Tenacious Trents 03 - A Reluctant Rake

by Jane Charles

  Madame Devine sailed into the room a moment later. Her hair was pulled back, not yet arranged for the evening or guests. She wore none of her usual rouge or kohl. In fact, her skin was deathly white and her eyes and mouth were drawn.

  “What is wrong?”

  She closed her eyes and simply shook her head.

  Perhaps it had simply been a busy night.

  “Do you have the papers?”

  Madame Devine was usually not so brisk.

  “They are still being prepared.” He reached into his inside pocket and withdrew the deed. “I wished to give you this.” He glanced back at the open door. “Will Angelique be joining us?”

  “No,” Lady Devine answered and sank into a chair. She bent her elbow on the arm of the chair for support and rested her forehead into her raised hand.

  Jordan sat without being invited and grasped Lady Devine’s other hand, his gut churning. Something was terribly wrong. “What happened?”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “When Angelique went out yesterday someone attacked her in the back alley.”

  The brothel wasn’t in the best part of London, but women are usually not assaulted in the middle of the day. “How badly was she hurt?” he asked, his voice sounding far away.

  “Her face.” Tears sprang to Madame Devine’s eyes. “He took a knife and slashed her face. He said she should remember her place and not to usurp her betters.”

  A chill went down his spine. First Lady Rothsbury and now Angelique? Were the two connected? It couldn’t be possible. Neither knew the other. But, they both knew him. Why would someone hurt the ladies he was fond of? It had to simply be a coincidence because he had no enemies that would commit such a heinous act. But if it was because of something he did could Audrey be in danger. As much as he didn’t wish to discuss brothels with her uncle this afternoon, Jordan knew he would have to tell him so that Audrey could be protected. “Did you report it to Bow Street?”

  Madame Devine nodded and sniffed. Jordan drew out his handkerchief and handed it to her.

  “Will she be okay?” Jordan pressed.

  “In time.” Madame Devine dabbed her eyes. “But she can’t work until her face is healed and even then.” Her eyes met his. “It is the beautiful women who bring in the customers and now this monster has scarred her.”

  Jordan squeezed Madame’s hand. “Assure Angelique that it will not matter. There are many gentlemen who adore her, if they are not in love with her. They may have been drawn to her beauty at first, but that is not what kept them returning.”

  A sad smile formed on Madame’s lips. “She will be glad to hear that.”

  “Besides, did she intend on working in such a way after she became owner?” Jordan would have thought Angelique would no longer have a need to make a living on her back.

  Madame Devine chuckled. “We never totally give up the profession. There will always be a few gentlemen we will never be able to decline.”

  If he weren’t committed to being respectable, and if he were not courting Audrey, Jordan would have made every effort to visit Angelique and assure her that she remained desirable despite what scars she may be left with.

  “If not the agreement, what did you bring us?”

  For a moment Jordan had completely forgotten about the deed. “I purchased the property before Jester could.”

  Madame Devine straightened and truly smiled for the first time since she entered the room. “That is marvelous.” She paused and studied him, her eyes narrowed. “Unless you plan on raising the rent.”

  He barked out laughter. “No. Quite the opposite.” He handed her the deed. “I am giving it to Angelique.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she unfolded the document. “Why? This is far too generous a gift.”

  “Not after everything you and Angelique have done for me.”

  She playfully tapped him on the shoulder with the document. “I recall you paid well for what Angelique has done for you.”

  Heat infused his cheeks. “It is something I wish to do.” He wasn’t even sure if he could explain why he was giving the property to Angelique, he just needed to.

  “Thank you,” Madame said quietly. “At least this will be one matter she will no longer worry about.”

  Jordan stood, his upper thighs protesting at the moment. He clenched his jaw and tried not to groan. “Take care, Madame.”

  She put a hand out and grasped his arm. “If you find yourself alone,” she winked. “Whatever you wish for will be here.” She grasped the document to her bosom. “On the house.”

  Had this happened five years ago, Jordan would have made it a point to make a nightly visit. However, that part of his life was over and the only bed he will be enjoying is the one he planned to share with Audrey.

  Jordan made his way toward the door. In a matter of hours this place would be filled with rakes, dandies, gentlemen and all manner of men, wishing for an hour or two with one of the lovely ladies upstairs and a sense of peace came over him, as if he had finally closed the door on a life he did not want.

  It was a fine day and he loathed to enter the closed carriage once again. Standing on the stoop he looked around. Day or night Covent Gardens was busy. The coffeehouses seemed to be full and the little shops were doing a fine business today. Instead of retreating into the darkness, Jordan turned toward the Piazza.

  It was only a few blocks away and when he stepped into the thriving flower and vegetable market the scents of various blossoms permeated the air as did the smell of fresh, ripe vegetables. They were all from hot houses because of the time of year, yet Jordan still closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. What he needed was a bouquet for Audrey. He hadn’t given her one gift yet and a gentleman should at least do that on the day he asked for her hand in marriage.

