by Olivia Drake
No doubt it belonged to Mrs. Edgerton.
The fact that Stefano had put it away before going to meet Rory made Lucas grit his teeth. It meant that the man hoped to lure her back here. The sneaky Casanova wouldn’t want her to see an undergarment belonging to his mistress lying on the bed.
As Lucas trod across the room to check the bedside table, a floorboard squeaked beneath his foot. It felt loose and he squatted down to take a closer look. On a hunch, he used his pocketknife to pry up the board.
Something glittered inside the narrow space. He brought the lamp closer. A diamond necklace.
Beneath it lay a packet of letters tied with a length of pink ribbon.
* * *
Rory struggled not to grimace as Stefano rubbed his knee against hers underneath the table. Surreptitiously, she moved her legs away from him. She wanted to slap his face, but of course that would ruin the charade.
The café teemed with people, mainly bohemian types, men wearing colorful Gypsy scarves in place of cravats, women in flamboyant gowns with exotic jewelry. One of them had even used a slender paintbrush to anchor her auburn bun. Rory would have liked to have studied the crowd more closely had she not been busy inventing lies to hold Stefano’s interest.
She had taken her time spinning a tale of woe, sniffling into her handkerchief, talking in detail about the long years of exile and then her return to London where she had been ill-treated by her mean, selfish stepmother.
“She sent you to the house of Lord Dashell,” he said, his voice vibrating with anger. “You are too fine a lady to labor for a living. Especially for that cruel tyrant!”
Stefano clearly harbored resentment toward Lucas for interrupting his seduction of Rory in the garden the previous night. “Yes, Kitty did order me to work for him,” she said, playing up to his assumption. “But that isn’t the worst of it. You’ll never believe what she has done now. Why, I don’t know what to do or where to turn! I could think only of coming to you.”
Stefano leaned closer. She had never before noticed just how large a Roman nose he had, or how he had carefully arranged a curly black lock to fall onto his brow. “What is it, carissima? I am at your command. Tell me so that I may help you.”
When he made to grab her hand, she quickly lifted her half-empty glass. “It is such a terrible thing to admit. Please, may I first have a refill?”
“Perhaps you will feel more comfortable in my rooms across the street. I have brought the most excellent wine from my country.”
“Oh, but that wouldn’t be proper!” Rory lowered her chin to gaze sorrowfully at him through the screen of her lashes. “However, if you are weary of listening to my troubles, pray do not let me keep you.”
“Of course I shall stay. You have my undying love!”
Stefano flagged down a waiter, who delivered a carafe to the table. When the wine was poured, she lingered over a sip in order to draw out the moment.
“I am at my wit’s end,” she said tragically. “I don’t even know how to put this into words. You will not believe me, I fear.”
He clapped his hand to his lapel. “Trust me, carissima. I am your most loyal servant.”
“All right, then. I suppose there is nothing to do but to say it.” Rory paused for dramatic effect. “My stepmother is accusing me of blackmailing her!”
Stefano’s reaction was almost comical. His brown eyes widened and he gave a jerk of surprise. He stared at her in slack-jawed consternation.
In that moment, all of her doubts vanished. She knew with absolute certainty that Stefano was the culprit. Otherwise, he would have laughed off such a ridiculous accusation.
“Blackmail?” He gulped and his voice sounded squeaky. “You?”
“Yes. She says that I’ve stolen something from her. And that I have been sending her notes demanding payments for its return.”
“What … what is it that she thinks you have stolen?”
“It’s silly, really. Just a packet of old love letters. I don’t know why they are so valuable. But I swear I didn’t take them.” She affected a tremble in her lower lip. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Of course, carissima. But I do not know how I can help.”
He reached out to clasp her hand, and this time, she let him do it, even though his touch made her skin crawl. She felt nothing for Stefano anymore but disgust, for his handsomeness was merely superficial. How had she ever fancied herself in love with such a shallow weasel?
