by Jane Charles
Mr. Trent came to stand behind his wife and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Millicent simply shrugged. “Does it really matter?” she took another sip of her tea. “It is a shame though.”
“Of course it is.” It was appalling how caviler Millicent was about a man’s murder. They had known him. Not very well, but he had traveled in the same circles.
“I wasn’t quite finished with him yet, but there is still Everton, I suppose.”
Grace opened her mouth and Audrey already anticipated the question and shook her head. Grace frowned and said nothing.
“Well, since Jordan is not here, there is no reason for me to be either.” She placed her teacup and saucer back on the table. “Perhaps I will see you tonight.” With that she turned and glided out of the room.
Grace turned to look at Audrey. “I am beginning to agree with you. Something is terribly wrong with Millicent.”
Jordan stepped inside Whites and glanced around. At a far table sat two of his brothers, Clay, the current Earl of Bentley and John, spy for the English Crown. Two brothers, who couldn’t be any more different. The oldest did as father instructed. Of course, if one was struck with the willow switch often enough as a child you tended to not step out of line. On the other hand, John, the youngest son, did his best to go against Father at every turn.
He took a seat and ordered a brandy. Clayton studied him and John hitched a brow, a half-smile forming on his lips.
“What?” Jordan demanded.
“Might I ask how you came about that bruise on your jaw?” Clayton asked.
Jordan had forgotten it already. When he noticed it in the mirror this morning it had already turned a dark shade of purple, but the swelling had at least gone down.
“Dalton.” It was about all he was willing to say on the subject.
“Over a woman?” John chuckled.
“He can have her. I’ve never had an interest in that woman.”
Clayton hitched a brow again.
“She fancies herself taken with me and I’ve not shown the least bit of interest,” Jordan found himself defending.
John leaned forward. “Are you certain? You are rather, shall we say, you tend to flatter the ladies. Could an innocent comment been taken to heart?”
“I am not even sure I’ve ever complimented the ladies slippers let alone anything else. We danced three times last spring and that is only because she was standing with someone I really wished to dance with.”
“Oh?” Clayton asked.
“Miss Audrey Montgomery,” Jordan answered before they asked.
Clayton studied him for a moment before a slow smile spread across his lips. “She is the one you stole my dance for and then warned me away from her.”
Jordan shrugged. Clayton was determined to find a wife last spring and Jordan wasn’t about to allow it to be Miss Montgomery.
“She is Grace’s friend?” John questioned.
Jordan nodded.
“As for this other lady,” John questioned. “You were polite and now she is in love?
“Apparently but I swear I gave her no encouragement.”
The footman set the glass before him and Jordan took a drink.
Clayton leaned forward. “I wouldn’t tell anyone else it was Dalton you had fought with,” he said in a low tone.
“Why?” Jordan took another drink. “It isn’t as if there weren’t two dozen witnesses.”
John and Clayton shared a look across the table.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Dalton was found stabbed to death behind Jesters early this morning.”
Jordan set the glass back on the table. “Who killed him?”
“Nobody knows. But if I were you, I wouldn’t mention the altercation.”
Jordan leaned back in his chair, cradling the snifter of brandy. Dalton was dead? Who and why? If he was killed outside of Jesters it could have been anyone, or for any reason.
He looked around at the other gentlemen gathered in White’s this afternoon and a few of them had been present at Dagger’s when Dalton confronted him. Several of them were talking about the murder and coming to their own conclusions based on what they had heard. Of course, who knew how much truth was mixed with assumptions, if any.
Clayton stood as Jordan finished his drink. “We were going to visit Matt. Care to join us?
Jordon stared up at his brother and finally shook his head. He could not believe Dalton was dead. They weren’t friends and never had been. The man was at least eight years younger than himself. But, Dalton had come after him last night. What if someone told the authorities? Would he be questioned?
“No, there is somewhere else I need to be.” He stood and followed his brothers out into the gloomy weather and made his way to the home of Miss Montgomery’s uncle. He gently rubbed his bruised and swollen jaw. How soon after Dalton had delivered that punch was he killed?
So far nobody knew why but most suspected it was over gambling since Dalton had won a good deal of blunt that evening, off of Lord Creighton to be exact. Jordan had first suspected Creighton of doing the deed but decided the man didn’t have the courage. On the other hand, he may be just that desperate.
The butler opened the door and Jordan announced himself.
“Miss Montgomery is not at home.”
Was she not at home in that she was not in the household or was she not at home in that she didn’t wish to see him, such as with what had happened last spring. Jordan thought over what he had done since he had last seen her. There was nothing she could form an objection to. The only thing she may have learned about was his visiting Lady Rothsbury early this morning, which was far more innocent than it probably appeared. But when he had looked up as he passed her residence the curtains to her room were shut tight so she couldn’t have seen him leave.
“Do you know when she may return?”
“No. She was not good enough to advise me of her schedule.”
The butler did not like him, and hadn’t last year when he had come to call and Jordan knew he would get no further questions answered and left his card.
