A Most Indecent Gentleman

by Bronwyn Scott

  “Will you come with me?” Jocelyn asked quietly, his hand stroking her hair afterward, her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder.

  “I thought I just did,” she quipped softly.

  “There’s something I want to show you. But you’ll have to get dressed.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The something turned out to be Argosy House. He was full of surprises this morning. And it was morning even though fashionable London would not come alive for a few hours yet.

  Argosy House was quiet, the drawing room empty of people, but half-drunk snifters of brandy still lingered on tables, evidence that the occupants had only recently gone up to bed. “We keep late hours here,” Jocelyn explained. “We’ve made a habit of gathering after our events in the evening and talking them over.”

  Cassandra smiled, imagining the amount of male revelry the room must see. A gangly boy entered with a tray and began picking up the glasses. “Who’s this?” She asked. Surely this youth was too young to be one of London’s elite league.

  “That’s Andrew. He’s one of the league’s special projects, you might say. Channing employs several young men here to get them off the streets. He teaches them to read and write and trains them here for jobs in service when they’re old enough.”

  For the second time, she was astounded by the scope of the league. So many people depended on it. To bring it down would harm more than the gentlemen and the women they escorted. That would merely be a social scandal. There were livelihoods at stake. “How do you know I won’t tell my uncle all this?” Cassandra asked quietly. He could show her all he liked, tell her all he liked, but in the end they still had to answer certain essential questions for themselves about the outcome of the game.

  “Yes, that’s what I would like to know, too.” Channing Deveril entered the drawing room, causing her to whip about in surprise. His arms were crossed and he didn’t look pleased. At this point, her vicar had thrown her to the wolves, what would Jocelyn do?

  Jocelyn was unfazed by the interruption. “She’s here because she’s agreed to help us put an end to Lord Burroughs’s meddling once and for all.”

  She had? The words took Cassandra by surprise, but she supposed they were true. He’d promised her a plan back in the vardo, a plan that had not yet been articulated. She had trusted him then and he had shown immense trust in her by bringing her here. Now it was her turn to show that his trust was not misplaced. When she’d agreed to come here, she’d tacitly agreed to much else as well. She’d known getting into bed with Jocelyn would have ramifications.

  “Do you still have that warehouse down on the Katherine Docks?” Jocelyn was asking Channing.

  “Yes? Why?” Channing’s arms didn’t unfold. He was still wary.

  “We need it this evening at five. We’re going to run a little sting.” A knowing look passed between Jocelyn and Channing, a smile on Channing’s mouth as his arms unfolded.

  “What’s going on?” Cassandra broke in, feeling as if decisions had been made and plans laid without her, even though she’d been standing in the room.

  Jocelyn took her hand. “Can you make sure your uncle is at the docks at five? Tell him you know where the league is headquartered, tell him there’s a meeting he doesn’t want to miss. He can bring his cronies, too, if he wants.” Jocelyn spoke to Channing, “Can you set it up?”

  Channing beamed. “It will be my pleasure. I will start right away.” He turned on his heel and Cassandra could hear him in the hallway calling up the stairs good-naturedly, “Amery, get up, we have a little project.”

  She gave Jocelyn a halfhearted smile. It was time to move on, but to where, to what? “I guess that about wraps things up,” she said slowly, knowing full well there were still loose ends that needed attending, perhaps the most important ones. It had come to her as Jocelyn and Channing talked that she would see him one last time tonight at the warehouse. It would not be a place for goodbyes. There would be men and anger,, if Jocelyn was successful. It would be no place for a woman but she would be there nonetheless, if for no other reason than to see him one more time.

  “Not everything.” Jocelyn moved toward her, closing the distance, dropping his voice to ensure privacy. “What happens next between us?”

  She had to look away from his gaze. It was too piercing, too sharp. Those eyes would undoubtedly see emotions she’d rather hide. She’d always thought of herself as unconventional, but in the last three days she’d gone and done something quite ordinary, something other women did all the time. She’d fallen in love, even when she knew nothing could come of it. “What do you think happens next?”

