My Scandalous Viscount

by Gaelen Foley

  “Oh, really?”

  “So she let him work off the gaming debts he ran up in her establishment in a fairly simple way.”

  Carissa’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t mean—?”

  “Yes, I do,” he answered dryly.

  “So, the former harlot can now afford to play the wealthy customer?”

  “Just so.”

  “My goodness.” She pondered this for a moment. “Poor Nick.”

  “Oh, I don’t think he minded too much,” Beau replied.

  “I see. So you’re saying she’s quite beautiful, this Angelique?”

  “Not as beautiful as you,” he breathed as his warm lips skimmed along the side of her neck. “Speaking of which, we have some time to waste. Come down to the cabin with me.”

  Enthralled by his whisper, she sent him a coy look from the corner of her eyes.

  He took her hand and led her away from the rails, a sensuous invitation in his eyes.

  She followed all too eagerly.

  By the time they left the boat, Carissa was blissfully worn-out by her husband’s ardor. That man, plain and simple, was a stud, she thought, and a nigh-insatiable one, at that.

  It was impossible in such a state to be the slightest bit worried about anything they faced. She was thoroughly content, staring at the dynamo she had married as the sailors rowed them ashore, where a few armed men from the Order’s safe house in the port city of Calais were waiting with a carriage.

  Almost immediately, they were under way again, heading for the mysterious Madame Angelique’s establishment.

  The roads were not as smooth in France as they were in England because of damage from the war. But despite the bumpy ride, she slept like a babe in the carriage, leaning on the man who had pleasured her so deeply on the ship.

  As the horses trotted on through the night, Beau held her, brooding in his own thoughts. She was not sure how much time had passed when he caressed her head to wake her and told her they had arrived.

  Sitting up, she was still rather groggy as she looked out the window. Burning flambeaux lined the long drive up to an ancient, towered chateau surrounded by wrought-iron fences and a densely wooded park. The grand gambling hell and bordello had a palpable air of decadence and decay.

  “Egads, is this the sort of place your missions often take you?” she asked in a dubious murmur, staring at the building.

  “Sometimes.” Beau was giving his weapons a final check. Pistols under his coat. A dagger in his boot. “You’d be surprised at the information you can pick up.”

  “And the diseases, I daresay.”

  “You stay out of sight. I won’t be long. If there’s trouble, do whatever my men tell you.”

  She nodded. “I will. Be careful, darling.”

  “No worries.” He sent her a little salute with a rakish twinkle in his eyes after what they’d shared, then he headed into the chateau.

  Chapter 17

  When Beau entered the casino, the place was as loud, smoky, and profane as he recalled. He noted with surprise how he privately recoiled. It wasn’t so long ago that he didn’t even notice, let alone react to the dissipation he saw on every side.

  The tables were thronged with well-dressed people throwing their lives away on another roll of the dice. The vingt-et-un dealer shuffled the cards, while the roulette wheel spun. Ladies of the night tempted winners and losers alike with their wares. A sumptuous banquet was on offer in the dining room, where a fountain spouted champagne.

  He moved on in search of the establishment’s proprietress, passing a dimly lit parlor where a stage had been set up for tawdry theatricals. The whores, male and female, were making a display of exotic pursuits that involved leather bindings and the dripping of hot wax.

  Well, Madame Angelique had not survived the Red Terror by being squeamish, he thought, but she was a lady of information on a level that Carissa could never have dreamed of. The Order had often turned to the wily French businesswoman for intelligence. News crossed her premises from every corner of Europe. Of course, only a fool would trust her overmuch, for although her information usually proved reliable, she was perfectly frank about the fact that her only principle in life was cold self-interest.

  He spotted her from across the smoky card room in the back: jewels in her dark, upswept hair, her lips painted scarlet. She wore a tight black gown that plunged both in front and back, showing off a body that made it hard to believe she was a little over forty. But Angelique had survived the end of the world as she knew it on her powers of seduction, and so, understandably, had worked hard to preserve them.

