What was more shocking to her, though, was that he actually wanted her to be his lover. No one had ever dared to suggest such a blatant proposal to her before. Was this what Alice felt when she succumbed to the scoundrel who seduced her, this undeniable thrill of excitement and anticipation? But at least in Livie’s case she was under no illusion that having anything to do with the Bastard of Baker Street would lead to a happy ever after. Such a thought was laughable.
As Lance handed her up into her carriage, she belatedly realized she hadn’t actually told Sebastian where she was to meet Alice’s maid tonight. He’d greatly distracted her with his kiss. Because go she must.
Though she’d send him a note, which was consulting him of a sort. Then hopefully he may be able to be there with her, from the shadows at least.
And if he couldn’t, she’d simply have to attend the cemetery alone.
The idea was especially unpleasant, but surely the maid meant no harm. The girl needed money, after all, so she wouldn’t try to harm the golden goose, so to speak. Livie should be safe enough, and she did have her cane and would take her pistol too.
It was the best lead she’d had by far and she wasn’t going to let it slip through her fingers all because Sebastian Colver wanted her to consult with him first.
Regardless of whether he could meet her there or not, she’d simply have to attend to the blackmail herself tonight.
Chapter Eighteen
“Where have you been?” A deep voice boomed across the marble floor entrance as Livie returned home after seeing Sebastian. “And why do you care so little for your reputation by traipsing about London alone?”
Livie halted in her stride, glancing up to the sitting room doorway where Alexander was standing, a scowl etched across his face. Darn! What is he doing home at this hour? Normally, he would be at his club. “Brother, you really have no need to worry over such things. Besides, no one pays me any notice, and you know I am well past the age of needing a chaperone through the day. Thankfully, Father allows me a measure of independence you clearly don’t agree with.”
“You have Father wrapped around your little finger, sister.” He sighed and strode over to her before bending down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “He would let you get away with murder if you had a mind to.”
“True,” she happily confirmed, linking her arm through his as they wandered into the sitting room. “What are you doing home this early in the evening anyhow? Is your club closed?”
“Very funny,” he murmured, escorting her to the lounge. “I’m home as it’s my turn to escort you to the Wernham ball later tonight—did you forget?”
“I had actually.” She sank down upon the cushions, sighing in bliss as she took the weight off her leg and rested her cane beside her.
“Your leg troubling you again?” Alex asked while he poured himself a brandy.
“When does it not?” She smiled softly at him. “Which is why I think I shall cry off from the ball tonight. And don’t pretend to be too upset by my decision.”
Alex laughed. “As much as I hate seeing you in pain, I will happily accept the reprieve. Though Griff and Justin will be upset I have been relieved of my duties.”
“I didn’t realise it was such a duty to escort me to a ball.” Livie arched her brow.
“You know it’s not that,” Alex grumbled, pulling a bit at his necktie. “It’s having to deal with the mamas of Society that is the intolerable part. And besides, the Wernhams’ is always a dead bore. I don’t know why you go every year.”
“Because Lady Wernham is lovely and I don’t wish to hurt her feelings by refusing her invitation.” As it was, she’d feel bad about not going, especially as she’d wanted to see in person the sensation the gazette teaser was creating, but that had been before her visit with Lady Chilton.
She had a blackmailer to speak to tonight, and it would be far easier attending directly from here, while her father and brothers were all at events or their clubs, rather than working out how to extract herself from a ball under Alex’s notice.
The last thing Livie needed was for Alex to get any more suspicious about what she was up to than he already likely was. Though her brother may be slightly stuffy, he was very canny too.
“You’re far too much of a bleeding heart, sister.”
“With the compliments you dish out, brother, I’m very surprised you still haven’t managed to marry,” Livie replied somewhat drily, as he sat across from her.
“You shall have to learn to curb that sarcastic tongue, sister.” Alexander took a sip of the amber liquid. “For I doubt the man you eventually marry will appreciate it.”
