Sins of a Virgin (Sinners Trio)

by Anna Randol

  “Then later that afternoon?” Gabriel had to wait for his answer as the valet took several large gulps.

  “He had me change him into his new green riding jacket with gold buttons and braiding. He didn’t specify, so I selected his yellow waistcoat with the holly embroidery.” William sat back with a sigh. “Fine piece of craftsmanship that. Although I must confess I’ve always thought that if the tailor had gone with a slightly larger leaf, the whole thing would—”

  “Did he say where he was going that afternoon?”

  The man’s eyes widened and he blinked blearily a few times. “Tattersall’s, perhaps?”

  It would be easy enough to check with the grooms and see if that’s where he’d gone. “Then that evening, where did he dress to go?” Gabriel asked, hoping to forestall another extended discourse on fashion.

  But William apparently couldn’t think in any other terms. A sappy grin slid over his face. “That was the evening I finally perfected my personal triumph—I call it the Timid Swan. The folds of the cravat feather down from the chin in graceful wings . . .” William lifted his cup for another sip, but then glared into his empty tankard and glanced up expectantly.

  Gabriel motioned to the barmaid. Her face twisted in a sneer and she sat on the lap of the man she was serving, twining her arms around his neck and giggling when he pinched her backside.

  William tapped his mug on the table for a few seconds, then pushed back his chair. “Well, I’ve only got a few more hours of my day off so I think I’ll find myself a drink.”

  Gabriel pointed to the chair. “Sit down.” He’d perfected the tone over years of dealing with reluctant criminals.

  William sat, but his face turned sullen. “There’s no call to talk to me like that. I’m helping you, remember?”

  Gabriel wished once again for some of his sister’s skill with people. As twins they’d shared many of the same talents, but it was Susan who gained people’s trust and friendship with her big, honest smiles.

  Gabriel, on the other hand, relied on blunter methods. “Where was Lenton on Tuesday night?”

  William shrugged. “The theater.”

  “Was he escorting anyone?”

  “No, I think he was meeting friends in the pit.”

  “Who?” Gabriel asked.

  The valet swallowed nervously. “He didn’t say.”

  “What time did he come home?”

  William pushed his tankard with short jabs of his finger. “Sometime after three.”

  “And how was he dressed?”

  The valet looked up from the mug’s progress in confusion. “I just told you. My cravat—”

  “I mean, was there any damage to his clothing or signs of a struggle?”

  William shook his head. “Nothing like that.” Then he paused. “Actually, now that I think on it, his cravat was mussed. I called him to the carpet over it, not that he even heard me.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have heard you?”

  “He was too foxed.”

  Gabriel stood. “If you remember anything else about that night, let me know.”

  He tossed a shilling on the table, which William snatched up, his face lightening. “Why are you asking so much about His Lordship?”

  Because, curse it all, he’d give anything to see Susan’s smile again. To have her tease him about his big ears even knowing hers were just the same. But instead he said, “It’s my job to see London safe.”

  Gabriel paid for the drinks, then walked out into the damp evening. His breath fogged in cottony clouds as he hailed a hackney. It wasn’t until he’d climbed inside the coach that the old fear returned. Gritting his teeth, he focused his gaze on the street outside, counting pickpockets and thieves that he passed. But that couldn’t banish the gnawing centered low in his gut. The uncertainty, the fear that he’d missed something. The fear that if he were better, smarter, or more vigilant, he might have been able to catch the murderer.

  His failure seven years ago had cost Molly Simm her life.

  Gabriel rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He refused to let it happen again. Unlike last time, he had solid leads. He had suspects. He’d find the killer and personally see him kicking on the end of a noose.

  As the coach slowed in front of Madeline’s house, Gabriel stared out the window at a light flickering in what must be her bedroom window. He told himself the anticipation he felt was because she was going to bring him closer to his killer.

  In fact, she’d bring the killer to him.

  Chapter Five

  “Have you ever been to a Cyprians’ ball, Huntford?”

