“What is it?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re making that face.”
“What face?”
“You know, the one where you wrinkle your nose a little and your nostrils flare?”
“I am not,” she argued.
“Yes, you are. You used to make it all the time when you were frustrated.”
“I’m not frustrated and I’m not making a face.”
“Are so.”
“Am not!”
“Are so!”
“Am—” Charlie stopped mid-sentence, realizing she had once again fallen for his game. “We sound like we are children... again.”
“I know,” he said with a snicker. “You make it too easy to goad you. You need to lighten up, Charlotte.”
“Charlie,” she corrected.
“Point proven.” His eyebrows wiggled in victory.
She stammered to defend herself but realized she would only be proving him right... again. With a huff she trotted up the hill, vowing to stop letting him get under her skin.
“There! Chalybeate Spring! We made it!” John pointed, rounding the top of the hill.
He was right. They had made it. Now to find Walter Baker.
“I think we should go in separately,” she said. “You find us lodging. I’ll find out where Walter Baker is.”
“Very well. Where should we meet back up?”
“I’ll find you. You’re terrible at hiding,” She winked and cantered off on Duchess to the town below.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JOHN SAT AT THE HOTEL bar watching some of England’s most notorious lords and ladies parade around in their finest clothing. Since the discovery of Chalybeate Spring, Tunbridge Wells had exploded into the place to see and be seen. Visitors would soak in the medicinal waters, promenade on the Walks and gossip in the coffee houses. At night, parties, gambling, and balls were a common occurrence. Anyone who was anyone wanted to be seen in Tunbridge Wells.
“A dipper of spring water, sir?” the bartender asked, leaning forward on his elbows.
“A dipper of gin?” John arched an eyebrow.
“Very good, sir,” he said, returning John’s smile. He bent down behind the bar and reappeared with a glass and a bottle of gin.
“To the top.” He gestured.
“As you wish, sir.” The barkeep poured the gin while John waved him on, until the clear liquid was ready to spill over the top of the glass.
“You’re a good man.” John smiled, and lifted the glass to his lips, sucking off just enough to make it safe to set down again.
“You’re very talented with those lips, sir. I’d like to see what other talents you have,” a sultry voice crooned from behind him. A woman wearing long, black, lacy gloves slid her hand along his chest, down toward his drawers.
“Oh, I have many, many talents. Perhaps—” John froze as he turned around. Ebony locks spun into perfect curls cascaded over an exploding bosom. Her red gown dipped so low, just a heaving breath could expose a pert, pink nipple. His gaze moved from her breasts to the succulent lips painted the same color they’d been the night of the party. The night when his life had completely changed. Those lush lips were a shade of red he couldn’t be certain was paint or the blood of a man she had just executed. Long black lashes batted from beneath the oversized wig that covered her fiery red hair.
“Ch-Char—” he stammered only to be silenced by her finger over his lips as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes from her full breasts as she leaned in closer.
“Shhhh. You don’t know me. I don’t know you.”
John swallowed and nodded.
“Are you looking for company to Walter Baker’s soirée tonight? I would be happy to be on your arm.” She fluttered her eyelashes and slid her hand along his thigh, her fingers almost touching the member straining to break free of his pants. She played the part of a prostitute well. Very well.
“I would be honored to have you on my arm, miss.” John smiled and pulled her down into his lap. He saw a flash of shock on her face as he held her tight. “I’m looking forward to having you in my bed, as well.”
Her face no longer revealed even a hint of shock as she leaned in closer, her gloved hand stroking his chest and sliding around the back of his neck. John tried to play it cool as she leaned in, tormenting him by letting her lips hover just a breath away. The bartender watched with mouth agape.
“What do you say we get the party started early?” she whispered, stroking his face with one long finger.
He swallowed and nodded, his gaze moving from her lips to her seductive eyes. They were burning with desire. She was either an exceptional actress, or she’d finally succumbed to the chemistry that had been building between them. He hoped it was the latter, since his own lust threatened to explode.
“I have a room here,” he said, and slid his hand around and grasped her firm bottom. She didn’t flinch while he gave it a squeeze. “Care to join me?”
She nodded slowly, a cat-like smile creeping across her porcelain face. She slid off his lap, extending her hand as her eyes begged him to follow.
He tossed some coins on the bar and winked at the grinning bartender. “Thank you for the drink. I will retire now.”
The old man smiled. “Enjoy your room, sir.”
John hopped up and offered an elbow. Charlie slipped her arm through it and allowed him to lead her past the tables of men drinking while their wives were off strolling the gardens. There wasn’t a mouth that was closed or an eye that wasn’t staring, wishing they could trade places with him. John felt a surge of pride as they walked by. She was the most beautiful woman he, or any of these men, had likely ever seen.
They made their way down the corridor to his room. As she stroked his neck, sensations zipped through his body, causing him to fumble with the key. His manhood pressed tightly in his drawers as he finally felt the lock click open. He swung open the door and stepped aside while she sauntered in, black lashes fluttering as she gave him a look. John smiled and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
“Charlie,” he said, stepping forward, “you look—”
“Incredible. I know. I bought it off one of the girls at the brothel.” She pulled off her wig and tossed it on the bed. “God, this thing is uncomfortable! I don’t know how ladies of the evening can stand it!”