  Lifting a champagne flute to her lips as she held court, she saw him coming from the corner of her eye.

  Beau saw her pause and blanch ever so slightly at the sight of him, and he instantly feared the situation with Nick must be worse than he had thought. For aside from the guillotine, nothing rattled Angelique.

  She had masked her momentary lapse of sangfroid by the time he bowed over her offered hand. Jeweled rings winked on her fingers, encased in black satin elbow gloves. “My dear Sebastian,” she greeted him.

  “Ma belle enchanteresse, always a pleasure,” he replied, dutifully kissing her on both cheeks.

  “What ever brings you to my humble establishment?”

  “Concern for a friend,” he countered softly. “We need to talk.”

  Her wary eyes narrowed. She gave her underlings a curt command, then turned to him again. “Very well,” she murmured. “Follow me.”

  She rose from her chair. Beau tracked her to an intimate alcove hung with red velvet curtains that stank of cigar smoke. With a gesture, Madame caused a nearly naked girl to bring him a brandy.

  “Merci, petite.” Beau took the cup and raised it to his hostess. “À votre santé.” He took a sip to show his trust. “Excellent.”

  She gave him a cool smile. “Only the best will do for my particular friends.”

  “I expect you know why I’m here.”

  “I wouldn’t dare presume.”

  He smiled at her. “What have you done to Nick?”

  She lowered her gaze, drumming her jeweled fingers on the table between them for a moment. “It is unwise to meddle in a friend’s affairs, mon cher. Someone could get hurt.”

  “So, it was you who put him up to this.”

  Her dark eyes flickered, but she must have realized there was no point in trying to fool him. She shrugged.

  “I have no shortage of enemies, and our Nicholas is so talented in so many ways.” The treacherous beauty flashed a knowing smile.

  Beau stared at her. “If he was in debt to you again, wasn’t it enough to let him work it off in your bed, like before?”

  She laughed gaily, but there was a hard note in it. “You know I have a weakness for you boys. I admit it. And he is a fierce lover, to be sure. Even when his heart’s not in it,” she added cynically. “He doesn’t even mind being restrained, which I recall you wouldn’t let me do . . .”

  Beau gave her an uncomfortable smile. Another reason why he had told Carissa to wait in the carriage.

  He’d give her one thing, though. The harlot knew her trade.

  “Nevertheless,” she continued, “I have always put business before pleasure. Cher Nicholas owes me a great deal of money, I’m afraid. So, I thought we’d try something new.”

  “So, you decided to get into the mercenary trade?”

  “I didn’t mean to. But about six months ago, I received some very annoying death threats.” She shrugged. “I let Nicholas handle my enemies for me, and he was so efficient at this, that I realized this could be a lucrative new venture for us both. You know I’ve done guns and artillery for years,” she said as she lifted her drink to her lips. She knocked back a swallow and said, “In the past, I’ve always offered the product. Never the service. It dawned on me—opportunist that I am—that starting with Nick, I could open a whole stable of bad boys willing to work for gold. I have the contacts. I get him work and take my cut as ag
ent—just like I do with my girls. He does the rest, and everyone’s happy.”

  Beau gazed at her while she tossed back a shot of brandy. “You’re a hell of a woman, Angelique.”

  She gave him a coy little nod as a thank-you.

  “So, has it been as profitable as you had hoped?”

  “Eh, new enterprises are always slow to start. One must be patient. Fortunately, it’s a dangerous world out there. Plenty of people need our help. But I have to be choosy about my men. Nick is rock solid, of course. I have yet to find his equal.”

  “Don’t expect you will.”

  She shrugged. “If they’ve got the inborn talent, the killer instinct, he can train them. He hasn’t much time for that, though. He’s just one man, but he’s been going at a steady clip since we started a few months ago.”

  Beau shook his head. “You know this is unacceptable to the Order.”

