Much as he could use one, he’d best keep his head clear of spirits. “Not right now.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. The fewer people who knew about his predicament, the better. Big Jim would keep their conversation to himself. “Have you seen the Englishman Hammond in the last half-hour or so?”
Jim wagged his head. “Not since you helped him out earlier this evening.”
Damn. Just as he’d feared. “Did you hear him talk of going anywhere else tonight?”
“Not that I recollect. But then he wasn’t so easy to understand to begin with. Bloody this and bloody that. And all those peculiar words. Makes you wonder if he was speaking English.”
He’d experienced the same communication hurdle. Who the hell called having a chat a chinwag? He rapped on the counter. “Thanks, Jim. If all goes well, I’ll stop by later for that drink.”
As he left the bar, his stomach reeled like a whiskey-soused private. What the devil did he do now? If Hammond had left the hotel to seek other entertainment, it was going to be a long, hellish night.
Victoria’s anxious gaze drilled into him, and the knot in his gut tightened. He should never have sent a hack to collect her. Should never have agreed to let her visit him at the hotel. Though it had been ten lonely days since they’d seen each other, he could’ve lasted one more night. But he hadn’t. And now they would both suffer the consequences.
“By the sour look on your face, I gather Hammond wasn’t in the bar.”
He held out a hand and helped her rise. “No, he wasn’t.”
“What now?”
The clock perched on the wall gonged the half-hour. Eight-thirty. One and a half hours to find Hammond and get him back to his room. Not nearly enough time in a city as big and crowded as Washington.
He ran a hand through sweat-dampened hair and tugged on his hat. “If Hammond left the hotel, the doorman will have seen him. He might know where the fool went.”
Victoria nodded in agreement and fell into step beside him, her soft-soled shoes whispering over the marble floor. If it wasn’t for Hammond, he’d have her naked flesh whispering over him instead. Damn English horehounds.
“Evening, Lieutenant. Ma’am,” the doorman greeted them. “Shall I signal a hack for you? There’s one still at the cabbie stand.”
“Yes, but first...” Stephen motioned for the man to move out onto the portico with him. Though he didn’t know Fred Hayes that well, he’d spoken to the doorman on several occasions. He seemed to be a decent enough fellow.
“Have you seen the British Envoy Hammond this evening, Fred?”
“I certainly did. Not more than a half hour ago. Hailed a hack for him.”
Good that Fred had seen the man. Bad that his suspicions were confirmed. “Did you happen to overhear where he was going?”
The doorman shook his head. “’Fraid not. Another guest arrived about the same time and needed help with his baggage.”
Damn. If it wasn’t for bad luck, he and Victoria would have none. Stephen fished in his pocket for a coin. A folded slip of paper came out with the money. He fingered the note and smiled. Maybe their good fortune hadn’t run out after all.
He pressed the coin into the doorman’s palm. “Thanks, Fred. We’ll take that hack, now.”
As Fred clattered down the steps, Stephen waved for Victoria. “I think I know where Hammond might have gone,” he said when she joined him.
“You do? Where?”
He held up the wad of paper. “Earlier today he slipped me this note along with a ten-spot. Wanted me to go against orders and accompany him into the city.”
Her eyes widened. “He tried to bribe you?”
“He did. I refused and gave back the money. But I forgot to dispose of his note.” He crumpled the paper in his fist. “He could be on his way to this place.”
“Well, at least you have an idea of where to search.”
He slid a hand to her elbow. “As there’s only one hack on hand, you’ll have to come, too. Once we’ve found Hammond, I’ll send you home.” The thought of involving Victoria in this mess rolled in his gut, heavy and indigestible as old boot leather. Yet, he had no choice but to stomach it.
“That’s fine. I told Howard and Annabelle not to wait up.” She lowered her eyelids and her voice. “I think they assumed I’d be with you all night.”
Anger and frustration coiled inside him. If only they could be together in the way her sister imagined…and not on some damn wild goose chase.