  He made his way down the line of vendors trying to decide if roses or daisy’s suited her best. Or perhaps tulips or lilies. He didn’t even know her favorite flower, or color, or scent, or season. There was still much to learn about his future wife but the first thing he would find out was what her favorite stone was so he could have it fitted into a perfect betrothal ring.

  His favorite color on her was blue so perhaps he should choose it himself. But should he purchase an aquamarine or sapphire?

  Perhaps he should also purchase blue flowers.

  Jordan stopped in the middle of the market and looked about. There weren’t many blue flowers and most were closer to lavender or purple. He frowned. Perhaps a mixture, of all colors under the sun. Yes, that was what he would do. He took a step forward and was brought up short. The face on the opposite side of the stand was so familiar yet he knew he did not know her.

  He studied her as she gathered flowers and added them to the packages she was already carrying. She was the image of Adele. He knew it couldn’t be Adele since the woman would be near forty but the young woman across from him had the same light blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. She was almost the exact image of the painting of Adele hanging in the family gallery. “Julia?”

  Audrey was convinced time had slowed to a standstill. Each time she looked at the clock, certain it was an hour later, only a few moments had passed. She watched out the front window as carriages drove by and residents strolled the square without a care in the world. She wished she could be so at ease but she still didn’t know what her uncle would say, or Papa.

  What if they declined his request? What if her Papa determined he wanted her to marry someone else? What if Jordan changed his mind?

  Oh, all of this thinking was getting her nowhere. She blew out a puff of air. She couldn’t remain here a moment longer. The room seemed as if it was closing in on her and she would need her aunt’s smelling salts before Jordan ever arrived. Audrey glanced back at the clock. That was at least five hours from now. With a groan she sank into a chair. Reading a book would be impossible. How could she concentrate on a story? Nothing was so riveting that it would hold her attention.

  She glanced over at the windo
w again. Perhaps a walk in the park. The fresh air would clear her mind and calm her nerves. But what if she bumped into Millicent again? Audrey was bubbling with news of Jordan wishing to marry her but knew Millicent was the last person she should tell. She doubted Millicent would be angry. Instead, she would remind Audrey that it was only because Millicent was not available. She knew that was a lie and Audrey didn’t wish to spend time with her former friend.

  The thought stilled her. Yes, Millicent was a former friend. True friends did not suggest a lady wanted an assignation in a garden. Millicent knew better. Just because she flaunted and flirted, and who knows what else, did not mean Audrey was free with her favors.

  Heat scorched her cheeks as she recalled the carriage ride and the way Jordan had kissed places that were not in the vicinity of her lips. Well, she wasn’t free with her favors with everyone. Just one particular gentleman.

  A smile curved on her lips. Once they were married she would finally know the truth of what occurred between a man and a woman. If it was half as enjoyable as what she experienced in the carriage with Jordan, she couldn’t wait.

  The thought of being alone with Jordan again and knowing they would share a bed when they married increased her nerves. What if she was a disappointment? It wasn’t as if she knew what was to happen and Jordan had been with scores of women for over a decade now. Her mother certainly wouldn’t tell her until the last possible moment and Audrey was uncomfortable asking her aunt. Was a lady even supposed to ask such questions?

  Would he kiss her again, the way he did yesterday? Would he touch her other places? Goodness she was becoming warm just remembering the strange feelings that ran through her body.

  “Stop thinking about that,” she muttered out loud, and jumped to her feet. She had to get out of this house before she went mad. Hopefully it wasn’t too early to call on Grace and just maybe her friend would tell her what would happen when Audrey became a wife.

  The woman didn’t hear him say the name, but Jordan could not take his eyes of her. The mannerisms were familiar from the tilt of her head to the gesture in the wrist. They were so much like Adele. “Julia.” He said the name once again but the woman didn’t react. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him.

  The woman’s hands were not gloved and there were no rings, which meant she had not yet married. Julia was five and twenty yet didn’t look as if she were old enough to be considered on the shelf. Why hadn’t she married? Had Adele prohibited it or perhaps Julia hadn’t been given the opportunity because they had been hiding.

  Jordan glanced around the market, looking for an older version of Adele. There was no one to match the description. Perhaps the woman had come alone. She did wear a serviceable gown, certainly not something as fine as the ladies he was accustomed to being around. Was she working as a servant? Was she choosing flowers for the manor where she worked?

  She went from one vendor to another, comparing buds and fully bloomed flowers, to each other and in the bunch, as if she were trying to make the perfect arrangement. He didn’t know so much time could be spent on flower arranging. Yet, hadn’t he just been contemplating which flowers would suit Audrey best?

  Jordan followed as she made her way down the line picking, choosing, discarding choices. By the time she reached the end of the row she had a full bouquet, well balanced in color and size. An artist couldn’t have put together something so well.

  He was reluctant to approach her as she was a stranger and Jordan chuckled to himself. Two years ago, when he found a lady attractive, he presented himself without the slightest concern for propriety, being introduced and all of society’s silly rules. Yet, this circumstance was different. She was a stranger but could also very well be his half-sister, but he couldn’t very well go up and ask her. But, he could ask her something else.

  Jordan stepped into her path as she turned to leave.

  “Pardon.”

