Читать книгу Regency: Rakes & Reputations - Dorothy Elbury, Gail Ranstrom - Страница 13

Jamie sipped his wine and allowed the conversation to drift over him as he watched the ladies across the drawing room. Earlier at the dinner table, sitting opposite Miss Eugenia had been a sweet agony of yearning. Each time she brought a spoon to those luscious lips, he remembered how they’d tasted, how they’d felted crushed beneath his own. Though it pained him to admit his own lack of self-control, he knew he’d do it again, given half a chance. And knew, too, that kiss had been the biggest mistake he’d ever made. He’d have been better to imagine it than experience it and yearn for it the rest of his life.

The ladies laughed at something Bella said, and then Miss Eugenia glanced in his direction. Their eyes met for a moment and he held back a groan. He wanted her in a way he’d never wanted any other woman, and with an intensity that left him breathless.

Upon reflection, he realized it was true—what Charlie had said. He had spent his adult life avoiding serious entanglements. He had gone so far as to shun the company of women who would expect more of him. But Miss Eugenia…no, she would be no different. Even as he watched her now, her hand went to her throat, and he knew she was remembering that night. He was a reminder of all she had suffered, of her pain and humiliation. There could never be a future with her.

Ah, but there was the next week or so, until she was whisked back to Ireland. And, torture though it would be, he would avail himself of every opportunity to be near her until then.

“…Cox.”

Jamie returned his attention to his own conversation at the mention of that name. “Cox? “

Charlie grinned, as if he knew where Jamie’s mind had been. “Were you not paying attention, Jamie? Devlin just told us that his stableman, old Cox, is dead.”

“Dead?” Jamie frowned. “Accident?”

“Murder. We found him in a stall. He’d been covered over with hay, but the smell gave him away.”

Jamie studied Devlin’s face. Had Devlin avenged the attempt on Jamie’s life? As usual, Devlin was inscrutable. “Coincidence? Or do you think it had something to do with the other night?”

Devlin’s lips twitched, as if he might smile. “It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re thinking, Hunter. Were I a betting man, I’d wager he was silenced for whatever role he played in that debacle. If he had been paid to help an assassin, it wasn’t by me. He’d been carved up like a Christmas goose. It wasn’t pretty.”

Knife, not a pistol? A pistol was more likely to be a hired killer, but a knife was more…personal. More familiar. Henley was quite proficient with a dagger. But then so were the Gibbons brothers.

He glanced back at Miss Eugenia and a vision of her suffering Cox’s fate chilled him to the bone. She could identify Henley. She could testify against him. Would she be next? Or would he?

Damnation! She had refused to stay safe at home, and he could not let her wander through society indifferent to the danger to her. No simple mooning after her would do. He would have to dog her every footstep. He would have to play the role of her most ardent suitor to keep her close. He would not let her die as Cox had.

It was time to pay the Gibbons brothers a visit. Gina would be safe enough tonight, since Mrs. O’Rourke forbade her girls from entertainments on Sunday nights.

The Gibbons brothers did not have a known address. When Devlin wanted to see them, he merely put the word out and, sooner or later, the brothers turned up at the Crown and Bear. Considering what Jamie suspected, they were not likely to respond this time.

Luckily, he had learned they were known to frequent a flea-infested gin house off Petticoat Lane by the name of the Cat’s Paw. He elbowed the door open and eased in, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. The odor of unwashed bodies and years of spilled ale and gin was noxious. Behind him, Charlie coughed to cover his disgust and they moved to a section of the bar nearest the door.

“What the bloody hell are we going to order?” Charlie muttered under his breath.

Jamie shook his head. The gin would strike them blind and the ale was likely the poorest to be had and diluted with filthy rain water. The tavern keeper, a man with one good eye and another that wandered, asked, “What’ll it be, gents?”

“Bottle of whiskey,” Jamie said. “Bring it unopened.”

He noted they were drawing attention and was undecided if that was good or bad. The Cat’s Paw did not attract men of Hunter’s ilk, but most of the bully boys in the place would think twice before assaulting a gent in public. Once he and Charlie departed and entered a darkened street, however.

When the tavern keeper brought the whiskey, Jamie held it to the light. It was sealed and looked clear, not cloudy with the foul water hereabouts. He nodded at the tavern keeper, who opened the bottle and handed it to him. Jamie raised an eyebrow, took a swig and winced as the cheap rotgut burned a path down his throat. He passed the bottle to Charlie, who did the same.

