The Lady Hellion

by Joanna Shupe

  “Colton, never thought to see you back in England.” Robert nodded toward the duke. “Heard you’re a respectable family man now.”

  Colton, clearly unhappy at the interruption, inclined his chin politely. Painful small talk ensued until the host appeared to ask Colton for a word. The duke bowed to Sophie. “We’ll continue our conversation later, my lady.”

  Sophie wanted to beg him to stay, but that could attract undue attention. So she found herself alone with Robert. God above, she must remain calm and end this conversation as quickly as possible.

  “Sophie—” She stiffened, and Robert grinned. “Oh, come now. You don’t mind if I call you Sophie, do you? After all we’re such old friends.” The last two words were said with such barely veiled innuendo that revulsion skated down Sophie’s spine.

  “I do mind, if you must know.” Her voice sounded hollow to her ears. “And I hardly think we are friends.”

  “Of course we are.” He leaned in closer and she took a step back, only to press against the wall. His breath smelled of brandy. “We were very good friends once.”

  Had she truly thought herself in love with this man? “Once, but that was quite a long time ago. Tell me, how is your wife?” she hissed.

  “Dull. I thought that’s what I wanted at the time, but I was a fool.”

  Yes, you were, she wanted to say. Instead, she tried to step around him, but he quickly blocked her path. “Let me pass.”

  “You cannot leave now, not when I’ve finally returned. You know, I’ve thought about you often over the years.” He moved in and she planted her feet. She would not cower. “You’ve never married,” he continued. “I wonder why that is.”

  “It has nothing to do with you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she snapped.

  “You needn’t lie to me, Sophie. You forget, I know you.” One finger stroked the bare skin of her arm, above her glove, and she jerked her arm away.

  “You know nothing about me, sir.”

  He smirked at her. “Come now. We enjoyed one another once. I was thinking we could renew our acquaint—”

  Lifting her foot, she rammed her heel down on the top of his dress shoe. He gave a satisfying yelp, and she skirted him, escape the only thing on her mind. The French doors leading to the terrace were not far and she hurried toward them.

  Quint had not seen Sophie for the past two evenings, and he knew precisely why. She was quietly busy watching Lord Tolbert. The idea turned his blood cold. Not because Tolbert was a murderer. The man may or may not be responsible for the killings. No one could know for sure, not without more proof.

  And Quint hated the idea of Sophie wading through the underbelly of London, risking herself, to find said proof. Especially when he could do nothing to protect her. He’d hired Jenkins, of course, who drove Sir Stephen about Town, but it wasn’t the same as being there himself.

  Not to mention, if he had to sit through one more of Jenkins’s glowing reports of Sir Stephen’s derring-do, he’d lose his mind even sooner.

  So he decided to discover answers, even from the confines of his own house.

  Tolbert had unfinished business with Sir Stephen, who was supposedly Quint’s cousin. Quint assumed that a vaguely worded note to Tolbert, requesting an audience regarding the argument with Sir Stephen, might be enough to get Tolbert’s attention.

  The note worked, and Tolbert agreed to come by before he went out for the evening.

  Quint had everything arranged the way he wanted when Taylor announced Lord Tolbert. Dressed for the evening, Tolbert’s dark eyes were wary as he stepped inside the room. “Evening, Quint.”

  “Excellent,” Quint said, coming around the desk. “Welcome, Tolbert. Brandy?”

  The earl sat in the chair Quint indicated. Quint took the seat opposite and did a rapid examination. Tolbert was short for a man, four or five inches short of six feet. The heels on his dress shoes were unusually high—clearly to increase his stature—as well as worn. Plain cravat pin. No watch fob. The glove on his right hand was missing a button.

  They were positioned close to the fire, which was stoked higher than usual on a spring night. He poured Tolbert a generous portion of brandy, handed it over. Repeated the exercise for himself. The two of them sat back with their spirits. Quint pretended to drink his while they made polite conversation. Tolbert, on the other hand, made short work of the first glass, quickly proceeding to the second.

  Quint poured just as much this round.

  “I daresay this is the best brandy I’ve had in ages. From where did you get it?”