  It was a French accent. As Julia had been taken to France when she was almost three, her speech would certainly be more French than English.

  “That is one of the most beautiful bouquets I have seen.”

  Her grey eyes with a slight hint of blue narrowed on him. Julia had clear, green eyes. Could the color have changed as she grew older?

  Jordan could well understand her suspicion of him. He was a stranger presenting himself to her to only compliment the bouquet she held. It sounded false to even his own ears. “I was wondering if you might help me.”

  She tilted her head in study, much like Adele used to do. Should he just come out and ask her if she was Julia?

  No. She might run away, or deny the connection. They had been hiding and he didn’t want to scare her off. Jordan hastened to explain. “I recently became betrothed.”

  She seemed to relax, though only slightly at his announcement, still wary of him.

  “I am not exactly betrothed yet,” he confirmed.

  Her mouth pursed. She was a beautiful young woman and was probably used to all manner of gentlemen approaching her. Oh, if only Adele would have remained then Julia would have had the protection of four older brothers and never have to worry about rakes, rogues and the undesirables bothering her.

  “She has agreed, but my appointment with her uncle is not until this afternoon.”

  One light auburn eyebrow rose and she studied him.

  “As this might be the day of my official betrothal I thought to take her a beautiful bouquet but the choices are overwhelming and I don’t know where to begin.”

  A small smile pulled at her lips.

  “You seem to have a gift for putting blossoms together and I had hoped you might help me.”

  The young woman pursed her lips and studied him. “Tell me about her?”

  Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. She was speaking to him and perhaps when they were done he would know for certain whether she was Julia or not. “She has the blondest of hair and the warmest brown eyes. Though her skin is pale, her cheeks and lips match the bud of that rose.” He pointed to a small rosebud of the barest pink.

  “You are in love?”

  The question took him by surprise. When he thought of Audrey, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and he certainly wanted her in his bed, but he had never attached an emotion to anything. Was he in love? Could he imagine going through life without Audrey?

  No. Last year had been hell, losing her and not knowing why.

  He focused on her light grey eyes. “I believe I am.” Something inside him lifted. Something he could not put a name to, but he was lighter, happier, freer. He was in love.

  “It would be my pleasure to help you.” She smiled at him. “She is a lucky lady. I’ve rarely seen someone so happy at the thought of marriage.”

  “I sincerely appreciate your assistance.”

  “Now, what color is best on her and is there a scent she wears.”

  “Blue,” he answered automatically. “She has this lovely pale blue dress.” Jordan stopped speaking because she was laughing at him.

  “You truly are smitten, are you not?”

  Heat rose to his cheeks. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

  He spent the next half hour following the woman around the flower market, wanting to ask her name and all manner of things, but he could not bring himself to. Jordan wasn’t sure if it was because he was afraid she would quit making his flower arrangement for Audrey, or that he would learn that the woman was not Julia.

  The time ended too soon and after he paid for the last of the arrangement she placed it into his arms and walked with him out into the less crowded area. It was now or never.

  “You remind me of someone I knew when I was a child.”

  “I can assure you that we did not know each other as children. I was raised in France.”

  “What is your name?” He blurted the question out.

  “Genevieve.”

  Disappointment shot through him. He had studied her while she picked the blossoms and he suspected that she may be younger tha
n six and twenty, yet he had still held out hope. Her mannerism and confidences lended them to someone who was older, but the texture of her skin led him to believe she was younger.

  He had never been good at guessing a woman’s age. The closest he ever came to being correct was when a lady was first presented and he knew they usually weren’t above seventeen or eighteen. Once they passed their twentieth year, he stopped trying to guess and assumed most were younger than he. The woman helping him could easily be Julia’s age or five years younger or older.

  “I thought perhaps you were the daughter of someone who had been very important to me at one time.”

  Her light eyebrows drew together in concern.

  “Her name was Adele and she had a daughter, my step-sister actually, named Julia.”

  Genevieve straightened and all color left her cheeks. “I do not know an Adele or Julia,” she insisted.

  Her demeanor changed so abruptly that Jordan was certain the names meant something to her. “Perhaps you knew them in Paris?” he insisted.

  “No.” Genevieve shook her head and began backing away. “I really must go. Congratulations on your betrothal.” With that she turned and rushed back through the market, which had grown even more crowded than it had been when he arrived. He wanted to go after her, but she was lost in the crowd. Genevieve knew something about Adele and Julia and he needed to find out.

  He turned to return to his carriage. As he approached he called up to the driver. Take me to my brother, Bentley.”

  “Audrey, please come in,” Grace welcomed her into the parlor.

  “I am sorry to call so early. I just couldn’t remain at home a moment longer.”

  Grace frowned with worry. “Has anything happened?” She turned toward the footman and requested tea and biscuits before returning to the sitting area.

  Audrey faced her. Did she tell Grace that Jordan was going to talk to her uncle? What if he hadn’t said anything to his brothers yet and Grace was married to one of those siblings. Yet, Grace was her dearest friend and she had to talk to someone. Could she ask Grace to keep it a secret from her husband? Was it even right to do so?