by Laura Landon
“Then you are…?”
“I am Mr. Nicholas Stillman. I have no title. But Lady Rummery insists I make a showing several times a Season, and this is one of those occasions. She’d never forgive me if I failed to attend her annual ball. She’s convinced that I need to keep up appearances in Society.”
“And of course she’s right,” her father said. “Lady Rummery’s event is always well attended.”
“Yes, and my cousin, Lady Elizabeth should be here somewhere, and I’m to make myself useful as her dance partner should she need me. But in light of the number of males gathered around her and her friends, I doubt my services will be required.”
Nick Stillman nodded to a group across the room comprised of Lady Elizabeth and a large group of her acquaintances.
Her father followed Nick Stillman’s direction across the crowded ballroom, but his gaze stopped when he focused on a group of men gathered on the opposite side of the room.
“I see Viscount Cavenaugh,” the Duke of Townsend said, nodding to his right. “Are you acquainted with Lord Cavenaugh?” he asked Nick Stillman.
“Yes, but only slightly. He’s investing in a new line of clipper ships, if rumors are correct.”
“They are indeed. I am also one of those investors. It will take quite a bit of capital, but well worth it in the end.”
“The clippers have been logging incredible times traveling from the East,” Mr. Stillman added.
“Yes, they have.” His Grace turned his attention to Lord Cavenaugh again. “If you will excuse me, I need to speak with him.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Nick Stillman said, bowing slightly as her father left.
She and Nick Stillman were alone, and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a reason to excuse herself. Not a reason Nick Stillman would find believable.
Winnie lifted her gaze and focused on his handsome features. The chiseled bones of his face were angled in grim lines that should have made him appear fearsome. Instead, his high cheekbones and the severe angle of his jaw only intensified his rugged good looks.
His face was a darker bronze than most of the men here tonight. The reason was undoubtedly due to the hours he spent out of doors. His high forehead and deep-set dark eyes gave him a serious look. His nearly black eyes shone with intelligence. If she did not have such a desperate secret to hide, she might consider him intriguing. Instead, he was a man to be feared. A man she needed to avoid.
He turned his attention to her and raised a questioning eyebrow. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, forcing the two deep creases on either side of his face to deepen. The sight was breathtaking.
“Would you care to dance, Lady Winnifred?” he asked. “Or would you rather step outside for a breath of fresh air?”
Couples were making their way to the dance floor for the next set. The dance was a waltz, and the thought of being held in Nick Stillman’s arms wasn’t something she considered safe. “I think I’d prefer to step outside for a bit,” she said. “It’s rather stuffy in here.”
“Yes it is.” He smiled, then extended his arm for her to take.
Winnie didn’t want to place her hand on his outstretched arm. She knew that if she did, she’d experience a sensation she’d be better off never realizing. Her body warmed just standing next to him. She preferred not experiencing what would happen if she touched him. Except she really had no choice but to place her hand on his arm and allow him to escort her from the room.
Winnie lifted her hand and placed it atop his arm.
The muscles beneath her fingers were hard from obvious physical exertion, not soft and fleshy from nothing more strenuous that holding a hand of cards, as were the forearms of most of Society’s pampered lords. A current of excitement traveled from the tips of her fingers to the center of her chest, causing her heart to increase its tempo.
His firm strides as they made their way to the open double French doors on the opposite side of the room were purposeful, resolute. Not hesitant as if he questioned his decision to step outside with her. Or uncertain, as if he regretted making the suggestion to be alone with her.
Winnie walked at his side, her steps matching his. For one of the few times since she’d entered Society, she felt as though she fit with the man she walked beside, a reaction she didn’t often have. She was taller than most other females, and she found that she could look most gentlemen of the ton eye to eye. To look Nick Stillman in the eyes she had to lift her chin several inches. It felt impossibly graceful.
They stepped out into the cool evening darkness, lit only by the lights from the ballroom, and several colored lanterns that surrounded the terrace. When they reached the cement balustrade at the far side of the terrace, he stopped and turned to face her.
“Will you get chilled without a wrap?” he asked, when a soft breeze washed over them. “I would willingly offer you my jacket.”
She shook her head. “I enjoy the evening air.”
“So do I,” he answered. “There’s something special about standing in the moonlight beneath the multitude of stars.”
Winnie had always felt the same, but she wasn’t foolish enough to admit that to him. She’d discovered enough similarities without adding that to the list. “You said that your mother was Viscount Rummery’s sister?”
“Yes. My mother was foolish enough to fall in love with my father, an untitled man of the working class, the moment she met him.”
He propped one hip atop the balustrade and seemed as relaxed as if they’d been friends for years instead of sharing only a few unsettled weeks a few months ago.
Winnie wondered at his ability to seem such a capable member of Mack Wallace’s Bedford Street Brigade, and at the same time, seem so comfortable fitting in with the members of the ton.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “my grandfather was totally against the match. When my mother and father went against his wishes and eloped, he disowned her
“Oh, how terrible,” Winnie said before she could stop the words.
