“I cannot go on without the answers. There is no future for me without them.”
“Gina—”
“My entire life hinges on the answers, and there is no life without them.”
A tiny seed of doubt began to take root. Had Eugenia told them everything that happened that night? Had they left any question unasked? Any truth untold? Or, God help her, had she lied? Had she been more involved with the Brotherhood than she’d admitted? Had she lied about what happened?
He gripped her shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes. “What have you withheld, Eugenia?”
Those glorious dark eyes welled with unspilled tears. “That I do not know.”
“What, damn it?”
“What happened to me. I cannot remember most of it. Mr. Henley gave me opium, and my mind is a blur.”
“But…what can you recall?”
“Nothing until the ritual, when I was lying upon that altar. I remember Mr. Henley bending over me, and I thought he was going to…to…”
“He was. But I still—”
“And then you covered me and carried me from the altar. Someone asked me later if I was unharmed. Bella, I think. And I told her yes. But the truth is, I cannot remember. Only hurting. Aching in all my muscles. And my head pounding.” The waiting tears began to trickle down her cheeks.
“You do not know if you were unharmed? But here you are, Eugenia, whole and well.”
“Not that….”
Jamie groaned as understanding dawned on him. “You think that…things…might have been done to you while you were unconscious.”
She nodded and he realized she was holding on to her composure by a slim thread.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
The anger was back, refining her grief and uncertainty. “And have everyone look at me with pity? Have Mama shut me away in a spinster’s room? Listen to whispers behind my back? I couldn’t bear that.”
“But what did you mean to do? Find Henley and simply ask him?”
“Yes! What other course do I have? Yes, I want him to tell me the truth—everything about those lost hours.”
“Good God! And you think he’d actually tell you the truth? Don’t be naive, Eugenia. He’d lie just to see the pain on your face. Hell, he’d lie on principle.”
“What other choice do I have? Who else can answer that question? How can I ever build a future or a family without knowing if…if…”
He wanted to feel compassion for her, but all he felt was anger that she’d endangered herself for such an inconsequential thing. “What earthly difference does it make? I’d venture to say that a good portion of brides are not virgin on their wedding night.”
Her eyes widened and she regarded him with astonishment. “I must know! Before I could marry, my husband has a right to know if I am whole.”
He was still gripping her shoulders and he shook her roughly, as if that would rattle some sense into her muddled thinking. “Any man who loves you would take you as you are, without questions or guarantees. Any man who wouldn’t is not worth your consideration.”
“I cannot bear that I have lost that part of my life. I cannot tolerate the thought that I could go through life never knowing.”
God help him, he could think of nothing to persuade her, nothing to comfort her, but to kiss her. To show her what his words could never say without disgusting her. He lowered his lips to hers, cherishing the salt of her tears mingling with the gin she’d had at the Cat’s Paw—a potent brew, drawing up his suppressed longing, his denied needs.
Fear that he was taking advantage of her vulnerable state made him lift his head to mutter an apology, but she raised her arms to circle his neck and offered those rosy petals again.
“Yes,” she whispered in a longing sigh. “Yes, Jamie.”
It would have taken a stronger man than he to refuse that invitation. He deepened the kiss. And she did. Her heat, her taste, the sweetly innocent way she met his tongue, swept him into a tide of desire.
He moved his hand to her breast and she moaned deep in her throat. Even through the rough woolen dress, he could feel the taut bud of her breast against his palm. Now the moan was his.
This was madness. Insanity. He pulled away again. “Gina, you cannot mean—”
“Don’t stop, Jamie. Not this time.”
But the coach lurched as it drew up at the end of the street. Her eyes cleared as if she’d been sleeping and she seized the handle of the door. “Do not tell my family, Jamie. I beg you.”
And she was gone, running up the steps and disappearing through the door. He sat there for a moment, waiting until he saw a light in an upper window. Pray she was safe for the night. Until he could decide what to do next.
Charlie was waiting for him at the Crown and Bear. He’d already claimed a back table and had a bottle of Devlin’s private stock and two glasses. And God knew, Jamie needed a drink.
“Still no trace of the Gibbons brothers,” he reported as Jamie sat down.
“Blast! Where can they have gotten to?”
“Just know where they’re not. Not at the Cat’s Paw, and not finagling free ale here,” Charlie stated the obvious.
“I need to talk to them. I’d swear Henley killed Metcalfe and stole his costume to assault Miss O’Rourke, but there is always the possibility that he paid to have it done. Old Cox is dead and there’s been an attempt on my life. I’d wager a fortune that there will be others. If anyone knows anything about it, I’d guess it would be Dick Gibbons.”
“Aye,” Charlie agreed. “If he’s not behind it, he’ll know who is. But I’m of a mind that we should simply put that vermin out of the way.”
“Kill them?”
“Assassinate,” Charlie corrected. “Though exterminate might be more fit for the Gibbons clan. Some men are in need of dying. They tried to kill you, and tonight after I put you and Bella in the coach, someone took a shot at me. Two someones, by the sound of the footsteps. It’s a coward’s method, and neither Gibbons would risk a direct attack on anyone remotely their size.”
