The sound of laughter preceded the arrival of others, and Gina slipped James’s jacket off her shoulders and shivered in the sudden chill. She gave it back and watched as he stood and shrugged it on moments before Bella and Charles appeared around the hedge. Why did she feel as if they had done something wrong?
Charles bowed to Gina before he turned to his brother. “Here you are, Jamie. We’re late for our appointment, and we ought to leave these good people to their evening.”
Bella shook her head in feigned disbelief. “I tried to persuade him that they were welcome to stay for dinner, but Charles would not hear of it.”
“Quite right. We are expected elsewhere,” James confirmed as he stepped away from the bench.
The men bowed, but before they departed, James looked at her, something unreadable in his eyes before he turned and disappeared along the garden path. A vague feeling of disappointment filled Gina at their departure.
Bella led her through the library doors and went to the console table to pour sherry into a glass and bring it to her. “I had no idea!”
Gina accepted the glass and took a healthy gulp. “Of what?”
“That you were in love with James.”
She choked, the sherry burning her throat. Love? Oh, to the contrary. She could barely endure his company. “You are mistaken, Bella. I am not in love with Mr. Hunter. If I am awkward in his presence, it is because I do not like to keep his company. He…he…saw me.” Indeed, he was a reminder of all she had endured. Of all she had lost. And that was what she’d been at a loss to explain to him mere moments ago.
Bella gave her a wise older-sister smile. “Perhaps that is why he is so drawn to you. ’Tis almost painful to watch him when you are in the same room. He cannot tear his eyes from you.”
“Because he imagines me naked! It…it is lasciviousness, Bella, and nothing more.”
“Truly?” But Bella looked doubtful. “He looked genuinely distraught when Mama announced she was taking you home to Ireland.”
Because he would have liked to waltz with her? She caught her breath at the sudden pain in her chest at the realization that, had things been different, had that night never occurred, she would have liked to waltz with him, too.
That night at the Crown and Bear tavern, Jamie Hunter rolled his eyes in disgust. “Good Lord, Charlie, you haven’t had that much to drink. Focus, man!”
Charlie grinned, a canny look on his face. “I’m not far gone, Jamie. I’m thinking of something else.”
“Someone else, more likely. Who is it this time?”
“The sweet little thing you just cast off. Suzette.”
“That was two months ago.” Jamie leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “But Suzette can make the blood boil, can she not? Alas, what will she do when you move on to another demirep? She’s damned near made a career of the Hunter brothers. You’re the lone holdout, Charlie.”
“Well, I am not holding out any longer. Suzette was saving the best for last. She is fond of the tall, dark and handsome sort.” He waggled his eyebrows at Jamie and chuckled. “I’ve seen the congé she has acquired from Lockwood, Drew and you. I’d be willing to wager she could retire if she sold those jewels.”
“Why would she retire when she has yet another Hunter brother to fleece?”
“I daresay you all got your money’s worth. I know I shall.”
Jamie shrugged. He couldn’t say why he’d tired of Suzette Lamont, only that he had. Though, when he thought about it, he’d reached that decision very soon after his family had become involved with the O’Rourkes.
He suppressed a shiver and came back to the conversation. “Just be a gentleman when you leave, Charlie. Suzette deserves that much.”
“Aye, she was so devastated when you left that she took up with a German not a week later. Ah, but she’s done with him now, and ’tis my turn.”
“Made a pauper of him, more likely. Watch your purse strings, brother.”
“Jealous?”
Was he? Perhaps just a touch. Suzette was skilled and had taught him much about pleasing a woman. And he was beginning to feel the effects of prolonged celibacy. The fleeting thought that perhaps he needed a woman to take the edge off his lust for Eugenia made him shake his head in disgust. He downed his whiskey in a single gulp.
This eschewing of mistresses was what came of being around his older brothers. They’d become domesticated so quickly that he could scarce believe it. Lockwood had taken to marriage like a duck to water. Andrew, a libertine to rival the worst, was now a happy house cat, curling by his fire with his favorite new toy—Bella.