Alexander was clearly still under the mistaken impression that she would marry, even though the only offer she had ever received in her entire seven years of being on the marriage market was from Lord Ainsworth, who was eighty years old. “You know perfectly well I shall not marry. Why you keep insisting I will is somewhat redundant. No gentleman wants to marry a lady who is a cripple.”
“For goodness’ sake, Livie, you’re not a cripple.” Alexander drew a hand through his black hair, clearly frustrated to be discussing a topic they were always at loggerheads over. “You get about amply fine.”
“I get about with a limp and a cane. Men notice that. And, if you hadn’t already realized, are deterred by it.”
“It is not your limp that deters them from asking you to marry them, it’s your darn stubbornness.”
Livie glared at him. It had always been a bone of contention between them. “Might I remind you that it was your friends who played that prank on me in my debut year. Pretending they were all enamored of me, when in fact all they were trying to do was win a bet as to who could get the first kiss from the duke’s lame daughter.”
Alexander’s eyes clouded in distress and immediately Livie felt horrid for even bringing it up. She knew her brother was still dismayed over what some of his so-called friends had done, and he’d even gone as far as to give the bounders the cut direct after the incident all those years ago.
“Miss Merriweather is here to visit,” their butler Dalton intoned from the doorway, an expression of acute distaste on his face at the familiarity Etta displayed as she strolled around him and into the room, as she did most every day when she came to call.
“Hello!” Etta’s cheery voice called as she hurried over to the lounge.
“Miss Merriweather.” Alex stood and bowed to her as she took a seat beside Livie.
“Lord Whitmore, it’s nice to see you.” She addressed Alex by his courtesy title.
“The pleasure is mine,” he returned. “And now that you are here to entertain my sister, I shall take my leave.”
“Oh, was that what that was? Entertaining me?” Livie raised an eyebrow as he downed the last of his brandy. “I think you need some practice, brother.”
“Sarcasm again?” He sighed rather mockingly as he walked over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Now rest up and I shall see you tomorrow.”
The ladies watched as he took his leave, and then Etta jumped up from the lounge and rushed over, closing the door. She spun around, facing Livie, her eyes beaming with excitement. “Oh my goodness, the reception the teaser has received has been a phenomenal success! Honestly, it is all anyone can talk of. And the new warehouse is amazing. It is double the size of the space Mr. Mooney had agreed to rent us! I must say, when you mentioned Mr. Colver being a silent partner, I had grave concerns, but he has come through with flying colors.”
He certainly had. Livie herself had made certain to stop at the address and take a look at the new space on the way home. Sebastian had delivered on his promise. It was huge, clean, and simply perfect for the gazette.
Etta clapped her hands together and did a slight dance on the spot. “We shall be able to purchase an even bigger printing press then I’d first thought and triple our production of the fly
ers. Which is what we shall obviously need for the first edition, going by all the interest the pamphlet has generated.” She hurried back to her seat and collapsed down upon it, her bustle flattening in the process. “Speaking of the gazette, how did everything go with Lady Chilton? Did you convince her to give you the guest list?”
Pulling out the list from the pocket of her pelisse, Livie handed it over. “I certainly did, and look at the three men Lady Chilton marked as showing an interest in Alice that weekend.”
Etta gasped. “Lord Daverell, Sir Hartly, and Mr. Barrington. All three very politically ambitious bachelors. And all are vying for a position in the prime minister’s cabinet, I believe.”
“They are. As is Lord Chilton, which is why he hosted such a politically minded house party that weekend.” The three men’s names had been rolling around in her head since seeing them. Was one of them the man who seduced Alice? Only then to possibly push her from the roof once he learned of her pregnancy, in an effort to eliminate any scandal attaching to his political ambitions? “I’ve already sent Fenton a note requesting the men be investigated.”
Kat’s butler was ever efficient and had promptly replied, advising he would task some of his best informants with the job.