He turned and walked down the street and glanced across the square. How was Lady Rothsbury this afternoon? He thought to call on her but decided it best to remain away. She must be in a good deal of pain and her brother’s carriage was parked in front so she was being protected.
Jordan relaxed back against the squabs. Was it too early to propose marriage? Should he wait a bit longer? If so, how long? Maybe he should ride to Grosmont and meet with Audrey’s father. It wouldn’t do to make a promise to the lady if her father was going to refuse him. Not that it would matter because Jordan would simply haul her off to Scotland and then her father could do nothing.
Besides, if he were to ride to speak with the father that would take him days away from London. The last time he had left London in the middle of the Season he returned to an angry and distant Audrey and he wasn’t about to chance that again.
A note was waiting for him when he returned home. Jordan broke the seal and grinned. It had been over a year since he stepped foot in that establishment. Had the ladies missed him so much they felt the need for an invitation? Jordan laughed and fell into the chair behind his desk.
What could Madame Devine need him for? He knew it wasn’t because her ladies missed him but he couldn’t imagine why he was being asked to call on the brothel.
Jordan came to his feet. He would stop by Lincoln’s Inn to see if there had been any further developments into breaking Creighton’s guardianship and then he would visit Madame Devine’s. Jordan checked his watch. He should be able to accomplish all of his tasks and still return home in time to prepare for the ball. With any luck, he would arrive early enough to meet Miss Montgomery and secure the supper dance again.
Jordan stepped into the private chambers of Madame Devine and was surrounded by all things feminine in a matter of moments. The curtains were light and white and danced on the breeze. Th
e walls were rose damask that matched the accent color in the green upholstery of the chairs and settee. One wall was lined with books and the other a large fireplace with furniture arranged for the purpose of conversation. Beyond was a door and Jordan wondered if that was where her chambers lie. Not that he had ever been privy to Madame’s private rooms. As the owner of the establishment, she did not work as the other girls did, but ran her business with an iron fist.
At the opposite end of the room was a delicate ladies desk made of a cherry wood. She was seated behind it and nodded a greeting. A woman sat in one of the spindly chairs but her back was to him. Slowly she turned and Jordan did not fight the smile that came to his lips. It was Angelique.
She stood and glided across the room to greet him. Not in the form of a curtsey but with her arms about his neck and lips against his. Jordan enjoyed the embrace for a moment, remembering the years they had enjoyed one another’s company before he pulled back. He thought of her only as a friend now.
“Angelique,” he said looking down at her. “It is good to see you.” He meant every word. This woman had taught him so much. It was to this place his father brought him on his sixteenth birthday. It was Angelique who had taken his hand and led him up the stairs to her chamber and introduced him to the world of carnal relations. She was only eighteen at the time and Jordan had fallen in love.
“Mr. Trent, please come in,” Madame insisted as Angelique led him to the chairs before her desk. Jordan waited until Angelique had taken a seat before he settled into the matching chair. “How can I be of service?”
“I am retiring,” Madame announced.
Did that mean Madame Devine’s would cease to exist? Jordan suffered a bit of panic at the loss. He hadn’t crossed the threshold in over a year, but he knew it was always here and held more pleasant memories than his family home.
“I’ve purchased a small cottage in the country. I want away from London.”
Jordan simply nodded. What could he say?
“Angelique is to become the new owner,” Madame announced. Her smile was bright and wrinkles he had never noticed before formed around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. How old was Madame? Jordan turned to Angelique, his first love was not yet showing signs of age, but she was also only three and thirty, rather young to become owner of a thriving business, yet Madame would not leave her in charge if she were not capable.
“I would like you to draw up the documents necessary to complete the sale.”
“Gladly.” And he wouldn’t even charge them. These women had provided him with memories he would always cherish. Angelique, far more than Madame.
She slid a piece of parchment across the table. Jordan picked it up and scanned the details which included the name of the business, location, amount that would be paid, yet the names were unfamiliar. “Ennis Flynn and Nessa O’Toole?”
Both women laughed. “Dear boy, you didn’t think we used our real names did you?” Madam asked.
His face heated. “I had never really given it thought.”
Jordan glanced at Angelique. “Ennis?”
She grimaced. “Not particularly exotic or lends one to think of passion.”
She had a point. He folded the parchment and shoved it into an inside pocket. It would not take long to draw up the necessary documents.
“We have another concern.” Madame announced, her smile now gone.
Jordan sat forward. “Yes.”
“I may own the building, but I have never owned the land. The agreement was in place long before I became the owner. The original Madame Devine could rent the land and build as she wished. The owner was rather close to her.”
Jordan could just imagine what all that closeness entailed.
“We’ve carried on this way for nearly fifty years but the last owner has recently passed and his son wishes to sell the property.”
Jordan nodded. “You wish to purchase the land as well.”
“It was our intention but there is competition. Mac Geary has purchased the land and building next to us and wants this land as well.”
“He owns Jesters, correct,” Jordan clarified.