  Jocelyn gave a soft laugh. “That’s not fair, Cassandra, I asked you first.”

  “I think we both know the answer to that question, too,” she said, bringing her eyes up. Jocelyn was studying her with intense interest, his thoughts veiled.

  “I think we do, but I wonder if our answers are the same. You think I will throw you to the wolves tonight if it comes to that.”

  “That’s not what I think, Jocelyn Eisley.” Cassandra placed her hand along his cheek. It was rough with stubble, a reminder that they’d been out all night. Together. A night that was over now. “I was thinking how I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

  His hand reached up and covered hers. “Cassandra—” he began, but she didn’t let him finish.

  “Shh. Don’t say anything. Nothing can come of this. Prolonging it just fools us, or makes fools of us.” Cassandra slipped her hand free and moved toward the door. “I’ll get myself a cab and I’ll see you tonight, Jocelyn.” She silently applauded her bravado. She sounded in control. She sounded as if this was exactly what she wanted. Everyone knew heirs of earls flirted with girls like he, but they didn’t marry them. It was silly to even want that, it was nothing she’d ever wanted before. Why did her heart have to go and want it now?

  * * *

  Jocelyn watched her go. She was so intent on leaving he thought it best to let her have her way for now. Some part of him that still focused on the outer world was aware of Channing having come back into the room.

  “Well, we know her answer,” Channing began, taking a seat in a chair near the fireplace. “How about yours? Somehow I think yours wasn’t letting her walk out the door.”

  “No,” Jocelyn said slowly, his eyes riveted on the window, even though he’d seen her get in an early-morning hackney minutes before. “No, it wasn’t. I had something else in mind entirely.” Only, he wasn’t sure if she’d accept. He wasn’t even sure it was the right answer. Everything, every feeling rocketing through him was new and untried. Jocelyn turned from the window and took the chair across from Channing. “I didn’t think someone could fall in love in three days.” Certainly didn’t think he would at any rate. He was having some trouble getting his hands around that. He’d not expected it, certainly not when it seemed there was very little he could do about it.

  Channing gave a commiserating smile. “Apparently they can. Care to talk about it?”

  The force of the realization had left him dazed. There was so much to sort out, he wasn’t sure where to start or if he’d even like the conclusions he reached. What if she was right and they simply couldn’t be together? “I don’t know what to say. I’m in love but is she? I don’t know, Channing. Does she love me or is she still playing the game?”

  He looked at his friend, desperately hoping Channing would have some of his usual insight. But Channing merely shook his head. “I can’t help you there, old chum. You’ll just have to ask her.”

  Asking would be about the scariest thing he’d ever done in his life. Maybe he didn’t want to know the answer—to know that the woman he loved didn’t love him in return. Oh, who was he kidding, of course he wanted to know. At five o’clock tonight a lot of things would be settled, including his future.

 
Chapter Twelve

  “Are you sure of her?” Channing asked for the fourth time, pacing the warehouse and checking his watch. It was five minutes past the appointed time, but traffic this time of day was difficult. They couldn’t panic yet.

  “I’m sure.” Jocelyn assured him. But he was nervous, too. He’d spent the afternoon conjuring scenarios and wanting to race to her side. What if her uncle had proven too persuasive, or, more likely, too coercive? Cassandra was strong, but alone against her uncle, perhaps she would not prevail? Worse, perhaps she would not believe he would live up to his word. He knew better but she didn’t. Her experiences with that damn vicar had taught her otherwise.

  The sound of carriages jingled outside. He exchanged one last look with Channing, a feeling of vindication shooting through him. She’d come!

  In moments, Lord Burroughs stepped through the door, coming to such an abrupt halt that the men behind him piled up in a collision. “W-what is this?” he sputtered, looking around at the warehouse full of crates.