He watched her sexy demeanor disappear as she flopped down on the velvet chair in the corner of his room. He stood silently, unable to wipe the look of disappointment off his face.
She tipped her head and smirked. “What? You didn’t think I meant it when I insinuated I would tupp you, did you?”
“Wh-what?” he stammered. “No. Of course not.”
She tossed her head back, a belly laugh pouring out from between those red lips he wanted to capture with his own. “You did! You really thought I was coming back here to tupp you! Did it not occur to you I was acting the part of a prostitute?”
His face flushed as her laughter continued. “Of course, I knew it was an act. I’m not stupid, Charlie,” he defended.
“Really? Why do I not believe you?” Her eyes fell to the large bulge in his pants.
John looked down and dropped his hands to cover it, clearing his throat as he shifted to conceal it.
“What did you find out?” he said, quickly changing the subject as he moved to the bed, sitting with his hands covering his lap.
She snickered. “Lots. Do you need a moment, or can I go on?”
“I’m fine, Charlie. Just because I knew we weren’t going to be... you know, doesn’t mean John Jr. wasn’t excited by having your diddeys shoved in my face,” he said, struggling to recover. “He has a mind of his own.”
Charlie shrugged and settled back in the chair. “I made my way to the brothel in town and passed myself off as a prostitute from London looking for a new gig. If you want information, there is no better destination than a house of ill repute.”
<
br /> “You’re telling me? I’ve learned all the best secrets while tangled up in the sheets with a beautiful woman. There is no better, or more pleasurable way, to gain information.” John felt redeemed as the smug look slipped off her face, replaced for a moment with one that could be mistaken for jealousy.
She straightened up and continued. “It turns out our dear friend Walter Baker has taken up as the town’s connoisseur of entertainment. He hosts parties every evening for all the gentleman visiting to let loose a little. Gambling, whores, drinking... his estate hosts it all. He’s having another party tonight. I figured we could slip in and do some investigating. Since wives aren’t allowed, I thought this would be the best way to get us both past the butler.”
“Very clever.”
“The bawd told me she would consider bringing me into her brothel if I could prove myself. She expects to see me at the party tonight with a customer on my arm. Lucky for me I had one lined up already.”
“I am happy to be of service,” he said with a chuckle.
“We have a few hours before the party begins. I am going to take a nap.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be down at the bar.”
“Like hell you will! I have a reputation to uphold. What would they think if you reappeared straight away? They would think I couldn’t please a man. That is something I will never allow.”
“Either that or they’ll think you’re so good at pleasing one it only took you a mere minute,” he teased.
She shook her head. “Nope. You stay here. In fact, switch with me. I’ll nap on the bed, and you can have the chair.”
Charlie hopped up and stood impatiently before him, her hands resting on her hips as her toes tapped the floor. He chuckled and shook his head, standing up before folding into a bow.
“Rest well, milady,” he joked. She curtsied before settling into the bed.
Shaking his head, he walked across the room to the chair and slumped down. He watched her toss and turn for a moment before slipping into a peaceful rest. How badly he wished he could be there beside her, slipping up behind her and cradling her in his arms. He knew that he would likely lose an eye or a hand if he tried it, but for a moment, he thought perhaps the sacrifice would be worth it.
John woke up from his nap to see Charlie securing her oversized black wig back on her head. She tucked the last red ringlet beneath it and gave it one final tug.
“Your suit just arrived,” she said, without turning around. He was once again in awe of her intuition. He hadn’t even stirred yet and she was aware that he had awakened.
“My suit?” he asked as he stretched and stood up.
“Yes. I stopped by a shop on my way here today and picked one out. If I’m going to be on your arm tonight, you’re going to be the best-dressed one there.”
“And how did you know my measurements?”
“The suit will fit perfectly.”
“You’ve been paying attention,” he said.
There was a knock on the door. She deliberately ignored him and strode over to answer it. With a quick word of thanks, she took the box from the delivery man and set it on the bed.
“Get dressed. I’ll be down in the parlor.”
He watched her go and chuckled to himself. She was the most intriguing creature he had ever encountered. He opened the box, half expecting she had picked out some ridiculous outfit even a dandy would scoff at just to spite him; however, he was pleasantly surprised to see the silk and velvet suit folded up within. He pulled out the red waistcoat and examined it. It appeared to be exactly his size.
Dressing, he secured his hair with a black bow at the base of his neck. He placed the matching red and black tricorn hat atop his head and slipped on the new shoes. He was ready.
John walked proudly down the stairs into the parlor. He was used to fine clothing, but he was never one to follow fashion. Charlie had outdone herself in picking out his outfit. As he rounded the final steps, he saw her standing in the parlor. Her blue eyes found their way to his. A smile crossed her face when she looked him up and down, nodding in approval.