“Yes. My mother said her father paid the dearest price by never seeing his grandchildren, or being able to watch them grow.”
“I think she’s right. I can’t imagine such a loss. Are your parents still alive?”
“Oh, yes. Alive and disgustingly happy together.”
Nick Stillman turned his head and looked at her with laughter in his eyes. Winnie’s heart shifted in her breast.
“They live very contented lives in Penrith. Father is a solicitor and Mother spends her time caring for her flowers, bushes and anything else that needs tending, be it plant, animal, or human.”
“She doesn’t miss London?”
Nick Stillman crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “She says she does not. And now that my grandfather is dead, she’s had plenty of opportunity to come back if she wanted. My uncle has made numerous offers to set my father up in business here in London, but he and Mother prefer life in Cumbria, north of the Lake District. They’re happy where they are, and now that my three sisters have married and started families, nothing can pull her away from her grandchildren for more than short visits to London every once in a great while.”
“You have sisters?”
“Three.”
“Brothers?”
“Unfortunately, no. I had to battle my three older sisters on my own.”
Winnie was intrigued with Nick Stillman’s story, and his willingness to share it. “Why did you leave Penrith? Weren’t you content living there?”
“Perhaps I would have been, if I’d never come to London. But once I came,” he said, “I found it impossible to leave.” He lowered his gaze and looked at her with an intense look in his eyes. “What about you, my lady? Do you enjoy London?”
“How can one not enjoy all the opportunities here? The opera, the theater, the balls, and musicals. There is never a lack of entertainment.”
“I understand that your mother enjoyed life in London as wel
l. That she was quite an influential member of the ton.”
Winnie’s breath caught. Nick Stillman’s reference to her mother was like a splash of cold water on what had been until now a friendly and enjoyable conversation.
“Yes, she was. She was exceedingly fond of life in London.”
“I imagine she dearly misses being here for your Season, as well as your sister’s,” he said more as a statement than a question.
Tiny pinpricks of unease stabbed at her nerves. “You speak of my mother as if she’s still alive, Mr. Stillman. Yet, you were with us when we discovered what she’d done. You read her note. Saw her cloak.”
The hesitation before he answered left no doubt as to what his true thoughts were. “Yes, I did,” he said, but the tone of his voice spoke as to the disbelief of what everyone else had accepted as fact.
How could she have forgotten the threat he presented? How could she not have remembered the final words he’d spoken to her when they’d last seen each other?
“What have you done with her, Lady Winnifred? Where have you hidden your mother?”
Somehow he knew. Somehow he realized that the Duchess of Townsend wasn’t dead. He obviously didn’t have any proof or he would be doing more than just insinuating that he believed her mother was still alive.
She never should have come out here with him. She should never have allowed her attraction to cloud her judgement. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, glaring at him with eyes she prayed showed her anger, and not her fear. “We should return now. We’ve been out here long enough. Our absence will be noticed.”
She took her first step away from him, but halted when his arm shot out to stop her.
“How long do you think you can keep her hidden?”
There was a threatening tone to his voice, a menacing suggestion in his words that sent shivers racing down her spine. “I don’t know why you think my mother is still alive,” she said in an attempt to convince him he was wrong.
“Would you like to know the many reasons I believe so? Such as, no body has ever been discovered? Or, how every clue to indicate your mother had taken her own life was so very conveniently placed where we would find it?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “I’d like to go inside now.”
“What if your mother manages to escape from where you’ve put her? How long do you think it will take her to make her way to London?”
Winnie felt the blood drain from her face. There was always a possibility that her mother could escape from Saint Christina’s, even though the sisters assured her that they were taking special care to make sure that couldn’t happen.
“How long do you think it will take before she manages to do something similar to what she did before? Only worse?”
“Enough!” she said with as much force as she could. But what if he was right? What if her mother overpowered one of the sisters and managed to escape? What if she made her way to London? How could they explain that the Duchess of Townsend had miraculously returned from the dead? Her father wouldn’t hesitate to have her arrested for murder, and if he didn’t, Mack Wallace and Nick Stillman would. How would her family survive the scandal? How would Anne survive losing the love of her life?
Winnie reached out against the cement railing to steady herself. She had to make sure her mother could never escape from Saint Christina’s. She’d send a message to the sisters first thing in the morning, demanding that they hire several men whose sole purpose it was to guard the patient known as Agatha Filbert. She’d insist that they hire the best people available, no matter the cost.
That meant she’d have to visit The Dove again to get the money she needed, not only the money she needed to pay the blackmailer, but now enough to pay guards.
She lifted her hand and placed her fingers against her temple. Her head pounded. She needed to get away from Nick Stillman. He could ruin everything.
Winnie took a step away from him, only to realize that he had his hand on her arm and was holding her steady.
“Are you all right?”
There was a tinge of alarm in his voice. A frown covered his forehead, and when he looked at her, his eyes contained a hint of concern.