Her heart ached with yearning for Lucas. If only he was the one holding her hand. She glanced at the doorway of the café, hoping to see him. He was to come here the moment he found the letters.
“Please,” she begged, returning her attention to Stefano, “you must think of something. My stepmother is threatening to take me to the magistrate. Tomorrow morning, she is reporting the theft to the law to be investigated!”
His upper lip took on a sheen of sweat. “Investigated?”
“Yes. There will be officers from Bow Street Station looking into the case. They will leave no stone unturned. I hope they can find the true villain because otherwise I will be locked in prison.”
“I cannot think you will be imprisoned simply for letters. And without any proof of your guilt.”
“It isn’t just the letters. Kitty handed over a diamond necklace to the blackmailer. Unless I return it, I will face the full force of the law.”
“But you were not even in London when the letters disappeared.”
“Why, how do you know that?” she asked in wide-eyed innocence.
Stefano blinked rapidly. “It was a guess. You have been back for only a few days.”
“I will still be blamed. The police will take my stepmother’s word over mine—especially since I am a ruined woman.” She lifted the handkerchief as if to dab away tears. “Oh, Stefano, whatever am I to do?”
Sitting back in his chair, he rubbed his square jaw and stared glassy-eyed at her. Rory wondered what he was thinking. Would he allow her to take the fall for his crime? He was such a coward! If nothing else, she took perverse enjoyment in making him squirm.
He glanced back and forth as if to make certain no one was listening. Conversations buzzed all around them, along with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Then he leaned close to murmur, “I may know something of great interest to you, Aurora. But you must promise not to tell anyone.”
“You have my word!”
“Your stepmother has a friend, Nadine … Mrs. Edgerton. Do you know her?”
“Why, yes, we’ve met. But if you think I should appeal to her for help…”
“No! You mistake me. Mrs. Edgerton has become … a friend of mine, too. She gave me a packet of old letters to hold for her. She said it was very important that I should conceal them.”
Rory’s heart thumped. The last thing she’d expected was for Stefano to admit any knowledge of the matter. But perhaps she’d scared him sufficiently with her talk of an investigation by the police. He must be hoping to shift all the blame onto his accomplice.
“Letters! Are you certain they’re the ones stolen from my stepmother?”
“I did not examine them carefully, but I think they must be. That means Mrs. Edgerton took them. She is the guilty one, not you, carissima. Had I known, I would never have agreed to hide them for her.”
“Hide them? Where are they?”
“In a very secret location in my rooms. Somewhere that no one would ever think to look.”
His fear had been replaced by a superior smirk. The cocky man was proud of himself, she realized. So proud that he couldn’t resist bragging. At the same time, his confidence alarmed her. What if the hiding place was so clever that Lucas wasn’t able to locate it?
Over half an hour had passed since Stefano had joined her here in the café. All this time, Lucas would have been combing through obvious hiding spots like the desk and drawers. He must be having trouble because if the letters had been easy to find, he surely would have been here by now.
“I shall do better than tell you, carissima.” His dark eyes glittering, he held out his hand. “Come, I will take you to them.”
Chapter 22
It is foolish, indeed, for a penniless lady to fall in love with a nobleman.
—MISS CELLANY
With quick steps, Lucas approached the café. He could see a throng of customers through the lighted windows. Despite the cold raindrops spattering his face, a sense of elation invigorated him. Both the packet of letters and the diamond necklace were tucked safely in an inner pocket of his coat.
Now, he had only to collect Rory from Stefano’s greasy clutches.
The villain belonged behind bars, as did his accomplice, Mrs. Edgerton. Yet seeking a prison sentence would require revealing the sordid truth to the magistrate. The news would spread far and wide about the love letters Lucas’s father had written to Mrs. Kitty Paxton. Lucas suspected that the contents must be extremely sensational.
