Silk and Shadows

by Mary Jo Putney

  He hesitated, wondering if he should say more, then said simply, "I shall miss you, Jenny."

  She set her glass down with a businesslike air. "I want to do something to thank you for all you've done for me."

  "There's no need." He smiled a little. "Since you started practicing your skills on my wardrobe, my clothing has never looked better. Everything brushed, mended, and pressed."

  "That's not enough. I want to do something more. It isn't right to just take and never give." Stepping forward, she twined her arms around his neck and pressed her slim body against him. "I know that you've fancied me right from the beginning, so to show my appreciation for your kindness, I want to share your bed tonight."

  For a moment, he was almost paralyzed by shock and surging desire. She was beautiful, woman-soft, fresh and sweet as an armful of flowers. And willing...

  Willing because she was grateful. He removed her arms from his neck with more speed than courtesy, for if he did not move quickly, he would be unable to put her aside. "No, Jenny," he said hoarsely, "it is better not to do this."

  "It's all right, Mr. Slade," she said, misunderstanding. "You never asked, but the doctor you sent me to said I'm clean, so you won't catch anything from me. I know all about preventing babies, too, and how to please a man."

  "Jenny," he said with a touch of desperation, "this isn't necessary. You've already given me a great deal, more than you'll ever know."

  She cocked her head. "You're being honorable, aren't you? But I'm no innocent, so it's not like you could take advantage. Spending the night with you wouldn't mean a thing to me."

  If she had deliberately tried to hurt him, she could not have done a better job. It took a moment for Slade to regain his lawyer's coolness. "I know it wouldn't mean anything to you. That's why it wouldn't be right."

  He kissed her lightly on the forehead, like an uncle. "Be happy, Jenny. You deserve it." He turned to leave the library, but stopped when she spoke.

  "Can... can I come and visit you now and then on my half days?" she asked uncertainly. "I won't enjoy things as much if I can't tell you about them."

  It would have been wiser to refuse, but he found himself saying, "I'd like that."

  Then he left. He would like seeing Jenny sometimes, at least until she found her handsome footman. When she started talking about beaux, it would be time to let go. But for now, her visits would give him something to look forward to.

  * * *

  Long after the lawyer was gone, Jenny continued to .tare at the dark wooden panels of the door as she tried to understand her sense of loss. Something had happened tonight, and she didn't quite understand what.

  She figured that she knew just about everything there was to know about male desire. Certainly she knew that a man didn't need to care to want a woman.

  But she had never known that a man could want a woman and not take her because he did care. Then was something very fragile and precious in the idea though she didn't really understand it. Maybe some day she would.

  * * *

  It was Slade's first visit to Sulgrave, and he looked around with admiration. "A very handsome place. You got more of a bargain than I realized."

  Ushering his lawyer into the study, Peregrine smiled lazily. "I'm glad you approve, since you were the one who found the estate and negotiated the price. How do you manage to arrange so many things from behind the scenes?"

  "It's all a matter of knowing who to ask," Slade said vaguely as he chose a seat. "Are you going to be doing any decorating or remodeling?"

  "Not until after the wedding. I'm sure that Sara will want to make some changes. Only another week now.' Peregrine drifted to the window and looked out. H< never tired of the sight of the rolling English hills, ant often rode or walked in the Downs. "Are Weldon's affairs prospering?"

  Slade permitted himself a small smile as he put on his reading glasses. "Not at all. As expected, the ending of his betrothal made his bank very anxious. I was able to buy up his debts at a substantial discount."

  "Good. Notify him that if the loans aren't repaid ii the next thirty days, we will foreclose on all the property mortgaged as security."

  "Why not immediately?"

  "Because thirty days will give Weldon more time to worry," Peregrine said in a dulcet tone.

  The lawyer frowned. Even though he knew that Weldon deserved whatever he got, there was something profoundly disturbing about Peregrine's lethal pleasure in the process of destruction. Slade wondered sometimes what had set his employer on his course of vengeance, but suspected that it was better not to know.

  Looking back at his notes, he said, "Weldon's stock n the railway is very valuable just now. He may be able to borrow enough against that to pay off the loans."

  "Only if the railway maintains its value." Peregrine turned to face the room, lounging against the window frame with arms crossed and fierce satisfaction in his eyes. "Has Weldon learned yet that Crawley sold the right-of-way to his property?"

  "Not yet, but he will soon."

  "When he does, it will be time to reinstate the lawsuit for greater compensation on Crawley's land, plus to file charges of criminal harassment against the company in general and Weldon in particular." Peregrine thought a moment longer. "Tracklaying has almost reached Crawley's property. In case Weldon decides to go ahead and build there anyhow, in spite of the lawsuits against the company, be ready to file for an injunction to stop construction."

  Slade gave a nod of approval. "So even if he is finally ready to offer a fair price for Crawley's right-of-way, the company will be so tied up in lawsuits that investors will drop it like a hot coal."

  "That's the general idea," Peregrine said genially. "With luck, that will push the L & S Railway into serious financial trouble." He began to prowl across the room. "One more matter—the barony that Weldon has been angling for. Have you made any progress toward thwarting that?"