Jamie tossed the tavern keeper a few coins and waved the unwashed tin cups away.

Charlie grinned as the tavern keeper turned to attend other customers. “I wondered what we could possibly order in here that wouldn’t poison us.”

“We’ll see how big our heads are in the morning.”

A tall figure emerged from the shadows at the back of the room. A shorter figure followed on his heels. They approached Jamie cautiously.

“I knows you,” the taller man said. “One o’ Farrell’s friends, ain’t ye?”

“Hunter’s the name.” Jamie inclined his head toward Charlie. “And this is my brother, Charlie.”

“You th’ gents askin’ fer us?”

“Aye.” He grabbed the whiskey bottle around the neck. “We want a private talk.”

Richard “Dick” Gibbons, the taller and older of the brothers, led the way to a table in a far corner. He and his silent brother, Artie, sat against the wall, leaving Jamie and Charlie to sit with their backs to the room—a dangerous position in this sort of place. Jamie tilted his chair to one side, facing the room, and Charlie did the same, forming a rough semicircle. Artie grinned at their ploy.

Dick Gibbons held out his tin cup and Jamie obliged by pouring a measure of whiskey into it, then did the same with Artie’s cup.

“You remember what we wanted last time?” Jamie asked.

Dick nodded.

“I want it again.”

The eldest Gibbons’s grin made Jamie wary, and he suspected that Henley might have escaped the authorities a few weeks ago because the Gibbons brothers had warned him off. Selling that information to two parties, both Devlin Farrell and Henley, made for double profit. The Gibbonses were treacherous enough for such a move and greedy enough to risk Devlin’s anger.

“Thought ye got ‘em all.”

“You know we didn’t,” Jamie countered, running his own bluff. “And you know who I want.”

Dick seemed to contemplate denial and decide against it. “Henley, is it?”

Charlie took a swig from the bottle and eyed the Gibbons brothers warily. His glance at Jamie warned of caution, but Jamie was beyond that. There was only one way to deal with men like these—plainly. “Henley,” he confirmed.

“‘E’s a dangerous one,” Dick said. “‘E offered a bounty fer ye, didn’t ‘e?”

“You know he did,” Jamie confirmed. “Was it you who took a shot at me two nights ago?”

Artie’s shoulders shook, but his laugh sounded more like a wheeze. His grin split to reveal two rows of rotten teeth. Dick shrugged, but did not answer Jamie’s question.

“I thought a knife was more to your liking,” Charlie said. “Was it you who carved up old Cox?”

“A smart man’d use whatever’d get the job done. We hears th’ Hunters is dangerous, too. Wouldn’t pay ta get too close.”

“I didn’t know that mattered to you and your brother.”

“Don’t.” Dick sat back in his chair and took Jamie’s measure. “If there’s enough money in it.”

Here was the confirmation that the Gibbons brothers would play a double game without the least compunction. “Name your price.”

The Gibbons brothers put their heads together and communicated in whatever way they were able given Artie’s reluctance or inability to speak. When Dick faced him again, he laughed, expelling a cloud of foul breath that nearly sickened Jamie.

“Considerin’ the risk, hundred pounds,” he said.

Jamie kept his expression neutral. The sum was enough to keep a small family for a year. The Home Office would never pay so much, but Jamie could muster that much from his personal accounts. And capturing Henley had become a very personal matter. “Done,” he said. “On delivery.”

“Ain’t our usual way o’ doin’ business,” Dick said, his dull eyes narrowing.

“If you know the Hunters’ reputations, you know we honor our debts. And you know it would not be wise to cross us. You’re already living on borrowed time as far as Devlin Farrell is concerned.”

Both the Gibbons brothers looked nervous for the first time. Whether due to Devlin’s wrath or the Hunters’, it did not matter. All that mattered was that the Gibbons brothers would be unlikely to double-cross them again.

“How’ll we find ye when we gots the information?”

“The Crown and Bear after midnight. If I am not there, leave a message with Mick Haddon and I’ll find you.”

“How lovely Vauxhall is this time of year,” Lady Annica sighed, gesturing at the roses as the ladies strolled along one of the paths. She glanced over her shoulder and the vapid smile faded from her lips. “At last we are alone. Now, tell us what Mr. Renquist reported to you this afternoon, Eugenia.”

