Knowing that thought would niggle at his brain until he passed by Grosvenor Square and checked on the men he had deployed around the house there, he attempted to rise. The woman wriggled suggestively in his groin before he could bid her a fond goodnight but his attention was snagged instead by a well-known voice coming from the steps. He stopped. Bennett was descending and bidding farewell to one of the house girls.
One he’d obviously had no compunction in bedding. One that looked the image of Becca and similar enough to the one on his lap for them to be sisters. Another redhead with green eyes. And young, very young. Cayle shifted the girl sideways off his lap and moved to stand face to face before a startled Bennett.
“Bennett.”
“Sherwyn.”
Arthur visibly squirmed and glanced away. Then he straightened his back and turned to face Cayle. “I didn’t realise you were frequenting this establishment. Gossip says that your stepmama has your balls tied in knots. Rumour also has it that you must remain celibate or Julia — ”
“Enough. My personal life is none of your affair.”
Arthur erupted with an evil sounding chuckle.
“Ah, so I’ve found your Achilles’ heel, Sherwyn. Your delightful stepmother.”
“Once again, I will recommend that you mind your manners.”
“Or what, you’ll call me out. We all know your reputation at duelling.” He sneered again. “Or rather, your reputation at avoiding duels.”
Cayle seethed. He was a word away from lunging at the idiot and pound him into the floor but knew this was neither the time nor the place. He had no wish to read his name smeared across the London Tattler in the morning. No wish to create more distress for Becca.
• • •
Bennett’s shrewd glance took in the redheaded woman still clinging to Cayle’s arm. “Ah, I see now that your tastes mirror mine. Beautiful young girls with hair the colour of sunset.”
Cayle struggled to control his fury at the assumption they had similar tastes in harlots. He untangled the girl’s arm and moved away from the bottom of the stairs before he spoke.
“I haven’t been upstairs, as you have. Your present fiancée, the delightful Margaret, will undoubtedly be irked to hear you are still smitten with redheaded women. Ones who are the image of the woman you were going to marry before her.”
Bennett’s face turned a mottled red. During their schooldays, he’d been jealous of Cayle’s popularity, his wealth, and even his future title. Nothing had changed.
“Bennett, it has been confirmed for me by several of my sources that you are holding meetings here with both Baron Mitchell and Viscount Melrose.”
The man looked nervous. Scared even. But Cayle had no time to feel sorry for him. This spineless snake deserved all he got. He was a threat to the Jamison’s security. “The gentlemen I do business with are no concern of yours, Sherwyn.”
“I’m making it my concern because it has an effect on the Jamison family.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong.” He glanced around the room, checking they couldn’t be overheard. “All our dealings are fair and above board.”
“You do realise that the consortium, of which you are a member — ”
“You’ve no proof. Memberships are private.”
“I do have proof. On several occasions, your meetings with Mitchell and Melrose have been noted.”
“You’ve been watching me.” Bennett’s high-pitched voice sounded like the squawk of a bird fleeing for its life. The man was nervous, scared.
“I’ve had some men following you for days, Bennett. I’m only surprised that a man of the baron’s calibre has not discovered that already. Careless of him, wouldn’t you agree, to let his cohorts movements to be documented by the constabulary.”
Shock marred his face. “Constabulary. I told you I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“That remains to be seen. So, here’s my proposal. If you want me to remain quiet about your predilections to a certain type of paid companions, you’ll reveal all you know about the workings of the consortium.”
Bennett grabbed his arm and drew him to the side of the parlour. “I can’t do that, Sherwyn. You don’t understand how dangerous these men can be when crossed.”
“Believe me, I’m beginning to understand all too well. Those men have gone beyond threats to Lady Rebecca and her family. One of them murdered the woman who kept the ledgers for the society of women they aid. Peggy. I suppose you heard that. Someone broke in looking for information and she disturbed him. He hit her over the head with her own paperweight. Now, they are threatening to kill Becca, or one of her sisters.”