  "The matter has been taken care of. Several prominent members of Her Majesty's government have received packets of information detailing some of Weldon's more believable crimes." Slade smiled. "I doubt that anything will ever be said publicly, but it's a safe bet that Weldon's name will be quietly dropped from the next honors list, never to be considered again, f he tries to find out what happened, he will meet with polite vagueness. British politicians are very good at that."

  Peregrine laughed out loud. "Benjamin, you're a wonder. Am I paying you enough?"

  "You pay me too much," Slade said severely. "I've told you that before. You really do not have a proper respect for money.''

  His employer smiled. "You have enough respect for both of us. Too much, in fact. Have you never learned that money is only a tool, not an end in itself?"

  Slade thought of Jenny Miller. For years, money had bought her body, but there was not enough money on earth to buy what he wanted from her. Brusquely he said, "Money may not buy happiness, but it certainly makes misery a great deal more comfortable. Is there anything else you wish to discus today?"

  Peregrine studied him curiously, wondering what personal nerve had been touched by the casual words then shrugged. Slade, who was a master of information gathering, was not at all forthcoming about his own private life. Probably he didn't have one. "Nothing else. Thank you for coming out here today.'

  Slade nodded acknowledgment, then gathered his papers and left. Peregrine sat down at his desk, elation filling him. Thread by thread, the web was being completed. A pity that he could not be present when Weldon realized the full extent of the ruin facing him.

  There was a secret drawer in the desk, and he opened it to take out his private file on Weldon. Soon after coming to England, Peregrine had made a list of what Weldon valued most, and it was time to evaluate the progress that had been made.

  A column on the left side of the page listed fortune business reputation, railway, personal reputation, social standing, Lady Sara St. James, barony, daughter, life.

  Peregrine made a neat check by fortune and scribbled the not
e private fortune gone, railway bankruptcy will ruin him. By business reputation, he wrote faltering. Already rumors about Weldon were starting to circulate. When the railroad crashed, his name would become anathema to the financial community.

  Next to personal reputation, he wrote possible newspaper exposure? An ambitious journalist looking for instant fame might be a good channel for making public Weldon's vicious hypocrisy. When that happened, social standing and reputation would both vanish instantly.

  Next to Sara's name Peregrine drew a star, for she represented his greatest success to date. Simply ending the betrothal would have been adequate. Having the world know that Sara preferred a different man was better yet. Marrying her himself was pure triumph. He had entered English society, Weldon's own territory, and against all odds he had won his enemy's lady.

  He wrote gone next to barony, for it sounded like Slade had taken care of that most efficiently. How long would it take before Weldon realized that the title he lusted after would never be his? Weeks at least, perhaps longer; appropriate that the misery of uncertainty would precede the pain of loss.

  He frowned at the entry daughter. As with Sara, the trick was to remove the girl from Weldon without damaging her. The question had taken on added weight since Eliza had just gone back to her father's house. When Weldon was dead, Peregrine guessed she would return to the custody of her aunt and uncle, who were decent people. The girl also had an inheritance from her mother that Weldon couldn't touch, so her future should be secure.

  But how could she be used to injure her father now? The girl had a special place in Weldon's heart; possibly she was the only person for whom he had any unselfish affection. Peregrine frowned at the list for a long time. Then an idea came to him, and a wolfish smile spread across his face.

  Over the years, Weldon had been responsible for destroying the lives of countless young girls. How would he react to being told that his own cherished daughter had been kidnapped and installed in a brothel?

  The bastard would tear the London underworld apart trying to find her, increasingly frantic because he would know exactly what his protected child would be suffering at the hands of bastards like himself.

  Not that Peregrine would send the girl to a brothel. For the purpose of vengeance. It was only necessary that Weldon believe his daughter was in a whorehouse.

  It would be easy. Since Eliza and Sara were friends, all that needed to be done was coax the girl away for a holiday with Sara while Weldon was told that his daughter had been kidnapped. Sara and Eliza would both be happy, and Weldon would be in hell. Absolutely perfect.

  It would have to be done carefully, since Sara would not approve if she knew what Peregrine was doing, but she needn't know. Next to daughter, he jotted, "kidnap/brothel."

  That left only life. He gnawed on the end of his pen. Since the injury Weldon had done had been vicious and personal, revenge must be equally vicious and personal. Peregrine craved the sight of his enemy's fear; he must administer the death stroke himself, feel the hot splash of Weldon's blood, for nothing less would balance the scales of the past.

  But marrying Sara meant staying in England. Since Peregrine wanted to personally execute his enemy, he must do so in a way where he would not be detected.

  He was still pondering the best method of administering death when a knock on the door was immediately followed by the entrance of Lord Ross. Smoothly Peregrine returned the file to the secret drawer, closed it, then stood to greet his friend. "Good afternoon. This is an unexpected pleasure."

  There had been a flicker of curiosity in Ross's eyes when Peregrine had hidden the file, but he was too polite to ask. Instead he dropped a heavy folder on the desk. "I've been going over the material you lent me on Weldon. For God's sake, Mikahl, why not take it to the authorities and stop the bastard now? All the evidence may not be firm, but there is more than enough to hang him."

