Her eyes flashed. “No. You. Will. Not. I’ve made-” She swallowed hard. “Michael recently made a tidy profit on some investments. Our family is not short of coin.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” Having enticed his prey into the trap, the hunter moved in for the kill. “You, and your family, will purchase all the finery necessary to attend various social events as my future bride.”
“Absolutely not. If we must attend, it will be as family friends. We will inform people that you are kindly escorting my sisters in lieu of an available male family member. Not as your future anything.”
“Very well. I’ll make it known I’m courting you in an attempt to win your hand.”
“I said escorting. Not courting.”
“A fine distinction that doesn’t signify. I’ll arrange for all the necessary invitations.”
Her hands went to her hips. “I’ll need to see them in advance to decide which I’ll have time to attend. Pressing matters of finance for the women’s society require my attention.”
He ignored her and kept talking. “We shall be attending two events this evening. Then the Townsend’s ball on Thursday. Next of course, the ill-fated house party.”
“Impossible! We cannot be ready by tonight.”
“I’m sure that four industrious Jamison women can produce something suitable. I’ll collect you at eight. Don’t be late.”
To hide his smugly satisfied smile, he turned and strode to the door. His disagreeable friend had been so busy arguing the larger points that his small victory slipped past her defences.
He lengthened his stride, eager to escape unscathed. He’d dearly love to see the look upon her face when she realised he’d tricked her, but his life would be in peril.
“Oh, and Becca — ” He halted and turned to look over his shoulder at her, unable to resist delivering the last word straight to her face. “Any man that prefers either of your sisters over you, is a complete fool.” He waited, enjoyed her gasp of surprise. “And I … am not a fool.”
• • •
Closing the drawing room door behind him, Cayle raised a finger to his lips to silence the footman. Waited. Listened. A loud crash signalled a piece of china hitting the door. He hoped it wasn’t priceless. The language emitting through the wood panelling turned the rough-looking footman’s face red and he offered an apology.
“Lady Jamison shows a right foul temper when roused, Your Grace. She learned such language from doin’ business with them trollops. Most of a time, my lady is as cool as still-room ale, but ‘appenings in this ‘ere ‘ouse at the moment, be enough to try a saint.”
Cayle grinned. “By the sound of that — ” They flinched as another piece of china shattered. “I’d say I’ve provoked her ladyship beyond endurance.”
“Yes, Your Grace. You must ‘ave said somethin’ powerful provoking for ‘er to toss the china. Last time was a year ago after her papa went travellin’ and left ‘er ladyship with them unpaid bills.”
“I think Lady Rebecca just realised I bested her. I’m quite certain that doesn’t occur very often.”
“Lady Rebecca be the cleverest of the Jamisons, by far.”
The footman was far overstepping his position by confiding in a visitor, ducal titles withstanding. Yet from his observations, the Jamison employees behaved in as unconventional a manner as the employers. Nevertheless, they appeared loyal to a fault.
He couldn’t resist prodding further, “Cleverer than even her brother, Michael?”
“The Jamison men — not the old earl I don’t mean — may be at Oxford getting’ educations as befits gents, but our Lady Rebecca, she’s the one what attends to matters ‘ere. Thompson, our butler, he says the gentry fun our good lady for being so clever with her mind. Begging your pardon, I mean no offence, but some gents think a woman’s only good for two things.”
Before Cayle could stop him, the footman went on to explain a concept that was self-explanatory to any man who frequented low class inns. “In a kitchen, or on their backs, if you takes me drift?”
He groaned. “Yes, believe me, I do understand. But you think Lady Rebecca is destined for more?”
“Too right, sir. She talks to us ‘bout our wages. How to save it, like. And she ‘elped Thompson open a little sewing shop for ‘is wife.”
The footman opened the door and Cayle swung down the steps at Grosvenor Square, whistling a merry tune. He tucked away those fascinating snippets of information to ponder later.
Two weeks was ample time to investigate the consortium and lay charges if he uncovered any criminal activity. If a group of powerful men used blackmail or coercion to squeeze money out of innocent investors, he and his friends would delight in collecting enough evidence to hand them over to the magistrate. Under no circumstances could he allow the Jamison ladies to continue their dangerous inquiries, when he was able to settle the matter for them with little effort.
He’d be glad of this chance to repay the family, especially Becca, for past kindnesses. As a young woman, she’d allowed him more freedom to break free of his father’s constrictions, to laugh and be himself, than anyone else in his life. However, he was astute enough to recognise that one fiery bundle of energy in the form of Lady Rebecca Jamison may make a complete mockery of his careful planning. Her mind was a conundrum he itched to unravel just as the marauder in him ached to unwrap the lush body under her unorthodox packaging. It had startled him anew to realise just how small she was, with her unruly head of curls barely reaching his shoulder. Her vitality and constant energetic motion made her appear bigger, braver, and more capable.
She was as hot as a noonday sun and as sensuous as the most experienced girl at Madame Faberge’s brothel. Although, the extent of her understanding of the intimacies conducted in brothels remained up in the air because they hadn’t concluded that conversation. Upon reflection, he realised they hadn’t finished several discussions due to Becca’s practiced skill in avoiding direct answers.