It wasn’t just for himself that he wanted to avoid a scandal. The letters also would cause great distress for his mother. Now that she finally had found the strength to rejoin society, publicizing another of her husband’s affairs would reopen old wounds. She had suffered enough already.
For that reason, Lucas had devised a different punishment for Stefano and Mrs. Edgerton. He looked forward to putting it into effect.
He opened the door to the café. The hum of conversation and the clink of glasses enveloped him. He stopped to scan the crowded tables. From their colorful garb, the clientele appeared to be mostly artists and actors. He kept his eyes peeled for Rory. These were her kind of people, he realized with a pang. Bright, lively, avant-garde—and so different from himself. Perhaps because she blended in well with such folk, he didn’t spot her at once.
A short man with a pencil-thin moustache bustled toward him. “Would you care to be seated, sir?”
“I’m looking for a black-haired woman in a dark green cloak. She’ll be with an Italian fellow.”
“Ah, you must mean Stefano.” The proprietor nodded sagely. “I’m afraid you’ve just missed them.”
“They’ve gone?”
“A few minutes ago, yes.” The man peered closer at Lucas, apparently seeing the alarm on his face. “He’s a bounder, that one. I do hope she isn’t your wife—”
Lucas heard no more. He was already out the door, dashing across the street, his feet on fire. They had to have gone to Stefano’s rooms. But why would Rory disregard her own safety? How could she let herself be fooled again by that scoundrel?
Stefano must have lured her there on a clever pretext. To seduce her … or worse.
Lucas ran into the alley to peer into the lamp-lit window. He spied the couple at once. Stefano was bending over the desk, scribbling something with a quill, while Rory stood nearby, a vision with her porcelain skin and inky-black hair against the green cloak. For a moment, Lucas couldn’t breathe, so thankful was he that she had not come to harm.
She was glancing around the parlor, her expression alert. She edged over to peer into the darkened bedchamber. It struck him that she must believe he was still inside the flat and would come to her rescue if necessary.
Blast her! She should have obeyed him and stayed in the café. He had feared something like this might happen, that she might endanger herself on a whim. Now he needed to get her out of there. But he didn’t dare climb through the window again since opening it would cause too much noise. It would have to be the door, then.
Drawing his pistol, he started toward the front of the rooming house.
* * *
While Stefano was busy dashing off a note at the desk, Rory strolled around the small parlor. It was clearly a bachelor’s rented rooms with very few personal touches. She peeked into the shadowy bedchamber, and a jittery nervousness shook her. Lucas had to be in there. He couldn’t have found the letters if they were concealed in a place that was impossible to detect.
For that reason, she had spoken loudly as they’d entered, to alert him to their arrival and to give him time to hide himself beneath the bed or behind the door.
No doubt he would rant at her for leaving the café. But she had seen no other solution. This might be her only opportunity to retrieve the billets-doux and earn that thousand-pound reward. She had to take the risk and play this game of pretense. And carefully, for if Stefano figured out that she had been scamming him, things might turn ugly.
“What are you writing?” she asked. “Can’t you just show me where the letters are?”
He straightened with a square of white paper in his hand. “I must tack this note to the door first. To warn away any callers.”
“Do you mean … Mrs. Edgerton?” Rory affected a pout. “Oh, dear. Have you invited her to come here tonight? Am I intruding?”
“Certainly not! She might stop for a glass of wine after the theater, that is all. But she mustn’t find you here—or she will guess that I have betrayed her confidence.”
“You needn’t bother with the note, then. Just hand over the letters and I’ll be gone.”
“Oh, but you mustn’t leave so quickly, carissima. It has been very long since we were alone together. I have missed you so much.”
Before she could do more than blink, he sprang forward and yanked her close, his mouth aimed at hers. Rory managed to turn her head in time so that his lips merely grazed her cheek. His scent of pomade and wine sickened her and she wiggled against his wiry strength.
“Stefano, do stop! You’ll make me think you’re lying about the letters. That you lured me here only to have your wicked way with me.”
