“That would be interesting. I’ve never seen a regular boxing match,” she said. “Only fights between soldiers where there were no rules.”
“The fact that regular matches follow Broughton’s rules doesn’t mean they aren’t bloody,” he warned.
No matter. She and Mackenzie would be safe together.
The Captain’s Club was smaller, and as Mackenzie had said, there were only a couple of other women present. The gaming salon was quiet, the only sounds murmured comments on the play and the flat slap of cards on green baize tabletops.
The host came to greet them. “I’m Mr. Smythe,” he said hospitably. “Welcome to the Captain’s Club. What would you like to play tonight?”
“Good evening to you, sir,” Mackenzie said in his robust northern accent. “I’m Dan Mackey, and I’m in the mood for ombre.”
“You’re in luck. An ombre table is just starting, and there’s room for one more player.” Smythe led them to a round table toward the back with four men sitting around it. “Gentlemen, Mr. Mackey will join you. Mr. Mackey, meet Lieutenant Hardy, Major Welsh, Captain Swinnerton, and Mr. Reed.”
Beside Kiri, Mackenzie turned to stone. She guessed that he knew one of the men well and feared being recognized. For a moment, she thought he would announce he preferred to play at a different table.
But the other players barely glanced up from their cards and drinks to acknowledge his presence. Mac, the newcomer, was a civilian and a northerner and of no interest to them. He was also very well disguised. Overcoming his doubts, Mackenzie sat down to play.
As cards were dealt, Kiri wandered around the table to check the players’ scents. No Alejandro, one man wore Jockey Club, and two wore Guard’s Bouquet. The fourth wasn’t wearing cologne but smelled strongly of horse.
After she passed his chair, Swinnerton, the Jockey Club man, glared at her and snapped at Mackenzie, “Keep control of your doxy if you don’t want her accused of spying on other men’s cards.”
Kiri gave him a look of innocent outrage. “I’d not do that!”
Mackenzie pulled an empty chair from the table next to him, and patted the seat. “Sit here, lass.” He gave her a besotted smile. “Bring me luck.” He’d thickened his accent and raised the pitch of his voice, she noticed.
Kiri obeyed with a doxyish pout. The table was small, which gave her an excuse to sit so closely that her thigh pressed against Mac’s. With no conversation other than that required by the game, Kiri had plenty of time to survey the other players in the club. Though she wasn’t close enough to check scents, she saw no one the right size and shape and movement to have been among the kidnappers.
Eventually her gaze came to rest on Swinnerton, who sat opposite. Her interest quickened as she studied him more closely. He was a hard-edged man currently softened by the half-empty bottle of brandy in front of him. Though he wasn’t wearing Alejandro, his build and manner reminded her of the leader of the kidnappers. Could he be their quarry? A man didn’t have to wear the same cologne every day.
As a new hand was dealt, Lieutenant Hardy said casually, “Swinnerton, did you hear how the owner of Damian’s was killed the other night? They say he went after a thief and was shot for his pains.”
Kiri’s attention sharpened, and Mackenzie’s thigh tensed, though his expression didn’t change. It must be strange to hear men discussing one’s alleged death.
His tension increased even more when Swinnerton said, “No loss, Hardy. That bastard Mackenzie was cashiered from the army, you know. Good riddance to him.”
“I hadn’t heard that.” Hardy fanned the cards in his hand, a frown showing that he wasn’t pleased with them. “I met Mackenzie a time or two at his club. Seemed a pleasant enough chap. What was he cashiered for?”
Face like granite, Swinnerton said, “He raped and murdered the wife of a fellow officer.”
Chapter 22
The harsh statement triggered a sharp intake of breath around the table. A horrified voice exclaimed, “The devil you say!”
Mac froze, his heart pounding. It was sheer damned bad luck to be put at a table with Rupert Swinnerton. Even so, he hadn’t expected this horror to be tossed casually into the middle of a card game. Though perhaps he should have. Mackenzie’s reported death made him news.
