Lord Libertine

by Gail Ranstrom

  “Nevertheless.”

  “And what makes you think I dabble in such nastiness?”

  “Whether you do or not, Farrell, I know that if it has been whispered by the smallest mouse somewhere in the rookeries, you will have heard it.”

  “Sorry, Hunter.”

  Farrell had the answer to his question, but had decided, for some obscure reason, not to tell him. “Then what can you tell me of the Blood Wyvern Brotherhood?”

  Though his face remained impassive, Farrell’s eyes glinted hard lights. “So you know more than you’re telling.”

  “You now have the sum total of my knowledge.”

  Farrell poured them more whiskey, but Andrew pushed his glass aside. “Knowledge is power, Hunter. Those who have it are envied. Resented. Hated. If you know too much, you become a danger and your life is…at risk. Before you ask any more questions, be certain you want the answers, and that you are willing to deal with the consequences of that knowledge.”

  “I am prepared.”

  Farrell stared at him for one long moment and Andrew thought he would refuse again, but he finally blew out a long breath and sat forward. “Brotherhoods are the games and trappings of the ton, Hunter. Here in the rookeries, life is much simpler. We do not need the veil of secret societies and brotherhoods. We simply do and take what we want. The men you’re looking for are your kind, not mine.”

  “I’ve gathered that much.”

  “As for their game…yes, I’ve heard whisperings.”

  Andrew sat forward now. “I need a time and place for the next one. Get me that much and all debts are canceled.”

  “There’s a reason I haven’t involved myself in this, Hunter. You see, it has nothing to do with me or mine. It doesn’t involve my people, and it doesn’t happen on my ground.”

  “Now you’re lying. I already know that several of the local doxies are missing.”

  “Girls go missing all the time. They go home, back to the shires, run off with some foolish lad, even acquire respectable work.” He paused, then shook his head as if changing his mind. “But you are right. The women you have heard about are not missing. They are dead. Some have been found by the watch in the morning. Others…well, their bodies were found and given decent burials without sanction of church or state. Their deaths were horrific, even for the rookeries, and we avoid unwanted attention here. We do not want the charleys poking into places they do not belong. We put the warning out, and no more girls have gone missing.”

  “Were they…did they have any markings? Any peculiarities about their deaths?”

  Farrell nodded. “Triangle cut from their foreheads, bled from their wrists, a wyvern drawn in blood on their bellies, and their private parts mutilated. Entirely likely that they’d been raped first. Or during. Is that what you wanted to know?”

  Andrew’s stomach churned. “Aye. That’s what I needed.”

  “Your turn, Hunter. What are you going to do with this information?”

  “The Brotherhood has turned their attention to different prey. Virgins. Girls from the ton.”

  “So I’ve heard. But I’ve heard that it is just practice thus far. I have heard, in fact, that there is to be some special rite performed Friday after midnight.”

  “Friday? This Friday?”

  “The thirteenth,” Farrell confirmed.

  Two bloody days? So little time to stop it? Andrew’s pulse drummed in his ears. He looked back at a calculating Farrell. “Get me the time and place,” he said again. “Before the thirteenth.”

  “That sort of information is what got Hank killed. Do you understand what I mean about knowledge being a dangerous thing?”

  He nodded. “I’ll risk it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Devlin Farrell’s words still ringing in his ears, Andrew ran into Jamie and Charlie at Thackery’s. They had come to tell him that Bella had arrived at Belmonde’s. He’d been a fool to think she might come back to Thackery’s. After what he’d done to her, she’d likely never go there again.

  Dash was waiting in the lobby of Belmonde’s when he arrived. “Should I congratulate you on chasing Lady Lace from Thackery’s? Or should I take wagers on how you’ll banish her from here?”

  “Do not take wagers, Dash. I will not be making a scene tonight.”

  “I heard about the events at Thackery’s night before last, Drew. You must have set her back on her heels if you can rest on your laurels tonight.”

  “That won’t be necessary. She and I have…come to an agreement.”