  The others pushed in behind him, Cassandra entering last. “It’s the league’s headquarters, Uncle.” She moved to stand beside him. “Just as I told you,” she said proudly, playing the dutiful niece to the hilt. There would be hell to pay for her if her uncle didn’t believe she’d been duped along with him. Jocelyn knew she felt all her hopes rested on that part of the ruse being successful.

  Burroughs fixed Jocelyn with a hard stare. “What is going on here?” he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Jocelyn fought a smile. From the man’s reaction, he’d clearly thought he’d walk into a den of iniquity. He may even have been excited about the prospect. “Your niece has told you rightly. This is our headquarters. You can check the deed on file. It’s a building owned by Channing Deveril for the express purpose of shipping.”

  Jocelyn moved to a crate and pried it open. “Come see for yourself what we ship, Lord Burroughs.”

  Burroughs gingerly put his hand into the packing straw, clearly put off his mettle. He pulled out a book and studied it, holding it up for the group to see. “Bibles? You ship Bibles?”

  “To Africa, for our English missionaries,” Jocelyn supplied, watching Cassandra’s face out of the corner of his eye while she fought a smile. “The League of Discreet Gentlemen is dedicated to literacy throughout the empire. What better literacy is there than the Bible?”

  Burroughs threw the Bible back in the crate, disgust written on his features. “You expect me to believe that when D’Arcy was tupping my wife in my own home? We all know what you are. Every last one of you are petticoatmongers. How do you explain all the women?”

  Channing shrugged, appearing unbothered by the harsh words. “D’Arcy is a handsome man with appetites. He can tup whomever he likes. Celibacy is not a requisite for being a member of our club. However, what is a requirement is the ability to raise funds. Bibles are deuced expensive.”

  Jocelyn jumped in. “We often escort women to operas and such in order to discuss the enterprise with them. The good ladies of London are always looking for new ways to affect charity.”

  Jocelyn let silence fill the room, let the men shuffle their feet in awkwardness before delivering his final salvo. “Perhaps you, Lord Burroughs, owe Channing Deveril an apology for slandering his name with such foul ideas as petticoatmongering. However, you may confirm for those who have wondered, the League of Discreet Gentlemen does indeed exist.”

  The apology came, mumbled as it was, followed by a quick exit as the men piled back into their carriages. But Burroughs remained, unwilling to give up. He glared at Cassandra. “Are you in this debacle with him? Did he seduce you, convince you to front this pack of lies?”

  Jocelyn instinctively stepped in front of her , although there was no physical violence to shield her from. “She knows nothing about any of this.” Which was true. “I asked her to bring you here and she did it in good conscience.” Which was also true, as far as it went. Her sense of “good conscience” would likely differ from her uncle’s if closely examined.

  Burroughs growled. Jocelyn grinned. The man couldn’t say anything to that without incriminating himself in his own plot to unmask the league. But it wasn’t Burroughs’s public behavior toward Cassandra Jocelyn was concerned with. In public, Burroughs could do nothing to her without hurting his own cause. It was in private that Jocelyn worried. “May I have a moment with Miss Burroughs?” Jocelyn asked, effectively dismissing Burroughs from the warehouse.

  “Oh, I think you’ve had more than a moment with her,” Burroughs managed to utter before Channing put an arm about the man’s shoulders and guided him toward the exit.

  “Perhaps you’d like to become a member, Lord Burroughs,” Channing began. Jocelyn could hear his words float back as the two left the room. “Shipping Bibles is very fulfilling work.” But that was all he heard. His attention was for Cassandra. She had paled at her uncle’s last words. Jocelyn knew well the thoughts likely running through her head. For better or worse, she’d served her purpose. The game was over. She would be wondering what was to become of her. Would her uncle be satisfied or would his suspicions keep him from fulfilling his end of their bargain.

  “I can’t believe the lies you told!” Cassandra said as the door shut behind Channing.

  “I told no lies.” Jocelyn crossed his heart. “This building does belong to Channing and I do ship Bibles from here. It’s one of my charities and the league does fund it.”

