“Well, yeah, but I can see you don't.” Laughter erupted and it took several times to getting his words out. “But you should, Darian, you really should,” he gasped between giggles. “The situation is hilarious!”
“You think so?”
“Look at it from anyone’s point of view but your own. The most notorious gigolo of New Britain falls in love for the first time and before he can propose marriage is propositioned as a mistress.”
Dare’s empty tumbler sailed past C.C.’s head to shatter against the far wall. Teeth clenched against renewed pain, he stalked over to his brother. “We connected last night. Even you had to have seen it. It wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Was it?”
“No, you didn’t imagine it. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Thank you for that.” Dare clasped C.C. on the shoulder, gave a squeeze. “Anyway, when I saw her, everything clicked, fell into place. For the first time in a long time, my life felt right. You know, these last eight years people have clothed me in guilt until my innocence felt like an ill-fitting coat. No one believed it belonged to me.”
No longer able to sit still or talk calmly without moving, Dare began to pace off the confines of the studio. “She took one look at me and saw straight to my soul. She knew I was innocent. Do you know what that meant to me? How it cleansed me?”
Dare inhaled and held his breath for a long time before he let it out slow and easy. His voice dropped. “Do you have any idea how I’ve felt all these years knowing women spread their legs for me not because they think me innocent but because they believe I’m guilty? They fuck me for the nasty thrill of trysting with a murderer, a deceiver, a man with no honor or brotherly love. Society thinks I whore for money and call me a gigolo. I used to deny the term, but what else do you call a man who allows himself to be used like that?”
“I call him brother.”
Dare turned and looked at the only one who had expressed faith in him during the last eight years. His face relaxed and his lips quirked in a soft smile. “You saved my life, you know. I was at the lowest point when you came to me--ready to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger.”
Chezann nodded at him as he arose and went to the bar. He poured them both another drink. “I kinda thought that might be the case when I approached you. I wasn’t sure you’d allow me to help you.”
Dare sighed and thankfully accepted the tumbler of golden liquor. “You offered me something inestimable that night. Your trust gave me back the love of a brother.”
“I have never felt cheated. Over the years, you’ve returned whatever I gave a hundredfold.”
Dare held up his glass and gazed into the amber depths. “You know what she did to me, to us?” He didn’t wait for an answer.
“She took what was growing between us, took something fragile, sacred and fine and turned it into something crude and sordid. While I was dreaming up ways to offer her love, honor and fidelity she was busy mapping out terms for a tawdry affair.
“For being ready to service her whenever she feels the need, I will have a fashionable townhouse fully furnished and staffed; a monthly allowance of three thousand pounds; and in addition, she will pay off all my outstanding debts. Oh, I forgot to mention she is a virgin,” he snarled. “If I initiate her without pain, the monthly stipend doubles.”
Chezαnn's laughter dried up. His eyes widened at the insult Dare had been served. As he watched his older brother storm about his bachelor digs, his stance grew wary and cautious. “I'm glad she refused my suit,” he admitted. “I don't think even I am up to handling a situation like this. Since I haven't heard any uproar, may I assume you hid the body…?”
“I haven't killed her…yet!” Dare growled, angry again after verbalizing the chit's bold-faced terms. “I’m more tempted to whip her curvy ass. That wild little tumbleweed has gotten her way far too long. She needs trimming back.”
“So what do you plan to do about it?”
Dare came to an abrupt halt, a smile widening his mobile lips, his eyes narrowing with some wicked intent. “I believe I shall accept Chastity's offer. In the duration, I'll teach the forward little baggage the difference between having a husband and bedding a gigolo. A man treats his mistress differently than he treats his wife. Only after she admits the error of her ways will I marry her!”
“There’s only one problem with that scenario, brother.”
“What’s that?”
Between uncontrollable laughter, C.C. got out, “You’re the mistress.”
Chapter Five
The flitter hovered over the entrance of Hookman’s lending book store. Inside the leftover technology of a dead world, Chastity and Alicia scanned the crowd, trying to decide where they should begin their search.
“I will never understand why the Touchdowns decided to pattern this world after Regency Britain. I mean, what was the point? Look at us. We might have been thinking to go back to a better time, a gentler time, but we brought their troubles with us.”
Alicia looked confused. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Our society is stable and—“
Chastity turned a disbelieving gaze on her cousin. “Do you ever listen to yourself? Who was the one who took me to task last night about visiting the slum-infested portion of White chapel?” She threw up her hands. “Ali, we have the super rich exploiting the super poor. Eventually, if something isn’t done, we’ll have the same upheavals that tore apart the original society.”
“But what can we do about it? We are only two women…how can we expect to change the world?”
Chassy looked grim. “We do it one step at a time. And we can teach our children to do the same. We have a responsibility to the underprivileged in our society. If we abandon them to their despair we will be guilty of suicide, for our neglect will bring about our ruination.”
“Good galaxies, Chassy, I can’t wrap my mind around all this gloom and doom you are spouting. Today is too beautiful to spend it speculating on a dreary future that might not even happen. I thought we were supposed to be finding your boyfriend.”
“Dare is far from being a boy. There’s not a man in New Britain that can hold a candle to him, your staid husband included.”