“You will have your precious letters. But first, I wish to taste your delicious skin…”
As he nibbled at the side of her neck and made groaning sounds of delight, she tried not to cringe. She was in a pickle, for she didn’t dare enrage him. Or likewise, Lucas. He was apt to come charging out of the bedchamber to confront Stefano before she had the letters safely in hand.
She took firm hold of his shoulders and gave him a little push backward. “You shall have your reward after you have shown me your secret hiding place. I promise, I shall be grateful. Very, very grateful.” For good measure, she batted her lashes and fabricated an adoring smile.
He straightened, his brown eyes hot with desire. “Yes, carissima. But first, let me pin this note to the door. Then we will have no interruptions.”
Lucas would interrupt him, Rory knew. From his hiding spot in the bedchamber, he must be steaming with anger at her for coming here. She looked forward to placating him later with kisses and caresses. She only hoped he’d have the good sense to stay out of sight until Stefano retrieved the letters.
The Italian scurried away to the door. Just as he was reaching for the knob, however, a knock rattled the wood panel.
Stefano jerked his head around in a panic. “Nadine is here!” he hissed. “What shall I do?”
“Ignore her,” Rory whispered. “She’ll go away in a moment.”
His finger to his lips, he retreated to where she stood near the desk. His eyes were wide, his manner nervous. Clearly, he didn’t relish an encounter with the woman whom he had been painting as the blackmailer.
The doorknob jiggled slightly as if Mrs. Edgerton were testing it. But it was locked. Stefano had turned the key when they’d entered.
Silence filled the parlor. Rory felt a surge of impatience. She itched to hold those letters in her hands. Once Stefano showed her his secret hiding spot, she would quickly cool his ardor. Or Lucas would do it for her. Wouldn’t Stefano be surprised to learn that his nemesis had been here all along?
The door flew open with a loud crash. A man came bursting into the parlor. He held a pistol trained at Stefano.
Rory’s heart catapulted in her breast. She blinked in astonishment. “Lucas?�
�� He was supposed to be concealed in the bedchamber.
Stefano uttered a squawk of surprise. He froze in place, his rounded eyes focused on the pistol. Then in a flash he grabbed something from the desk. He caught Rory from behind and gripped her like a shield. To her shock, she felt the cold, sharp edge of a penknife pressing at her throat.
“You lily-livered coward,” Lucas said in contempt. “Release her at once.”
“Put down your gun,” Stefano cried out. “On the floor, or I will kill her! I swear it!”
Rory could feel him trembling. Her own heart hammered. She held very still lest the blade inadvertently slice into her. Never had she dreamed Stefano was capable of violence. Or was he bluffing? She couldn’t be certain.
Lucas stared at them for a moment. His face was a hard mask, revealing nothing of his thoughts. Then he bent down to place the pistol on the floor.
“Kick it toward me,” Stefano ordered, his voice jittery.
Lucas complied, and the gun went skittering across the wood planks, coming to rest against Stefano’s foot.
“Let her go,” Lucas commanded. “You have diplomatic immunity for blackmail, though not for murder.”
Rory didn’t know if that was true or not, but she could feel Stefano’s indecision. Hoping to catch him off guard, she played the weakling. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “I thought you loved me. We’re meant to be together.”
“Of course we are, carissima. It is that tyrant you should fear.”
She felt the penknife ease away from her throat. It was now or never. As he started to crouch down to grab the pistol, she stomped on his instep and wrenched herself free.
At the same instant, Lucas sprang forward. He grabbed Stefano and landed a hard clout to his jaw. The loud crack sent the Italian diplomat staggering backward to hit the wall. He slumped to the floor in a daze, cradling his face and moaning like a baby.
Rory hurried toward the men. She grabbed Lucas’s arm before he could haul Stefano to his feet for another blow. “For pity’s sake, don’t strike him again!”