  “A tiny village in France. They only produce twenty bottles a year. Costs a fortune, but it’s worth it.” When Tolbert was distracted, Quint poured the brandy from his glass into a plant by his chair.

  “Indeed. What are the chances you’d sell me a bottle?”

  “No need. I’ll be happy to give you one.” He got up, rang for Taylor. When the butler appeared, Quint requested a bottle for Tolbert.

  “Very good. There are only three bottles left, my lord.”

  “Never mind that, Taylor. I’m happy for Tolbert to have one of them.”

  Taylor bowed, retreated, and Quint turned to Tolbert, who looked more at ease. Excellent.

  “Appreciate it, Quint. I’ve never believed what they say about you, you know.”

  “That is good to hear. I was sorry to learn of your problems with my young cousin.”

  “A trifle impertinent, the lad.”

  “Yes. He gets it from his mother, unfortunately.” Quint rolled his eyes, as if mothers were the obvious root of the world’s problems. “You can understand, I’m sure.”

  “I suppose.”

  “My mother wasn’t much better,” Quint lied, refilling Tolbert’s glass once more. “Some days I wished I had the sort of parents who ignored their children.”

  Tolbert made a noise. “My father was worse than my mother. Strict disciplinarian, he was. I couldn’t wait to get to Eton.”

  To pick on other boys, no doubt.

  “I heard you and Stephen were in The Pretty Kitty. Haven’t been there myself. What did the lad do?” Surreptitiously, he dumped more brandy into the plant. Refilled his glass.

  “I had a girl all lined up. Bought her for the night, just wanted to finish my cards first. Then I see Sir Stephen leading her to the stairs. I waited until they came back down and laid into the boy.”

  “Understandable. So did you get what you paid for that night?”

  “Indeed.” He grinned. “She more than made up for the trouble.”

  “Ah. Work her over, did you? Sometimes the girls like it when you get a bit rough, I’ve found.” Quint watched every one of Tolbert’s features carefully.

  His brow pinched ever so slightly before it was gone, and he shifted in the chair. Confusion, but Tolbert did not want to show it.

  “Not really. I’ve other ways of getting my money’s worth.” Eyes clear, he never blinked or looked away. It was the truth.

  Quint put his glass down with a decisive thunk. He rose and went to the door to call for Taylor. Throwing the wood open, he nearly ran into the butler. Taylor leapt backward, his face turning red, and Quint eyed him carefully. Had the servant been eavesdropping? “Taylor, show Lord Tolbert out, won’t you?”

  “Wait, what—?” Tolbert said behind him.

  Quint spun and strode toward the desk. “Thank you, Tolbert. I have all that I need,” he said, dropping into his chair. He reached for a letter he’d been writing before Tolbert arrived. Picked up his pen. “Taylor will see you out.”

  Tolbert grumbled and departed, likely off to spread tales of Quint’s idiosyncrasies. Now alone, Quint wondered again over his butler. Had the lad been listening at the door? True, Taylor had obviously never been a butler before, but that didn’t equate to something sinister. Nevertheless, someone in the house was keeping Hudson and the rest of the Home Office well informed, and Quint didn’t like it.

  Not one bit.

  The brisk sprin
g breeze cooled Sophie’s overheated skin as she moved to the edge of the terrace, away from the house. Away from Robert. The unbelievable nerve of that man. She would’ve kicked him square in the bollocks if she hadn’t been in these blasted skirts.

  Robert was no longer repulsed by her, she guessed. Well, she was certainly repulsed by him. Buttoned-up, stuffy, aristocratic snob. And she’d wanted to marry him?

  I would never dishonor my family by marrying you. After all these years, that still hurt. Even though she did not want him, the idea that she was not good enough stung.

  Deep lungfuls of the crisp evening air soon calmed her. She needed to get back inside and continue to watch for Lord Tolbert. Then follow him, though she would need to do it from her carriage. No chance of donning Sir Stephen’s garments in time.

  A door farther down the terrace opened and she froze. Expecting to find Robert, she whirled—then sagged in relief. A man she did not recognize had emerged from one of the lower rooms to take some air. “Excuse me,” she said and made to return to the ballroom.