Ah, yes, and here came the latest in a long line of newly domesticated tomcats. Devlin Farrell. A man whose slightest twitch had roused terror in seasoned criminals was now a well-contented newlywed who literally worshipped his wife.
“Gents,” he greeted them. “I see you started without me.”
Charlie laughed. “I have no doubt you’ll catch up, Farrell.”
Devlin signaled the barkeeper and a tankard of ale magically appeared. “I have no intention of catching up. Lilly is waiting at home. Wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”
Jamie snorted. He very much doubted Lilly would be disappointed tonight, or any other night if he was any judge at all. If there was no saint like a reformed sinner, Devlin Farrell would soon have his own niche at St. Paul’s.
After a long drink, Devlin answered their unasked question. “No sign of them, but I’ve confirmed they are still in the vicinity. Tell the secretary his information is wrong.”
“We suspected as much.” Charlie sat a bit straighter, as if he had suddenly shaken off the effects of the whiskey. “And is there, indeed, a price on Jamie’s head?”
“A rather large one.”
Jamie grinned. “How much am I worth?”
“Ten thousand pounds.”
Charlie whistled and rolled his eyes. “There should be at least a dozen takers at that price.”
“At least,” Devlin agreed. “But common cutthroats do not have the finesse to take our Jamie by surprise.”
Ten thousand pounds was, nevertheless, a daunting sum. Jamie shifted uneasily in his chair, taking the threat seriously for the first time. Who would come after him first? He held Devlin’s gaze. “Will it be the Gibbons brothers?”
The corners of Devlin’s mouth quirked. “They’re mean as snakes and will turn on you in a trice, but blast if they aren’t sometimes useful. They’ll do anything for money, though I don’t know what they do with it once it’s in their hands.”
“Wish they’d get a bath,” Charlie muttered. “Or buy some manners.”
“It’s a mystery.” Devlin shrugged. “They live in a hovel, never invest in a bar of soap, pick their clothes out of rag piles, eat garbage and even share their whores so they only have to pay for one. They must have a fortune amassed somewhere.”
“Two more pathetic creatures I’ve never seen.”
“Oh, I don’t know….” Devlin’s right eyebrow shot up as he glanced between Jamie and Charlie.
Jamie and Charlie burst out laughing and toasted each other as if to confirm Devlin’s analysis.
Devlin sat back in his chair and his expression sobered. “In view of the risk to you, Jamie, I’d like you to accept a bodyguard or two. I know just the men, and—”
“They’d get in the way. Make me conspicuous. And do not think to set them on me without my knowledge. I’d mistake them for bounty hunters and have to kill them.”
Devlin did not look happy. “I might have a lead for you. If you handle it with your usual skill, you could end this thing quickly.”
Jamie sat forward and lowered his voice. “What do you have up your sleeve, Devlin?”
“That night, at the ritual, when the charleys arrived and the brotherhood scattered down the tunnels, I recognized a few men. Some, you already know about. But I haven’t mentioned that I saw Stanley Metcalfe and Adam Booth. They looked confused and frightened and,
unless I miss my guess, that was their first time at a ritual, and is the reason I did not pursue them. They’ve kept their noses clean since, though.”
How like Devlin to keep that information to himself until it was needed. Until Metcalfe or Booth could prove useful. “And?”
“As the last men on the periphery of the brotherhood still free, they might be useful to you. Might have some information. One of them could be in touch with Henley. They might know his family and have knowledge of… Well, you can imagine how helpful they might be.”
If they could be trusted. And if they were still alive.
Jamie dropped some coins on the table and stood. “Get home to Lilly. And thanks for the tip. I’ll be looking for them tomorrow.”
Massive crystal chandeliers glittered multicolored shards of light across the room, laughter was shrill and the wine was free-flowing. The evening promised to be a huge success. Alas, Lord Auberville hadn’t been able to tell him who, precisely, had been invited to the ball, so Jamie concluded he’d just have to see for himself. Charlie left him at the door to find the card room and a game of whist, leaving Jamie free to wander the perimeter of the dance floor. With a nod here and a smile there, he acknowledged a few friends and acquaintances, but nary a sign of Stanley Metcalfe or Adam Booth. Had someone tipped them off?
