A Hero and A Gentleman

by JoMarie DeGioia

  Taylor couldn’t argue with that. “Trevor is my—our cousin. I didn’t know he had connections in London.”

  The woman gave a snort. “Connections of the lowest kind, Lady Thompson. He spends most of his time down on the waterfront, though more than once he has tried his brand of charm here.” Monique frowned. “My girls aren’t open to his particular . . . requests. He is not welcome here.”

  Taylor could only imagine what debauchery Trevor got up to in London. If it was sordid enough to induce Monique to ban him from her establishment, she didn’t want to hear of it.

  “But what of this note?” Jason asked. “Why tell Blake of it?”

  “The work your husband does.” Monique shrugged. “He and his partner, Robert Shelby.”

  Taylor’s head spun as she tried to make sense of the woman’s words. What, pray, was Blake’s connection to that worm Trevor? And how was Robert involved?

  “Tell us what you know, Monique,” Jason said. “Blake is here in London trying to find Lady Thompson’s brother.”

  Monique’s gaze shifted to the banked fire set in a small gilded hearth on the opposite wall. Taylor sought to calm her own nerves as the woman obviously gathered her courage. Monique returned her gaze at last. “Robert Shelby is alive.”

  Taylor gripped the edge of the settee as the room tilted. Burying her face in her hands, sobs racked her as the woman’s words penetrated.

  * * *

  Blake got out of his hack and walked toward the shiny carriage. Recognition struck him in the gut as he spied the crest. Bloody Jason! And the woman? His heart pounded. No, it couldn’t be!

  The truth struck Blake then. “I’ll wring Jason’s neck for this.”

  Chapter 22

  “Please, Lady Thompson,” Monique soothed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Taylor sniffed, unable to still her shivers. “R-Robert,” she murmured. “Alive.”

  “Yes,” Monique returned. “I wanted to let your husband know, but I had to be careful. Letters have a way of being read by the wrong people before they get to their destination. I had to protect my girl. Her husband is a powerful man and I mean to keep her safe.”

  “Ya’ can’t go in there, sir!”

  Taylor lifted her head at the maid’s outburst. Astonishment filled her as Blake stalked into the back parlor.

  “Taylor,” he growled. “What the devil are you doing here?”

  Taylor blinked back her tears as her husband stood before her. “Blake.”

  He glared at Jason. “Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on, Jason?”

  “Your wife insisted we come here, brother.”

  “They came because of my note,” Monique said.

  Blake spun to face Monique. “You wrote that note? What do you know of Trevor Shelby?”

  Monique stood and slid over to Blake’s side. The smile on the woman’s face was wholly practiced as she placed her hand on his arm.

  “Do calm yourself, Thompson,” Monique said. “Your wife is upset and you aren’t helping the situation.”

  Blake shrugged off her touch and crouched before Taylor, taking her hands in his. “Tell me what’s troubling you, love.”

  Taylor gazed into his eyes and tears coursed down her smooth cheeks. She swallowed, then blinked and lifted her chin. “Robert is alive, Blake.”

  His heart stopped for a long moment. Robert, alive? He gave a shake of his head. “H-how . . . ?” He stood once more and looked from Jason to Monique. “What do you know of this?”

  Monique smiled indulgently and rang for her maid. “Do sit beside your wife, Thompson,” she said. “We’ll all have a cup of tea and I’ll tell you all I know.”

  Blake bit back a demand that the woman immediately divulge her knowledge, but only due to Taylor’s sensibilities. Her hands had chilled him, her tears of hope causing a flutter in his chest. He sat beside Taylor and drew her against his side. She gazed up into his face, her lower lip quivering.

  “He’s alive, Blake,” she murmured. “I knew it.”

  He noted then the crumpled piece of paper in her right hand. Gently, he took it from her and read it as the maid bustled into the parlor with another tea tray. A flash of gratitude shone in the maid’s eyes, and a glance at the expression on his wife’s face showed her knowledge.

  “You recovered her child,” Taylor said.

  Blake gave a swift nod and turned his attention once more to the woman reclining languidly on the chaise. Monique sent this note? He read it once more.

