Return to the House of Sin

by Anabelle Bryant

  Once a man of better means with a modest dwelling near Southwark Bridge, Stokes had fallen from favour rapidly. Crispin came by this history as he knew most every bit of societal news, his sister’s attention to propriety, and, too, Crispin had attended university with Stokes years prior.

  Like many, the man wasted away his future, in too deep and addicted to a game which by its very nature warned participants to beware. Hazard. The activity couldn’t announce its peril in plainer terms.

  Crispin approached the public house now, his mind quick to recall his own fall from grace with pristine clarity. Tormented by emotion and anger, he’d also fallen prey to Hazard’s ironic, if not ominous, forewarning and squandered away sum after sum until he was indebted to his eyebrows. He’d left London directly after. Resolving his debt was the first half of his purpose. Now Stokes had interrupted his plans for the second half with dangerous and outlandish schemes for revenge. Stokes’s not-so-subtle threat to Amanda’s safety fuelled Crispin’s anger most of all.

  Avoiding the mangy mutt who lay prone in the hall, he knocked on the door of unit twelve, as directed by a skinny lad at the front in need of coin. Crispin waited for Stokes to answer. Tension and unrelenting physical need hummed in his bones, prompted by his inane desire to see, kiss, feel Amanda. At least he could expend energy if Stokes needed another reminder and they came to fisticuffs again.

  But the man did not answer.

  Frustrated with his failure to track Stokes’s whereabouts, Crispin decided he’d need to confront Amanda’s father, the Earl of Huntingdon. If Amanda was in danger, her father must be informed despite the conversation would cast further pallor on Crispin’s already-tarnished reputation. Perhaps it was exactly what was needed to at last destroy the hopeful ideas which showed unmanageable resilience. Whenever Crispin allowed it, which proved too often for his own good, he dared entertain thoughts of courting Amanda and sharing a joyful future. Yet that notion, like many others, was better kept discouraged.

  Chapter Twenty

  Insufferable man.

  Infuriating, obstinate, impossible man.

  Amanda slid from the saddle, handed the reins to the stablehand, and stomped out of Ladybird’s stall. She relished every crunch and scuffle of gravel beneath her boot-heels, having reached her limit with Crispin’s tomfoolery, risking her safety and, more importantly, her heart on a wager that couldn’t be won. Perhaps he truly was the rakish bastard he proclaimed to be. Hadn’t he told her as much the first day they’d met? She clenched her eyes to erase the ready image of Crispin standing before her while she remained squeezed inside the closet. He might have grown angry or brought her directly to the captain; instead he’d teased her and called her a mouse. No doubt, she came out of the closet so easily because she’d melted once her eyes took in his handsome features.

  Still, he cared not a whit for her feelings. Never mind he’d touched her intimately without consideration or consequence.

  She faulted herself. And her foolish heart. And the ill-conceived notion they’d created some kind of bond between them that transcended friendship. What that could be, she wouldn’t examine too closely. Still, it didn’t lessen how she reacted to his kiss or how his smile turned her all fluttery inside.

  She pushed the door open and entered the kitchen at the back of the house, straight into the bustle as the cook and two maids prepared breakfast trays relayed into the waiting hands of the footmen.

  ‘Finally.’ Raelyn appeared from nowhere. ‘You’re just in time. Well done.’ She clasped Amanda’s hand and tugged her through the door. ‘If you take your seat, Father will be none the wiser. Hurry. He’s on his way downstairs now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Amanda squeezed her sister’s fingers before she slid into place at the table.

  ‘I hope it was worth it.’

  ‘Oh, it was.’ She reached for the bread basket and busied herself with the jam pot so as not to reveal her true emotion. Her sister missed very little. ‘Positively elucidating.’

  Infatuation was a fool’s condition and one she must purge from her soul beginning this very minute. Left in its wild and reckless state, who knew what could happen? Wasn’t she striving to establish a more demure mien? To stop making foolhardy mistakes? She intended to marry and have a large, lively family. No respectable gentleman would consider her if she continued to find embarrassment and chaos at every turn.

  And besides, the Frankley soiree required her undivided attention.

  ‘Good morning.’