He was thinking he’d take any Metcalfe at this point, and there, in answer to his prayer, was Stanley Metcalfe’s sister, Missy. Dressed in deceptive white, she was holding court in a circle of men. He wondered if she realized her popularity was attributable to the poorly kept secret that she granted certain…liberties, if one could get her alone in a garden.
He advanced on the group, knowing that most of the men would depart when the music stopped. The rest…well, he would just have to be quicker. He greeted the men, took Missy’s hand and bowed over it.
“Miss Metcalfe, you are looking especially lovely tonight.”
She twinkled at him and giggled. “How kind of you to say, Mr. Hunter.”
“Just giving you your due, Miss Metcalfe.”
The orchestra finished the set and one young man stepped forward. “I say, Miss Metcalfe, would you do me the honor—”
Jamie smiled apologetically at the young man. “Taken. I shall return her to you directly after.” He took Missy’s hand and led her away as she muffled yet another giggle.
“How naughty of you, Mr. Hunter,” she said as the next dance, a sedate reel, began. “I have no recollection of granting you a dance.”
“Then I must thank you for not giving me away.” There would be an unavoidable risk in carrying on their conversation as they met between steps, so he led her into the dance, waited until they met for a turn, and then tugged her toward the terrace doors.
“Oh!” She pressed one dainty hand against her chest when they were outside and the terrace door closed behind them. Her eyes widened in feigned innocence. “We really shouldn’t…”
He really wouldn’t. But Missy needn’t know that. “You break a man’s heart, my dear.”
She gave him a pretty pout. “What else am I to do? You dance with a girl now and then, and ignore her the rest of the time. Is that fair?”
“Fair? Oh, my dear, more fair than you can know. If I were to subject myself to your charms too often, why there is no telling what I might do. Perhaps I ought to take my pleas to your brother.”
“No need for that, Mr. Hunter. He would likely just refuse you.”
“Or he could give me his blessing to call upon you. Is he here?”
“No. He…he is keeping to himself these days.”
“Do you know where I might find him? His club, perhaps?”
“You’d do better to petition my father, sir, but he is ill at the moment, and not receiving.”
How coincidental that all the males in her family were currently unavailable. And suspicious. Something was being covered up, of that he was sure. “Is there no recourse for me at all?”
She moved closer until her breasts were pressed against his chest, and looked up at him with a sloe-eyed heat. “You could take what you want. I like men who take what they want.”
He groaned. What was the harm in taking what was freely offered? He spanned her waist with his hands and held her still as he tilted his head down to hers. “You are too tempting, Miss Metcalfe,” he said against her lips. When he deepened the contact and she moaned, he waited for the excitement, the rush of pleasure and anticipation. In vain. All he could think was that the rosewater she had splashed on was rather overpowering, and not at all like the stirring scent of Miss O’Rourke’s skin.
Fortunately, he already had what he needed from Missy—she did not know where her brother was. And she was not what he wanted.
He stepped back from her. “We must get you back inside before anyone notices you’re gone. I would dislike people talking about you.”
She stamped her foot in frustration and was about to protest when the terrace doors opened and her erstwhile swain appeared. Thank God they’d broken contact or Jamie suspected he’d be fighting a duel at dawn.
“Miss Metcalfe became overheated,” he explained. “Do keep her company whilst she cools down.”
He edged past the young man and into the ballroom. When he glanced back, Missy Metcalfe was watching him with consternation. He gave her a wink, thinking she could prove useful in the future.
Inside, he scanned the room before leaving, but stopped dead when he met deep hazel eyes at a distance. Could it be? Yes. Miss O’Rourke was standing between Hortense and Harriett Thayer, looking a bit bemused as one of the twins—he could not tell them apart—told a story. Eugenia was dressed in a pink confection that complemented her complexion perfectly. Her lustrous golden-brown hair was done up in a perfect cluster from which ringlets fell to dance below her shoulders. He tried to imagine how those ringlets would feel tangled between his fingers.