Jamie quickly looked Charlie over, reassuring himself of his brother’s well being. “One shot?”
“Cowards. Had they stopped to reload, I’d have been on them.”
There’d only been one shot the night he’d been attacked. Had he pursued the shooter, likely the brothers would have been waiting at the end of the blind alley armed to the teeth.
He suspected the idea to eliminate the Gibbons brothers had come from Marcus Wycliffe, but he knew his brother was not above such a thing. “The flaw in your plan to improve London by eliminating Dick and Artie is that we’d never get the truth from them then. But I must say I admire that you are not hindered by such lofty principles as proof. If you know in your gut that someone has tried to kill you, that is enough for you.”
Charlie laughed. “Aye, well, we cannot all fit on that small patch of high moral ground you stand on, Jamie.”
“Not so high, Charlie. I’d kill Henley if I could lay hands on him,” he admitted.
Charlie sighed and sat back in his chair. “I am sick to death of that subject. Just for a moment, could we talk about more pleasant things? Miss O’Rourke, for instance?”
“She is safely home, if that is what you are asking.”
“Only half of what I am asking. The other half is what the hell she was doing in a cesspit like the Cat’s Paw.”
“Looking for Henley, or for information about him.”
“Good God,” Charlie muttered under his breath. Then, “You put an end to that, did you not?”
“I thought I’d put an end to it a week ago. Since then, we’d reached a compromise. I’d keep an eye on her, and she’d confine her inquiries to the ton—mothers, sisters, friends of the bastard. Then I’d escort her home to be certain she was safely tucked up for the night.
“Now she had found herself a guide to London’s underbelly. She thinks I did not see that boy waiting for her in the shadows, but I simply did not hav
e time to deal with him tonight. But I will. Believe me, I will. Meantime, you can see how well our agreement worked?”
“Exceedingly.” Grinning, Charlie leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table in an attitude of confidentiality. “Which confirms my suspicion.”
Certain he’d regret it, he asked anyway. “What suspicion?”
“That Miss Eugenia is a match for you. Though you have most of the eligible heiresses of the ton eating from your hand, she resists your charms and you cannot abide that. I collect it is more than a matter of pride. More than a matter of protecting our brother’s sister-in-law. You care for her, do you not?”
“Charlie, do not tweak me with this. I am not in a mood to indulge you.”
“I would not mention it now but that she is part of our family. You would not dally with her, would you?”
Dally? No. He suspected it was rather more than that. “If you are asking if I am trying to seduce Eugenia, I am not.”
“You’ve always kept your dalliances within the demimonde. Very discreet of you. Very safe. But I thought I saw something different happening with Miss Eugenia. Something a bit more dangerous.”
“Dangerous? What the hell are you talking about, Charlie. How could she be a danger to me?”
“You’ve only been with women you could never love, Jamie. The demimonde, courtesans, mistresses. The moment some likely miss gets close, you back away. Our little Suzette is an excellent example. Did she ask too much? Surely she did not suggest marriage?”
He shook his head. “Suzette is too wise for that. But I sensed that she was growing rather fonder of me than she should. In her profession—and mine—close attachments are not a good idea.”
“Your profession has nothing to do with it.”
Jamie tossed down the rest of his drink and started to stand. His bed was calling. The last thing he needed on a night like this was a lecture from his younger brother.
“You need a good woman, Jamie.”
“I’ve had a good woman. Several, in fact. Some were good. Some were very good. And some were…well, downright—”
“Enough, then. But be warned—Eugenia is different than your usual interests. She is not adept at the little games that so amuse our set. Despite her foolhardiness tonight, she is too vulnerable to trifle with.”
He settled back in his chair. There was nothing trifling about Eugenia, and he suspected Charlie was right—Jamie was acutely aware of her vulnerability. He felt differently about her than he had any other woman. Stronger. More…possessive? And he had more than a passing desire for her.
Charlie downed the remainder of his glass and lowered his voice as he continued. “I’ve watched you my whole life, Jamie. You’ve always kept yourself removed from close attachments and safe from disappointments and rejection. For whatever reason, you set your course for bachelorhood long ago. If you cannot offer her more, leave Miss Eugenia alone. She deserves better.”
She did. He’d known that from the beginning, but he’d returned time and time again, craving her smile, the softness of her voice, the feel of her in his arms. He wished, now, that he’d left Charlie or Devlin to sweep her from that altar. Had he never known the feel of her in his arms, her sweet smell, her sighs, it wouldn’t trouble him so much now.
A few more days. Surely he could endure a few more days.
“She should be safe enough from me. They will be leaving London quite soon anyway. Her mother has crates already packed. And, with a bit of luck, we shall find Henley and deal with him, hence there will be nothing left to throw us together.”
Charlie nodded his understanding. “I think that is best for our families. An unfortunate affair would make gatherings quite awkward.”
Jamie reached for the bottle. On his way home moments ago, he now felt like getting quietly, blissfully drunk.
Sitting between Hortense and Harriett, Gina trained her eyes on the stage where actors were posturing as they said their lines, but her mind whirled with the events of last night. If she were to be honest, she was relieved James had found her at that tawdry little gin house. She’d felt conspicuous and terrified. And she wouldn’t have known what to do if someone had talked to her. Had Ned really thought she’d hear something about Mr. Henley there?