Even more than three years later, Swinnerton wasn’t saying that he was the man whose wife had been murdered. The story didn’t reflect well on either of them.
As all eyes, including Kiri’s, went to Swinnerton, Hardy asked in a shocked voice, “If that’s true, how come he wasn’t hanged?”
“The murder took place in Portugal. Easier to hush up a crime in a distant country at war,” Swinnerton said bitterly. “Mackenzie was a Masterson family bastard. His half brother and some other fancy friend got the charges dropped in return for shipping him home and forfeiture of his commission.”
“So maybe being shot was justice catching up with him,” Major Welsh murmured as he played a card.
“Justice, or the husband of the woman he dishonored,” Mr. Reed said grimly. “If Mackenzie had done that to my wife, he would have been a dead man much sooner.”
“It’s hard to believe the murder of an officer’s wife could be hushed up,” Hardy said, his brows furrowed. “Maybe the story was distorted in the telling?”
Swinnerton shook his head. “I heard it from an officer who was right there and saw it all firsthand. A nasty business. The woman was having an affair with Mackenzie, so her husband didn’t have much desire to blare the news to the heavens.”
“One can see why not.” Welsh shook his head. “The poor devil. To lose his wife in such a ghastly way, and then be denied justice! I assume Mackenzie was rushed out of Portugal before the husband could challenge him to a duel.”
Before Swinnerton could answer, Reed said impatiently, “A very sad business, but enough. We’re here to play cards.”
Though the talk died down, Mac was still shaken to the marrow. Ombre, a Spanish game that relied more on tactics than luck, was one of his favorites, but now he could barely see the cards.
A strong female hand squeezed his thigh and Kiri purred into his ear, “I’m getting sleepy, darling. Ready to go home to bed?”
When she licked the edge of his ear teasingly, he almost jumped out of his skin, but she had given him a good excuse to leave. The game was ending, so he said, “Since my lady is tired, I shall withdraw, gentlemen. My thanks for the play, and good night.”
The others said good night with knowing expressions and some envy as they looked at Kiri. As Mac walked away with her, she took hold of his arm adoringly and gave her hips some extra sway. None of the men present would remember her face, since they’d been staring at other parts of her person.
Knowing Kiri would ask about Swinnerton’s story, Mac draped her cloak over her shoulders and led her out to the waiting hackney. Once they were inside and the carriage was heading home, she asked mildly, “What really happened?”
“Didn’t you hear?” he said, voice brittle. “I raped and killed the wife of a fellow officer and barely escaped a well-deserved hanging.”
“Rubbish! You’re a protector, not a rapist and murderer.” In the darkness, her hand closed over his. His fingers convulsively tightened around hers.
“But I have killed,” he said bleakly, the weight of every mistake he’d ever made bearing down on him. “Too often.”
“Of course you have killed. That’s what soldiers do,” she said calmly. “And there are other sorts of war that aren’t conducted on the battlefield, like our search for assassins. But rape and murder a helpless woman? Never.”
“Thank you.” He closed his eyes, intensely grateful for her belief. “It was appalling to be accused of such a ghastly crime. Worse yet that some people believed it.”
“What happened?” she asked softly.
“Harriet Swinnerton was the woman murdered, and she was the wife of Rupert Swinnerton, who told the story.”
Kiri caught her breat
h. “You served with him?”
“Barely. When I first joined the army, I served under Alex Randall. After we were sent to Portugal, I transferred to a different company that needed a junior officer. Though Swinnerton was a lieutenant and my superior, I very seldom saw him. He was usually busy carrying on his affairs.” Mac sighed. “I did my duty, but I wasn’t much of a soldier, Kiri. I only joined because my father offered to buy me a commission to set me up in the world. It’s more than some men do for their bastards.”
“And you might have enjoyed fighting,” she observed. “It’s not as if you were suited to the vicarage.”
He almost laughed. “So very true. Actual combat was—interesting. One feels very alive. Terrified and exalted and challenged. But battle is a small part of a soldier’s life, and the rest—well, I hated the rules, the restrictions, the orders from fools.”
