“I shall try, sir,” she said as she turned to go, the sudden fear that Mrs. Monks might march through the door overriding her previous high spirits. She must find Jane’s young man Jem as soon as possible and induce him to give her the letter. Oh, how she’d love to be enfolded in Sir Aubrey’s arms later tonight but while that wasn’t possible, her mission might result in something infinitely more long-term.
Araminta didn’t love Sir Aubrey but Hetty did.
And this time Hetty was going to get her man.
Instead of issuing directly into the ballroom, Hetty turned toward the ladies’ mending room, gasping as she brushed against a tall gentleman enveloped in a monk’s cassock. He didn’t stand aside but instead deliberately blocked the narrow corridor.
How long had Lord Debenham been there? What had he observed? Too fearful to raise her eyes, she murmured in quelling tones, “Excuse me, sir, I wish to pass.”
“Ah, so the lady wishes to pass.” With a bow, he stepped aside and Hetty glided toward the mending room, where she collapsed onto the banquette and, picking up the ivory fan beside her, tried vigorously to increase the circulation of air about her blazing face.
She was certain Lord Debenham was the only guest dressed as a monk. Had he recognized her? Dear Lord, whoever he was, he’d be following her every move now, for the irony of his tone indicated he’d observed her brief, passionate tryst with Sir Aubrey.
She tried to ease her fears. Anyone who’d ever seen her in company with her sister would certainly not have noticed a pale and unremarkable creature such as herself. Lord Debenham, well, he had an eye only for the dazzling. He’d never have known it was her.
Breathing more calmly, she set her mind to finding a means to speak to Jem.
She knew Lord Debenham lived only two blocks from here. For that matter, Hetty lived just one block farther but distance wasn’t the issue. How would she manage to slip away at any time of day? In the morning Araminta would want to engage Hetty in conversation that would emphasize her many successes of the previous the evening. Then there’d be luncheon. Hetty was a protected, nurtured single female and it would be impossible to leave their townhouse without an attendant, even for the shortest of walks.
It was as she was trailing through the ballroom beside Mrs. Monks that she saw Araminta bearing a beaming Mr. Woking in her wake, and a wild and desperate plan borne of desperation took shape.
Affecting an attitude of the greatest languor, she preempted the conversation with, “My dear Araminta, Mr. Woking, you must excuse me but I have the most terrible megrim. I can’t stay here another minute in this close and stifling atmosphere. I’m afraid I shall have to ask Mrs. Monks to take us home.”
Horror replaced Araminta’s smugness. “How can you be so selfish, Hetty? I’m having the most marvelous time and my dance card is completely full.”
Hetty pursed her lips. “I suppose you could stay if Cousin Stephen didn’t mind accompanying me home and then Mrs. Monks could remain here to chaperone you.”
“I daresay that would be all right,” Araminta said sulkily, ignoring the crestfallen young man at her side until she fixed him with a dazzling look. “Mr. Woking, won’t you fetch me another champagne?” She tapped him playfully on his shoulder epaulettes with her fan. “You were so busy admiring my sister you didn’t notice my glass was empty, did you?”
Hetty made certain she was gone before Mr. Woking could return with refreshments. She and a none-too-displeased Stephen hired a hackney and Hetty was treated to a long monologue on Stephen’s concern about her mother’s health, which surprised but also pleased her. Not least because it was nice when anyone spoke with such thoughtfulness of her greatly unappreciated and darling mother, but also because her cousin would be less likely to notice her agitation if he was so concerned with his benefactor’s wife.
They were nearing the entrance to St. James Street where Stephen’s club was located when she leaned across and put her hand on Stephen’s knee. “You’ve got the blue devils for some reason, Cousin Stephen, and I think it’s my cousinly duty to set you off here so you can drown your sorrows with company more exciting than mine.”
“But what about—”
She cut him off with a laugh he’d surely peg as being brittle and unnatural had he not been caught up in his own concerns. “You can almost see where I live from where you are. No, you go, Cousin Stephen, for in less than a minute I’ll be home.”
To her annoyance, he refused to let her go on alone and within a couple of minutes, they were drawing up in front of her townhouse.