  Father entered and the usual breakfast banter ensued. Of course, no one knew of the relentless ache in Amanda’s chest, her heart slogging to keep a beat. Otherwise it appeared a typical Beasley morning.

  That was until Aunt Matilda’s voice echoed in the hall, followed by a lower baritone which swept over Amanda’s skin in a wave of gooseflesh. She didn’t have time to react further. Not a word ebbed from her lips, though she gripped the damask tablecloth like a towline in a storm.

  Her father cleared his throat in usual fashion whenever he prepared for the typhoon-like force of his dear sister, and Amanda registered the sound on a different level altogether. Truly, she was sinking.

  The voices approached and Aunt Matilda entered with Crispin on her arm. The unexpected sight shot Amanda to her feet. Unfortunately, she still held tight to the tablecloth. Tea spilled, dishes crashed and a candelabrum or two may have tumbled. Because, before anyone could remark on the startling appearance of the newly arrived guests, all attention was dedicated to extinguishing any chance of fire. Luckily, the tea-doused linen served as poor tinder.

  The incident distracted from her aunt, escorted by the same man Amanda had discreetly dismissed an hour before. A man she’d vowed to forget for fear he’d set her soul aflame and she’d perish to ashes.

  ‘Never mind the mess, Amanda.’

  Always quick to defend her, her heart blossomed with love for her father.

  Footmen set about in a flurry to discard and reset the breakfast table. The clatter of china and clink of silver consumed the room for several long minutes. At last, when the table was restored to order, conversation became unavoidable.

  ‘What’s the meaning of this, Matilda?’ Huntingdon brought the room to attention.

  ‘Oh, hush.’ Matilda pressed a kiss to Amanda’s and Raelyn’s cheeks in turn. ‘Society’s rules don’t apply to family. I invited Lord Hastings inside. We both arrived to your doorstep at the same time.’

  Huntingdon turned a sharp eye in Crispin’s direction.

  ‘Pardon the interruption, Huntingdon,’ Crispin interjected. ‘Lady Beasley is in no way accountable for my intrusion.’

  Who was this dashing gentleman? The same man who this morning gripped her bottom through her skirts and pressed his hard length to her belly. Her skin heated. Damn her vivid memories. Damn the insufferable man.

  ‘What is the meaning of a visit at this early hour?’ There was no mistaking the thunderous response from where Father stood at the head of the table.

  ‘I regret disturbing you, but I’ve come with an urgent matter.’ Crispin’s eyes strayed to Amanda and back. ‘May I speak to you privately?’

  Amanda watched the interplay with rapt attention. She had no idea what unfolded before her but she didn’t wish to miss one word, which was why Raelyn’s kick beneath the table caught her unaware. She scowled at her sister, who placed her left hand on the tablecloth and wiggled her fourth finger. Raelyn clearly interpreted the scene incorrectly.

  Amanda flared her eyes in a silent message meant to stifle her sister’s ridiculous assumption and sent a prayer skyward Crispin didn’t notice Raelyn’s gesture. At least her father’s scrutiny never strayed. The two men were locked in a heavy stare.

  ‘Go ahead, Huntingdon, I’ll keep the girls company.’ Matilda took a seat at the table and the earl moved towards the door with Crispin a stride behind.

  Crispin followed the Earl of Huntingdon down the hall and into a spac
ious study. When the earl sat behind his desk, Crispin took the chair before it and mentally prepared for a difficult conversation.

  ‘I know why gentlemen arrive at strange hours and request to speak to fathers and the like, but I’m confident something else brings you here. I warned my daughter away from you and I believe she’s obeyed. Therefore, let’s get on with whatever troubles you. What has instigated this visit?’

  ‘I have reason to believe Lady Amanda may be in danger.’ A direct, frank discussion seemed the best route. And he needed to have the words out of his mouth.

  ‘Danger. You’re the danger. You attract more danger than my daughter ever courted.’ The earl stood up, his fists on the desk as he leaned over with a severe glare. ‘What have you involved my daughter in, Daventry?’

  ‘Wait. Amanda is unaware of the danger and I’ve not involved her in anything nefarious.’ Crispin stood as well, uncomfortable with the disadvantage. ‘It might be nothing, but I wouldn’t take the chance with her safety.’