Bennett visibly shook when Cayle took a step closer. “I never meant for Rebecca to be harmed. I told Mitchell about the Jamison’s successes in investments in strictest confidence. I didn’t know he would go after Michael. But Michael Jamison has a very acute sense for future commerce. Everything he touches turns to gold.”
“Michael is the one doing this?” Cayle pretended confusion.
“Of course Michael. Who else? His brother is too young to be involved in enterprise and his sisters are well … ”
When he waved his hand vaguely, Cayle prodded him to continue. “His sisters are what?”
“They are women. Mere women.” Cayle nearly choked. This idiot had almost married Becca yet he had no idea as to her level of intelligence or what she and her siblings had achieved, with or without Michael’s input. Swallowing his instinctive defence of Becca, Cayle chose his words with care, not wanting to arouse Bennett’s suspicions.
“You don’t think women capable of reasoning out the intricacies of commerce?”
The fool looked askance at the suggestion. “You jest of course, Sherwyn. Everyone knows women are quite capable of running a household in an efficient manner. Nevertheless, real matters of finance are always handled by men.”
Smothering his urge to reach out and strangle this pompous ass, Cayle inclined his head in agreement. “Naturally a woman needs a strong man to guide her in everything but the most trivial of matters.”
Bennett visibly relaxed as Cayle conversed in a low-key fashion about the difficulties of dealing with females in general. Then Cayle led the conversation back to the Jamisons. “So, you and the baron are confident that Michael will agree to join your organisation.”
“Mitchell promised that by applying a little pressure, Michael would be forced to agree. Once he’s a member, he’ll reveal his secrets to the latest plans he is now finalising. In another two weeks, there will be new releases of many ventures at the Exchange. To make the best monetary gains, the syndicate wishes to be aligned with Michael. Recently, he’s been funding railways so the consortium is rather desperate to understand how he makes such accurate predictions. He’s preparing another prospectus and we wish to know in advance for which railway.” He nudged Cayle in a playful manner as he continued to hang himself on his own petard. “And what helps Mitchell, helps me.”
“How is that?”
Cayle endeavoured to keep his tone neutral when all he wanted to do was unleash the feelings of disgust that welled up inside him at the thought of this letch coming anywhere near someone as good as Becca. The swaggering show-off had imbibed enough wine, enjoyed such a pleasant interlude upstairs, that his mood had mellowed. Mellow enough that he treated Cayle like a friend.
“If I play my part to perfection, Mitchell will guarantee my income for life. Enough to keep a wife and as many mistresses as I desire in the finest of style.”
Although keeping mistresses after marriage was common, Cayle felt sickened at the callous way Bennett arranged it. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Margaret and what she was about to suffer during her marriage. He was so concerned with his thoughts, that he missed what Bennett was saying at first.
“ … and of course, I’ve asked before but she refused me. But soon, I’ll be enormously rich. So rich that she’ll be begging to become mine.”
“I’m a little confused. Are you referring
to your escort here tonight, the young redhead?”
“Heavens, no! My expectations are much higher than that. These redheaded sisters merely gratify immediate wants. No, I refer of course to Rebecca.”
Cayle wanted to hit him, to knock his arrogance into the street. He could barely speak as he repeated, “Rebecca! You expect Lady Rebecca Jamison to become your mistress.”
Bennett’s look was revoltingly smug. “Not at first of course. I will give her one more chance to become my wife — ”
“But you’re marrying Margaret.”
“Margaret is from a far better family of course. Which is why I decided not to marry Rebecca before. But now, with the influence her brother will carry once he joins the consortium, Rebecca’s consequence will be far more elevated. Enough that I’m once again willing to accept her as my wife.”
“You’re insane. Becca will never marry you after the way you treated her.”
Bennett laughed, a laugh tinged with the insanity that Cayle suspected lurked just below the surface.