He got out with her, saw her to the front door, then turned, declaring her idea a capital one but adding he’d rather enjoy the fresh air and walk to his club.
A glance over her shoulder as Hetty was about to issue through the front door showed Stephen, head bent, deep in thought as he trod the footpath. The bright moon also revealed the jarvey upon the box, taking his time as he retied his muffler.
Hetty dashed back down the steps and rapped lightly on the carriage door to garner the jarvey’s attention before whispering, “Stay there another minute.”
The housemaid who’d answered the door was waiting at the top of the steps and Hetty quickly returned to explain that Mr. Cranbourne had left an important document in the carriage and that she would return it to him, then prevail upon Mr. Cranbourne to return to the ball with her.
“He is, after all, less than one hundred yards away,” she assured the servant, pointing.
Minutes later, Hetty was descending the steps to the basement of Lord Debenham’s townhouse, patting her mask to ensure her identity was properly concealed.
The sleepy-eyed scullery maid who’d obviously been roused from her makeshift bed near the fireplace regarded her with slack-jawed amazement as she clearly tried to peg Hetty as a streetwalker or eccentric lady of quality, while Hetty repeated in clipped tones, “Mr. Jem, your master’s valet. That’s whom I’ve come to see. Surely he’s not abed yet since he has his master to attend and Lord Debenham won’t be home for some hours, I believe.”
A handsome young man with delicate features and hair the color of corn answered the summons. He regarded Hetty quizzically from the kitchen doorway before ushering her to the servants’ hall. When Hetty told Jem she had a matter of the utmost importance to discuss, he waved away his fellow servants but mention of the letter wiped the smile from his face.
“You realize any magistrate would take a dim view of what you’ve done,” she told him as he folded his lean, athletic frame into a chair opposite her. “You stole Lady Margaret’s death note. That’s punishable by transportation at the very least.”
Jem wiped at the sheen that coated his high forehead. “Only one person knows about the letter,” he muttered. “I can’t believe—”
“It really doesn’t matter who told me since you won’t be facing any consequences except rather good ones, I’d imagine, if you cooperate.” Hetty smiled as she clasped her hands upon the refectory table. “Of course, if you pretend ignorance I shall have to have you cross-examined and you know the courts are very skilled at detecting if someone is lying. They might decide you are anyway and convict you just on Lord Debenham’s testimony.”
“He’d not dare.” Anger flashed from his pale-blue eyes. Suddenly he leaned back, smiling as if he understood everything. “Me master’s set you up to this, hasn’t he? Reckon he put the word on you when ‘is own threats had no sway wi’ me.” He shook his head decisively. “I ain’t no fool. Far as I’m concerned, there ain’t no letter so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hetty sighed before coming to a decision. “All right, I’ll tell you the truth. I have a personal interest in Sir Aubrey and when I heard of a letter that might exonerate him I set upon discovering its whereabouts.”
Frowning, Jem raked his eyes over her. A faint sneer curled his lip. “So you’re Sir Aubrey’s fancy piece? Did ‘e set you up to this?”
“He did not and I am not his ‘fancy pi
ece’, as you term it.” Hetty strove for dignity. “I have a great tenderness for Sir Aubrey. I understand the painful association between his wife and your master. Worse, I know that it is solely due to Lord Debenham’s lies regarding the contents of this letter that Sir Aubrey’s reputation has been so sorely damaged.”
A slow grin split Jem’s handsome face and his eyes glittered. Almost collaboratively he leaned across the table. “You reckon you ‘ave a lot to gain by finding this evidence, don’t you?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Reckon also you’d be willing to pay for it too. It won’t come cheap, yer know.” Hetty’s anticipation was only slightly dented when he added, “No doubt you earn a pretty penny doing your line o’ business but this’ll cost more than even the best o’ your sort can pay.”
She knew she could afford his fee but she waited for him to negotiate.
“I’ll let you peruse it. I ain’t givin’ that letter to someone I don’t know from Adam.” He looked so determined Hetty didn’t know how to start to argue but was relieved at the concession when he added, “If it contains the information you’re after, your fine gennelmun protector Sir Aubrey can come to me direct and pay me what it’s really worth.”