“There!” Ali shook her finger at her cousin. “That sentiment is probably why Monty can’t stand you. You’re too quick to point out his shortcomings.”
“Hey, what does he care what I think? As long as you can’t see his shortcomings, that’s all that should concern him.”
“Chassy, isn’t that Chezann?” Ali tapped the onboard visual screen. It still showed a figure walking away from Hookman’s.
“Yeah, that looks like him.”
“If we can find where he’s going, he might lead us to Acer. He can usually be found in his company. But we can’t just walk up to him in the street. We’ll go to Hookman’s and do some discreet snooping.”
At the thought of seeing Dare again, Chassy’s heart thumped once and then settled back into a slightly faster beat. Her tummy felt hollow and cold. She pressed a hand to her middle, trying to contain the fluttery sensations beating there. “Yes, let’s go find Dare. I have many things to say to him.”
They exited the craft after setting the control for it to remain aloft and ready for re-boarding upon their return. The ramp retracted when they reached the bottom, sliding soundlessly back into the skin of the ship.
The proprietor of Hookman’s greeted them at the door, ushering the two women into his establishment with a lot of toadying and scraping. “Ladies, welcome, welcome to my humble shop. Allow me to serve you some tea while you browse our selection. You will find we stock the latest journals and novels. We even have a large section of romantic tales on the back wall.”
The cousins exchanged an amused look, the need for words between them erased due to their practice of communicating with a glance or a raised eyebrow.
Once the manager had seated Chassy, Alicia accepted the chair held out for her. Leisurely removing her gloves, she t
ucked them in her reticule before picking up the cup of steaming tea and plunking two cubes of sugar into the fragrant mixture. “We are seeking Lord Crofton, Earl of Rotham. Has he been here today?”
The man wrung his hands, a nervous motion noted by both cousins. “Lord Crofton is a great reader. He was here earlier as he is most days. However, I fear you’ve missed him. He left shortly before your own arrival.”
“What a pity,” Chassy purred, sipping her weak tea. “We were desirous of meeting with him. As you know, as Ladies, we may not simply accost a gentleman on the street.” She unobtrusively slid a large denomination pound note under her saucer, leaving the corner exposed.
“Perhaps one of your servers overheard his direction, and can inform us of the next stop on today’s travels?” Her fingers played with the bill, edged it closer toward the man.
The proprietor’s eyes grew large and avid with lust for the money. She could almost see the wheels turning as he tried to figure out a way he could earn that amount of cash. “I will ask around right now. If anyone recalls something, you may be sure I will return and inform you immediately.”
“Thank you.” Chassy murmured.
“So kind…” Once the manager left, Ali sat back and sipped at her tea. “Well, so much for that. What shall we do while we wait?”
“Lady Tilson?”
Chastity looked up with a smile. A woman stood over her. She looked familiar. The smile left her lips while she tried to recall where she’d seen her before. Oh, heck, the short, chubby woman from last night…what was her name, again? “Yes, I am Lady Tilson. Lady…er…ah…?”
Ali came to her rescue. Rising, she dropped a perfunctory curtsey and extended her hand in greeting. “Why, Your Grace, how lovely to see you. How are you this afternoon?”
Oh, right! Chassy recalled now. She was the short, pleasant-natured Duchess with the rude husband. Pettibone, hadn’t it been?
“Please, Lady Alicia, call my Lucynda.” The sweet-faced woman turned her head and her soft green eyes hardened as she focused her attention on Chastity. “I had hoped to receive an early morning visit from you, my dear.” Her voice chilled. “I knew your father…well.”
Chastity’s mind sprang to attention. This was the second time this woman had alluded to a meeting between them. What could she possibly have to discuss with her? Unless… perhaps…? No…!
On the face of it, it didn’t seem possible that the mild-mannered pudgy Lady Lucynda might have information—or somehow be involved with--the person or persons unknown who had tried to kill her father. What else could she conclude, though?
“How well did you know my father?”
“Very well. We were…childhood sweethearts. I wanted the opportunity to, well…reminisce with you.”
Cold spread through Chassy as she looked at this small, nondescript grandmotherly woman and wondered if she’d been the force behind the blow that brought her father low. She fought to maintain her composure.
…this is not the place to let others see your pain…
The Grand Duke’s words of last night echoed in her mind, gave her the strength to hold on to her control.
“Forgive me, Lady Lucynda. The wound is too new. I am barely out of mourning.”
“I understand, my dear.” She patted Chassy’s arm. “Take your time coming to me, but remember that every day, the time grows shorter.”
Chassy exchanged a shocked glance with Ali as the little Duchess glided away.
“Your jaw is sagging.” Ali couldn’t keep the smirk off her face.
Chassy didn’t respond, too busy trying to unravel the mysterious pronouncements Lucynda Pettibone seemed so fond of spouting.
She locked gazes with Alicia. “What was that about? Take my time but time grows short…?”
Ali shrugged. “Very strange mumblings, if you ask me. I feel like the patron who comes late to the play, incapable of catching up with the action or making any sense of the plot.”