The full moon joined the gas-lamps in lighting the darkness. A clump of leaves churned out of the shadows and into the street, pushed along by a stiff breeze. Hell, the way his luck was running, he half expected a blinding snowstorm to blow up.
As the hackney clattered to a stop at the curb, Stephen shook off his ugly thoughts and guided Victoria down the stairs. A head clouded with doubts would do him little good.
“Where to, mate?” the cabbie asked from his perch.
“Maynard House,” he answered as he handed Victoria into the cab. “And make haste.”
Stephen ignored the cabbie’s raised eyebrow and followed Victoria inside. He didn’t favor taking his future wife to such a place either. But there was no other option. Finding Hammond trumped propriety. At least the Maynard House was located on the better side of town. Yet, somehow that fact did little to appease the bayonet spearing his conscience.
As the hack lurched forward, he settled on the narrow bench. Mashed together in the small confines of the cab, his shoulder and thigh pressed pleasantly against the soft female body next to him. His loin quickened at the memory of what they should be doing instead of roving about the city. He bit down on a nasty-tasting curse.
Victoria’s hand found his in the darkness. “I’m sorry I got you into this horrible situation, love.”
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to glove-encased knuckles. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“But if I hadn’t insisted on seeing you, none of this would have happened.”
“I have a feeling Hammond would’ve escaped confinement eventually. He’s a damned determined brute. It was just my ill luck it happened on my watch.”
“What will happen if you don’t find him?”
Bleakness tainted her usual cheery tone. From uncertainty or fear? Probably a bit of both. It nearly killed him to know his poor judgment caused her such torment.
He trapped the lie rolling on his tongue. The truth would be best. Victoria was going to be his wife after all. He hoped. “I won’t honey-coat the situation. Between the suspicion cast by Hammond’s bribe and me abandoning my post, I could face a court-martial, possibly lose my commission.”
She sucked in a breath. “A court-martial? Oh, Stephen, that sounds so harsh.”
“That’s the way of the military. My commanding officer is a stickler for rules.”
“And that prized position at Fort Leavenworth he promised you?”
“Quashed.” Ground like a cockroach under a spit-shined boot heel. He squeezed her hand, now trembling in his. “I’m sorry if this upsets you, darling. But I felt you should know. “
“I’m glad you told me.” She squared herself, pulling on that cloak of strength and determination he so admired. “We’re going to work this out together. Nothing is going to stand in the way of our future. Nothing.”
He grimaced, thankful the dark concealed his expression. Once she discovered their destination, would her outlook remain so sunny? In his experience, no matter what the reason, most wives or wives-to-be didn’t think highly of their men entering a whorehouse.
Chapter Two
Victoria watched from inside the hackney as Stephen climbed the stairs to the three-story brick building set off from the rest of the stately houses lining the cobbled street. From what she could see in the limited light, it appeared to be a well-kempt dwelling, the lawn and shrubbery precisely manicured, the house clean and bright. Most of the mullioned windows glowed golden with lamplight, except for a handful on the t
op floor that had their curtains pulled shut. The faint tinkle of piano music and an occasional laugh rode the night air. Had Hammond been invited to some sort of party?
The ornate red door swung open, spewing light and a swell of festive noise onto the stoop. A tall, somberly-dressed man stepped through the opening and began talking with Stephen. The butler perhaps? She tossed a prayer skyward that Hammond was inside. He had to be. The thought of Stephen losing his commission, losing his future in the Army, ate at her like a maggot on rotted food. All because of her childish impatience. She fisted her hand around the door handle. One way or another, she’d make certain her beloved didn’t lose any of the things he cherished.
As the two men talked, several figures darkened the hallway behind them. A woman’s throaty laugh rang out. A hearty male chuckle joined in. The butler stepped to the side, providing a clearer view. The woman wore an evening gown of red satin overlaid by a lacy black overskirt. Blonde ringlets cascaded from a bun fashioned atop her head. She could be any well-dressed lady out on the town. Except for the large male paws fondling the creamy breasts spilling from the top of her garment. Victoria’s stomach lurched. Satan’s toenails. This was no upscale home. It was a house of ill repute.