A date was set for two days later, since that was Jem’s half day and the letter was hidden at a location some distance from Lord Debenham’s townhouse.
Then the young man rose, calling for the weary scullery maid, whom he instructed to “see the lady out”.
Hetty followed the girl through the dim interior, the street lighter shouting the midnight hour as she opened the door onto the street. It was still early by Araminta’s standards, which meant Hetty would be home and fast asleep by the time her sister returned.
“What an unexpected surprise.”
Emerging onto the pavement, Hetty jerked her head up to see Lord Debenham issuing from his carriage and about to mount his portico steps.
He took a step toward her, pushing back his cowl and offering her a leer. “If it isn’t Sir Aubrey’s…’special indulgence’. Come to indulge me now? I’m honored.”
Hetty lifted her skirts to flee but before she could dart out of his path, he gripped her arm and jerked her to him. His cassock was rough against her cheek and she could smell the brandy on his breath.
“Where are you going in such a hurry when I’ve only just arrived, little one?”
His mouth was inches from hers and her insides cleaved as his malevolent intent became clear, his fingers biting painfully into her arm.
“I trust you did not satisfy yourself with the dregs in my basement when you failed to find me. No? Good, for I think if you can pass muster with those in Lady Kilmore’s drawing room you’d hardly be satisfied with my fine valet, handsome though he is.”
“Please let me go, sir.” Hetty hated the sound of her own whimper. In a moment he’d hustle her inside and no amount of screaming would save her, for he was master of his own home.
“Surely you understand I’m curious as to why Sir Aubrey’s little ladybird should interest herself in my business.”
Cursing herself for her stupid recklessness, Hetty tried to pull away but her distress only added to his enjoyment.
“Let us not conduct business upon the pavement, madam. A glass of Madeira might make you more willing to please me.”
Hetty made one last effort to depart with dignity, ceasing her resistance to say with a gracious smile, “Sadly, my business here, which was merely to stop in upon an old friend, is done and I’d hate to keep you from your bed—”
“Indeed, madam, my bed is where I intend to discuss what brings you here. Do not play the shocked gentlewoman with me. I know exactly what you are and I know that Sir Aubrey is wild for you, for I observed the two of you very closely in the back corridors of Lady Kilmore’s. As it’s rare to see Sir Aubrey so excited by a woman, you can be assured I’ll not let you go lightly. Now come.”
“No, sir, please!” Gasping, Hetty pulled herself free for but a second before Lord Debenham dragged her back against him.
“Who are you to say no to me?” he snarled, pinioning her against the railing. “Scream all you like but who do you think will come to the aid of a creature like you? If you offer Sir Aubrey your body for a price, I am entitled to the same—and for the same price. Business is business, is it not? And then you’ll oblige me by telling me what brought you here.”
Hetty could barely breathe through her fear. How had she sunk so low? Yet whatever happened and however ghastly it was, she had only herself to blame.
Wildly she fought, her scream truncated by his lips, hard, wet and determined, fastening on her mouth, his one hand gripping her chin painfully, the other snaking ‘round behind her to grasp her buttocks.
His proximity was so invasive and his determination so intense her knees buckled. It only gave him greater access to the body he obviously felt was free for the taking.
Twisting her head away, she tried to scream again but he was too quick and canny for her, clamping his hand over her mouth before replacing it with his hateful lips once more.
She managed to suck in air, just enough to keep from choking. She tried to claw at him but he deftly forestalled her, gripping her wrist and pinning her arm to her side.
As she sank to her knees in a heap by the cast-iron railing, he scooped her into his arms, no doubt about to whisk her to somewhere he could continue his fiendish act less publicly.
“What are you doing with my woman?” The icy tone cut the air like a lash.
Dazed and breathless, Hetty clung to the railing, unable to speak as Lord Debenham set her back upon her feet, though her knees immediately buckled and she sank to the pavement.
“Your woman?” With heavy irony he continued, “Then why did she come to me? Poor Sir Aubrey. It’s not the first time either, is it?”