“Well?” he asked, spinning once in front of her.
“You look perfect,” she said, leaning forward and straightening his collar.
“Perfect enough you’ll be joining me in bed tonight?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Not that perfect,” she bantered back. “Let’s go. The party has begun.”
She slipped her arm through his elbow and led him out onto the street. From what she had told him, Baker’s house was just a few blocks away.
“What is our plan?” he asked as they turned the corner onto a residential street.
“We find Walter, get him alone. We question him—then kill him.”
“Is that all?” He chuckled at her forceful response. “And how do we plan to go about doing this?”
“Just follow my lead. I’ll take care of getting him alone. We’re here.”
John looked up to the three-story townhouse. Laughter and music poured out of the otherwise unassuming building. A woman stumbled out of the door, barely clothed, cackling with a man on her arm. This was Walter Baker’s. It had to be.
“Shall we?” she asked, her eyes glistening with excitement.
“We shall.”
They walked arm in arm up the stairs to the door. A large butler stood poised at the grand entrance. His eyes looked them up and down as Charlie draped over John, fingering the gold buttons on his waistcoat.
“Go on in.” He gestured, opening the door to a room filled with laughing men, and women wrapped in vibrant colors with rogued cheeks, towering wigs and red lips. John had been to many a party of this type before, but he had to admit, Walter Baker had outdone himself on this one.
They made their way through the crowd. The eyes of every man followed Charlie, while every woman stopped for a moment to peer up from their customers and take in the sight of John.
“We are drawing too much attention,” he whispered in her ear as he grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.
“That is the idea,” she said as she slipped a glass from his hand and took a seductive sip.
“Who have we here? I can’t say I’ve seen the likes of either of you before,” a jovial voice asked from behind them. They turned to find a tall man approaching. His white wig set off his contrasting black eyebrows and mustache, both as well-groomed as the golden suit he wore. Even though he had aged, John recognized his face immediately: Walter Baker.
“I would certainly remember seeing you, my dear.” Walter sipped on his glass of champagne, making no effort to hide the lecherous way he studied every inch of Charlie’s exposed skin. John felt a surge of anger as Walter’s eyes focused back on her barely covered breasts.
“I am Henry Cahill. I heard rumors you hosted the best evenings this side of London.”
“You heard right, Mr. Cahill. And who, might I ask, is this bewitching creature beside you?” He barely acknowledged John’s introduction.
“This is Charlotte DuJevieve. She is my escort for the evening.”
Charlie bowed gracefully, her eyes taunting him as she bent, her breasts ready to fall out of her dress. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she crooned.
“The pleasure is all mine. I am Walter Baker, and this is my home. Are you new here? I have never seen you before.”
“I have just arrived from London. Mrs. Smith has offered me a chance to prove myself and join her house.”
“I will let Mrs. Smith know she would be a fool to pass up an opportunity to have someone of your caliber in our fine town. I look forward to seeing you at many of my parties, Miss DuJevieve.”
“I look forward to you seeing more of me. Much more,” Charlie said, acknowledging his heated perusal with a saucy wink.
Walter nearly choked on his drink. He nodded his head vigorously, paying no mind to John who stood beside her, a bit stunned.
“Please, please. Follow me. Perhaps a card game for the gentleman?” Walter place
d his hand on John’s back and pushed him toward the small room off to the left. Billows of smoke poured out of it and the sounds of men laughing assured him this was indeed the card room. It didn’t go unnoticed to John that Walter was going to keep him occupied while he forced time alone with Charlie.
“Please, Mr. Cahill, enjoy the game!” Walter pulled out a chair for John to sit down. The wigged men across the table looked him over with calculating eyes. John followed Walter’s instructions and sat down, examining the room around him. Two exits, three if you counted the windows. You could never be too safe in his profession.
“Miss DuJevieve, you can follow me to the, eh, special room for the ladies.”
“She stays with me,” John stated.
Charlie’s eyes flashed a touch of horror and a bit of rage as she nodded and stepped back obediently to his side.
“Now, now, Mr. Cahill. She’ll be safe as can be in the next room. No ladies allowed in here.”
“I said—”
“It is no trouble, Mr. Cahill,” Charlie stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be waiting for you. I’m sure you’ll be able to find me.” Her voice indicated a prostitute awaited him in the next room; her eyes revealed she had a plan and John needed to jump on board. He nodded and cringed as Walter Baker escorted her out of the room, the man’s hand slipping from the small of her back and onto her firm buttocks. Charlie looked over her shoulder and gave John a reassuring nod. He didn’t understand her current strategy, but from what he could make of her strange actions, he would need to let her go now and find her again later.
He only stayed for one game, since his stomach wouldn’t stop flipping in anxiety over Charlie’s safety. Walter Baker hadn’t returned either and John could only imagine the propositions he had made to her once she’d slipped out of sight with the man’s hand glued to her ass. Men like Walter Baker wanted nothing more than to swoop in and snag a woman right from under her escort’s nose.
In The Assassin's Arms (Daggers 0f Desire Book 1) Page 7