  “No.” Gabriel frowned, hoping to quell Madeline’s chatter as the coach jolted toward her evening entertainment. He suspected she took some unholy glee in trying to provoke a response from him. And the less he looked at her in that accursedly tempting dress, the better.

  “It might shock you.”

  “So you said. What precisely will astound me so?”

  One delicate shoulder lifted, threatening the tenuous hold her sleeve had on the pale curve of her upper arm.

  He held his breath, unsure whether it was with dread or anticipation.

  “You don’t strike me as a man given to carnal pleasure.”

  Hell, how was he supposed to respond to that? Argue that he loved a good swiv as much as the next man? That if he gave in to his baser instincts, he’d pull her on top of him right now and pleasure her with all sorts of carnality?

  Gabriel exhaled. In some regards, she was right. He’d seen the vile underbelly of London far too closely to make use of the loose women he often dealt with. He’d seen what had driven them into that life, and no matter how randy he was, the idea of making love to a woman who’d been forced into that sort of profession held no appeal.

  Neither did he want to bring some bride into the ugliness that was his life. Susan was the one who wanted to marry and make a passel of little children. She’d even picked out names for her future little ones, knitted bonnets and booties, for pity’s sake.

  Not that he was a saint. He’d enjoyed the occasional relationship with a well-off widow, as long as it was purely for mutual physical satisfaction.

  The carriage drew to a halt outside Chatham House.

  Madeline placed a hand on his knee when he would have exited. “Just so we are clear, you’re not here as my chaperone. I don’t need your interference.”

  “What are my orders then?” he asked, ignoring the hand massaging his knee.

  “You are to glower occasionally and follow me about.”

  “So I’m to be your lapdog?”

  “Do you want to be in my lap?” She grinned at the dread he felt imprinted on his face. “No, unlike a dog, I will not have you on a leash. You’re free to pursue any of the lovelies you meet. Actually, I recommend it.” Her hand inched slowly up his thigh. “We don’t want anyone to mistakenly think you might want me.”

  He clamped her devilishly distracting hand in his own and removed it from his person. “Hardly likely.”

  She tugged free and climbed from the carriage, assisted by a groom. “I don’t intend to stay long.”

  “Good.”

  She tilted her head and glanced at him over her shoulder. “You might find you’ll enjoy yourself if you allow it.”

  Not bloody likely. Being crammed into a too-small space with a bunch of gentlemen with no concerns other than whom they’d next bed was not his idea of fun. But it was another chance to investigate his suspects. He jumped from the coach and followed her through the stately columned entrance.

  “Enter the ballroom a few steps behind me. I need to appear eminently attainable, yet tantalizingly out of reach.”

  “That makes no sense.” Yet as her softly rounded hips swayed as she preceded him into the ballroom, strangely it did.

  The boisterous notes of a Scottish reel pulsed around him as he entered. As at most London balls, couples cavorted around the dance floor, but here their motions were more exuberant and carefr
ee. Fingers stayed intertwined longer than necessary and hands wandered with unconcerned abandon during promenades. Eyes rested with blatant hunger on breasts and backsides carefully displayed in dresses that had more in common with handkerchiefs than their namesakes. Emerald, violet, and sapphire advertised the bodies beneath with reckless ferocity.

  When Madeline paused, he stood next to her. A seductive smile graced her lips, but her gaze was calculating as she surveyed the crowd.

  “Find your prey?” Gabriel asked.

  She didn’t look at him, but the right side of her lips quirked higher. “No, the trick is to arrange myself so my prey hunts me.”

  Gabriel grabbed her arm and dragged her backward as a couple fumbled past, nearly careening into them. The woman’s dress was little more than pink gauze draped over her generous form. Her dark nipples were clearly visible through the bodice.

  In her ivory dress, Madeline looked positively virginal by comparison. But that, no doubt, had been her intention all along.

  Despite being already occupied, the woman shot Gabriel an admiring look as she continued past.