  “What do you know of this, Monique?” he asked.

  Monique quickly filled Blake in on what Trevor and his crony had done to one of her girls.

  “She’s a little thing,” she said. “Like your wife here. Trevor and his friend hurt her badly. When I learned of this I banned him.”

  “Why didn’t you send for the Watch?” Jason asked.

  Monique smiled. “I have my own men, Lord Thompson. Believe me, after what they did to those two they’ll never dare return.” She leaned forward. “The girl had run from an abusive husband, you see.”

  “How awful!” Taylor said.

  Monique nodded. “It was only when she was recovering that she remembered what she’d overheard.”

  Blake’s senses tingled. “What had she heard, Monique?”

  “She overheard them talking about Robert.”

  Something occurred to Blake then. “Was this friend of Trevor’s named Martin?”

  Monique shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  Blake gritted his teeth and held Taylor close, wanting to kill the bastard who almost brutalized his beloved.

  “After my girl had been hurt by Trevor Shelby, I made a few inquiries, discreetly of course. One of my gentleman friends spoke of Shelby a fortnight ago,” she said. “His words led me to believe that Shelby is at the heart of the matter.”

  “I don’t understand,” Taylor said. “Where is Robert now?”

  “That I don’t know,” Monique said. “My gentleman works for . . .” She rose and closed the door of the parlor and faced them. “Trevor Shelby is his employer.”

  “Trevor?” Taylor gasped.

  “What the devil?” Blake muttered. He narrowed his eyes on Monique. “This gentleman. He’s Sir Reggie Platt, I presume?”

  “How did you . . . ?” Monique began. “Ah, he mentioned you spoke to him.”

  “What can Trevor’s involvement be, Blake?” Taylor asked.

  The fear on her face struck him.

  “We’ll find out, Taylor,” he promised. “You have my word.”

  She visibly calmed and he faced Monique again.

  “Reggie deals in stolen goods, Monique,” he said. He glanced around the crowded parlor. “Surely this room is filled with his wares.”

  The woman shrugged. “I don’t ask where he finds such treasures.” She fingered the coiled fringe of a red pillow. “If it pleases a man to gift me with them, I’m not complaining.”

  Blake rolled his eyes with impatience and forged ahead with his interrogation. “You sent the other notes.”

  Monique’s rouged mouth opened in surprise. “How . . . ? I thought I’d made certain you wouldn’t guess.”

  “Damn,” Jason muttered.

  “What do you know of Reggie’s connection to Shelby?” Blake asked.

  After sparing a look of regret toward Taylor, Monique leaned forward. “Sir Reggie likes to brag after our interludes.”

  Taylor shifted uncomfortably beside him. Blake forced his attention on the woman facing them. There would be plenty of time to soothe his wife once they were alone, after he gave in to his anger that she took it upon herself to leave The Hideaway.

  “What did Reggie tell you?” he asked.

  “He mentioned Shelby’s name a few times before,” Monique said. “I never paid much notice until the situation with my girl. I wanted to find out more about this Shelby and what he was capable of. I need to protect my girls. Seemed Shelby was quite put out that a particular young l
ady was out of his reach.”

  “What?” Taylor exclaimed.

  “Easy, love.” He turned back to Monique. “Pray, continue.”

  “He spoke of you, Blake,” Monique continued. “You’d taken her, though Reggie didn’t know who she was. Apparently Shelby wanted to know if you were helping Lady Thompson find her brother.”

  “B-but,” Taylor stammered, “Trevor never seemed to give a care that Robert was missing. How could he question this man?”

  “Reggie heard of this?” Blake cut in.

  Monique shrugged. “Shelby comes to Town every so often. Reggie said he was quite put out, said he couldn’t get her back from Blake. He wanted to stop her before she ruined everything.”

  Blake tamped down his anger over Trevor. Something Reggie said at the Maid’s Skirt once more came back to him. “Who is Martin, Monique?”

  The woman blinked and looked genuinely puzzled. “I don’t know of any Martin.”