  "I have reasons for waiting." Peregrine sat down again, gesturing for Ross to do the same. "But I promise it will not be much longer before Weldon's sins catch up with him."

  "The sooner the better." Ross's lips were a tight line as he took a chair. "I've just heard that he's been slandering you and Sara all over London."

  "Trying to," Peregrine corrected. "We have gone to several social affairs in the last fortnight. There was some whispering and curiosity at first, but Sara soon won everyone over."

  He smiled with pride. "She is splendid. No one can talk to her and believe that she has an immoral bone in her body or an unprincipled thought in her head. As a result, Weldon's slander is rebounding onto himself. Soon he will find that he has fewer friends than he thought."

  Ross's expression relaxed. "I can believe that Sara is outfacing all gossip, but how are people treating you?"

  "The usual—curiosity, some titillated disapproval. But since they think it likely that marriage to Lady Sara means that I will be among them for some time, most people seem to be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt for her sake." Peregrine gave a faint smile. "I find it vastly amusing to be achieving such respectability."

  Ross laughed. It was hard to see the wild Kafir in the urbane, well-dressed man in front of him—except when Weldon was mentioned. Then Peregrine's eyes held the mercilessness of the falcon he had named himself for.

  Ross had a strong intuition that the sooner Weldon was dealt with, the better for everyone.

  * * *

  "Something unexpected has happened, Sir Charles." Walter Baines shuffled through his papers uneasily, knowing that his employer was not going to take this news well. "The bank has sold your notes at a discount, and the new creditor is demanding payment in thirty days."

  Weldon stared at his accountant, slack-jawed with surprise. "Why the devil would they do that? I've done business with that bank for years."

  "Mmm, yes, but you've only been paying interest on the loans—the principal has been outstanding for quite some time. The bank has always trusted that you were good for the money, both because of your business success and certain other—mmm—intangible considerations. However, your personal debts have mounted to a rather substantial figure in the last eighteen months. Plus..." Baines coughed into his hand. "A clerk at the bank told me in confidence that the directors had become anxious because your betrothal had ended. It is well-known that Lady Sara is a considerable heiress, but now..."

  He spread his hands apologetically. "It's nonsense, of course, but you know how conservative bankers are."

  After swearing a string of vicious oaths, Weldon asked, "How much money do I have in reserve?"

  "Apart from a small account for daily household expenses, nothing. You liquidated everything for the recapitalization of the L & S Railway."

  Weldon frowned. "Much as I hate to do it, I may have to borrow against my shares in the railway. Find a lender who will give me what I need at a decent interest rate." He thought a moment. "Incidentally, who bought the notes?"

  Baines shuffled his papers again. "That isn't clear. The demand came through a solicitor who is acting on another solicitor's behalf. I couldn't learn the name of the principal."

  "Find out," Weldon ordered. "Also, ask if the new creditor will accept less than the face value of the notes—enough to make a profit on his speculation, but less than the full amount."

  "Very good, Sir Charles." Baines gathered his papers and left with alacrity.

  Weldon sat frowning for long after the accountant's departure. What a damnable stroke of luck. In the last couple of years, he had put huge sums of money into politics, both to advance his business interests and to secure a title for himself. As a result, he had been skating on very thin ice for the last six months. If he didn't have the illicit income to subsidize his legitimate enterprises, he would have been ruined.

  His financial situation had been a significant factor in his decision to remarry, for Lady Sara's dowry would have put him back on his feet. But when he had discovered Sara in her wantonness, he had been too furious to think through the implic
ations of breaking the betrothal.

  Christ, he should have married the slut! Not only would he have had her money, he would not have had to wait to punish her for her treachery. And if she had threatened to tarnish his name—well, he had lost one wife in a tragic accident. Such a thing could have happened again.

  Briefly he wondered if the betrothal was broken past mending, and reluctantly decided that it was. Neither Sara nor her lover would be likely to forgive the things that had been said that night. It was ironic that the one wealthy man who might have been willing to help Weldon through this bad patch was Peregrine. The bastard seemed to be made of money, and he had been very free with it. But it would be impossible to ask for a loan after what had happened.

  A pity that relations had grown so strained with his wife's family after her death. His father-in-law could easily afford a loan, but he wouldn't help. Weldon knew that because he had hinted about a loan the year before, and his father-in-law had reacted very badly. Before she died, that bitch Jane must have told her father that she was unhappy in her marriage.

  Might the brothels be sold? After consideration, he decided not. They generated a good income, but their only assets were the frail ones of human flesh and secret reputation. Nor were they the kind of business that could be easily sold.

  The Duke of Haddonfield was certainly wealthy enough, but Weldon suspected that he had already pushed the duke as far as possible. Haddonfield might tell Weldon to speak and be damned if more pressure was brought to bear. Still, if worse came to worse, the duke was a possibility.

  Finally Weldon shrugged and left his office for the day. The situation was difficult but not disastrous; he'd come about soon. He had better start thinking about a new wife. In the meantime, thank God for the thriving L & S Railway.

  Chapter 15