  Dash stopped and gave him a puzzled look. “Agreement. Hmm. Would that agreement include her favors?”

  “Do not be absurd. We can barely tolerate each other.”

  “Indeed? How have I misread you so completely? I’d have sworn you lusted after her like a stallion after a mare in season. Why, when I heard that you carried her out of the salon, I actually pictured in my mind’s eye a scene of you playing the stallion and she the rider, whipping your flanks. I’ve seen this coming for days now.”

  Andrew stopped at the cashier’s box and took a few coins from his waistcoat pocket to purchase counters before turning back to Dash. “Theatrics. Nothing more.”

  Dash said nothing, just stared at Andrew as if he could unnerve him. Then he laughed. “Good God! You’re being a gentleman!” He chuckled again before clapping him on the shoulder and saying, “What? Was she virgin? Bless me, no. Couldn’t have been—an accomplished little tart like that.”

  Andrew merely shrugged his friend’s hand off and went forward into the main salon.

  “So you had her and then she refused to be your mistress? The heartless wench! Shall I talk to her for you? Or would you rather carry out the punishment?”

  “Nothing happened between us. Now keep out of it, Dash, or you and I will come to blows.”

  “Wouldn’t want that, would we, dear boy? Well, never fear. You know I can keep my mouth shut. Have for eight years now, haven’t I?”

  Andrew clenched his jaw. Yes, Dash had kept his secret, but he never lost an opportunity to remind him of it. And of how much he owed Dash for that favor. Damn.

  “Then if you are not here to devil our Lady Lace, come out with me and Henley. I swear, that lad has endless ideas for entertainment. Were you not saying that you wanted something different? Exciting? Something to make you feel again?”

  Andrew spied Bella across the room standing at a vingt et un table beside a tall man. She turned to the man, and even in profile, he could see her smile at him. A knife twisted in his gut. The man was tall and dark, and because of that, he was going to be kissed. Oh yes, Andrew was feeling again. It did not matter that he knew what she was doing and why. Wycliffe had sworn him to secrecy, and he could not talk to her about it unless she confessed it.

  “Easy, Drew,” Dash, close to his elbow, murmured.

  He unclenched his fists at his sides, cursing himself for a fool to have betrayed himself in so obvious a manner. “Ignore me, Dash. I am out of sorts. Not enough sleep.”

  “So it seems.” He offered Andrew his glass and Andrew shook his head. “And here I was going to ask you to come out for late entertainments of the sort you were quizzing Hank about.”

  This was interesting. He turned away from his study of Bella to face Dash. “Have you found something?”

  “Imagine my amazement to learn of your interests. We are men who…well, walk the fine edge, so to speak, but I did not suspect you were looking for more.”

  “Yes, I know. You’ve already said you thought me more conventional. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Never think it! Why, this opens new territory for us, does it not? And Henley is just the man to find fertile fields. He is out beating the bushes for a hint of excitement.”

  “I say, did I hear my name?”

  They turned to find Henley adjusting the sleeves of his jacket and looking rather smug. He winked at Dash and snagged a glass of wine from a passing tray. “Remember the Whitcombe Sabbath last week? Well
, I’ve found another like it. But I’m told ’tis more daring.”

  Andrew glanced toward Bella and then back at Henley. “When?”

  “Tonight. Past midnight.”

  “Where?”

  Henley shook his head. “You will not be admitted if you come without a member.”

  “No problem there.” Dash straightened his lapels importantly. “Between us, we know damn near everyone. Shall we sally forth, lads, in search of an invitation?”

  “I’ll catch up to you later,” Andrew said with another glance in Bella’s direction.

  Henley, already halfway to the door, spoke over his shoulder. “Meet us at the Lion and Bear at midnight sharp.”

  Andrew watched them leave and smiled. As contentious as his friends could be, they were always willing to join him in a debauch.

  Bella had been aware of Andrew’s presence almost from the moment he’d entered the grand salon. Her stomach burned as she waited for him to accost her or make a scene, but he kept his distance instead. Every time she turned in his direction, he was watching her intently, unnerving her and driving her insane. This new tactic was almost worse than a direct confrontation.

