“Aye, I heard you,” Golden grunted. “But I guess you didn’t hear my answer not three minutes ago, so let me say it slower. He ain’t been seen by anyone since that night you spied him at Donville. He ain’t come home. Servants are tightlipped as fuck about it, too.”
“He’s gone to the wind again,” Ellis muttered.
“Perhaps,” Mitchell said. “Don’t know why you didn’t go after him when you saw him. Could’ve had it all done before sunup.”
Ellis didn’t respond, but continued to stare through the spyglass at the unassuming home. Mitchell didn’t know about Juliana. No one in his circle did. Mitchell also didn’t know what the plan was when it came to Winston Leonard. He thought Ellis intended to rough him up a bit, frighten him and that would be it.
It was better that way. When it was over his little motley crew would either stay in formation and choose a new leader from their ranks or disband and disappear into the underground to pickpocket another day.
“Track everything,” Ellis said softly as he handed the glass back over. “Any information, even something small, should be brought to me.”
“Aye.” Mitchell looked off at the house. “Your cousin is searching too, you know.”
Ellis shook his head. “Of course he is. He still thinks a man like Leonard might be bargained with. Hanging about with too many fops now that he married into the upper crust.”
Mitchell nudged him with a lewd grin. “But the woman is comely enough, eh?”
Ellis scowled. When anyone discussed Anne in that tone, they were, in effect, also discussing Thomasina and Juliana. He found he didn’t like that so very much. But there was no use causing a tiff, so he ignored the opening. “Have you had any luck with the code?”
He scowled as he thought of it. Rook had found a coded message that could lead them to the gem Leonard wanted desperately enough to kill for it. But his cousin had always been rubbish with code. Ellis knew he could break it if only he could get his hands on it.
If he had the gem, that meant he had the power. He could lead Leonard right to him then and end this with one strike.
But Rook had partnered with the Earl of Harcourt now. Both men wanted to do this the gentlemanly way. Whatever that meant.
Danger. That’s what it meant.
“Naw,” Mitchell said with a laugh. “Been trying to find a way in to that Harcourt stronghold for weeks now. Rook’s still crafty. Don’t know where he has it or what he’s done with it.”
“Well, I might have to take care of that part myself, it seems,” Ellis said. He wasn’t looking forward to that encounter. He hadn’t spoken to Rook since the afternoon Juliana was attacked. His cousin had been enraged with him.
He’d known their long friendship, their bond, was broken. And that broke him in ways he didn’t want to consider.
He turned his horse toward the road. “Keep me apprised on Leonard. His father fears him, so keep a close watch on the duke and his other children, too. Thank you.”
Mitchell grunted a response, and Ellis sighed as he rode off. None of this was going according to plan. In fact, that had been the problem with this entire mess since the beginning. He’d always been a strategist. Always known exactly the path he had to take to remain safe and dry and rich.
But the moment Winston Leonard had been allowed into his circle, this fancy fop with his promises of money and security and access to a whole new level of mark…
Well, from that moment forward, it had been anarchy. Leonard wasn’t about strategy, he was about pleasure. Not in sex, not in fortune, but in pain. He took because he liked to cause pain. He broke because he liked to watch things break. He killed and threatened because the fear gave him power. Ellis and Solomon had discovered that too late.
Solomon was dead. Ellis was running. And everyone in their lives was in danger. He was the only one left alive to take the responsibility for this debacle.
And what did he do? Well, he got himself distracted by a woman with green eyes and a spine of steel hidden beneath a soft, delectable body. And distraction was a killer. It would just be a sweeter death than the one he was sure to face with Winston Leonard.
He shook his head. Christ, he had to stop doing this. He had to stop longing for something that wasn’t his. It was over now. He would never see Juliana Shelley again.
And he had a job to do.
Once again Juliana was surrounded by her sisters and their husbands in the Earl of Harcourt’s London home. Once again she sat to the outside of their foursome, watching as they talked together. Watching as the couples exchanged little meaningful glances or brushes of hands. The separation between them felt so stark now even as she tried to pretend that it wasn’t.
She sighed and got up, walked to the sideboard across the parlor and freshened her tea. She felt so out of sorts, she almost didn’t recognize herself anymore.
It had been three days since she had been banned from the Donville Masquerade. Three days where the address Marcus Rivers had given to her had all but burned a hole in her gown pocket. She kept fingering the fine paper, daring herself to look at it. But she hadn’t found the nerve yet. Once she did, she would have to decide if she would go there.
If she could face a man who had so firmly dismissed her. If she could face herself and the desires that burned in her chest.
“Juliana?” She turned and found Thomasina at her elbow. Her sister’s expression was concerned as she slipped an arm around her waist and squeezed. “What is it?”
Juliana wrinkled her brow. “What is…what?” she asked, trying to sound light and unaffected and perfectly fine when she was anything but.
Thomasina pursed her lips. “Come now. You have been distracted for days. I’ve watched you disappearing into your head here and at Father’s. Won’t you talk to me about it?”
Juliana forced a smile. Usually she was the one wheedling out the truth from her sisters. It was rather annoying being on the opposite end of that equation.