Hetty, recovering quickly, was about to refute this when she realized he was not referring to her. Sir Aubrey hauled her up but his eyes met hers with anger, not sympathy.
“I thought we had an agreement,” he muttered.
“You can’t think that—”
“Debenham offered you more? Revenge, my dear Henrietta, but of course that would mean nothing to you, would it? Money is money, isn’t it, whether it’s mine or his, and if he’s paying double…”
He was clearly too angry to continue, while Hetty, unable to reply, tried not to choke on her stifled sobs as he hustled her into his waiting carriage.
Lord Debenham’s mocking laughter followed them as the door closed. “Damsels in distress have always been your weakness, Sir Aubrey. Pity they all seem to prefer me.”
Lurching forward as the carriage rolled away, Hetty burst out, “I didn’t solicit Lord Debenham’s advances.”
In the dim lamplight, Sir Aubrey’s expression was thunderous. “Indeed, madam? You lost your way, did you? Just as you lost your way when you visited my bedchamber the first time. You made a fool of me, turning me into a purring pussycat in order to ‘tutor’ you. You weren’t a virgin, were you, yet you would have me believe that—”
“Please, sir, you’re far too angry to hear me out but—”
“Nor is it about the money.” He cut her off, glaring at her. “We had an agreement. It was based on honor. I thought even women like you understood the notion of honor.”
Hetty drew in a sobbing breath. “I didn’t visit his home to…to do what you think,” she cried. “I went there because I heard about—” She cut the words short as her brain whirled over the ramifications of revealing the whereabouts of the letter. If Sir Aubrey learned Jem had it, he would demand to see it immediately and no doubt the young man would deny possession, knowing the likely consequences. Hetty was a soft touch. If the price was right, he had nothing to lose by allowing her only to view it. But he’d not hand it over when confronted by a belligerent Sir Aubrey.
Besides, it was essential for Hetty to know exactly what Lady Margaret had revealed about her husband. Hetty’s future hinged upon it.
“Hea
rd about what?”
Hetty shook her head, trying to think clearly. Wiping away her tears, she demanded, “Couldn’t you see I was fighting him off? Your townhouse is only a block away. I was on my way to see you. I had no idea this was where this…Lord Debenham lives or what he is to you but clearly he wanted,” she sniffed and her voice trembled even more, “revenge…and I was the means of exacting it.”
She saw his shock and went on. “He told me he saw the two of us together at Lady Kilmore’s.” Hetty put her head on one side. “Since I was almost dragged off by this horrible creature against my will and all on account of the fact he saw you kissing me, perhaps you’d care to explain what enmity exists between the two of you.”
Sir Aubrey’s expression softened and his tone was contrite when he finally spoke. “Hetty, I apologize for my anger just now.” He reached for her hands and began to chafe them gently while he explained. “My late wife was this man’s cousin.” He looked bleak. “I’m afraid she was also his lover. She was not of sound mind when she killed herself but Lord Debenham blames me.”
Hurling herself into his arms, Hetty sobbed, “I didn’t mean to get myself into trouble like that and I’m so, so glad you saved me—just in time!”
* * * * *
How pleasant it was to sink into a soft feather mattress and feel his arms about her while he navigated his way past her hoops, petticoats and chemise. A single lighted candle suffused the room in a soft glow and his voice was gentle.
“I’d like to think you’d have a pleasanter time of it lying beneath me.” His breath tickled her ear as he joined her on the mattress and pulled her against his side. “My poor Henrietta has had a great shock.” Touching his lips to hers, he stroked her cheek. His eyes, which could blaze with such anger, were warm with affection. “I don’t deny some think a woman who makes her living like you do should be prepared for any manner of approaches and have lost the right to discern, but no woman ought to suffer unwanted advances.”
He stopped Hetty’s gasp of outrage with another kiss, deeper and more demanding this time as his hands roamed her body, caressing her curves, her rounded buttocks as he rucked up her skirts. She raised herself to give him access, reveling in the flood of warmth such contact brought. Tenderly, he gazed down at her, smiling his satisfaction at her sighs and gentle moans.
Dangerous Gentlemen Page 10