The Price of Pleasure

by Connie Mason

  Reed rose. “Time enough to discuss that later, Grandmamma. I need to recover fully first, have a chance to look up old friends and sample some of the pleasures London has to offer before I think about marrying. I’m off now to speak to Porter. By the way, Helen and her sister Violet are staying at the London mansion. If you need me, I can be reached at my townhouse.”

  “You’re not staying at the mansion? It’s yours now, you know.”

  “I know, but I thought it best to keep my own bachelor quarters as long as the ladies are residing at the mansion.”

  “Hmmm. As I recall, Violet Dewbury is an attractive woman. Her dowry is respectable, and she is eminently suitable. You could do worse, Reed.”

  “Please, Grandmamma, do not push Violet at me. I’ll choose my own bride when the time comes, and it won’t be Violet.” He paused. “I want to discuss Gallard Duvall with you at a later date.”

  Reed kissed her cheek again and took his leave. Whitehall was the next stop on his itinerary. He found Lord Porter’s office and was greeted by Mr. Wainwright, Porter’s secretary. Porter was in charge of a group of secret agents working within the Foreign Office.

  “Lord Porter has been expecting you,” Wainwright said. “Henry Dempsey is with him now, but I expect he’ll see you at the same time since you are both agents employed by the Crown.”

  Wainwright poked his head in Porter’s office and announced Reed. “Come in, Hunthurst,” Porter said. Wainwright held the door open for Reed to enter.

  Reed strode into the office, nodding to Dempsey as he shook Porter’s proffered hand. He was aware that Dempsey was part of the organization but didn’t know him well. Porter had told him once that Dempsey spoke flawless French, just as Reed did, and was operating in France. Apparently their paths had not crossed, for Reed had not seen him during his months on the Continent.

  “Are you newly returned from France?” Reed asked Dempsey.

  Dempsey appeared shaken and somewhat confused. Reed couldn’t imagine what was bothering the man. “I have been in England less than a fortnight.”

  Dempsey stuttered as he asked, “H-h-have you been ill? I remember you as being more robust.”

  “It’s a long story,” Reed said, unwilling to reveal more in front of Dempsey. Until he learned who had betrayed him, everyone was suspect.

  Porter must have sensed Reed’s reluctance to speak, for he said, “I believe you and I are finished here, Dempsey. I’ll contact you soon concerning your next assignment. I haven’t decided yet where your services are most needed.”

  Summarily dismissed, Dempsey bid the men good day and took his leave. Before he reached the door, he threw one last look back, as if something about Reed puzzled him.

  “I sensed you wished to speak privately to me,” Porter said, once the door closed behind Dempsey. “Have a seat. This promises to be a long and interesting conversation. Why don’t you begin with your apprehension and imprisonment?”

  “First, I want to thank you for leaving no stone unturned in finding me. Few people know about Devil’s Chateau. I truly thought I would perish in that hellhole.”

  “We looked everywhere for you and feared you were dead. If not for your grandmother, we might have given up.” He chuckled. “She threatened me, you know.”

  “I know, she told me.”

  Porter turned serious. “Explain how you were apprehended. You are too smart to make dangerous mistakes.”

  Reed’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I was betrayed, by someone within the organization. I’ve gone over this again and again in my head and it’s the only explanation. If Peter Weldon hadn’t been so thorough in his search, I would not be alive today.”

  “Betrayed? Are you certain of this? Very certain?”

  “There is no other explanation. I was living in a small flat in Paris, mixing with the local citizens and gathering information about troop movements and such. No one suspected a thing. When I was arrested, the soldiers addressed me by my real name during interrogation. How would they have known my name if an informer hadn’t supplied it? It’s obvious that a double spy is working within our organization.”

  “A double spy, you say? I cannot imagine it, but rest assured that your claim will be thoroughly investigated.”

  “How did you come to recruit Lady Fontaine?”