  “Is he a friend of Reggie’s?”

  She shook her head. “He never mentioned anyone by that name.”

  He bit back a string of curses. Bloody Reggie. He’d suspected the name was nothing but a distraction.

  “Martin?” Taylor said. “Blake, Martin was Trevor’s mother’s family name.”

  Blake turned to her. “Do you think Trevor is Martin?”

  Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s not his middle name. Perhaps he used that false name. I don’t imagine anyone would guess it.”

  “It would be the ideal one if he has been.” Blake bit back a curse. “Perhaps I should have shared that bit of information with you before now.”

  She waved a hand at him. “We must focus on Robert now, Blake.”

  “You have the right of it.” He turned back to Monique. “What of Robert Shelby, then? What has Reggie said about him?”

  “Sir Reggie spoke of Robert Shelby that night, for the first time that I recall. Said that Shelby couldn’t hold all of his family captive like Robert.”

  “Hold . . . ?” Taylor murmured.

  Blake knew then, that Robert’s disappearance wasn’t an accident nor had he died on that long-ago night.

  Monique rose and crossed to a tiny desk set in a corner of the room. She unlocked and opened a drawer set beneath the surface and withdrew an object. A small object. Blake’s heart stilled again. It couldn’t be.

  “Sir Reggie gave me this for safe-keeping,” she said, gliding back over to them. “As insurance, he told me.”

  “Insurance?” Blake asked. “Against what?”

  “He said Trevor Shelby told him to get rid of it but he just knew it was important enough to hold on to.”

  She held it out to him and he saw it was indeed the signet ring Robert had on him the night he disappeared. “T. For Thompson?”

  “My grandfather’s ring!” Taylor cried.

  Monique handed it to her and Taylor held it close to her chest. “The T is for Taylor. My mother’s family name. This was my mother’s. From her father.”

  Blake wanted to know what else Trevor had told him about the ring, but it was obvious that Monique had finally told her all she knew of the matter. And one look at his wife told him that Taylor was near to exhaustion, physically and mentally.

  “Where is Reggie now?” he asked Monique.

  Monique shrugged again. “At his gentleman’s club?”

  Blake swallowed his disagreement. Apparently Monique operated under the misconception that Reggie was indeed a man of title. He wouldn’t find the blackguard at White’s or any other place where titled gentry gathered. No, he’d find the bastard at the waterfront.

  But he couldn’t bring Taylor there, that was certain. Nor would he leave her at Jason’s to worry what was left of the night away. But tomorrow . . . he’d seek out the bastard in his home and learn what he knew about Robert.

  Blake stood and tugged Taylor to her feet. “Come, love.”

  “Robert had this, Blake.” She slipped the ring on and closed her fist to keep it on her slender finger. “He brought this with him the night he disappeared.” She suddenly clutched at the front of his jacket with her free hand, her face pale. “We have to find Robert!”

  “Hush,” he soothed. “We can’t do anything more tonight.” He gently set her from him and turned to Monique. “Thank you, Monique. We’ll call upon you again if necessary.”

  The woman nodded. “Of course.” She stepped toward Taylor. “Blake will find your brother, Lady Thompson. He never fails.”

  Blake prayed he could prove the woman right. He helped Taylor on with her cloak and fastened it beneath her chin, her hands were trembling so, and led her back out into the chill night air.

  The three of them boarded Jason’s carriage and set off for Jason’s townhouse.

  * * *

  Raucous laughter drifted up from the street below the small window. Robert Shelby groaned as he sought to push the sounds from his fevered brain. Turning his head brought a new dimension of discomfort to his body, each shallow breath causing fire to fill his lungs. What the devil had happened?

  So long he’d resided here in the tiny room, cared for by a surly, rough-handed woman. Faint recollections floated through his mind. His meeting with Reggie Platt’s employer hadn’t gone as planned; the true identity of the man was so shocking that Robert’s guard had slipped. God, the water was cold on that spring night.