“Excellent,” Etta replied. “We should be able to ferret out some information tonight at the Wernham ball, for I know Lord Daverell and perhaps even Mr. Barrington shall be there.”
If anyone could discover gossip at a ball it was Etta, for she had a talent for blending in and going unnoticed. A talent which had greatly assisted in gathering a lot of information on the bachelors so far.
“Actually, I have other plans to attend to tonight.” And quickly she relayed the rest of her visit with Lady Chilton and of the blackmail attempt to take place tonight.
“Are you mad, Livie?” Etta declared. “I cannot let you go alone to a cemetery at midnight.”
“I must go alone, otherwise Mary may flee before I’m even able to talk to her.”
“Well, then, I shall come but stay in the carriage,” Etta insisted.
“And what good will that do me?” Livie pressed a hand upon her friend’s. “You must trust me, I’ll be fine. In any event, hopefully Sebastian will arrive and be there to assist me, though he’ll have to stay hidden in the shadows.”
“And what if he doesn’t attend?” Etta bit the bottom of her lip.
“I’ll have my cane and my pistol with me,” she reassured her friend. “Not to mention Kat has taught us some defensive moves. I will be fine, Etta. You must go to the ball and see what you can find of those three men.” Then she told Etta of Alice’s pregnancy, watching as her friend’s eyes welled with moisture.
“Poor Alice,” Etta murmured. “She must have felt so frightened.”
“I’m sure she did, at least at first,” Livie agreed. “But then she took charge of her situation and was going to start anew in America. But someone whisked that chance away from her. Do you see now how important it is we find out who the scoundrel is?”
Slowly, Etta nodded.
“Which is why you must go to the ball and see what you can discover. Then, along with the information Fenton’s informants are able to gather, we might just be able to work out the identity of the man who destroyed Alice, and then we will destroy him right back, in the very first edition of the gazette.”
Chapter Nineteen
With a quick nod, Seb gave Rowan the signal to continue, while he and his other man, Croucher, watched on. In response, Rowan swung back his fist and slammed it into McGinchy’s cheek.
The man’s head whipped sideways, blood and spittle flying across the room, as he grunted at the impact. His hate-filled eyes sought out Seb’s in the dimness of the basement. “I ain’t saying a word to the likes of a devil worshipper like ya!” he spat out. “Ya can keep me in this hellhole for hours more than ya already have, and yar Curs can keep beatin’ me, but in the end, my leader and God will avenge me and send ya savages to Hell.”
Defiance radiated from the man, while sweat dripped down his head and back, mingling with the blood trickling from the punches to his face to soak into the cream shirt he wore, staining it with patches of red and pink.
On Seb’s orders, the man had been left alone in the dark basement, without a light and with some rats for company for several hours, before his men had started questioning him, which they’d been doing for the past few hours, yielding no results. The man still refused to give up his leader’s name.
Returning to the basement only a short time ago to see if he could get any answers out of him, Seb had sized him up in an instant as a zealot. Such people couldn’t be tortured; they had to be made to fear that which they were most terrified of—their own mortality and sins.
Interesting, he hadn’t realized the Lads were religious. Such a thing, though, was clever, as it would inspire devout and unquestioning followers.
Seb stood and walked over to where the man was strapped to a wooden chair in the center of the room, with his feet bound to the chair legs and his hands tied behind the back of it.
Rowan moved aside to allow Seb to crouch down in front of McGinchy.
“You’ll be receiving no help from the Divine here, I’m afraid. God abandoned this place and me long ago.” Seb smiled without humor and watched McGinchy flinch as if he’d been struck. The man was afraid of him. Good, and so he should be. “Now, if you don’t wish to see his alternate counterpart, then I suggest you start talking and do so now. Unless you want to see what sort of a devil I can be.”
“I already know you are Satan’s spawn!” McGinchy jutted his chin out, a lock of his oily brown hair falling in front of his eyes, which were flashing with feverish contempt.