“Sherwyn, you misunderstand. If Rebecca refuses to be my wife, she will become my mistress.”
“Rubbish!”
“Mitchell has assured me of her cooperation, one way or the other. They’ve promised to destroy the Jamison family’s income so Rebecca will be forced to welcome me, and my newfound wealth, with open arms. Thanks to you deserting her four years ago, Rebecca was the subject of much gossip. When the Jamison’s commercial expertise is exposed as a fraud by the consortium, the gossip will be worse.”
“So, that’s his plan.”
“An ingenious plan. Discrediting them personally will destroy them. This time, when I suggest to Rebecca that her best recourse is to become my mistress, she will agree.”
“You’re a blind fool.” He grabbed the other man’s lapels and shook him hard, wanting to do more violence but still trying to retain some control over his emotions. “Mitchell is no more interested in Becca’s future than he is in yours. Once the Jamison’s usefulness has expired, the consortium’s plan is to get rid of the entire Jamison family. And you.”
“Nonsense,” the fool blustered. “They need me. I’m a man of great importance to them.”
“I will repeat — you’re nothing but a fool. Once they have Michael’s predictions, the consortium will snuff out your miserable life without a second thought.”
He paled. “Your attempts to frighten me are worthless, Sherwyn. The baron will look after my interests. We’re associates, friends.”
“Bennett, we can assist each other. Your associates are going to be disclosed publicly, and very soon. If you help us, you may save your miserable hide from prosecution.”
He gulped, swallowed hard. “How?”
“We need to know what the baron’s next move is. Will he wait any longer for Michael to acquiesce? And be careful what you answer because Scotland Yard cells are not nice places.”
Bennett gulped again but nodded. “Very well, I’ll agree to carry out my own investigations as to the consortium’s motives. If I suspect things are not as Mitchell assured me, I will notify you. That’s all I’ll promise. But in return, I want your word that you’ll not reveal to Margaret, or Rebecca, anything you’ve witnessed here tonight.”
Cayle knew he needed Bennett’s assistance and his first hand knowledge of the baron and his cohorts. Nevertheless, trusting a man of Bennett’s low morals disgusted him.
“Agreed,” he spat out after a moment’s hesitation but managing to ignore Bennett’s outstretched hand. He might have to work with the man, but he could not bring himself to touch his hand. “But if it comes vital for their safety, I will tell them.”
Bennett wiped his hand down his pants and turned for the door at a fast pace. Cayle watched him scuttle off like the rat he was. The same girl who had been on his lap earlier sidled up to him followed by her sister.
“Your Grace, if you require the same things as Lord Bennett, you may have the two of us. He says that two redheads are even better than one, as long as we look and act as innocent as the woman we are substitutes for.”
“And do you know who it is he imagines you are?”
The two girls giggled, showing clearly their young age.
“Of course, Your Grace. In moments of extreme passion, he calls her name. Is that your pleasure as well? To imagine we are her.”
“No, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I want from you.” Cayle was furious with himself. He’d thought Bennett loathsome, yet he had almost done the same thing.
Gone upstairs with a girl who looked like Becca. Bed her and imagine that it was Becca writhing beneath him.
The knowledge that he’d stopped at the bottom of the stairs was no consolation. He turned to the door with his mind spinning. Never had he felt so out of control of his life, his emotions, or his desires.
He wanted Becca, and her alone. And he didn’t want Bennett anywhere near her.
Although, he had no inkling of what to do next, or how to proceed.
Chapter 14
At home at his Mayfair mansion, the Duke of Sherwyn slumped in the same chair Jenner had roused him from the first night Becca had come to see him. After doing the honourable thing and offering her marriage, he had nothing for which to feel blameworthy.