  ‘You’re the danger.’ Huntingdon rounded the desk. ‘I know all about your poor judgement. You need to fix whatever you’ve caused that presents harm to my precious daughter.’ He arched a brow in keen assessment. ‘Unless you’re here because your irresponsibility requires assistance. What exactly are you embroiled in?’

  Crispin anticipated the questions. No dutiful father would ignore the possibility of maltreatment to a family member, yet he struggled to find the words necessary to explain. ‘Indulge me a moment, Huntingdon.’ He sat and took a deep breath before he began. ‘There’s a man named Stokes who wishes to cause trouble at a gaming hell called the Under—’

  ‘I know what it’s called.’ Impatience made the earl’s words sharp.

  Crispin cleared his throat and continued. ‘Through my past association with the hell and Stokes’s knowledge of my experiences there, he seeks to enlist my help in a combined effort, an offer I’ve refused repeatedly though the man is not so easily discouraged.’ He recalled the thrashing he’d given Stokes outside the hell, surprised Stokes persisted. But the man was desperate and Crispin knew well the convoluted decisions desperation encouraged.

  ‘And?’ The earl approached, restrained anger in his eyes.

  ‘Stokes saw your daughter in my company and I’m concerned he’ll pose a threaten to Amanda in an attempt to persuade me to join his vengeful plan.’

  The earl’s brows shot high at the use of Amanda’s Christian name, but at this point Crispin considered that the least of his sins.

  ‘I won’t ask you the how of this or why my daughter kept your company. Those are questions for Amanda to answer.’ Huntingdon moved behind his desk, opened a drawer and withdrew a sheaf of paper. ‘Do you know where Stokes lives? I’ll contact the best runners in London and be done with this threat.’

  ‘It may not be that simple, but I’ll tell you everything I know.’ Crispin cleared his throat and adjusted his position in the chair. ‘I would never purposely cause harm or bring danger to your daughter.’

  ‘You already have.’ Huntingdon reclaimed his seat. ‘If it’s money this thief is after, I can pay a handsome sum.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t. With respect to your offer, that’s the wrong way to resolve this. Stokes will bleed you. He’ll continue his blackmail, each time insisting on more.’ Crispin rose and opened the inkwell on the earl’s desk, ready to set to the task. ‘I’ve created the problem and I’ll resolve it. I’ve come here today to take every precaution and will keep you closely informed.’

  ‘Very well, but know this…’ Huntingdon rose with a pensive stare. ‘You’re on borrowed time. Make it happen or you answer to me.’

  ‘What is this all about, Aunt Matilda?’ Amanda closed her eyes and opened them slowly, wishing the recent scene would prove a bad dream. Why would Crispin come to her home and request to speak to her father? He’d dismissed her this morning and she’d promised herself to discard any notion there could be heartfelt emotion between them, and now this.

  ‘We truly met by coincidence. Lord Hastings needed to speak to Huntingdon. I have no idea why.’ She smiled a wily grin Amanda and Raelyn knew with familiarity. ‘As far as any other plans between the charming gentleman and myself, I don’t see the need to divulge complicated information.’

  ‘So, he’s not offering for Amanda?’ Raelyn’s face fell with disappointment.

  ‘You’re clearly more disappointed and disillusioned than I.’ Amanda dabbed at her skirt, the tea stain forgotten in all the commotion. Her brain dared to conjure the same scene when she’d worn a ruined yellow gown aboard the ship, but she wouldn’t allow the memory.

  ‘In due time, I’d imagine,’ Aunt Matilda said with a smile in her voice. She rose and made herself a plate. ‘It’s easy to see the man’s besotted. But whatever he has on his mind this morning is equally important and apparently serious.’

  How Aunt Matilda had become an expert on Crispin’s intentions, deciphered his purpose and formed her convoluted comment, remained to be discovered.

  ‘I’m sure you’re mistaken.’ Amanda looked at her plate, her food untouched. ‘At least in consideration of the romantic part.’