With his head, he understood the need to exercise rigid control. One tiny slip and he’d fall under Becca’s spell as easily as her girlhood stories of woodland fairies and fire breathing dragons had captured his imagination in the past. In his heart, he knew reining in his emotions where she was concerned would prove difficult, if not impossible. His intention had been to state his case, order Becca to leave all the inquiries in his hands, and make a dignified exit.
He’d been a complete novice when his father had suggested, forcefully, that he’d be of mores use to the family trading and bartering on the continent than being embroiled in scandal in London. He’d resolved to prove all his detractors, including his father, wrong. Cowardice hadn’t been the reason he’s left England. Duelling for a crime he’d not committed would have proved nothing. Perhaps it would have pacified the viscount but neither his family, nor Becca, needed the scandal. But he was now experienced in economics and espionage. A gaggle of women would not best him.
By extricating himself from Becca’s situation as quickly as possible, the St. Martin name would be untarnished and his agreement with Julia honoured. Avoiding personal entanglements would be easy for a man of his experience. A feeling of foreboding sent a shiver up his spine.
He shook his head and groaned. It was too late. His mind and his treacherous body were already involved.
Now he merely needed to keep his heart intact.
Chapter 5
The Duke of Sherwyn whistled as he strode up the white marble steps of his Mayfair house. Jenner admitted him before he knocked, offering the information that his two brothers played pool in the games room and awaited his return.
Cayle managed to retain his smile as he enquired, “And where is the duchess?”
“Her Grace is partaking of a light luncheon in her room before paying afternoon calls. She has requested the carriage as she is dining out and attending a soiree.”
“Do you know where she is committed for this evening?”
“I believe they are dining wi
th Viscount Brimley. They shall then venture on to dancing at Mrs Simpson’s.”
“They? Who is escorting her tonight?”
“Your brothers have been requested to accompany the duchess in your absence.”
“Ah. I imagine I’m to be boiled in oil for not making myself available.”
Jenner nose lifted to indicate his extreme reluctance to become involved in family squabbles. “Her Grace appeared somewhat disturbed that Your Grace departed before she arose. I gather she expected to discuss the day’s activities with you over breakfast.”
“I can well imagine,” Cayle remarked with dry humour.
Six months into his marriage to Julia, their father had recognised his mistake. While the duke’s health deteriorated, Julia, her eyes firmly fixed on wealth and titles, increased her overtures towards Cayle. Yet, when the scandal with Sybila erupted, his father bowed to his wife’s whims and banished Cayle, forcing him to leave his home and his brothers. He could never forgive her for his years of exile, never forget that Julia was a social climber, albeit a beautiful one, who would walk across the backs of royalty if it would help her reach her self serving goals. Julia presented a front to society. An obsessively groomed lady of not many more years than his own age, with artfully arranged blonde locks bobbing beside her ears to give the artificial impression of youthfulness and sweetness. A woman who went out of her way to be pleasant, but only as long as the person she had selected for her attention could gain her something of importance.
Otherwise, her claws were sharpened on whomever happened to be in her road. He much preferred a woman with true spirit and motives. Someone to be trusted. Someone with red hair perhaps?
Striding to the billiard room, he pushed aside his niggling worries over Julia’s growing dependence on him, or more importantly on his increasing prosperity. After greeting his brothers with an amicable smile, they ensconced themselves around a small table to enjoy luncheon without the stifling presence of their stepmother.
• • •
When he’d returned, Brian and Anthony had barely recognised him. Cayle had become his own man, one no longer beholden to the whims of the old duke and his second wife. Stealth and craftiness had kept him alive and one step ahead of commercial competitors. Taking control had become second nature.
“Remarkable! You actually appear to be happy,” Tony said. “We despaired of you ever emerging from your dark gloom.”
“Huh! Have I been that bad?”
Brian, never known for his tact, blurted out, “We’ve been worried about you. And your sanity. With so much weight on your shoulders.”
“We were going to get you drunk. Or pay a light skirt to relieve your stress.”
Cayle’s mouth dropped open. His brothers were stunned when he burst out laughing.
“What’s so amusing?”
“You were saved the effort. A female visited me last night, here, in this house. And I thought that my two misguided, but well- meaning brothers, had sent her. I mistook her for a prostitute.”
“She wasn’t a street walker?”
He grinned and shook his head. “She was Lady Jamison.”
His brothers looked horrified.
“Which Lady Jamison?”
“The eldest, Lady Rebecca.”
“You mistook Becca for a harlot?” Tony demanded.
“But … ” Brian spoke at the same time. “But she’s a lady.”
“When she arrived,” Cayle said, “I was two sheets to the wind. She was wet and grubby and hiding under a hat. I didn’t recognise her.”
“Good Lord!” Brian said. “Hard to miss all that luscious red hair.”
“And those green eyes,” Tony added with a knowing grin.
He scowled, annoyed that his brothers could describe Becca in such detail. “When she removed some of her disguise, I realised it was her. After I agreed to help her with a small crisis, I sent her home. As discreetly as possible.”