“He has shown an interest in this building as well. We fear he will buy the land and then raise the rent so high that Angelique will have no choice but to sell to him.”
Jordan had heard rumors of the man wishing to move out of Seven Dials and build a gentlemen’s club to rival Whites and Boodles. Did he intend to make a brothel part of the club?
“Who owns the land?”
“Lord Rowley or the current Lord Rowley.” Madame said with disgust. “He came to inform me that he was selling the property. When I asked about the purchase price he simply sneered at me. He did not believe in women owning property and even if I was willing to pay twice the cost, he would not sell to me.”
Jordan wasn’t surprised. Rowley was a pious judgmental prig.
“We need to block Geary from purchasing the land,” Angelique insisted.
“I will look into it.” Jordan stood, as did Angelique.
“I will escort you out,” she smiled up at him.
Angelique led him into the hall and closed the door to Madame’s office and then slipped her hand into his. “Allow me to thank you properly.” She favored him with a seductive smile and Jordan was not immune. She was the only person he ever visited when he came to the brothel, sometimes visiting her up to four times a week, paying for the entire night. She taught him everything he knew about giving pleasure and receiving it.
For a moment Jordan was tempted to revisit their past and if he weren’t anxious to get to Audrey he may have lingered. Even if Audrey wasn’t across town attending a ball, he would decline the invitation. Since meeting her he had wanted no other woman, not even Angelique, who he thought had stolen his heart long ago. It had only been an infatuation. “I must decline.”
She pouted up at him. “I’ve missed you.”
He simply laughed. “I know you are not without company.”
She smiled and shrugged. “There are a few gentlemen who are as attentive as you.” She ran her hand up his chest. “You will always be my favorite.”
He glanced down at her. “And you will always hold a special place in my heart.”
She was as bad as Millicent, Audrey chastised herself. She had been at this ball for nearly an hour and Jordan Trent had yet to make an appearance. Each time a gentleman stepped through the doors, she looked even though it really wasn’t necessary since everyone was announced. Still, she couldn’t help herself.
Her dance card was beginning to fill and soon there wouldn’t be any place for which he could write his name, if he chose to.
She glanced around the room at the many guests and noted Lady Rothsbury was not in attendance either. She could very well be at a different ball, as could Mr. Trent. Was he attending the same function as the widow? Had they grown closer than she realized?
Of course they had. He had been at her home until the early morning hours twice this week.
Audrey groaned. She had let it happen again. She had fallen for a rake. Jordan Trent had no more intention of courting her than he did giving up all of the ladies that were free with their charms.
Mr. Everton approached and bowed before her. “Miss Montgomery, you are as beautiful as always.”
She dipped a small curtsey. “Thank you, Mr. Everton.” Why was he approaching her? He never had before. They had been introduced last spring but that was as far as their acquaintance went, other than when she saw him at Millicent’s that afternoon. She had been very cautious to avoid gaining the attention of gentlemen like Everton, who were more debauched than Mr. Jordan Trent, if that were even possible.
“Do you have at least one dance left.”
She had a few and held out her card. He penciled in his name by the last waltz of the evening. Audrey inwardly sighed. She had hoped Mr. Trent would arrive in time to claim her last waltz but that was not to be.
“I’ll anxiously await our waltz.
” He bowed and left her to her own thoughts.
Why should she be saving dances for Trent? If he wished to dance with her he would have arrived by now. Clearly he was done with her. Was it because she didn’t allow him to kiss her last night? If that were the case then she needed to dismiss him from her mind and heart. He would only toy with her affection and reputation and it was time she set about finding an honest and trustworthy husband for herself.
She glanced at the names on the card. Unfortunately, none of the names interested her enough to be involved in a relationship longer than a country dance. But, it was still early in the Season. Any number of gentlemen could come to her attention and then Jordan Trent would be but a distant memory.
Audrey stifled a groan as Millicent glided across the room. “Where is he?”
“Who?” Audrey asked even though she knew exactly who Millicent was asking about.
“Jordan. I was sure he would be here.”
“Perhaps he has been delayed.” Audrey smiled at her. For her sake she hoped Trent did show so she didn’t have to listen to Millicent whine all night. But was that any worse than watching Millicent make a cake of herself when he was present.
“It is already too hot in here.” Millicent began fanning herself.
The color was high in Millicent’s cheeks as if she had caught a fever. It was a bit warm, but not uncomfortably so. By the time the dancing began it would probably be unbearable. “Perhaps we should step outside and get some air.”
Millicent glanced back to the entry and bit her bottom lip. She didn’t want to miss Trent’s entrance no doubt.
“You will be able to hear who is announced if we stand by a window.”
Her friend sighed. “Very well.”
They didn’t walk far, but made their way outside to the terrace and found seats beside an open window. A light breeze helped to cool their skin and Millicent had finally stopped fanning herself. They had an excellent view of the stairs leading down into the ballroom so not only would Millicent hear Trent’s name announced but she would be able to see him as well.