Stephen crossed over the threshold and entered the manse. The butler trailed him, closing the door behind them. Her insides turned to ice. Stephen had gone inside that horrible place. With that lady of the night, and most likely scads more like her.
Minutes passed. Or was it hours? The carriage horse snorted and stamped his foot. The clank of iron on stone resounded into the night. If her shoes were clad with steel, the carriage floor would ring with a similar sound.
More minutes passed. Wicked and worrisome thoughts slithered into her head. Images of half-naked women circling her beloved, beguiling him with their charms. Could any man, even one as devoted as Stephen, ignore such a temptation? She gathered her skirts and pushed open the carriage door. Not if she could help it.
As she footed the first step, the door to the manse swung open. She froze, watching, waiting.
Her beloved moved onto the stoop—alone. She blew out a relieved breath. He hadn’t succumbed to temptation. Yet it also meant Hammond was still on the loose.
Stephen tucked on his hat and trotted down the stairs. As he drew closer, his worried gaze latched onto her. “Victoria, what the devil are you doing? Get back inside the cab.”
She remained in the doorway, unwilling to let him out of her sight. “You were gone so long, I became worried.”
“As you can see, I’m fine.” He stopped at the foot of the stairs and reached up to pat her hand. “Go back inside, sweetheart. I’ll join you after I speak with the driver.”
She hesitated a second, and then eased back onto the seat. After a quick word with the cabbie, Stephen ducked through the door and joined her. The cloying scent of flowery perfume came with him. A souvenir from his stint in that warren of wickedness. It certainly wasn’t the vanilla fragrance she always wore.
“That place, Stephen. It was a-a...” she broke off with a shudder, unable to say the word aloud. Just thinking it turned her stomach.
“I know. I’m sorry you had to encounter such depravity, but it couldn’t be helped.”
The carriage rocketed forward, and Victoria gripped the seat to steady herself and her ire. “I assume Mr. Hammond wasn’t in there.”
“No, but he was earlier. Unfortunately, he was so inebriated and belligerent, the doorman refused to allow him entrance.”
Why then had Stephen gone inside? To confirm the butler’s claim, or to lay eyes on those half-naked women? Though her tongue burned with questions, she swallowed them down with a hard gulp. She’d vowed to do whatever it took to help Stephen, even choke on her own outrage.
“I had to go inside so I could speak with the proprietress,” he added as if mind-reading was another of his amazing skills. “She had suggested an alternative establishment to Hammond.”
A reasonable explanation. Victoria reclined against the seat, her heated blood cooling. “I can’t believe Mr. Hammond would even consider going to such a wicked place. On the eve of his wedding for Heaven’s sake.”
“Some men are just weak-willed.”
Thank goodness her Stephen wasn’t one of them. Or was he? Many men visited ladies of ill repute. If they didn’t, there’d be no need for such places. She pushed the notion out of her head. Stephen had given her no reason to distrust his devotion.
“Are we going to this alternative establishment?”
Wool squelched against the seat as he shifted his position. “No. I’m taking you home.”
“Home? Why?”
“Because the riverfront is no place for a lady.”
She shook her head. “But my house is miles in the other direction. You’ll risk losing Hammond again.”
“It’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
Not while she drew breath. “I won’t let you jeopardize your commission for no good reason.” She rapped the carriage roof. “Stop, driver. Stop this instant.”
The cabbie gave a whistle. The hack slowed and then rumbled to a stop. “What is it, Ma’am? Is something amiss?” he yelled from his perch.
“Take us to the riverfront.” She poked Stephen’s arm. “Tell him where.”
“No. You’re not coming with me.”
She reached for the door handle. “Then I’m getting out.”
“Victoria, it’s not—”
“I mean what I say,” she interrupted. “Either we go to the riverfront together, or I find my own way home.”