  In the beginning he’d tried to leave, tried to escape despite the injury to his leg. Shouts and bribes, orders and cajoling hadn’t moved his captors at all. Hampered by the shattered bones in his leg, he could do little but ply his will and cunning. It proved futile; Trevor paid these reprobates well to keep his prisoner. And his secret.

  A deep cough brought Robert’s weary mind back to the present. The lingering pain in his leg was all but forgotten as the watery pressure in his lungs sought to snuff out his life. That bastard Trevor kept him here, that much he knew. Trevor paid for the care showed Robert, and it was ill indeed. Filth had at first made his skin crawl; the stench of stale linens and grimy furnishings had slowly faded from his consciousness. Since that first night the sounds of hushed activity could be heard on the narrow street beneath the window of the small chamber, and after a few weak attempts to gain assistance from that crew, Robert had abandoned hope.

  How long had he been here, in this dank, disgusting cell? Weeks surely, but he couldn’t guess. A shiver racked his body and his teeth chattered in his own ears. He couldn’t judge the weather or guess the season, his body alternating from icy cold to blistering hot and back again. No matter. Soon he’d be out of this room, no doubt. One way or another.

  * * *

  “Robert is alive,” Taylor said again as they entered the townhouse.

  “I can scarcely believe it,” Jason said.

  “I’ll find him,” Blake said.

  Taylor narrowed her eyes on him. “We’ll find him, Blake.”

  Blake shook his head. “That’s impossible, Taylor. You’re returning to The Hideaway on the morrow while I—”

  “I’m going nowhere!” she shouted. “Pray, you don’t believe for a moment that I’ll leave without you. Or Robert.”

  “Now Taylor, you can’t believe I’d lead you into danger?” Blake asked.

  Taylor waved a graceful hand as Jason made a hasty exit. “Didn’t you read Monique’s note, Blake?” She removed her cloak and stalked about the marble-tiled entry. “You’re in danger. And Trevor? Oh, I can’t fathom it.”

  “Shh,” Blake said softly. He drew her to him.

  Taylor took in a deep breath and expelled it in a sob. “He’s known all this time that Robert is alive. Somewhere, somehow, my brother is alive and Trevor is his captor?”

  Blake eyed the butler standing at the ready and instructed him to bring tea and brandy to his guest chamber. He ran his hands over Taylor’s trembling back. “Come, love. Let’s ready for bed. Tomorrow will prove a challenge to be sure.”

  She lifted her head, the light in
her blue-gray eyes drawing him in. “I can stay, then?”

  Blake offered her a crooked grin. “I can scarcely count on you keeping to the carriage were I to send you back. Even if I threw Jason out of his own house to escort you.”

  A tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth and she hugged him tightly. Jason was well-loved by his staff and that regard extended to the viscount’s brother. Cheese and bread and some other treat would sit on the tray, and perhaps eating something would soothe Taylor.

  He took her valise and led her up the stairs to the comfortable chamber to await their refreshment.

  * * *

  Taylor couldn’t keep still. It seemed she exchanged the entry for Blake’s guest chamber as the site of her pacing, and, with her body trembling, she took long strides across the oriental carpet.

  “Taylor, do sit down,” Blake said.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and eyed Blake as he shrugged out of his jacket. He seemed at ease, but by the lines bracketing his mouth she knew he was as tense as she. It nearly killed her to delay finding Robert, but she bowed to Blake’s expertise in the matter.

  “I can’t get warm,” she said.

  He nodded and stoked the banked fire in the small hearth. She took a moment to take in the chamber. Decorated with furniture of a smaller scale than their room at The Hideaway, it nevertheless spoke of both wealth and taste. Jason kept his house with care. Burgundy and cream decorated the space, and the wide bed would serve them well for sleep.

  The butler brought in a tray laden with tea and brandy and pretty little lemon tarts that caused her stomach to growl despite her unease. The thin old gentleman set it on a table beside the fireplace. The servant then regarded her with a respectful glance and a bow before once more leaving them in solitude.

  “Come, love.” Blake moved the table beside the bed and patted the coverlet. “Have something to eat. To drink.”

  Taylor nodded but made no move toward him. Only Blake’s frown of worry caused her to finally step to the bed.