What the bloody hell was Miss O’Rourke doing here? Did she not realize she was at risk for as long as a single member of the brotherhood was on the loose? She was one of the few people left alive who could recognize them.
The sound of conversation was nearly deafening but Gina could barely hear it over the thundering of her own heartbeat. Even supported by the Thayer twins, she wondered what had ever made her think she was prepared for this.
Standing in the ballroom, she could not banish the thought that one of the men present may have been at the chapel that night. Someone who might have been a part of her abduction, had hoped to be a part of her ultimate shame and death.
She shuddered and forced the thoughts from her mind. She had known entering society would not be easy. She could not let that stop her. She was running out of time if she meant to have her justice.
Just as she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, her fears materialized. She glimpsed James Hunter in a group of revelers. James, who had been there. Who had seen her as nature had made her. But he, at least, had not meant her ill.
“Oh, look! There’s Missy Metcalfe.” Hortense nudged Gina in the ribs as she leaned closer to her ear. “Quite the little flirt, that one.”
Gina shook off her vague misgiving and chuckled as she thought of the pot and the kettle. Missy Metcalfe, whoever she was, would surely fall far short of Hortense’s skills.
Harriett, though, was a bit more sedate. Only a bit. “She prefers the company of men, Hortense. That does not make her a flirt.”
“No, Harri. It makes her a—”
“Hush! Do you want someone to hear?” Harriett pasted a smile on her pretty face and waved to the young lady in question.
“She is quite lovely,” Gina allowed.
Hortense turned and swept Gina’s form head to toe in an assessing gaze. “You needn’t worry, Eugenia. She cannot hold a candle to you.”
“Oh, but she is fair and lively while I am—”
“Dark and mysterious,” Harriett finished. “I can well picture young men hanging on your every word. And that gown! Pink becomes yo
u. You must make it your signature color.”
Gina smoothed the pale pink watered silk over her hips. The gown had been made for her not long after her arrival in London, and she had lost weight since then. It did not hang on her, but it gapped slightly at the scooped décolletage and Nancy had pinned a posy of violets there to fill the gap and save her modesty.
Hortense pinched her arm. “Upon my word! There is Mr. Hunter heading our way. Mr. James Hunter. Are you not somehow related, Eugenia?”
“His brother is married to my sister,” she confessed, searching the crowd for a sign of him as she experienced a pang of panic.
“How divine,” Hortense declared with a wink. “What I wouldn’t give to have such a man going in and out of my house. Do you often manage to encounter him?”
“Rarely.” As rarely as she could manage.
“Pity,” Harriett ventured. “He has a reputation to be envied amongst the ladies of the ton. There is scarce one who has not contrived to elicit a walk in the gardens with him.”
“Why?” she asked.
The twins giggled and Hortense answered. “You cannot have missed how handsome he is. Oh, those eyes make my knees weak! And I have heard it whispered—no, I will not tell you by whom—that he kisses like a fallen angel. Heavenly and naughty at the same time. How I would love to know how that feels.”
Gina closed her eyes, remembering how she had felt when he had carried her from the altar. Comforted. Safe. Mortified. But what would it have been like to let him kiss her?
She raised her hand to her throat where her scar was hidden beneath a wide pink ribbon to which a cameo had been fastened. Heat flowed through her, warming her blood and firing her imagination.
“Ah, well,” Harriett continued, “I would make the most of your connection. If you are seen on his arm, your reputation as a ‘desirable’ is made.”
Gina shook her head, not wanting to disappoint the twins. “Mr. Hunter has far more important things to do than ‘make’ my reputation.” Her stomach fluttered when a crooked smile quirked his mouth as he met her eyes.
He arrived before them, bowed to Hortense and Harriett, then turned his attention to her as the music began. “Our first waltz, Miss O’Rourke,” he murmured in a deep, intimate voice as he took her hand.
A Rake by Midnight Page 4