  “Nick has quit the Order, Beauchamp.”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” he whispered. “He’s in over his head. Do you understand the position in which you’ve put me, and him? He’s in England to kill someone. I can’t let that happen. I need to know about his current contract.”

  “You need to mind your own business, darling. This does not concern you. I’ve already told you more than I should. But you Order men . . . I am powerless to do aught but indulge you.”

  “Listen to me.” Beau leaned closer. “Virgil has been murdered—”

  “Yes, I heard. And I am sorry about that. I know how much he meant to all of you.”

  He paused, waiting for a cluster of people to pass by. “What you don’t know is that his death brought unwanted attention to the Order from within the British government,” he informed her in a low tone. “We now find ourselves under investigation by the Home Office.” He paused, barely able to believe the reality of it, himself, as he spoke. “They’re trying to paint us as dangerous, lawless, seditious. Exactly the way Nick is acting.”

  She stared at him in shock.

  It was the first time Beau had ever seen her look surprised. “Absurd!”

  “I know. But it’s the truth. I told Nick what was happening—he confronted me in London to tell me to stay out of his way,” he explained. “When I told him about the investigation, he just shrugged it off. His personal disloyalty to me aside, I am telling you, with this investigation going on, he cannot come into our country and carry out this mission and hope to escape the officials’ notice. He’s going to get caught, and when they find an Order agent behind the hit, that’s all the excuse they’ll need for them to hang us all. You’ve got to stop him. Call it off.”

  She studied him for a moment. “This investigation,” she murmured. “Are they behind it?”

  The Prometheans.

  Not even the powerful Madame Angelique dared to speak the sinister name in her own establishment.

  “Not that I have been able to learn,” he answered in a lower tone, glancing around. “There is some great gathering of them in Germany right now. Haven’t heard a peep from the lot of them in weeks.”

  “Nor have I.” She nodded a greeting to some newly arriving guests but did not summon them over.

  “I trust you understand now why you must call off the hit.”

  She stared at him uneasily. “I would if I could, Beauchamp. But I can’t.”

  “Don’t play games with me, of course you can! You must. If it’s a question of money—”

  “It’s not. I have no way of stopping him,” she murmured. “I don’t know where he is. He wanted it that way. He knows his business better than I do, so I agreed.” She folded her arms across her chest with a defensive shrug. “For security’s sake, he said we’d cease all contact until the job was done. He’ll be back when it’s finished for the other half of his pay. Until then”—she shook her head ominously—“I have no godly way of reaching him.”

  Beau cursed under his breath, unsure if he should believe her. “Then tell me who’s the target.” Maybe he could come at this from the other end—protect the intended victim, if he could not stop the assassin.

  “That’s not yet been revealed,” she replied. “The client told me to send my man to London, where he would receive further instructions. So I did.”

  “You’re telling me he agreed to do this sight unseen?”

  “What should he care? You know as well as I do it is not uncommon for information to be doled out only as needed,” she answered, bristling. “Besides, it was more money than either Nick or I cared to turn down.”

  He raised a brow.

  “Eight thousand. Half up front, half when it’s finished.”

  He absorbed this. “That is a lot of money.”

  Damn. This was all sounding worse than he had expected. Beau took another swallow of brandy. His mouth had gone dry with a veritable foretaste of doom. “Well, if you don’t know who the target is, what can you tell me about the client?”

  She gave him a wicked half smile and countered, “What can you do for me?”

  He heaved a sigh. “What do you want?”

  “I have some time tonight. It’s been a while.”

  “No, chérie,” he said, startled.

  “You turn me down?” she exclaimed.

  “I’m married.”

  “No—!”

  “Yes.”

  “No, you’re not!” she cried, amazed.

  “Yes, I am,” he answered, nodding. “That was Nick’s mistake, you see. He threatened my wife to try to stop me from coming after him. With that, he went too far. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Threatened your wife!” she echoed. “Well! My first hired mercenary certainly has a strong commitment to his mission. I’m so pleased.”