  “A moment, if you please, Lady Sophia.”

  His cultured, smooth voice stopped her. “Have we met?”

  “We have not, so forgive my impertinence. But since we are alone and you are the person I’ve been waiting to see, I think it prudent to step over one of Society’s little ridiculous boundaries.” He bowed. “I am Lord Hudson.” He had very dark hair, cut close to the skull. A walking stick in his left hand, he came forward with a noticeable limp.

  “You were looking for me? Why?”

  He cocked his head to study her. “Does a man need a reason to seek out an attractive young woman on a beautiful night such as this?”

  “I suppose not, but I really should be—”

  “Yes, I know. You are anxious to return to the ballroom. Busy, always so very busy. Just like your father. But I wonder if anyone knows how truly busy you are, Lady Sophia.”

  That gave her pause. She felt at a distinct disadvantage in this conversation. “What do you mean, sir?”

  “I am a man who makes it my business to know things. After all, that is the real power in the world. Knowledge—and the ability to wield it.”

  Her heart began a steady thumping in her chest. He was talking in riddles. If he knew something, she wished he’d just spit it out. “Blackmail, you mean.”

  His head fell back as he laughed. “God, you are bold. I admire that. Little wonder he’s so enamored of you.” He drew closer. “I do not blackmail people, dear girl. It’s . . .” He waved his hand, as if searching to find the right word. “Common.”

  “So what do you want with me?”

  “We have a mutual friend, Lady Sophia. One who does a good deal of sensitive work for me. Right now he is completing a project that will do some people I know quite a lot of good. But we’re on a bit of a schedule. And you’re . . . distracting him.”

  So this was about Quint? It must be the cipher he had told her about a few evenings ago. The papers he hid in his bedpost. Did this man work for the government? She relaxed a little. For a minute or two, she’d been worried he might be dangerous.

  “You want me to stay away from Quint.”

  “There are many things I want.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “And I suspect there are things you want. Am I correct?”

  Her annoyance grew and she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “For example, I know you are building a reputation for yourself with your investigations. Quite clever, dressing as a man.”

  Her stomach plummeted. “How did you . . . ?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “I told you, it is my business to know things. And I must admit, I did not expect you to succeed. But you did, over and over again. Clever, clever girl.”

  Her stays dug into her skin as her ribs rapidly expanded, her breath quickening.

  “Those who help me are rewarded handsomely,” he continued. “There are things I can provide. Wealth, power . . . respectability. Even for a woman investigator. The Home Office, in fact, has many uses for clever women. I am a very good friend to have. Very good indeed.”

  Sophie’s head was spinning. Would he not say it already? What did he want from her? The Home Office. Why on earth were they watching her? And what would Hudson do with the information he’d learned? She did not want to embarrass her family. If anyone found out she and Sir Stephen were one in the same, she would be ruined. “I do not need a position.”

  “But we haven’t talked about what happens to those who do not help me.”

  Mouth dry, she tried to swallow. “Are you threatening me, sir?”

  “My dear, I never threaten. I present facts and allow you to choose your own path. But I think I have taken up enough of your time this evening. In truth, I merely wanted to introduce myself.” He bowed. “I just hadn’t counted on how charming I would find you. Good evening, Lady Sophia.”

  Hands trembling, she did not wait for him to disappear, merely spun on her heel and fled to the ballroom. Once inside, she rubbed her arms, chilled to the bone. Though it had not been freezing on the terrace, she could not seem to get warm. A glass of brandy would not go amiss at this point.

  “My dear, I’ve been looking for you.” Her father, brows drawn in concern, appeared in front of her. He glanced at the terrace and then back at her. “Were you outside? Alone?”

  She straightened her shoulders, determined not to worry him. “Only for the briefest of moments. Never fear, no one else was about.”

  “Too bad,” he muttered. “If you were compromised, at least I would have a grandchild soon.”

  “Papa! You do not mean that.”