Chassy snorted. “You did notice she didn’t give me a choice about coming, only a choice of when I came.”
“And are you planning to go?”
“Oh, I really think I might.” Chassy brought her cup to her lips and took a long drink. She didn’t set the cup down until she’d drained it. “Let’s get back to the flitter. I’d like to--”
“My ladies,” the proprietor interrupted, “one of my waitresses overheard Lord Crofton saying he would be stopping over to spend some time at the Landing Museum. If you like, I can send a servant after him…”
“That won’t be necessary, thank you.” Chassy stood and tugged her gloves back on. “The museum is a neutral place where we can accidentally bump into Lord Crofton. Your assistance will not be needed.”
The man’s whole posture fell. Chassy hid a smile. She’d forgotten the money she’d offered as incentive for his help. “The tea was quite delicious.” She gestured toward the bill still sticking from the edge of her plate. “Please accept this token of our appreciation.”
Stammering a grateful “Thank you, madam!” the proprietor whisked the plates, saucers and cups off the table and swiped the top down. When he finished, the money had disappeared.
Chapter Six
“Why, Lord Crofton, fancy meeting you here! I hope we are not intruding upon your contemplation of the antiquities housed here.”
A wry smile widened C.C.’s mouth as he bowed over Alicia’s outstretched hand. “Good afternoon, Lady Stanton. The intrusion of beautiful women is always a pleasure. Chassy…” He bowed again, deeper.
“C.C.”
She smiled at him but it didn’t reach her eyes. It hurt to see her bright beauty. Hurt to know she would never love him or shine for him, never light up from inside at the sight of his face. Not like she’d lit up for Darian the night before. The light in her eyes had been like a thousand incandescent candles; hot and vibrant and burning with lust and something deeper.
“How may I be of service to you, ladies?”
Chassy cleared her throat. “Dare.”
Chezann lowered his eyelids, hiding the resentment he knew would be visible if he met her gaze right now. When he opened them again he caught the cousins exchanging a speaking glance.
“You want Darian.” His voice sounded gruff even in his own ears.
“To know his direction, yes,” Chassy whispered.
“You want Darian.” He repeated his statement, his voice grown hard and implacable. She would admit the truth to both of them, all three of them, if she would have his help.
“Yes.” She met his gaze, her brown eyes direct and clear, and no shadows of deceit darkening the smooth surface. “I want Darian.”
The lights turned on within her, almost blinding him with her need.
“I will take you to him. But first I will escort Lady Stanton to her home.”
*****
“C.C., why did you insist on Alicia going home?”
He didn’t respond for a long time. She was about to ask again when he sighed, tugged on the reigns to turn and slow the celebeast-drawn carriage. He pulled over to the side of the busy street and came to a complete halt.
Turning toward her, he propped an elbow on his knee and cocked his head. “You want the truth?”
“Please and always.”
“I didn’t think you needed an audience when you met with Dare. I don’t know what you told Lady Stanton, but you and I know you aren’t going to be taking afternoon tea with my brother.”
Shock roared through her. Ignoring his sarcasm, she latched onto the one item of information she never would have expected. “Darian Acer is your brother?”
C.C. shifted impatiently. “Oh, for goodness sake, Chassy, how could you not know? Open your eyes and really see. I thought you were more observant than most. You certainly stared at him enough last night to memorize his features.”
She blinked. When she looked again she saw Dare in C.C.’s long limbs and bone structure. The broad forehead and strong jaw, the length of arms and leg
s, even the shape of the eyes, though the color was different.
One hand covered her mouth. “Oh, my god!”
“No, our father.”
She couldn’t stop gazing at him, searching for and finding more similarities. “Who else knows?”
“Our mutual father; my mother, my deceased father and most assuredly--and more than likely--Dare’s mother, the poor thing.”
Curiosity swamped her. “Darian is the elder?”
“Between us, yes. I am the younger indiscretion, the un-admitted sin. Darian and his other brother were the classic example of the heir and the spare. Darian was the spare. Only, it wasn’t Dare’s mother who wandered after the spare was secured, but our Lordly father.” The sneer in his voice clashed with the play-boyish aspect he usually projected.
She nodded her understanding. In most good families, the partners married dynastically. Love rarely came into the equation. After the wife gave her husband two sons, the unspoken tradition allowed her to seek love elsewhere. Her mother and father—well, her mother, anyway--had suffered through the same type of marriage. The husband was never held to the same standards.
“I don’t know what to say…”
“Congratulate us. We have wrested victory from the defeat and ignominy heaped upon us by a common enemy.”
A half smile stretched her lips. “Congratulations.”
C.C. nodded and flicked the reigns over the celebeasts’ backs, setting them back in motion. “I hear congratulations are in order for you, also.”
She bowed her head, finding it hard to meet his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I hear you are in the market to acquire a new mistress.”
Her face flamed. “He told you.”
“Yelled is more like it.” The laugh that rumbled in his chest held no amusement. “I’ve never seen him angrier. Or more hurt.”
The heat of embarrassment burned so hotly her flesh felt inflamed. His eyes, when they met hers were a hard clear blue, fanning the heat to a higher blaze. “You don’t approve of my offer to him, do you?”
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