  ‘We shall see.’ Matilda sat and turned to Raelyn with a devious grin. ‘These things can’t be rushed. Lord Hastings has been kind enough to volunteer in assisting with my card skills.’ She sliced into a piece of ham as if she remarked on nothing more than the weather. ‘Someday soon I hope to place a wager at the Underworld.’

  ‘The Underworld!’ Both sisters reacted in unison.

  ‘I hope you’re not serious. That’s not a place for a respected lady.’ Raelyn scowled. Aunt Matilda always had another purpose in mind.

  ‘Exactly and that’s part of the allure. Are you worried what I’ll witness will offend my delicate sensibilities? Lest you all forget I’ve travelled the world with your dear uncle and experienced cultures beyond your imaginings. A desire to see the Underworld is no more than idle curiosity.’ Matilda refilled her teacup. ‘Besides, the Frankley event is days away. Lady Pembler will be tied in knots when the latest on-dit has nothing to do with her and everything with me.’

  ‘But Aunt Matilda, consider your reputation,’ Amanda interjected with genuine concern. How had all the people she cared about most in the world become so intertwined?

  ‘Oh, I’ll explain it away as curiosity and boredom.’ She spooned up a bite of coddled eggs. ‘I’m not worried. The price is worth the prize.’

  The room fell silent as male voices resonated in the hall. At least they weren’t arguing. That was a good sign. Lord Hastings returned for a perfunctory farewell and hardly a glance in her direction, although Father drilled holes in her head with his eyes. No sooner did Crispin take his leave than the mood in the room shifted.

  ‘Amanda, come to my study immediately.’

  Her father didn’t elaborate and perspiration dotted her skin. Raelyn’s idea of an impromptu proposal sounded glorious when compared to the impending doom of Father’s edict. What had Crispin told him? Did Father know she’d snuck out and met with Crispin when already warned not to do so? Since Mother’s death, Father walked a fine line between protective and permissive, and often allowed his daughters to experience the world. Undoubtedly this time she’d shown poor judgement, at least in his eyes.

  They walked in silence to his study and she settled in the chair opposite the desk in wonder if Crispin had just vacated it. She chastised herself. Would the scoundrel always find a path into her thoughts? And what did that mean? Infatuation seemed too weak an assessment. Pray it wasn’t obsession.

  Her father shut the door and closed them in before sitting on the corner of his desk.

  ‘Lord Hastings believes you’re in danger.’

  ‘Me?’ She stifled a nervous laugh. From her habit of mishap? Or in danger of falling in love? Her thoughts scattered in a dozen directions, all of them too fast for her to hold on to. ‘How so, Father?’

 
‘That’s my worry, not yours.’ His expression grew more serious if at all possible. ‘I would like the answer to a question before we continue this conversation. How is it you were with Lord Hastings when I specifically forbade you from his company? You’re aware of the impropriety of being unchaperoned with a gentleman, but I’m confounded why you would seek the company of someone I hold in poor regard.’

  She sat up straighter and strove to form a reasonable answer, but her father’s anger seemingly boiled over and he continued before she replied.

  ‘The Frankley soiree is nearly here and I know you’ve pinned hope on presenting yourself in the best light, but if this matter Hastings laid at my feet is not remedied to my satisfaction, you may not leave the house. I’ve already lost a wife prematurely, I’ll not lose a daughter next.’

  Spoken in his solemn tone, his face a mask of concern and emotion, Amanda merely nodded. What had Crispin said to incite such ferocious protectiveness?

  ‘I will have your word.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘Then you may go now, while I think on things.’

  And she did.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Crispin slid from the saddle before Majesty slowed, flipped a coin to the lad waiting at the curb and stormed up the slate path towards the Underworld. Once at the side door, he knocked repeatedly, his bruised knuckles reminding his return to London had not proceeded as planned.

  He’d all but abandoned Ferris, relieved his friend visited former comrades and navigated the city without complaint. Still, Crispin hated himself for his own lack of hospitality.

  And then there was the situation with Amanda and Huntingdon. The earl would never accept him as a respectable suitor for Amanda’s hand in consideration of the news delivered this morning.

  Not that marriage was on his mind.

  And not because, if he did plan to wed, he wouldn’t choose Amanda without hesitation.