By their very presence at the same establishment, James and Charles Hunter had confirmed that they were on the same track, so she hadn’t really been needed there. She shivered.
“Are you cold, Gina?” Harriett whispered, leaning closer.
“I just felt a little breeze on the back of my neck.” As if the Devil had walked across her grave.
“Shh,” Hortense warned them.
Standing behind them near the curtain of their box, James stirred and crossed his arms, as if impatient and ready to leave. He’d fetched the Thayer girls before he’d come for her, obviously not wishing to be alone with her. The twins were enjoying the attention of being squired about town by the elusive James Hunter, and Gina had kept the real reason to herself. It was much more flattering to think he craved their company than that he wanted to keep Gina out of trouble.
Ironically, the gravest danger to Gina was James himself. Her virtue would be forfeit with very little fuss if he but crooked his finger. Heat washed through her as she recalled the way she’d pleaded with him not to stop in the coach last night. And, just for a moment, she had thought that if she made love to James, it would wash away whatever Mr. Henley had done to her. As the moment had drawn out, she realized she’d been foolish to expose herself, her deepest fears, to him. And her only excuse was that, if he had made love to her, at least she would know, for better or worse, if she’d been defiled.
She’d do anything—anything—for the answer to that question. She’d ask questions, put herself in danger, pose as a lightskirt in a Whitechapel gin house, and more. And she suspected that the key to the answers to all her questions dangled at the end of her corset strings—if only she could find what it opened.
The music rose to a crescendo and Gina blinked. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she had missed the entire first act of the play. If pressed, she would not have been able to say what it was about. She clapped with the audience as the lights came up, guttering as the wicks were raised.
Charlie pushed the curtain aside and entered their box. “I say, did you notice that all eyes were upon this particular box? The excess of beauty here has charmed the audience. I would not be surprised if the actors ask you to leave so they may get their fair share of attention.”
Hortense laughed and waved her fan furiously. Harriett and Gina merely smiled at his ridiculous flattery while James lifted an eyebrow in amusement.
“What accounts for your interest in the theatre this evening, Charlie?” he asked.
Charlie grinned and shot a glance at the ladies.
Gina wondered what James had told him about her presence in the Cat’s Paw last night. The truth, no doubt, but how much of it?
“Oranges!” came a cry from below.
She looked down and saw a girl with a basket of fruit, holding one perfect orange aloft for all to see.
“Mary!” Charlie tossed the girl a sixpence and laughed when she snatched it out of the air.
“She did not throw you the orange, Mr. Hunter,” Harriett said.
He turned to them and explained. “Mary supports her mother and crippled brother. I always throw her a coin but never take the orange.”
Harriett glanced at the pretty girl again, and back at Charlie. “That is very kind of you, Mr. Hunter. Not many are as charitable.”
Charles looked embarrassed and shrugged. “’Tis little enough—a shilling here, a sixpence there.”
Gina looked back at the girl in time to see her blow Charles a kiss. The incident spoke well for a man whose modesty prevented him from speaking well of himself. Mary turned away and began crying her goods again.
As Gina watched the girl weave a path through the audience, she noted a man approach her and say something in
her ear. Mary appeared to shrink in size and began walking with the man toward the stage. Before they disappeared behind the curtain, he turned and looked directly at their box. Mr. Henley!
James had seen him, too. “Charlie, will you see the ladies home, please. I have sudden business to attend.”
’E’s one fer the ladies…. Ned’s words rang in Gina’s ears. Would Mr. Henley harm Mary in any way? Surely he would not dare with every charley and runner in London looking for him. The Brotherhood was disbanded. There were no more followers.
And yet her desperation for answers and the shortness of time overshadowed the lingering fear. So much so that she had once again dressed in the rough woolen dress and shawl, and had gone out to meet Ned. All she had now was the little key clutched in her hand and an idea nagging at the back of her mind.
Knowing, now, where she was and that she was not far from home, she’d dismissed Ned and stood in the shadows of a tree across the street from an abandoned estate on the outskirts of Mayfair. The gate stood open to an overgrown lawn and the house was partially obscured by trees that stirred in a chilling breeze. Behind the house, the spire of a small chapel rose above the trees—the place that had changed her life forever.
Gina shivered and drew her shawl closer. What secrets did this eerie estate hold? What had happened there that night, and all the nights before? Teasing dancing flicks of memory appeared and disappeared before her, leaving her with only vague impressions. Mr. Henley forcing bitter wine down her throat. Being carried somewhere and unable to fight. Hands plucking at her clothing. Then…then nothing.
The wind soughed through the trees, moaning like a lost child, and Gina sank deeper into the shadows, frozen in time—at that very moment in the catacombs beneath the chapel. Locked in an eternal cold. She wanted to feel again, to reclaim whatever remained of herself. And the only way she could do that was to find out, to finally know, what had happened to her during those lost hours.
She fingered the little key stashed in the slash pocket of her dress. Would it open a door here? Which door? And what would she find? Answers? More questions? Peace?
A Rake by Midnight Page 13