  “I knew her aunt and recalled she had a niece who had married a Frenchman. When I learned Lady Fontaine had lost her husband and was still in France, I asked Weldon to find her and recruit her to our cause. We owe that courageous lady our thanks for bringing you and two other operatives out of Devil’s Chateau.”

  “We owe her more than we can ever repay,” Reed replied. “She is the reason I am standing here today. I was more dead than alive when she located me.”

  “Weldon’s communication told me you were in a bad way, but I didn’t realize how greatly you had suffered. Did you learn anything helpful to our cause after you were incarcerated?”

  “No, there’s scant information available in Devil’s Chateau. It’s considered a place of no return. If not for a greedy guard and Fleur Fontaine, escape would have been impossible. There are now three anonymous graves outside the prison that supposedly bear our operatives’ bodies.”

  Porter’s gaze bored into Reed. “Were you forced to divulge any classified information under torture?”

  “You insult me, Porter,” Reed retorted. “I gave up nothing, not even my name, though they already had it.” He fell silent, fighting the demons conjured up by talk of his ordeal. “Shall we change the subject? Thinking about Devil’s Chateau is something I would rather avoid. I am home—that’s all that matters—and ready for a new assignment.”

  Porter searched his face before letting his gaze slide over Reed’s thin form. “You have outlived your usefulness to the organization, Hunthurst. I wish it were otherwise, for you are a good man and have served us with honor and courage. Nevertheless, your cover has been destroyed. I suggest you devote yourself to the earldom. Rest assured, however, that I won’t hesitate to call on you should your services be useful to us in the future.”

  “So it’s over for me,” Reed said with a hint of sadness.

  “I fear so.”

  “What about the traitor? He needs to be caught before another good man is forced to go through what I did.”

  “Agreed. Every resource at my disposal will be used to smoke out the traitor.”

  “There’s one more thing I wish to discuss,” Reed said. “I am concerned about Fleur Fontaine’s safety. Each day she remains in France increases the danger of her being caught. She’s appeared at Devil’s Chateau three times under the persona of the Black Widow. It cannot go on. You must bring her home immediately.”

  “You understand, of course, that it was Lady Fontaine’s decision to undertake this assignment.”

  “I understand her reason for agreeing to work with Weldon, but that still doesn’t excuse you for keeping her in a dangerous situation. The occupants of the cottage are already under suspicion. Fleur and I had to hide while French soldiers searched the area. You should have insisted that she leave France.”

  “Actually, I did. After I was informed that you had reached England safely, I sent word to Weldon about her removal to England. The last communiqué I received from him said that Lady Fontaine had one more mission to complete before leaving France.”

  “And you allowed it? You condoned her recklessness?” Reed exploded, leaping to his feet. “Who is the man she is to rescue? I thought all the operatives in France were now accounted for.”

  “Indeed they are. From the scant information Weldon relayed to me, this rescue is personal.”

  “That’s it!” Reed exclaimed. “I’m returning to France.”

  “You will not! And that’s an order. I don’t want your grandmother on my back again. She’s a veritable tigress. Besides, Weldon is there to look after the countess. If anything goes awry, he will protect her.”

  “Porter, I . . . ”


  Porter raised his hand. “Say no more. Look at you. You’ve scarcely recovered from your incarceration. Go home and see to your health, Hunthurst.”

  Reed left Porter’s office in a rage. One more rescue could prove fatal for Fleur. What was she trying to do, commit suicide?

  Still fuming, Reed made his last visit of the day to his tailor on Bond Street. The tailor welcomed him warmly, and together they chose material for his new wardrobe. By the time he had been measured for clothing to fit his thinner figure, it was tea time, and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He thought about going home but decided to have tea at White’s first. He needed the company of old friends to take his mind off his frantic worry about Fleur. If there were some way he could protect her, he would move heaven and earth, but he couldn’t think of a damn thing to do.

  “Reed Harwood, where have you been keeping yourself?” a man greeted him shortly after he entered the staid establishment. “Forgive me, old man, I should have said Hunthurst. Your brother’s death came as a shock to all who knew him.”