  She tried to provoke him by going into one of the alcoves for which Belmonde’s was famous, with one of the men who’d been clinging to her elbow all evening. But nothing. He was standing at the rouge et noir table and raised his glass to her when she exited, another man eliminated. But there was still one more man who’d been paying her attention, and one more opportunity for Andrew to flex his muscles.

  From the corner of her eye, she noted that he was watching her again when she led the second man toward the alcove. And still watching when she came out several minutes later, having kissed the man, then politely refused more. Heavens! He must be planning something devastating for her. She turned toward the refreshment table and took a glass of wine.

  Two sizable swallows had her feeling a bit better before he stood beside her and said, “I see you are still working on that drinking problem, m’dear.”

  “You will have noticed by now that I never give up, Mr. Hunter.”

  “Aye. A trait that once annoyed me endlessly. Now, however, I find it annoying for entirely different reasons.”

  “Do tell!”

  “I see what it does to you, Bella. Each time you kiss a stranger, you loathe yourself a little more. I see it in your eyes and you betray it with your glass.”

  He inclined his head toward her drink, and she put the wine down. She hated that he could read her moods so easily.

  “And since it causes such loathing, I wonder why you do it. Again, Bella—why? Tell me. I will not judge you.”

  How could she tell him why she kissed men if he would not kiss her? If he had been the one—She glanced toward the door, wondering if he’d follow her to Thackery’s, but she would not meet his gaze.

  He took her by the elbow and led her toward an alcove. Would he finally kiss her? Oh, pray that he would taste as sweet as cherries and never, ever lick his lips afterward. When he sat her down, she folded her hands in her lap. She knew that, this time, she would have to let him kiss her.

  He closed the curtain and sat beside her. “Bella, do you know how much you are asking of me when you expect me to stand idly by while you kiss strangers?”

  “I have wondered from the beginning, Mr. Hunter, why you care about what I do. It can mean nothing to you. How many times have you told me so?”

  “I have never told you so.”

  “Not in those precise words, perhaps, but in your every action and demeanor. You blame me for Mr. McPherson’s death. You are convinced I am a tart bent on making fools of men. You have tried everything you can, including…well, everything you can think of to stop me and to be rid of me. No, sir. I haven’t the faintest notion what I am asking of you. Prithee, what?”

  The silence dragged on so long that she finally looked up at him. There was something in his eyes that told her he was as confounded by her question as she. Instead of answering, he turned the question back on her.

  “What is it costing you, Bella? I see you reach for a glass of wine when you have finished with one of them. I see your shudders. And I see that none of these men means a whit to you. So what does it cost you?”

  “A piece of my soul, Mr. Hunter. Each and every one.” She answered before she could think better of it, then felt herself coloring with the confession. But it was too late to call the words back now. “And that is my business.”

  “It has become mine.” He took her hand in his. “I will have to kill any man who kisses you henceforth, Bella. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  “I am not even certain I have a conscience.” Tears burned the backs of her eyes. Surrender her soul to forge on, or surrender her honor to turn her back on her promise to her sister? She looked down at their clasped hands. “You told me you would not interfere with me again.”

  “I thought I could honor that promise, Bella. But I cannot. Nor can I walk away. There is too much at stake. Too much we have not settled between us.”

  “There is nothing to settle.”

  “You are mistaken. Think, Bella, about the potential consequences of what I did to you the other night.”

  “What consequences? That I can never marry now? That I can never go about in society? That I am ruined?” She paused to give a rueful laugh. “Oh, I believe that was the case long before you carried me to that room. I have ruined myself rather effectively on my own.”

  “Those were not the consequences I meant.”

  “No? Then I cannot think what you mean, Mr. Hunter.”

  He released her hand and placed his over her stomach. “Think again.”