  He bent and kissed her forehead. “Of course I do not mean it. But I am anxious for a grandchild. Your stepmama as well. Furthermore, marriage would allow you a greater amount of freedom, Sophie.”

  God help the citizens of London in such a case, she thought wryly. “I suppose that is true, though I am quite happy with my life.”

  “Are you?” He cocked his head, his gaze shrewd. “I’m not so certain. It’s been quite some time since you’ve been the carefree girl I used to know. Three or four years, I’d say.”

  She struggled not to react, though she knew precisely the period to which he referred. The first time she and Quint had kissed and his request to court her. Her refusal. His betrothal. That had been a very dark time, yet she’d recovered. Hadn’t she?

  “I am fine, Papa. Shall I slide down the banister tomorrow to prove it to you?”

  He chuckled. “I would love to see your stepmama’s face if you did.”

  Sophie grinned at the mental picture. The marchioness would never approve. “I can scarcely believe she married you all those years ago, knowing you had such a hoyden for a daughter.”

  “Love trumps many things, Sophie. We are willing to overlook much in those to whom we lose our hearts.”

  She threaded her arm through his, locked their elbows, and rested her head on his shoulder. “How did you get to be so wise?”

  “Nearly twenty-eight years of fatherhood to the smartest, bravest girl in all of England, I suppose.” He patted her hand. “Which is how I know you think I’ll change my mind about your marrying this Season.”

  She stiffened and tried to pull away, but he held her tight. “No, do not run away. You do that each time I try to discuss it. You need to face whatever fears you’re harboring about marriage and get beyond them.”

  “And you believe giving me a time limit will accomplish that?”

  “Yes, I do.” He gestured to the crowd of well-dressed lords moving about. “You can have your pick of all the eligible men here. So choose one and be done with it, my dear. Then you may get on with your life.”

  The parade of overly starched, perfectly coiffed men in the room did nothing for her, however. There was only one man she wanted—a rumpled, distracted, intelligent, handsome man.

  The one man who’d already said he would never marry her.

  Chapter Seventeen


  Colton and Winchester arrived before ten the next morning.

  Quint was in his study, drinking tea and working, Canis curled up at his feet, when his two friends strode in. They carried épées—the long, thin, heavier blades used for fencing. Quint put down his pen and rubbed his forehead. Could he not get a minute’s peace?

  “Ready to lose?” Winchester asked, he and Colton staring down at Quint expectantly.

  “What is this all about?” he asked.

  “Exercise, Quint. Remember?” Winchester lifted the épée and lunged at a nonexistent opponent.

  “Yes, I know what exercise means. But why now? Why here?”

  “Would you rather meet at Angelo’s?” Colton asked. “I could make some time this afternoon.”

  “As could I,” Winchester added. “Perhaps that would be better because—”

  “I do not want to go to Angelo’s,” Quint snapped. “And I do not require exercise. Not today.”

  “Everyone requires exercise. Even stubborn polymaths. Come along, Quint,” Colton chided.

  Quint sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. The two men had a clear purpose and Quint hated to disappoint them. But he was beyond fixing. “I do not know what you hope to accomplish, but you are both wasting your time.”

  Colton elbowed Winchester. “I like to waste my time. You?”

  “Bloody love it. Cannot think of anything else I’d rather do today.” Then the two of them grinned, the idiots.

  Quint dropped his head against the chair back. “You are both children.”

  “True. And don’t forget what happens when children don’t get their way.”

  “Are you going to throw a tantrum, Colton?”

  The duke shrugged. “I might. God knows I’ve seen Olivia do it often enough. Now get up, you lazy viscount. We’re going to the ballroom.”

  “It’s closed up,” Quint sighed. “It hasn’t been used—”

  “Since Lady Sophia challenged you to a fencing match?” Winchester raised his brows. “Your staff talk, Quint. Now let’s go.”

  Quint had no choice but to lock up his work and follow the two men up the stairs to the ballroom. Taylor had opened the curtains to let in the morning light and a few of the windows had even been cracked to allow for fresh air. All three of them began stripping off topcoats, waistcoats, and cravats, until they wore only shirtsleeves. Quint rolled the shirt cuffs up to his forearms.