The day had been warm and the sun was just dipping below the horizon as their group halted and gathered in a circle to hear the news. Gina took a deep breath before she began.

“He is not particularly hopeful. He says he has made inquiries in all the most likely places, all to no avail. He has not given up, however, and informs me there are still a number of sources he has not yet tapped.”

Grace Hawthorne squeezed her hand. “You look discouraged, dear. But Mr. Renquist has proven his worth ten times over. We have a great deal of faith in him.”

“Yes, but my mother has said she is looking into ways whereupon we can leave for Ireland sooner. I do not know how much more time I may have.”

“Never fear.” Lady Sarah’s violet eyes narrowed, reminding Gina of her brother’s eyes and causing a little tingle to race up her spine. “Should it be necessary for you to leave before we have found the scoundrel, we shall continue. Nary a man has eluded us for long.”

The assurance was comforting, but Gina wanted to be present herself for Henley’s capture. She wanted to witness his humiliation. “Thank you, Lady Sarah. I appreciate all the Wednesday League has done for me.”

She hesitated and glanced at her sister, Lilly. Would the ladies be angry? Chastise her? Even so, they had been forthright with her, and she could be no less with them. “I have also employed some street urchins to keep watch for any sign of Mr. Henley. And to gather whatever information they can.”

They fell silent for a moment as the lamplighters came by, illuminating the pathways for the evening. Lady Annica’s husband, Lord Auberville, had arranged for their entire party to stay for supper and to see the fireworks, one of the last of the season.

Lady Sarah resumed the conversation as if it had never been interrupted. “Excellent. I employed two, myself, when it became necessary. I could give you their names and perhaps they could be pressed into service, as well.”

Gina exhaled a long breath. “Thank you.”

Lady Annica closed her parasol. “Ah, here come the gentlemen. I vow, Sarah, your brothers make a merry group. I would have thought they’d be carousing or scaring up a card game. What do you think could account for their devoted attention to us of late?”

Lady Sarah laughed and shot Gina a teasing wink. “I cannot imagine, though it has been suggested that one of my brothers might be smitten.”

Gina stopped herself from turning around to see who was coming and Lilly gave her a nudge. “There, you see?” she whispered. “James or Charles Hunter is taken by you. Perhaps both. And either of them would do nicely for a husband.”

Husband? Dear heavens! Lilly really had no idea of the nature of her relationship with James. Even if she were able and inclined to marry, he was the last man she would consider.

“Ladies,” Lord Auberville greeted them. “You look as if you are hatching some scheme or surprise. Is it a game we can all play?”

Lady Annica smiled as she took his arm. “It is for ladies only, Auberville. I assure you, you would not want to be a part of this conversation.”

He looked down at her and his smile was only slightly suspicious. “Ah, I see. Ladies’ business, is it?” He turned to the others and quirked an eyebrow. “I have learned not to ask too many questions lest I become privy to information no man should know.”

James Hunter was studying Gina rather too closely. A sardonic smile hovered at the corners of his mouth, telling her that he suspected what the conversation had really been about. She glanced away, afraid she might reveal too much.

Lord Auberville and Lady Annica led the way back toward the pavilion. “We have come to fetch you as our table is ready for us. I shall apologize in advance for the food, but the wine is tolerable.”

Laughter dispelled the tension and they proceeded to the supper box. Dining for such a large party, more than a dozen, took several hours and the evening had grown chill by the time they were finished.

As they exited the dining area, Andrew glanced at his pocket watch. “It is still more than an hour before the fireworks. Shall we take in the musical performance?”

Agreement was quick, but before they’d gone far, Gina found James at her elbow. “Would you consent to stroll down to the river with me, Miss O’Rourke?”

“I …”

“The lights reflected off the water are quite lovely this time of evening.”

“Go on, then,” Lady Sarah said. “But be back for the fireworks. And mind your manners, Jamie.”

He took her arm and turned her toward one of the promenades leading to the Thames. Gina looked up at him and sighed. “I would have thought your sister, of all people, would know that you haven’t any.”

“Manners?” He laughed. “Aye, you’d think she would. Alas, she thinks her brothers are perfect—a myth we tend to perpetuate. Will you give us away?”

“That would depend, Mr. Hunter.”