  Her heartbeat stilled with shock and surprise that he would mention such a thing. Enceinte? Impossible. Her monthly flux had only just ended. She looked up to catch a fleeting smile cross his face. Did he find this amusing? “You…you…cannot think…”

  “Why not? It is possible, after all. We will not know for some weeks. Meantime, I would be severely out of sorts to find someone else planting on fields I had plowed.”

  She stood and took two backward steps. “Plowed? I am a field to you? What is it you fear? That I will give my favors to another man, perhaps one who kisses me, and that you will never know whose baby I bear? If, indeed, I bear anyone’s baby?”

  “Hush,” he urged with a glance at the curtain. “You do not want this conversation overheard.”

  “Oh, of course not. Because we have been so circumspect in the past. ’Twould never do to cause gossip.” She lifted her chin and crossed her arms.

  He looked torn between amusement and anger as he stood and pulled her into his arms. “You want a kiss, Miss O’Rourke? Would that calm you and win your cooperation?”

  A lump formed in her throat as she nodded. The moment was finally at hand, and she was alarmed to realize how desperately she needed him to be innocent.

  He smoothed a wisp of hair back from her face as she tilted it up to him, and her heart nearly broke with the tenderness of that gesture. Slowly, with maddening deliberateness, he lowered his mouth, his lips barely touching hers. “On my terms this time, Bella,” he whispered. “I want to taste this last forbidden part of you…”

  That reference to their night together weakened her knees and she nearly sank, but his left hand, splayed at her waist, pressed her tighter against him while his right hand cradled her cheek, ensuring that she could not turn away. He played with her, denying anything deeper than the light fluttering of his lips as he nibbled hers. When he finally deepened the contact, it was not in a single kiss, but in a series of smaller insistent kisses—coaxing her mouth open, testing her.

  Somehow, she found herself responding to his wordless urging, opening to him, allowing him access to her inner heat and tasting his. She closed her eyes, the better to experience the sensations he was evoking. His mouth was warm and sweet, and reminded her of brandy and…and mint?

  She moaned, and he surrend
ered her lips long enough to say, “Well said, Bella.”

  And then he kissed her again—really kissed her, deeply and oh, so thoroughly. She found herself drifting on an endless sea and lost track of time. She slipped her arms around his neck, partially for support and partially to draw him closer. She fondled the cool silken curls at the nape of his neck and marveled at his slight shiver and faint groan.

  He gathered her even closer, until there was not a particle of space separating them, and continued the kiss. She did not want it to end. There was something so very intimate about it, so caring, so deeply soulful.

  She was incapable of moving, or of ending the kiss, and when Andrew finally relinquished her mouth, he did so with a series of smaller kisses to the corner of her mouth and along her jaw toward her ear. She opened her eyes again and watched him struggle for control. When his eyes opened, she caught her breath at the emotion they betrayed. He looked raw, vulnerable and hopeful all at once.

  And he did not lick his lips. Not once. “Thank God,” she whispered.

  Luminous tears filled Bella’s eyes and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had prayed that, whatever trait her sister’s killer had betrayed in his kiss, he did not share it. And her little prayer, offered up without explanation, had been her admission of that.

  “Thank God,” he agreed, fighting the urge to kiss her again. If he did, he would not accomplish anything else tonight.

  He took her hand and opened the curtain. “I am taking you home, Miss O’Rourke. I have business to be about and will not be able to keep my eye on you.”

  He was relieved when she did not defy him and only stood with a bemused expression when he draped her cloak over her shoulders at the door. He tossed Biddle a coin and stepped onto the street to summon a coach. It was barely half past eleven, early yet for London, but Dash and Henley were waiting at the Lion and Bear. And this could well be the lead he’d been looking for.

  He glanced at Bella on the seat across from him—he dare not sit beside her or he’d give in to another of those remarkable kisses. She gave him a small smile and his heart twisted. He’d give anything if only Wycliffe had told him about Bella sooner. What he had thought to be defiance and brazenness had really been valor and determination. Single-handedly, and as a result of Wycliffe’s manipulations, she had taken on the impossible task of finding her sister’s murderer in the only way Wycliffe had been unable.