“Well, that I cannot deny,” Seb agreed. His father had been a vile creature from Hell, after all. “But even I think your God would damn you for playing a part in trying to kill an innocent young lady.”
“Innocent?” the man spat out. “She can’t be too innocent consorting with the likes of you, now can she?”
There was such vehement righteousness in the man’s words, Seb knew they wouldn’t get anything more out of him. At least not this way. He stood.
“The world ain’t got no need of ya and that lame jezebel! Someone should have killed the damaged bitch long ago. She’s a blight on Society. She should be gotten rid of.”
Rage flared inside him at the slur against Livie, and his fist smashed into McGinchy’s face. Blood spurted on them both as the man’s nose shattered, and the force of the blow toppled him and the chair he was strapped to, slamming the man down hard onto the floor.
The fool started laughing as he spat blood out of his mouth. “You’re falling for the pathetic excuse of a woman, aren’t ya! Has she spread her legs already for ya? Can she even fuck with that leg of hers?”
A red mist of fury consumed Seb. He stepped over to the man and began to punch him, over and over again, as images of Livie being hurt by the man clouded his vision.
“Boss, that’s enough.” Rowan grabbed his arm, forcibly pulling Seb away from the man, who was moaning in agony on the ground. “We need him alive until we get the information from him.”
Gradually the rage began to subside, and slowly his self-control started returning. Rowan was staring at him in concern, and perhaps some hesitancy, and who could blame him? If Rowan hadn’t stopped him, he could well have beaten the man to death. Such a loss of control was unacceptable and Seb couldn’t let it occur again.
“Do ya worst.” McGinchy’s gravelly voice sounded labored as he struggled to take in a deep breath, lying on the floor still attached to the chair. “Keep torturing me and bloodying up me face some more, but it won’t work, I tell ya! Cause I ain’t saying nothing to the likes of ya. I ain’t scared, ya hear!”
“Then you are indeed a fool.” Seb couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice. “And you blindly fo
llow a leader who I promise doesn’t give a shit about you. Your principles and misguided loyalty make you a damn idiot to protect someone like that.”
“I follow a man who is going to fuck you to hell and back,” McGinchy screeched, his blood-covered face mottled with abrasions and swelling. “He will have his revenge on you, so go ahead and kill me, ’cause I’ll never betray him.”
“Kill you?” Seb laughed at that. “I’m not going to kill you. Your wonderful leader will do that.” He turned to Rowan. “Keep him in a cell until Monday morning and then release him.”
An expression of incredulity crossed Rowan’s face. “Let him go? Are you serious?” The young man’s gaze couldn’t have been more confused if Seb had told him the sky was red.
“If he still hasn’t told us anything by Monday morning, release him and put out the word he’s rolled on the Lads and given us all the information we needed.”
“But that ain’t the truth!” McGinchy screamed, rocking his body back and forth trying to get out of his bonds, but they didn’t budge. “I ain’t told ya a darn thing! And you bloomin’ well know it!”
“Yes. I know it.” Seb walked over to the door and grabbed his jacket from the hook, then shrugged it on over his shirt, the knuckles on his right hand grazed and bleeding. “But your leader doesn’t, does he? All he’ll know is the information he hears being bandied about on the street. Whispers that you ratted him out to me. Do you think he will forgive you for something like that? Or do you think he might punish you instead?”
The man’s jaw began to shake, and his eyes grew wide.
“If I were a betting man,” Seb continued, “I’d wager my money on him punishing you. Permanently.” He glanced at Rowan and motioned him over. The lanky young man was at his side in a few short strides. “He’s not going to talk, but I’ll give him a chance over the weekend. But if he hasn’t by Monday morning, spread the rumors for a few hours that he’s told us everything, then cut him loose.” Seb then lowered his voice so that only Rowan could hear him. “But trail him closely and see where he goes and who he talks to, and then let me know. Don’t let anyone see you.”
The Bachelor Bargain Page 13