  Reed didn’t want to talk about Jason. His death was still a raw wound. “I’ve spent the last year rusticating in the country,” Reed lied. “What have you been up to, Tolland?”

  “Mostly I’ve been trying to keep one step ahead of matchmaking mamas casting their lures out for me.” Viscount George Tolland chuckled. “Your title and single status will put you in the same league as the rest of us trying to escape the parson’s mousetrap. Are you in town looking for a potential bride?”

  “I’m not ready for marriage,” Reed acknowledged, “even though Grandmamma has a bevy of debs lined up for my inspection. I’m off to the dining room, Tolland. Will you join me?”

  Tolland stroked his smooth chin. “Actually, you look like you’ve been starving yourself, old man. You haven’t been ill, have you?”

  “I’ve been perfectly well, thank you. Will you join me or not?” Reed asked, hoping for company to distract him.

  “Another day. I have to call on my mother. She wants to lecture me on my duty to provide an heir. I’ll call on you soon. Perhaps we can visit some of our old haunts together.”

  When Reed could not spot any other acquaintance, he ordered a light repast to take the edge off his hunger and then left the club. On his way home, he made a courtesy call at the Hunthurst mansion, relieved to learn that both Helen and Violet were out for the day. The less he saw of Violet the better.

  When Reed returned home, he was introduced to the new servants: Williams, his new butler; footmen Holmes and Gordon; maids Lil and Peg; and Mrs. Wickham, the new cook. Then he enjoyed a long bath in the brass tub and partook of an excellent dinner of roasted lamb, potatoes and assorted vegetables followed by a fruit cobbler with crust so flaky it melted in his mouth.

  “Will you go out tonight, my lord?” Updike asked.

  “I believe I will. I intend to visit a few of my old haunts. It’s been a long time.”

  Dressed in ill-fitting evening wear, Reed left the townhouse and rode Ebony to one of the gambling establishments he had frequented in the past. He found a place at a gaming table and greeted the men, pleased to see that some were friends from his carousing days. But as the play progressed, he realized he was no longer the devil-may-care rogue who lived to gamble and womanize. The old thrill of the game was missing.

  About the time Reed decided to go home, Gallard Duvall showed up. He spotted Reed at the gaming table and came forward to greet him.

  “We meet again, my lord. How are Lady Helen and Lady Violet? Did they accompany you to London as they planned?”

  “Hello, Duvall. The ladies did indeed accompany me to London.”

  “Then I will make an effort to visit them. Are you all staying at the Hunthurst mansion?”

  “Only the ladies; I am quite happy at my bachelor quarters for the time being. Are you enjoying your stay in London?”

  “Oui, very much. I met a group of émigrés like myself and attend salons and such with my fellow compatriots.”

  “I’m happy things are working out for you.”

  After a time, Duvall wandered off. His eyes narrowed, Reed watched him leave. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to trust the man. His appearance at Hunthurst Park was suspect. He would definitely bear watching in the future.

  Shortly after midnight, Reed excused himself and left. He’d rather spend one night with Fleur than a thousand nights gambling and taking his pleasure with the nameless, faceless women he had enjoyed in the past.

  Who was the man Fleur was attempting to rescue this time? Reed wondered. Porter had said it was personal. The man must mean a great deal to Fleur. Jealousy struck deep in his gut. He’d never felt jealousy before, but now it raged through him like an untamed storm.

  After a good night’s sleep, Reed spent the next day taking care of details associated with the succession. By the time he left the bank and finished with Jason’s solicitors, he was legally and irrevocably the new Earl of Hunthurst. When he returned home, he found a note from Helen, asking him to escort her and Violet to the Washburn ball two days hence. While checking the rest of his mail, he found an invitation to the Washburn ball in addition to several other soirées to be held over the next few weeks.

  As Earl of Hunthurst, it was his duty to attend at least some of the entertainments provided by the ton. He supposed the Washburn ball would be a good start.