He groaned. Of course he felt guilt, and remorse, and shame. And more. Much, much more. What a mess he’d made of what should be for any woman a pleasurable occasion, possibly the most memorable of their lives. When reciting the practical reasons men, many men, had proposed to her, Becca had looked so vulnerable that he’d wanted to sweep her into his arms and promise her the moon. Shower her with the romantic gestures she deserved. Be the man she merited as her husband.
Regrettably for her self-worth, he’d proved himself to be just another arrogant man who assumed any woman several years past twenty and unwed should be grateful for any offer of marriage. Even an offer as cold and unsavoury as his had sounded. Another man conceited enough to assume she needed him more than he needed her.
Becca had asked if he loved her. Feeling love was a painful emotion he’d avoided since being banished by his father and cut off from his brothers. So, if what he felt for Becca was a simple case of neighbourly concern, friendship, for her and her family, why then did he ache inside?
When he was with her, he felt happy and at peace and he’d felt confident they’d deal well enough in the future to endure a marriage. Very few unions of people of their class happened for reasons of strong emotions, but rather for more practical concerns. It was irritating that Becca couldn’t see that. See that a marriage to him would benefit her, not harness her spirit.
For two hours he brooded, alternating between blaming himself for his poor judgment and lack of tact with annoyance over Becca’s ridiculously normal female reaction. Of all women he expected her, as a theorist, to view their relationship in a practical fashion and not romanticize it. All he knew was that he was so confused, perplexed and saddened that he had no idea of how to proceed, an unprecedented turn of events for someone as decisive as him. When his brothers joined him, he was well on his way to drowning his sorrows in brandy. Jenner muttered under his breath about the stupidity of youthful men who couldn’t see their noses in front of their faces.
• • •
Cayle glared at his brothers for disturbing his solitary melancholy. Brian poured he and Tony hefty slugs of brandy then threw himself into a nearby armchair. “You look like hell.”
Cayle merely glowered harder and snarled.
Tony took a second look at his face and murmured, “Ah, I see.”
Brian, always slower getting the point than quick-witted Tony, looked between his two brothers in puzzlement. “See what? What am I missing?”
Tony chuckled, relishing Cayle’s despondency. “At least now we know you’re human. Brian and I had worried that since your return you were imitating a block of granite. Unbreakable, unbending and above all, stone cold.”
“So glad my misery is amusing
you,” Cayle muttered, glaring at Tony.
“I’m offering no sympathy as I’m confident you’ve wreaked this havoc upon yourself,” Tony said. “You’ve no idea how to handle a woman of Becca’s — ”
“Don’t finish that!” Cayle stiffened, his hands slamming down on the arms of his chair. “I’m warning you.”
Tony laughed again. “I was merely going to say, her intellect.”
To Cayle’s irritation Brian caught on and joined in, both his younger brothers considering baiting their older brother fun.
“But Becca does have the most delicious body. Which you obviously don’t know how to handle either.”
Cayle’s growl rivalled a tomcat’s squalling.
“So what exactly have you done wrong this time?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Cayle said. “If you must know, I asked her to marry me.”
“And we assume by your foul temper, she had enough good sense to refuse you.”
Cayle pointed at Tony. “It’s entirely your fault that I proposed at all. You prodded me into it, saying she’d be safer under my protection.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Ah, but I said protection, not marriage.”
“Becca is a lady.” Cayle leapt out of his chair to grab Tony by the lapels, yanking him upright. “Not a mistress.” He gave Tony a little shake.
“So you didn’t follow up when she refused your offer of marriage with an equally mercenary offer of carte blanche?”
“No,” Cayle said, trying to keep control of his temper. “I didn’t ask her to become my mistress.”
Brian nodded sagely. “But you’d like her to be.”
Cayle couldn’t deny this and his brothers knew it. Every time he looked at her, he saw beds, sheets, bathtubs. He saw her naked and willing. It was driving him insane. He let go of Tony’s coat and his brother dropped back into his chair. Cayle ran his hands through his already tousled hair and shook his head in frustration before slumping back into his own chair.
Suzi Love Page 18