“What sort of crisis brought her running to you after all this time?”
“More importantly,” Tony asked with a knowing smirk, “why at night?”
Pleased to have a chance to get his brothers’ opinions, Cayle explained the consortium’s threats. Tony studied at Oxford so he’d probably had recent contact with Becca’s brothers.
“Michael’s a good friend,” Tony said. “Good man to watch your back in a fight.”
Cayle raised a brow. “Fight? I thought you were at Oxford to learn.”
His brothers shared a glance before pantomiming their mock horror.
“God’s truth,” Tony said, “you sound exactly like our father. We thought our days of being lectured on the evils of wine, women, and gambling had died with the old duke.”
Brian shook his head. “For pity’s sake, Cayle, you’ve become old before your time. It’s not good for a man’s health, you know, to go so long without bedding a woman.”
“No women. I only have to keep Julia happy for two more months. By then, we should be in a better position financially. I’ll give her a generous allowance if she agrees to live somewhere else. Anywhere else.”
Brian sighed. “We appreciate your sacrifice, Cayle. We’ll be glad to be rid of Julia and her airs of importance. Though we hate having to strain the estate’s finances even further to be rid of the obnoxious woman.”
“Then pray that our ships arrive on time next month. And that their cargoes make us a large profit.”
“Then, good riddance to our scheming stepmother,” Brian muttered.
“I never understood why our father didn’t see through her lies.”
“At least, Cayle,” Tony said, “Brian and I needn’t worry about you making the same mistakes as Papa did with Julia. As you’re so determined to avoid women, no self-obsessed cow will be leading you around by the nose. As for me, I’m too smart to fall victim to a pretty face and an enchanting body.”
Brian smirked. “Ah. So you’re no longer accompanying me to Madame Faberge’s tonight, Tony?”
Cayle picked up on the name. “Actually, you’d be doing me a favour if you went there tonight. Apparently, Madame is a friend of Becca’s.
Brian spurted red wine across the tablecloth. “Friends.”
“I want to know when, and how, Becca met a brothel madam.”
“Most likely through Laura.” Brian grinned. “She’s outrageous. Always getting into scrapes. Then flaunts her beauty, those luscious dark looks, to convince some poor naïve gentleman to come to her rescue.”
Tony grinned. “Give it up, Brian. Laura won’t give a pup like you the time of day. Besides, Lottie’s fairer colouring is far more arresting.”
Cayle smiled. “You appear to know the sisters very well.”
Brian sighed. “My tongue nearly hits my boots every time I see the girls together. And I’m also partial to the tiny redheaded fireball.”
Cayle scowled. He didn’t like any man, even his brother, commenting on Becca’s looks. “Leave her alone.”
His brothers exchanged knowing glances. “It’s been less than a day and you’re as possessive as ever of Becca.”
“Not possessive. Merely ensuring she remains safe, as I promised Michael. My focus will be on stopping Julia from acting the bitch when she realises I secured the invitations the girls needed to this week’s balls.”
“What? No time to snatch a kiss or two from Becca?”
“I’m warning you — ”
Brian held up his hand, palm out. “Only teasing. Becca intimidates me. Though you’ll have other competition for Becca’s attention.”
“Who?”
The two were silent for a moment before Tony answered. “You were gone. Becca was vulnerable.”
Cayle scowled. “Michael told us that Becca was devastated when you left. She held her head high and tried to ignore the gossip.”
Cayle looked from Tony to Brian. “I heard at least twenty exaggerated versions of the story. But there’s more isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.”
“Christ! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because father forbade us from contacting you. Or to try to stop the gossip. He believed that if Becca was stupid enough to become your mistress, she deserved the stones people threw at her. Julia was so convincing in her stories of you sniffing around her skirts, father declared you a rogue of the worst sort. And Becca nothing more than a permissive slut.”
Cayle groaned and dropped his head to his hands. “I had no idea of the true situation. I thought that by leaving, no one would blame Becca and her reputation would remain untarnished. Seems I made a mess of everything. “He glanced up at his brothers. “You know I never would have dishonoured Becca and then deserted her. I did kiss Becca.”
His brothers raised their brows. “Fine. More than kissing. But nothing that would ruin her.”
“That’s why we defied father. Helped Michael squash the gossip before too much damage was done. But Bennett visited Jamison House. Leant Becca a shoulder to cry on. Became her staunchest supporter when others ostracised her.”
Bennett had always run with a wilder group than Cayle and had a reputation of using people, especially young women. His title, and influential parents, ensured that he emerged blameless after any unsavoury incident. The thought of Bennett following Becca chilled Cayle’s blood.
“Bennett appeared to be courting Becca, but Becca suddenly refused to see him. Refused to explain why. Michael believes Bennett offered carte blanche instead.”
“I’ll kill the bastard.”
“We think Bennett pressured Becca. Hard. Said she was ruined for marriage. But you know how hot-headed Becca can be. A few days after she argued with Bennett, he announced his betrothal to the daughter of country neighbours, Margaret Johnston.”
Suzi Love Page 7