  “The improbably named Miss Victoria Vixen and Mr. George Tundell,” Madeline supplied. “She’s between protectors right now. If you want her, she appears to be interested.”

  The overblown woman held little appeal. It would be like making love to the Alps.

  “Hmm, so you’re not a breast man.”

  She was doing it to him again. He wasn’t about to protest that he liked bosoms quite well, just not a hideous excess of them. “I prefer your breasts.” That should put an end to her teasing.

  She didn’t even blink. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find someone with similar measurements.”

  So much for the attempt. “I didn’t come here to find a mistress.”

  “Most men would leap at the added benefit.”

  “Most men would be oblivious to your attempts to manipulate them.”

  “Madeline!” Viscount Jamison practically skipped to her side, his grin vanishing as he looked at Gabriel. “Huntford.” He spat the name.

  Seven years ago, Jamison had been a prime suspect in Gabriel’s investigation into Susan’s murder, but in the end he’d proven innocent. Yet Gabriel felt no guilt about the level of his scrutiny. If Jamison had bothered to answer the questions he’d been asked and treated his maids better, there would have been no need for Gabriel to delve more deeply into his past transgressions.

  Jamison’s lip curled. “I doubt you can afford a single night with one of these women let alone one as your mistress.”

  Gabriel knew he was wealthier than the constantly impoverished Jamison. But since Jamison was no longer a suspect, he wasn’t worth an argument. Gabriel merely inclined his head. “I’m here as an employee of Miss Valdan.”

  Jamison’s sneer shifted into a superior smirk as he tugged Madeline toward the dance floor. “Dance with me.”

  She laughed. “I like boldness in a man, although most would have asked me to dance before leading me away.”

  Jamison bowed his head in mock contrition. “I could hardly say what I wanted in front of your servant.” His gaze darted over his shoulder to ensure Gabriel had heard.

  Madeline’s reply was lost in the sway and press of the crowd. When she appeared on the dance floor a few seconds later, she was on the arm of the Duke of Spencer. He liked to think she’d disliked Jamison’s attitude, but it was more likely that the duke was wealthier.

  Dozens of perfumes and colognes vied in the damp, warm air, coating Gabriel’s throat. He edged his way toward an open window, always keeping Madeline in his line of sight.

  Madeline smiled at something the duke said and leaned in to respond, her eyes gleaming as if she were about to impart the perfect secret. Gabriel only just stopped himself from leaning in to try to hear even though he was half a ballroom away. Another gentleman to his right lacked his control and inched forward. As she spun about the dance floor, she radiated wicked sensuality, as if she might suddenly decide to scandalize everyone at any moment. And none of the gentlemen present would risk looking away and missing it.

  Gabriel took advantage of their distraction to survey those in attendance. From his investigations this afternoon he’d tightened his suspect list to five: Lenton, Billingsgate, Hurley, Wallace, and Stedman. The other two had been eliminated when he’d confirmed their whereabouts the evening of the murder. Of the remaining suspects, two were here tonight: Lenton and Billingsgate.

  While keeping Madeline in sight, Gabriel worked his way through the crowd until he stood a few feet to the right of Billingsgate.

  The man’s long black hair was tied back in a queue, but a piece had come free. He kept shoving it out of his face with impatient swats of his hand. A curvy, blond woman lingered by his side even though it was apparent his attention was on Madeline. “There is something about her I cannot resist.”

  “You used to like a thing or two about me.” The blonde inched closer, finally wrapping her hands around his waist and pressing herself fully against him.

  Billingsgate lifted his hand and roughly fondled her breast through her bodice, but his gaze stalked Madeline on the dance floor. “You were never more than a passing tolerable swiv.”

  When the woman swatted his hand away with an annoyed huff, Billingsgate shoved her from his side and prowled closer to the edge of the dance floor.

  Gabriel intercepted the woman as she regained her balance.

  Her brown eyes swept over him with an appraising gleam. “Are you looking for some company?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “Answers.”

  “Why don’t you come with me and I’ll see what I can do?”