“Upon what, Miss O’Rourke?”

“Upon how you choose to deal with me.”

“I cannot foresee any changes in the near future.”

“Then your reputation is in jeopardy.”

“Are you still disgruntled about the kiss? I would say I regret it and ask your pardon, but I don’t regret it in the least. In fact, I count it among my most memorable moments.”

She shivered, remembering the bittersweet yearning for something more, and glanced down at the pebbled path rather than betray herself. Unfortunately her little shiver had given her away and he chuckled knowingly as he leaned closer to her ear.

“I think you will not soon forget it either.”

“Did you ask me to walk with you for the express purpose of taunting me, Mr. Hunter?”

He sighed deeply and turned her down a path that branched to their right. “We are a bit past formalities, Eugenia. When we are alone, at least, would you call me Jamie? Or James, if you’d like.”

He had made her name sound like a caress or a sigh. She’d never really cared for her name until that moment. “If…if you’d prefer. But if you did not want to talk to me about what happened in the Albermarle gardens, why did you ask to walk with me? Now your sister thinks …”

“That I am courting you? Precisely. As will everyone else in our party. And, with luck, the news will spread like wildfire throughout the ton.”

“You…you want people to think that? But why?”

“You have refused to stay at home and avoid places and situations where you might encounter trouble. Since I cannot stop you, this is my best chance of protecting you.”

She halted beneath a lantern at a fork in the path and withdrew her hand from his arm. “I do not recall asking for your protection, Mr. Hunter. And, had you asked, I would have refused.”

His voice carried a slight chill when he answered. “Not an option, Eugenia.”

He had put himself directly in her path. Would people talk as freely to her now if they thought she was intimately connected to James Hunter? She rather thought not. This little charade of his would render her completely ineffective. “We must halt this ridiculous rumor at once!”

She turned back the way they’d come but had not gone more than a few steps when he caught her by the arm and pulled her down an unlighted path to the right. When they were quite alone and could not possibly be overheard, he halted and turned to face her.

“We will do no such thing, Eugenia. To the contrary, you will support the fable. There is no escape from it. I intend to dog your every footstep until you are gone back to Belfast.”

“You have no right!”

His handsome face settled into hard lines. “Would you rather I take this matter to someone who does have the right? I believe my brother Andrew and perhaps Devlin Farrell are your nearest male relatives. Do you really think they would look more kindly on your activities than I do?”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Care to make a wager on that, Eugenia?”

Good heavens—he would! From the look on his face, argument would be useless. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. A show of defiance would gain her nothing, but perhaps they could reach a compromise. “I shall do nothing to contradict you, then, but when you are not present—”

“You, Eugenia, will not contradict me. I will always be present.”

“What are you saying?”

“That I intend to be at every function you attend. Furthermore, I shall escort you and your party home each night.”

“Are you mad? People will be expecting a marriage. At the very least, an announcement. One of us will look a jilt when I return to Ireland.”

“I shall take the blame. I have no intention of causing you or your reputation harm. But you must see that you have left me no other recourse to keep you safe from your own recklessness.”

Trapped. She was trapped and she would be hard-pressed to make any progress finding Mr. Henley now. With James at her elbow every time she left the house, who would confide in her? Why, how would she even meet with Miss Race and Mr. Metcalfe at the Morris masquerade? This was intolerable.

She looked up at him in the moonlight, aware for the first time that they had ventured down one of the “dark walks.” Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the strains of an orchestra playing a waltz. Nearer, the call of a bird disturbed from its nest startled her. If James had meant to find privacy, he’d succeeded.

He looked down at her and slipped his arm around her waist. “Eugenia, it will not be so bad. I promise.”

How could she ever make him understand? Frustration surfaced as she looked into his eyes and her deepest fear slipped out unbidden. “Perhaps it is already too late to save me….”

“Not while you still breathe, Gina.” His lips were soft and beseeching as they touched hers, as if making a request or waiting for permission to do more.

She responded in a way she hadn’t known she could, and she realized just how badly she’d wanted this—this closeness, this intimacy, this deep and poignant longing. She surrendered to it, sinking against him with a little moan.

His arms tightened around her, one hand winding through her hair and making a fist, holding her immobile and unable to turn away. Unnecessary, since she’d lost the will for resistance long ago. She wanted to find what lay at the end of this.