“Like Swinnerton?”
“He was not only a fool, but a brutal fool. Rumor said that he’d had to marry Harriet after seducing her. There was certainly no love lost between them. They both were notorious for affairs.” He shook his head, still unable to believe his stupidity. “I knew it was a mistake to become involved with her, but I did it anyhow.”
“Did you love her?” Kiri asked softly.
Even three years later, he wasn’t sure of the answer. “A little, I think. She was beautiful and angry. But she also had a fragile quality that made me want to take care of her. I was lonely, and when she made advances, I didn’t walk away as a wiser man would have.” She had been very beautiful, after all, and a very skilled lover.
“She sounds rather tragic,” Kiri said. “How did she die?”
Every moment of that night was engraved in his memories. “I visited her at her lodgings. Swinnerton was away and it seemed safe enough. She was restless that night, and as I was about to leave, she suddenly demanded that I run away with her.”
“Were you tempted?” In the faint light through the carriage window, Kiri’s profile was intent and lovely.
“Not in the least. I’d been thinking of ending the affair, and her suggestion made me decide it was time. She wasn’t in love with me. She just wanted to leave Portugal. That would have ruined both of us.” His mouth twisted. “But if I’d said yes, she might be alive today.”
“Why do you think that?”
“She was furious with me, raging and throwing vases and threatening to tell her husband that I tried to force myself on her. That made it a lot easier to leave and to know I’d done the right thing.”
“So she was alive when you left.”
“Very much so.” He took a deep breath, hating to speak of what came next. “Then Swinnerton unexpectedly arrived home late that night, and all hell broke loose. He said he found Harriet and her Portuguese maid brutally beaten and near death.”
Kiri sucked her breath in sharply, but Mac kept going, wanting to get through it as quickly as possible. “Swinnerton claimed Harriet was still alive when he found her, and that with her dying breath, she accused me of raping her and beating her and the maid.”
“Dear God,” Kiri whispered, her hand tightening on his with bruising force. “Do you suppose Swinnerton learned of the affair and this was his revenge on both of you?”
He nodded. “I think Harriet was so furious that she told him about me, and maybe her other affairs as well, and he went berserk,” Mac said. “After she was dead, Swinnerton used her so-called dying accusation to justify a drumhead court-martial the next morning. I was convicted and sentenced to be flogged, then hung by the neck until dead, dead, dead.”
Kiri shivered. “How did you escape the gallows?”
“Alex Randall and my brother, Will. My sergeant sent a message to Will, who went haring off to Lord Wellington while Randall swooped into our camp to find out what was going on.” Mac smiled humorlessly. “If Swinnerton hadn’t been so keen to see me flogged, I’d have been dead before Randall arrived. Instead, I was able to argue my innocence to Randall and tell him what I thought really happened.”
“Thank God he got there in time and believed you!” she said vehemently.
“And that he’s Randall.” Mac shook his head in wonder. “He stood in front of the building where they’d locked me up and said he didn’t believe I was guilty, and that if they tried to hang me on hearsay evidence, they’d have to go through him.”
“I’ve seen enough of Randall to believe that he could stare down a whole company of infantrymen,” Kiri said with awe. “How did Swinnerton react?”
“He was screaming and threatening Randall when Wellington and Will galloped into the camp. While Wellington ordered everyone to stand down and tell him what happened, Will found a witness to the beatings. The maid had been badly injured, but she survived and was able to talk. She testified that Harriet and I had been having an affair, but when I left that night, her mistress was well and unhurt.”
“Could she identify the real killer?”
“She said she didn’t see the man clearly, but she was pretty sure he was short and Portuguese,” he said dryly. “A thief, surely.”
“You think she recognized Swinnerton, but she didn’t dare say that?”
“That’s my theory, but I could be wrong. There was no more evidence against him than against me. There was no blood on him, but his quarters weren’t searched, so he could have changed his clothing before raising the alarm.” Mac’s lips thinned. “Another theory being tossed around was that I’d been sleeping with the maid as well as the mistress, so she lied to protect me.”