“I adore you for worrying,” she said. “But I promise there is no need.”
She moved to step away, but Thomasina caught her hand and tugged her back. Now Thomasina’s gentle expression was lit with anxiety. “I don’t believe you. Please.”
Juliana bent her head. There seemed to be no hiding the truth, and perhaps she shouldn’t at that. After all, there was danger to more than just herself.
“I…saw…Winston Leonard,” she admitted with a quick glance toward Anne, Rook and Harcourt across the room. They were smiling. That would end soon enough.
Thomasina released her hand and staggered back, away from Juliana. “You what?” she gasped out, loud enough that all the other heads turned.
Juliana shook her head. This was happening. “Yes,” she said so that everyone could hear. “I saw Winston Leonard.”
Rook and Harcourt launched toward her side by side, with Anne right behind them.
“Where?” Rook barked. “When?”
“A few days ago,” Juliana admitted. “Here in London.”
“Where in London?” Harcourt asked, his irritation at her lack of specificity clear. “Juliana, why didn’t you tell us?”
She chose to focus on the second question rather than the first. “You are all in wedded bliss,” she said softly. “Two happy couples starting your lives together. You’ve hardly had time for anyone else, have you? If you are planning, it is without me involved. I had no chance to inform you and I was in no hurry to cause extra strain in already difficult circumstances.”
Both her sisters drew back a fraction at her tone and she saw them exchange a glance. Even without the special connection they shared as triplets, she could read their expressions. Pitying. Perhaps guilty because they knew she was right. Juliana was being left behind as the only sister without true love panting after her heels.
She couldn’t even get a man known for love cons to seduce her. It was rather pathetic when she thought of it in those terms.
“Juliana,” Harcourt said, his face twi
sted as if her pain were an anathema to him. “I-I’m sorry if you feel you’ve been left out. That was never our intention. I have been trying to convince your father to allow you to stay with us for a while. For your protection if nothing else.”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t care about my safety, though, does he? You will not win that argument, my lord.”
Anne arched a brow. “Well, he will not like it when I take over.”
“Still,” Harcourt said. “I wish you had told us about Leonard when you first saw him. Are you certain it was him?”
She lifted a hand to her scar and felt the tingle like the knife was just slicing there. “As if I would ever forget that horrible face.”
Both her sisters sucked in a breath, but Harcourt ignored it. “Where was he?”
“I just…saw him at a gathering I attended,” she muttered. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he is here.”
Rook’s brow was wrinkled as he observed the exchange. He stepped forward and covered Anne’s trembling hand. “Juliana is correct. Wherever she was, for whatever reason she is keeping it private, what truly matters is Leonard. Harcourt, if he’s here, he could be drawn out.”
The two men stepped away, their heads going together as they hashed out a plan. Anne and Thomasina remained at her side, each holding her hand.
“I’m sorry,” Thomasina whispered, and there were tears in her eyes.
Anne nodded. “So am I.”
Juliana bent her head. Now that they were apologizing, she felt silly for bringing up her feelings of separation and exile. She knew why her sisters were so focused on their husbands. She’d felt the thrill of desire herself recently and understood it far more. What she didn’t understand was what went beyond the physical. Her sisters loved their husbands. They were loved by them.
Who wouldn’t want that?
“I’m—I’m being foolish,” Juliana said with a shake of her head. “Churlish.” She looked over at the men and her sisters did as well. She felt them both vibrating with their need to cross to them. “You’d best see what they’re talking about.”
“No,” Thomasina said. “I won’t leave you.”
Juliana tilted her head and looked at her sister. “You won’t be. I’m standing right here.”
Anne was already leaning toward Rook, but she had the grace to glance back at Juliana. “Are you sure?”
Juliana waved them off and saved her sigh until they were far enough away they couldn’t hear her. She was out of sorts. She hated herself for it. It signaled such a lack of control. Everything she’d done recently felt like it was driven by a lack of control.
She dug into her pocket as she paced to the window. The paper with Ellis’s address was still there, wrinkled now, worn from her fingers brushing it. At last she drew it out. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, but all were engaged in heated discussion. They didn’t notice her.
She unfolded the paper and read the address. She recognized it. It was a middle-class neighborhood not so very far from Harcourt’s London estate. She could walk there in half an hour. A carriage would only be a few minutes ride. It was wrong, though, wasn’t it? To go to a man who so evidently didn’t want her around?
Except she already knew she was going to do just that. She could only hope Ellis could be convinced of what her own family could not.
That she still had a place in this world. That she could have a place at his side in this fight.
Ellis stormed into the foyer of his London home and tossed his great coat to the waiting butler. Reginald had once been a pirate, but had retired from the life when the heat got too high. Of course, he’d also been an inveterate gambler and lost his fortune. And so to work for Ellis he’d gone.
Now he snatched the coat with a glare. “What’s got you in a snit?”
Ellis glared at him. “No news about Winston Leonard?”