  “It’s nice that you can joke about it,” he said coldly.

  She shook her head at him. “I can’t believe you’re married.” Then she laughed. “So, who is she?” she demanded, and it was about then that one of her hired bullies came over and murmured something in her ear.

  Angelique turned to Beau with a look of astonishment. “You brought her here? He says you’ve got a woman in your carriage. Well, don’t be a boor, bring her in!”

  “Angelique, leave her out of this—”

  “I said bring her in,” she snarled. “I want to see her. I must see what sort of woman it takes to land an Order agent for a husband, of all things.”

  “She’s not coming in here. She’s a lady!”

  “Oh, and what am I?”

  “You know what I mean. She is an innocent.”

  “Really?” Her eyes flickered with bitterness at that word, but she smiled. “Then I truly must meet her. I have never seen one of those!” She turned to her hireling. “Bring Lady Beauchamp in. Through the side door,” she added. “Avoid going past the theatre. She is an innocent, after all,” she mocked him.

  “Fine,” Beau muttered, realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere by offending the fierce woman. He still needed answers, and besides, he thought, Carissa could handle it. “I have men guarding her. Tell them I approved it,” he instructed her servant.

  When the large fellow lumbered off to summon Carissa, Beau looked imploringly at Angelique. “Don’t speak of things that would be inappropriate for her. Please. I know life is unfair, but let someone be sheltered in a way you never were.”

  “You mean you don’t want me to tell her how we soaked my bed with our sweat that night?”

  He looked away.

  “Ah, well,” Angelique said at last in a philosophical tone. “I guess I won’t be having fun with you anymore. Not for a few years, until you’re bored, anyway. Then you’ll be back.”

  Don’t hold your breath.

  “At least there’s still Nick. And how is Warrington? Tell him to come see me. It’s rare to find a man who can really put me in my place,” she added with a wicked smile.

  “I’m afraid he’s married, too.”

  A string of indignant French curses poured from her lips at this shocking news.
By the time Carissa was escorted in, staring all around her with eyes as round as saucers, Angelique was in a full French pique.

  Beau stood, beckoning his wife over to the alcove.

  She looked at him in confusion, paused for a second to stare at Madame Angelique, then warily approached.

  “Lady Beauchamp, join us. Congratulations on your marriage. I am so happy for the both of you,” Angelique said in a tone as cold and tart as an after-dinner sorbet.

  As Carissa sat down beside him, she greeted Angelique in fluent French, telling her how pleased she was to meet a respected colleague of her husband’s.

  Her smooth response took Beau aback and seemed to mollify their annoyed hostess. Egads, the little Society lady must have taken the haughty madame’s measure in a glance.

  Intrigued by her cool response, Angelique saw fit to interview her. “So! You have married Beauchamp. How ever did you do it?”

  “I honestly don’t know. He just fell in with me,” she said with an idle shrug. “It’s far more impressive what you’ve built here—with no man to help you! Incroyable.”

  When Angelique saw that Lady Beauchamp was not an insipid aristocratic miss, after all, and would not be intimidated, but instead, played the polite game move for move with her, she lost interest in her sport.

  She gave Beau a begrudging nod of approval and finally divulged the information for which he had allowed his wife to be dragged into this decadent den of iniquity.

  “So, if we are quite through with the pleasantries, ladies, please, let’s get on with it. Who was the client?”

  “May I speak freely in front of Lady Beauchamp?” Angelique inquired in mystified amusement.

  Beau gestured for her to do so.

  Carissa sat very still, waiting. No doubt all her snooping senses were on high alert.

  “Who he came here representing, I do not know, but he was one of your countrymen. He said his name was Alan Mason, but only a fool would fail to use an alias when hiring an assassin.”

  “What did he look like? Any details you can remember.”

  “Hmm.” She furrowed her brow in thought. “He was rather an odd duck. Tall, thin, in his thirties. Dark-haired, with a mustache. Badly dressed, even for an Englishman.”