  “I want information on Billingsgate.”

  Her tongue darted nervously over her lips and she checked to ensure he was still hovering by the dance floor. “I didn’t come to waste this evening talking.”

  “I will make it worth your while.”

  Her eyes skipped to Billingsgate’s back again. “He won’t know I talked to you?”

  Gabriel led her toward an alcove. “No.”

  Her smile returned, this time bloodthirsty. “What do you want to know?”

  “You were his mistress?”

  She shrugged. “Not quite. He visited me a few times, but we never had anything formal.”

  “When?” Gabriel asked.

  “About two years ago.”

  She would know nothing about his whereabouts for either murder then. But perhaps she could link him to Miss Simm. “Did he ever mention a daughter?”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “No, he’s not precisely the sentimental type. He—”

  Billingsgate had glanced behind him, and even though he wasn’t looking at them, the woman bolted before Gabriel could stop her. Before he’d paid her.

  That bespoke a lot of fear. And that fear definitely moved him to the top of Gabriel’s suspect list.

  Gabriel threaded his way back to the edge of the dance floor so Madeline could find him when she finished this set. Where she went, Billingsgate and Lenton would follow.

  He tried to picture either of them as the suitor Susan had spoken of. Not that he knew much. He only knew the man was handsome and titled. Gabriel hadn’t let Susan get any further in her description before cutting her off. He’d come back from Oxford so full of himself and yet stinging from dozens of slights doled out by his aristocratic classmates. He’d been sure her suitor couldn’t have honorable intentions. He’d been so certain he knew what was best for her he hadn’t even bothered to ask questions. Instead, he ordered her away from the man. Ordered her, as if Oxford had made him all-knowing.

  He might have been right about the man, but he’d been a fool about his sister.

  Madeline returned to his side as the next set formed. The dance had brought a flush to her cheeks, making him long to let her warmth chase away the chill that surrounded him.

  A sparkle lit her eyes. “You can’t play nice with the other children, can you? What d
id you say to Laura to chase her off?”

  Ah, he hadn’t inspired the look, the chance to taunt him further had. That was easy for him to believe. “Laura?”

  “The blonde.”

  Gabriel saw no reason not to tell her at least part of the truth. “I was investigating Billingsgate. Where’s suitor number one—or rather two?”

  “I sent him to fetch me a glass of wine. Don’t you ever pursue women for the sake of enjoyment?”

  “Not when I’m working.”

  She leaned in so close that, if he lowered his gaze, he’d be able to stare down the enticing valley between her breasts. “Are you ever not working?”

  “No.”

  Her lips widened into a grin. “I can just picture you ordering a woman to bed with you.”

  Gabriel knew he should be insulted, but all he could focus on was the slight crinkle on her nose. It turned her smile from perfect to something far more real.

  She straightened, fixing her smile on an approaching man. “Lenton! I feared you wouldn’t make it tonight.”

  The crease on her nose was gone, returning the smile to mere perfection. A hollow smile.

  After his initial certainty, Gabriel frowned, studying her again. There was nothing to confirm his suspicion. Her eyes still sparkled. Her face was glowing and animated.

  A spurt of disgust tightened his lips. No, he was a fool and she was far too good at her job. No doubt Lenton found some quirk in her that he thought was only for him.

  Sickening.

  As if to confirm his suspicion, Lenton caught Madeline around the waist. “Come away with me. You don’t want these others.”

  With a graceful twist, Madeline disengaged his arms in a clever maneuver that left her hands clasped in his. “But I had so hoped to dance with you this evening.”

  The poor sod didn’t even realize she’d escaped him. “When are you free?”

  “In only four sets.”

  Lenton groaned. “I shall persevere until then.”

  The other slavering gentlemen descended, forcing Lenton back, but Gabriel refused to cede his place near Madeline. He didn’t try to hide his expression of thinly reined tolerance, and either that or his reputation was fierce enough to win him a handbreadth of distance from the press of bodies.