  “I couldn’t believe the look on his face when he walked in,” Cassandra said, color starting to tentatively return to her face. “You were so good. I could have almost believed you if I hadn’t known otherwise. Perhaps you missed your calling on Drury Lane.”

  Jocelyn took both her hands in his. “The league is safe. Now we just have you to consider.” This was harder in practice than in theory, and if this afternoon was anything to go by, the theory had been pretty hard, too. What if she refused? What if she didn’t feel she needed his protection? What would he have to offer her then?

  “I’ll be fines,” she said stoically, trying to make light of the situation, but he heard the slight tremor of concern. She was trying to be brave. “There’s nothing my uncle can do. You’ve seen to it.”

  “In public,” Jocelyn reminded her softly. “What about at home, where no one can see? Will he send you back to Dorset?”

  Cassandra shrugged. “I don’t know. He just might believe I told him whatever truth I knew.”

  Jocelyn shook his head. “I don’t believe that. I promised to protect you, both in body and in reputation, which is why I want to ask you something.” He fished the box out of his pocket and gave a chuckle. “I wish I’d written one of my poems,” he said more to himself than to her.

  “Your poems are terrible.” Cassandra laughed, too, but he thought he heard nerves there as well. They were both on foreign ground here, neither knowing how to proceed. He wished he was more sure of her, of what her reaction would be.

  “They’re man-poems. Men like them.” He smiled, starting to feel more himself. He always felt himself when he was with her. He cleared his throat and forged ahead. “You came to London looking for a husband and a second chance, a chance to thwart the Dorset gossips. I want to be that chance, Cassandra. I want you to marry me.” He flipped the box lid open to reveal the gold band set with tiny diamonds. “You’ll be a countess someday and you can lord it over the Dorset biddies all you like.” He tried for laughter, anything to disguise the shaking of his hand.

  Cassandra was back to pale. Well, good, that made two of them who were definitely out of their depths here. At least he wasn’t alone.

  She shook her head. “I can’t, Jocelyn. I can’t let you sacrifice yourself for me, just to help me save face.” She offered him a tremulous smile. “The gesture is more than kind. It’s the most gallant thing anyone has ever done for me, reall
y. But I can’t accept. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “What wouldn’t be fair would be to deny how good we are together. Not just in bed, Cassandra, but in life.”

  She seemed to waver. “You are sure of that after only three days?”

  “Yes,” Jocelyn said with absolute confidence. “I think I’ve known it since the moment we met. The question is, do you?” She was faltering. Jocelyn took the ring out of the box. “Try it on. See how you like it.” He slipped the ring on her finger. “There, it’s a perfect fit. Now, that wouldn’t be fair, to let such a lovely ring go to waste for want of a wearer.”

  Her eyes were starting to sparkle. He was getting to her. “Maybe protection wasn’t the most romantic of proposals,” Jocelyn murmured, holding her hand between them so she could watch the diamonds glint in the light. “Maybe what I should have said is that I have felt more alive in these past three days than I have for months and it’s because of you. I love your boldness, your bravery even when you’re frightened. I love that you never back down, that you’re not afraid of your passions or to be yourself. I love that when I look at you, I know I’ve met my match, in all ways.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I don’t want to let you go.”

  “Well, then, I’d best say yes with so much on the line.” Cassandra swiped at an errant tear. “When I came to London, I never expected it to end like this.”

  “End, my dear?” Jocelyn laughed close to her ear, taking her into his arms. “This is just the beginning for us. How shall we do it?” His stomach was starting to unclench now that she’d accepted. “Shall it be quick or shall it be a traditional affair with a long engagement and a cathedral wedding?”

  Cassandra smiled up at him and he felt his world light up. “Quick, because when you find what you’re looking for you don’t want to wait to claim it.”

  Jocelyn claimed her mouth in a kiss to seal the bargain. “I couldn’t agree more. Before I met you, I was looking for the next great adventure and I couldn’t find it. I didn’t know what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.”