He covered her hand with his. “Victoria, the riverfront is full of unsavory characters. Especially at night. It’s too dangerous.”
“Your future in the Army is my only concern.”
“This place is ten times worse than The Maynard House. You shouldn’t go anywhere near it.”
She released the handle and curled her hand into his. “I trust you to protect me. Besides we’ll only be there a short while. Long enough for you to go inside, find Hammond, and bring him out.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It has to be. We don’t have any other choice. Your future—our future—rests with getting this man safely back to the hotel. That won’t happen if you’re delayed taking me home.”
“I’ll find you another hack.”
Could a mule be any more stubborn? “This late at night, in this remote part of town? That would take even longer than if you accompanied me home.” She tugged free of his grasp and crossed her arms over her chest. “I won’t have it. Tell the driver our new destination.”
Only the hiss of his breath rushing past clenched teeth broke the deafening quiet. Her stomach twisted. Much as she hated being at odds with her beloved, this was one battle she intended to win. Needed to win. For both their sakes.
Springs squawked as the driver moved on his perch. He cleared his throat and called down to them, “Cain’t sit here all night, mate. Where to?”
She shoved up her chin and pinned Stephen with a pointed glare. “Well, love? Where to?”
He drew in a long, slow breath and let it out in a noisy puff. “Fine. I’ll allow you to come. But you must give your word that you’ll stay inside the carriage. No matter what you see or hear.”
Checkmate. “I promise.”
He mumbled something unintelligible, and then glanced skyward. “Take us to the riverfront, driver. Boyd’s Tavern.”
“And hurry,” she added.
As the hack lurched forward, Stephen gathered her in his arms and scooped her onto his lap. Nimble fingers pressed delightfully into her ribs. “Are you always going to be this willful, Miss Manning?”
The tension went out of her at his teasing tone. She nuzzled his neck. “Only when the love of my life is threatened.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
Oh, she could think of several things. Most of them deliciously delightful. She fingered the collar of his uniform jacket. “What
would you like to do?”
“What I should and what I’d like to do are two different issues.” He tried to be stern, but it didn’t work. The devilish curve of his mouth softened his words.
“How different are they?”
“Very different. You do know that an officer’s wife is expected to obey her husband’s orders without question.”
“Yes, but if I had obeyed, I might not have the chance to become an officer’s wife. Then I wouldn’t be able to do this...” She traced a path with her tongue, gliding over smooth-shaven flesh from his firm jaw to the pulsing base of his neck. “Or this...” She sucked gently, pulling skin into her mouth and gnawing softly. He tasted of salt and sweetness. A most delicious late night treat.
A groan rumbled in the back of his throat. “Victoria...”
She smiled and lifted her head. “Did you like that?”
He groaned again and moved a hand to the back of her neck. “You catch onto this game far too quickly.”
You haven’t seen anything yet, my love. She wiggled, pressing down on the firm thighs bunched beneath her. A sharp, indrawn breath bugled his defeat. She let go a laugh. Skirmishing with her lieutenant was oh-so enjoyable.
He cupped the back of her head and forced her mouth down onto his. Her laughter turned to a moan of pleasure. He knew just how to retaliate. His tongue swept over her lips, parrying and feinting, a foe to be reckoned with. Clever fingers massaged her scalp, and desire surged inside her like an invading army—one she couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop.
She slumped against him, surrendering. The rise and fall of his chest brushed her breasts in pleasing strokes. His kisses seared her lips. She moaned again. Nothing else mattered but this loving Byrne.
A shout and the stench of rotted fish carried into the carriage.
She toppled off the pinnacle of desire and into the cold water of reality. This was not the place or the time for such carrying-on. She pulled away and pushed against his chest. “Stop, Stephen.”
“What?”
“I think we’ve arrived.”
In confirmation, the hack slowed and came to a stop. Stephen grunted. “So we have.”
Loving Byrne Page 2