  The first of Reed’s new clothing arrived the following day. Thus, when he picked up Helen and Violet on the night of the ball in his recently purchased carriage with a newly hired driver holding the reins, he was decked out in the latest London style: tight-fitting black breeches, blue waistcoat, silver brocade vest with an abundance of lace spilling from his sleeves and neck. He disdained a wig and wore his dark hair tied back with a black ribbon.

  Helen wore black, of course, embellished at the neck and sleeves with lace. Violet had chosen a pale yellow gown, close fitted, cinched under her ample breasts and dampened, making it nearly transparent. Although other ladies were similarly garbed, they seemed indecently exposed even to Reed’s jaded tastes.

  The moment their names were announced, Reed became the center of attention. His newly acquired title and social status made him fair game for every young girl looking for a titled husband. Reed led Violet onto the dance floor first. After two more dances with giggling young women who seemed unable to put two sentences together, he retired to the card room.

  When it came time to leave, Helen rode home with friends, leaving Violet and Reed alone in the carriage.

  “We don’t have to return to the mansion, Reed,” Violet purred. “I would love to see your townhouse. Helen won’t mind. She approves of a match between us, you know. No one cares if we anticipate the wedding.”

  Before Reed guessed what she intended, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled down his head and kissed him. As quickly as possible, Reed removed her arms and set her away from him.

  “Behave, Violet. I have no intention of wedding any time soon. You’re wasting your time on me. Set your sights on someone who will appreciate your efforts.”

  Violet snuggled closer. “Make love to me, Reed. I know how to please a man. Let me prove how good we can be together.”

  Reed didn’t want Violet, not even for a brief affair. Mentally, he shook his head. Brief affairs were all he had ever wanted in the past. Had imprisonment in Devil’s Chateau addled his brain? He had joined Porter’s organization as a lark, tired of the London whirl, gambling and ladies who weren’t really ladies. Now he could barely stomach the thought of bedding the parade of women vying for his attention. What had happened to him?

  The answer came to him in a blinding flash.

  Fleur had happened to him.

  What in bloody hell had she done to him?

  Chapter Eight

  Reed spent the next few weeks trying to find his new place in Society. He even agreed to squire Helen and Violet to a few events, which he found boring in the extr
eme. It was difficult to reconcile his new position in Society with the exciting life he had led as a spy.

  Reed had even begged Porter for a new assignment but had been denied again. According to Porter, Reed was no longer of value to the agency. Reed believed the real problem was that Porter feared going head-to-head with Grandmamma if anything should happen to her grandson.

  Violet’s machinations to get Reed to propose were becoming more and more blatant. To avoid her, he began frequenting the gambling hells. When that palled, he tried some of the better houses of pleasure, where he invariably looked over every raven-haired beauty and in the end chose none of them. A few reminded him of Fleur, but none of them was her, and so he left, unsatisfied and wanting.

  Reed’s old carousing buddies now seemed like strangers to him. None had gone through what he had. None knew what living in hell felt like, nor had any of them wished for death as fervently as he had. More often than not he felt isolated and alone. No one could understand what he had gone through. No one knew about the demons plaguinghim or the memories that left him deeply disturbed. Only Fleur had understood.

  Reed had visited Porter on numerous occasions since his return, each time prodding the director to get Fleur out of France and find the man who had betrayed him. Each time he had been told that Fleur had been contacted but had asked for time to accomplish one more task. As for the traitor, Porter said he and his colleagues were working on it. Dissatisfied with the answer, Reed decided to find the traitor himself.

  A few days after his last visit to Whitehall, Reed received a summons from Porter. Reed’s hopes soared. His first thought was that Porter had changed his mind about using Reed’s expertise as a spy. The second was that they had caught the traitor. There was a spring to his step as he was shown into Lord Porter’s office a short time later.

  “Thank you for coming so soon,” Porter greeted him.

  “Dare I hope you have an assignment for me? I’m bored to distraction.”

  Porter stood and paced to the window. He whirled around and said, “I have chosen you for this assignment because of your apparent interest in Fleur Fontaine.”