“Why would she lie to protect a man who murdered her mistress and almost killed her?” Kiri asked. “That makes no sense.”
“Such matters have nothing to do with sense,” he said even more dryly. “Lord Wellington ruled that a British officer couldn’t be executed without evidence. Even if Harriet had claimed it was me, any woman so injured might have been raving, while the woman who survived said definitely that I wasn’t the murderer.
“After dismissing the charges, Wellington strongly suggested I sell out of the army and return to England with all due haste. So I did.” He couldn’t have done it without his brother’s help. Will was only a couple of years older, but he’d always been the protective big brother.
“A wise move. Even though you were never charged, it would have been impossible to continue serving in the same regiment.”
“I was glad to get back to London, though I had no idea what I’d do. Then Kirkland came calling and suggested a different career.” The idea of doing useful work instead of being the Mastersons’ disgraceful bastard had been irresistible. He’d turned out to be a much better gaming-house proprietor and informant than he’d been a soldier.
“I suppose Harriet’s murder is still unsolved?”
“Officially. The incident wrecked two careers. Swinnerton wasn’t well liked, so plenty of suspicion fell on him as well me. His family bought him an exchange into a West Indies regiment so he could get away from the worst of the scandal.”
“That’s a punishment in itself, given the amount of disease there,” Kiri said. “He looked rather yellow under his tan. He may have sold out for health reasons.”
“I hadn’t heard he was back in London, so he probably returned recently.” Mac grimaced. “I wasn’t sorry to leave the army. But any other way would have been better.”
“I’m sorry you had to endure that.” Kiri turned and rested her head on his shoulder and slid her free arm around his waist. A warm and wonderful armful of woman. She continued, “Rupert Swinnerton sounds like a monster. He also might be one of the kidnappers.”
Mac came sharply alert. “Was he wearing Alejandro?”
“No, but he does resemble the chief kidnapper. More than anyone else we’ve seen tonight.”
“How sure are you that he’s our quarry?”
“I’m not positive,” she warned. “But I think he should be watched closely.”
Mac considered what he knew of Swinnerton. The man was cold as a snake
, and in the army, he’d learned skills useful to assassins. “I’m trying not to be biased here. But I think Rupert Swinnerton is capable of anything.”
“I do hope he’s guilty,” Kiri said wistfully. “He was quite unpleasant.”
“So we’ve accomplished something tonight after all. A good start to our investigation.” Glad for some progress and grateful for Kiri’s understanding, Mac bent his head to kiss her. His lips landed on the smooth curve of her cheek.
She turned into the kiss, and thanks transformed to passion. The green silk dress had been driving him mad since the first time Kiri put it on, and now he wanted nothing more than to get her out of it. Her breasts—so full, so perfect. Her scent, the essence of Kiri, was enhanced by an exotic perfume that drove reason straight out of his head.
Her knee slid between his and her hands roved as much as his. It was a shock when the hackney creaked to a halt. They had reached 11 Exeter Street.
Body throbbing, Mac broke the embrace. “What is it about carriage rides?” he panted. “Good sense goes out the window when I travel with you.”
“It’s perfectly logical,” she said with a choke of laughter. “In a carriage, we’re close and alone. Whenever that happens, we want to pounce on each other.”
“You do logic very well.” He cradled her head against his shoulder tenderly. “You’re really good at pouncing, too.”
“It comes from watching cats.” Her hand slid between his legs and cupped him with paralyzing accuracy. “Having reached this point, the logical thing is to go up to my room and make mad, passionate love.”
Chapter 23
Kiri’s words blazed a direct line from Mac’s brain to his groin. Every muscle in his body clenched while he fought to regain control. They were in a hackney, for God’s sake! In front of their temporary home. They really must alight and go inside.
He had a swift image of them making love right here and now and the whole lightweight vehicle shaking madly. The humor of that cleared his wits a little.
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