Reg shook his head. “Naw. Nothin’ new. You do have some chit here. Demanded to see you. Pretty thing. I left ’er in your parlor.” He executed a ridiculously overdone bow. “Milord.”
Ellis rolled his eyes at him. “Oh…go find something to do.” Reg chuckled as he strolled off to take Ellis’s coat God knew where. “Something legal!” he called after him.
From the distance he heard a snort. “Oh, you’re no fun.”
Ellis shook his head as he stared at the closed door to the nearby parlor. He didn’t receive female visitors here at this place. When he had a mark, he’d always pursued them at a place like the Donville Masquerade. Or their own homes if he felt particularly daring. None of those women likely considered his existence outside of where they shared a bed.
But he knew one woman who might. One woman bold enough to figure out where he lived when he wasn’t being Handsome Ellis Maitland. One woman who might come here and demand his pirate butler let her in for tea.
“Juliana,” he muttered beneath his breath.
The very idea of it had his body on fire, both with arousal and frustration. The mix of those two things was confusing, indeed. If it really was her in there, he wanted to shake her for being so utterly reckless…and kiss her because he hadn’t seen her for days and his hands shook at the idea of being near her.
“Enough,” he grunted, and strode to the door. He drew a cleansing breath and pushed it open.
She was standing at the mantel, fiddling with a little miniature there. She hadn’t noticed his entry. He took the opportunity to stare at her. Her dark blonde hair had been spun up on her head in an elaborate style he wanted to take down piece by piece until he was surrounded by vanilla and lemon. Her gown was a spring green, fitted perfectly, not too revealing like the one she always wore to the Donville Masquerade, but more of a hint at all the lusciousness beneath. It was very fine.
She was very fine. And she did not belong in his parlor. Or in his arms. Or in his bed. Looking at her here was like seeing a tiger in a ballroom. Beautiful, yes. Did it belong there? Most definitely not.
He cleared his throat and she turned. His lips parted without him meaning for them to. God, but she was lovely. Too damned lovely.
He shook his head and forced himself to go stern. He had promised to be the villain to protect her. He couldn’t go back now.
“How the hell did you find me?” he asked.
She jumped in surprise. As her wide gaze flitted over him from head to toe, he thought she might just run away. Her eyes darted to the door behind him and her hands clenched together.
But then she looked at him. Really looked at him. She pushed her shoulders back.
And he realized this was war.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I did.”
He crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a hefty splash of whisky from a bottle there. He held it toward her, but she shook her head. He recorked the bottle and took a long swig of the drink.
“Yes, it does,” he finally said as he tilted his head and examined that beautiful face further. He tracked every twitch, every movement as she held his stare. “Let me see, the only two people you have any connection to who would know my address are Rook and Marcus.”
She folded her arms and her gaze narrowed. “Why do you need to know so much?”
“Knowing who betrayed you always matters, angel,” he drawled. And hated himself because he was playing a game with her now. Just toying with her because he liked when the high color entered her cheeks.
Seemed it wasn’t so hard to act the bastard after all. He was one. One without control when it came to this woman.
“Rook wouldn’t do it,” he continued. “For a great many reasons. Anne would kill him is the biggest one.”
A tiny smile tilted the corner of her lips. “That is true. I wouldn’t be so unfair as to ask him to do that.”
“Marcus Rivers then,” he said.
“I confronted him when he had me banned from his club on your orders.” She arched a brow. “If you wish to talk about betrayal.”
“I told you, I didn’t want you
around anymore,” he said, and nearly choked on the lies. “ I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why Rivers wasted revealing a secret to someone who means so little to me.”
Her jaw set, but it didn’t seem to be out of upset. Instead she looked determined. Unwavering. God, but she had a strength to her. Like steel through the wings of a butterfly.
“I think your old friend was worried about you,” she said softly. “And so was I.”
He shook his head. He was trying to protect her and she would not allow it. She would force him to be cruel. She would force him to be everything he’d been his whole life. And he hated that. He hated her, a little, for creating a situation where he had no choice but to hurt her.
“You shouldn’t be,” he scoffed. “Because I don’t give a damn about you. I’m done, Juliana. I said it in the carriage, but perhaps you didn’t hear me. I am finished with this. Finished with you.”
“Are you?” she whispered, and instead of backing away she moved closer.
His breath hitched as he stared at her. He’d been trying to erect an invisible wall, but she glided through it.
“Juliana,” he growled. A warning. A plea. A prayer.
“Are you, Ellis?” she whispered again, and now she was right in front of him. Her trembling fingers lifted and brushed against his jawline, gentle. Powerful.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d faced off with many a powerful adversary in his life. He’d won a great many of those battles. But today this slip of a woman was armed only with all of her beauty and charm and gentleness, and she was destroying him.
He was destroyed when she touched him. When she said his name. When she challenged him not just to be a better man…but somehow believed he already was.
“Look at me,” she demanded. His eyes came open and he stared down at her as she inched even closer. Her body brushed his. Her gaze never wavered. “Tell me again that you’re finished.”
She didn’t allow him to respond. She merely lifted up on her tiptoes, wound her arms around his neck and drew his mouth to hers.
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