“How could I be all right,” she answered. “Do you think I enjoy talking about my mother like this? It has only been a year since she’s been gone.”
“My apologies, my lady. Tonight was neither the time nor here the place to bring up such a topic.”
“There will never be an appropriate time or place to bring up something so unpleasant.”
“Again, my apologies.”
Winnie turned to leave, but his words had unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. She felt light-headed and she stumbled when she took her first step.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her for a moment. She refused to allow him to affect her in any way. She refused to consider him in any regard except for the threat that he was—to her and her family. She needed to stay as far away from him as possible.
She allowed him to escort her back inside the ballroom, and headed for her family. Thankfully, when inside, Viscount Rummery motioned that he needed to speak with his nephew, and Nick Stillman excused himself.
“My lady,” he said, turning away from them. But the focused expression on his face made it obvious that he didn’t consider the topic of her mother closed.
“Mr. Stillman.”
Winnie watched him walk away from her, then turned to her family when she heard her father’s voice.
“I’m glad you’ve returned, Winnifred,” her father said. “Ben and Rachael were just about to leave.”
Winnie turned to Ben. “Would you mind taking me home?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you sure you want to leave already?” her father asked. “The night’s still young.”
Winnie smiled at the happy picture of her sister and the Earl of Montroy taking circles on the dance floor. “For Anne, yes. But I’m quite tired, and feel the beginning of a headache coming on. You stay with Anne, Father. Let her enjoy her evening.”
“As if I had a choice,” he said. “I’m sure she’d be quite put out with me if I even suggested we leave already.” He looked at Winnie and a frown creased his forehead. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m just overly tired. I’ll be fine once I lie down. Tilly will take good care of me. I’ll be asleep long before Anne allows you to drag her home.”
The Duke of Townsend laughed. “I may never be the same after this Season,” he said, feigning fatigue. “Promise you won’t lead me on such a merry chase when you’ve found the man of your dreams, daughter.”
“Oh, that’s one promise I can make and keep,” Winnie said.
There wasn’t a chance that she’d find the man of her dreams. Not with the secrets she was keeping.
. . .
Winnie donned her mask and exited the carriage when Hodgekens lowered the step.
“Are you sure you want to risk coming again tonight, my lady?” he said, escorting her to the door of The Dove.
“I don’t have a choice, Hodgekens. I’ll need more money if I intend to hire suitable guards for Mother. You and Tilly agreed that was what I needed to do.”
“Yes, but you also need to be well rested if you intend to keep your wits about you. If you remember, that was the first rule I taught you all those years ago. Only play when your mind is sharp. You’ve gone more than two nights now with almost no sleep. You’ll be lucky if you can keep your eyes open, let alone make smart wagers.”
“I’ll be fine, Hodgekens. I don’t intend to stay long. Just long enough to win the money I need.”
“What if you have to play against the same players as last night?”
“The chances are slim that will happen,” she answered hopefully.
“Let’s hope not. You can’t afford to lose.”
“I won’t lose,” Winnie said, with more confidence than she felt.
“Promise me that you’ll leave the minute you think that things aren’t going well,” Hodgekens said. “That’s the second rule I taught you.”
“I promise,” Winnie said, praying she’d be sharp enough tonight that she wouldn’t have to remember Hodgekens’ second rule.
CHAPTER 4
Nick entered The Dove and searched the crowded tables for Lady Winnifred. Somehow, he knew she’d be here. Although he wasn’t sure why it was necessary for her to come.
He thought of every possibility. Perhaps risking her father’s money was exciting to her, although he doubted that could be the reason. In fact, he’d wager every pound he possessed that His Grace had no idea that his daughter had ever visited a gaming hell. Especially one with The Soiled Dove’s reputation.
Another possibility was that the lady had an addiction to gambling. Perhaps she had the same obsession as several men he knew. The same as the addiction some had to opiates. Although that seemed unlikely. If he was any judge of character, the lady in question seemed more level headed, and more in control of her actions than to allow gaming to take control of her life. Being a compulsive gambler didn’t seem like a weakness she would allow.
The next possibility was the most likely as far as Nick was concerned. Lady Winnifred was desperate for funds. He wasn’t sure whether she needed funds to provide for her mother’s confinement, or funds to pay the staff that cared for her, but if she had indeed found someplace to hide her mother, she’d need money to pay them. Because if there was one fact of which he was certain, it was that the Duchess of Townsend was not dead, but was alive and living in a remote area of England.
He’d seen the panicked expression on Lady Winnifred’s face when he’d mentioned her mother. He saw that expression intensify when he asked what she’d do if her mother escaped from where she was being kept. That possibility had terrified her. As well it should. The Duchess of Townsend was a cold blooded murderer. She was a threat to more than just her family.
Nick scanned the area again as he searched for a masked female with hair a dark, rich brown, and streaks of auburn running through it. A female who had skin the same healthy bronze as her father’s. And eyes so dark they reminded him of rich drops of chocolate.