involved with the spies who were hanged."

  Dare found himself grinding his teeth. "That was a falsehood he concocted to force me to end my betrothal. Miss Laurent had nothing whatever to do with treason or spying."

  "I suspected as much. I admit, it never set well with me that your grandfather would intervene in your affairs so flagrantly. But he was adamant. You were his hope and pride. He did not wish to see you go to… Begging your pardon, my lord. My tongue does run away from me at times." Looking uncomfortable, Butner flushed.

  "No, please… I value your honesty. What were you about to say? Go where?"

  "To the devil, the way your father did."

  With effort Dare kept his lip from curling. "So Grandfather employed the same high-handedness with me that he'd tried on my father."

  "Lord Wolverton hoped to compel you to call off your betrothal."

  "By threatening to disown me, I know. For years I thought he had done so."

  "He never changed his will. He had no reason to, once your betrothal ended. At the time, however, he was utterly determined. He said that whatever it took, he would gladly pay. He wanted to ?free you from the clutches of a scheming fortune hunter.' Those were his words, if I recall correctly."

  Steeling himself against his growing disquietude, Dare managed a calm reply. "I gather he intended to use Ivers to frame Miss Laurent for treason."

  "Possibly. After you left here, vowing never to return, Ivers called to collect. And he came two years later to request a loan. His pockets apparently were empty again."

  "Did my grandfather comply?"

  "No, he refused adamantly. I overheard their argument. Ivers said he would go to you if Lord Wolverton wouldn't pay, that you would want to know the truth."

  "The truth about what?"

  "Again, I'm not certain, my lord. It had something to do with Miss Laurent, because I heard her name spoken."

  "But you're certain Ivers threatened to blackmail my grandfather?"

  "It seemed that way. His lordship was so enraged, he had the footmen throw the earl out of the house. Ivers never called again, to my knowledge. I am not surprised that he has fallen under suspicion now, though. I always thought he would come to a bad end."

  "Thank you, Mr. Butner. You have been a great deal of help."

  Once the elderly secretary had gone, Dare sat unmoving, trying to grapple with the fear hovering in the back of his mind. Had his grandfather actually hired Ivers to spoil his betrothal? And had Ivers held the threat of being hanged for treason over Julienne's head?

  Dare felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Had he somehow mistaken the situation regarding her relationship with Ivers that day? If he could set his jealousy aside for a rational moment, he would have to admit that even before the secretary's revelation just now, he'd begun to question their alliance. In Newmarket Julienne had seemed to regard Ivers with an enmity bordering on loathing.

  Was that because Ivers had abandoned her all those years ago? They had been lovers then, hadn't they? Dare had seen it with his own eyes, heard the admission from Julienne's own lips.

  His gut churning with unease, Dare rose to call for his carriage. He needed to speak to someone who had greater knowledge of Julienne and what might have happened that long-ago summer.

  Famous for its oysters, the small seaport of Whitstable boasted several excellent inns, two dozen shops, and a minor shipyard. The town ha
dn't changed much in the years since his last visit, nor apparently had the hat shop where his life had been turned upside down.

  Stepping from the carriage, Dare stood outside the door of the millinery, hesitating. He had hopes of finding the sales clerk who had been in Julienne's employ, but his skin felt suddenly cold and clammy with apprehension at what he might discover. He had to force himself to open the shop door and enter.

  Memories rushed in on him all at once, reflections of the last time he'd been here…

  He'd thought it odd to find the millinery empty and unlocked, with no sign of Julienne or the girl she employed as a clerk. Hearing voices coming from the floor overhead, he'd climbed the stairs to the large room above the shop that was used for storage and sewing and occasionally as sleeping quarters.

  Julienne sat on the cot, her disheveled hair spilling from its pins, while the Earl of Ivers stood beside the bed, hovering over her. When she spied Dare, she clutched a hand to her heart.

  She looked dismayed to see him-although no more dismayed than he felt, seeing her with his rival in such an intimate setting.

  Ivers's expression remained cool, however, as he rested a hand possessively on her shoulder. "Clune…I am glad you have come. Julienne has something she wishes to tell you."

  Unwillingly Dare shifted his attention to the earl. His first impulse was to strangle the man with his bare hands for daring to touch Julienne-

  "Tell him, my dear," Ivers urged.

  "Tell me what?" Dare demanded, his anger welling to dangerous heights.

  "She intends to end your betrothal," Ivers said when Julienne remained silent. He squeezed her shoulder. "Isn't that right, my dear?"

  For a moment she shut her eyes. Then with a slow, shuddering breath, she stiffened her shoulders and raised her gaze to Dare's. "Yes. I no longer wish to marry you, Dare."

  A sharp hollowness clawed at the pit of his stomach, while his mouth suddenly felt filled with sawdust. "What the devil are you talking about?"