Two police officers dressed in street clothes looked over Gerald. One of them gave a nod. “We’ll be waiting close by, Mrs. St. Cloud.”
She motioned Gerald inside. “Please note I am under constant guard now.”
His eye contact faltered. No surprise there. “Good to see you, Cassie.” Her brother-in-law doffed his bowler and followed her into the parlor.
“You’re looking grim this afternoon. What is it, Gerald? I hope things are fine at home. Aunt Esmie is well?”
“Yes, yes, Cassie. Fit as fiddle.” He checked the room furtively, as if to assure their privacy. “It is you I worry about.”
“Me? Whatever for?” She feigned a wider eye. “As you can see I am well protected.”
After some fidgeting about, he blurted out his concern. “Cassie, you must promise me you will stop seeing Mr. Kennedy. I have it on good authority the man is dangerous and, well …” He stroked the upturned rim of his hat. “Detective Kennedy may well be using you to get to a few gentlemen of my acquaintance.”
“I see.” Cassie sank onto the edge of a settee. “And what makes you believe such a thing is true? Who are these authorities of yours?”
Gerald’s eyes darted around the room. “For your protection, Cassie, I shall not disclose their names.”
“My protection?” His frightful warning made no sense and he appeared nervous in the extreme. She could not remember him ever acting this wary.
Cassie rose from her seat and joined him by the mantel. “Gerald, are you in trouble?”
He looked away and shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary. A few too many gambling debts.”
Well aware of her brother-in-law’s propensity for the gaming hells and racetrack, she was not surprised he had taken up with men of a dubious nature. Unruly types, like Delamere and his cadre. The night of the ball, Zeno had disclosed he suspected Gerald to be a member. She hadn’t thought much of it then. Now she wouldn’t put it past her brother-in-law to connect, in desperation, with these nefarious characters. “I hardly think your gambling debts could affect me unless you’ve lost my pension.”
He scoffed. “My income is in trust, as is yours. I couldn’t get to it if I was hog-tied and kidnapped for ransom.”
“Then I don’t understand …”
“Oh, bloody hell. I do not wish to alarm, but these cohorts of mine might try to get to Zeno Kennedy through you.” Obviously bedeviled, he lifted an elbow to the mantel, and rubbed his chin. “I have come to understand that these gentlemen, if one could call them such, are very bad company.”
It seemed to Cassie, her brother-in-law’s suit against Zeno had just made a rather abrupt turnabout. Things suddenly clicked together. Obviously, this is what Zeno feared most. Some sort of abduction. She would be held and Scotland Yard would be forced to back off.
Gerald shook his head. “It’s just that I would never forgive myself if anything happened to—”
Cassie cut him off. “If Zeno Kennedy pursues your acquaintances, I suggest you make new ones.” She clamped her mouth shut and straightened her shoulders.
He stepped closer. “I have been trying for weeks to disassociate myself, but they hold on to more than my debts.”
“Whatever do you mean, Gerald?”
“No one crosses them, Cassie. I am certain they were behind the Stanfield ball murder. Poor James.” He drew a shaky hand through unkempt hair. “Those police guards outside won’t protect you. They’ll come for you in unexpected ways. Stealthy like—”
A sharp rap at the door caused her to check the mantel clock. “Your ten minutes are up.”
She almost felt a bit sorry for him. Almost.
ZENO READ THE pitiful lies in the booking interview.
25 May. Miss Jayne Wells aka Mrs. Brian O’Shea?? Aka Mrs. Michael Doyle?? Detainee has named three dynamiters already in custody. Target locations unconfirmed.
The words taciturn and uncooperative were penciled in on the largely blank sheet of paper. After some deliberation, he suspected, his colleagues had left Jayne for him.
He closed the dossier and stood beside a small table with two chairs. Rafe was bringing her up from the lockup. He drew a breath and did not wince. With each inhale and exhale, day after day, the pangs had lessened to sharp, tingling pricks. His bruised rib cage was truly on the mend—or was he just getting used to the way his body hurt? It felt good to be back to work. Once this interview ended, however, he would race to catch the last afternoon commuter.
Cassie would meet him at the train station in Farnham. He pictured her smile. And longed for her excellent company. In fact, he could hardly wait to leave town. She had rubbed him down with a liniment yesterday afternoon and caused such arousal he would have wrapped her hand around his erection for a private massage, but Mrs. Woolsley entered the room ahead of Rafe. Cassie had laughed at his lusty urges, calling him a hound on the mend.
He had hungered for her ever since and a long morning of paperwork had failed to dull his desire. Dear God, he wanted her—needed her naked and writhing beneath him.
The door to the interrogation room opened. Zeno turned toward the sound of leg chains and the swish of a woman’s skirt. “Thank you, Rafe.” Zeno excused his partner, who gave him a silent thumbs-up as he shut the door.
He turned to Jayne. She answered his stare for an interminable few moments before the grind and clunk of the door lock caused her to flinch. She edged forward. “Don’t we both look a sight?”
His gaze lingered on a crescent-shaped cut and a patch of green and yellow bruising above her right eye. Another pain, perhaps not wholly physical, shot through him as he recalled details of his capture. How he had lunged at her. The crack of his chair against her skull.
Still, she held her Irish chin up. Pretty, even through layers of jail grime. “Miss Wells, I should say Missus—” He opened her file and searched for a name. “Is it Mrs. Doyle or Mrs. O’Shea?”
“Wouldn’t you Scotland Yard boys care to know?”
“Right.” He snapped the file closed. “Let’s get to it, then.” She ignored the chair he pulled out. “I must require you to sit, Jayne.” He waited. “You either take a seat, or I will call Detective Lewis in and we will tie you down. Your choice.”
She sidled over to the chair and sat down. “Mrs. Brian O’Shea,” she sniffed. “Figured you’d soon be wantin’ to know about us.”
“First, a bit of old history. Let’s talk about you and me, Mrs. O’Shea.” He noted a wary glance. Her face was laced with fatigue and something else … Disappointment, perhaps?
As she appeared reluctant to speak, he tried priming the pump. “Perhaps I can begin,” he bit out, “for I have had plenty of time, lying in hospital, to puzzle out a scenario.” His voice sounded curt and gruff, and a deep pang of sorrow tore through him. He once cared for her and she had betrayed him. Shoulders back, he met her eyes. She might be able to detect his anger and something of his humiliation, but he would never, ever allow her to see his pain.
“You expected to be able to track me, as well as my associates, as your plot for the bombings drew close.” Matter-of-factly, he cleared his throat. “Due to a shortage of field operatives, I was transferred temporarily to the St. John’s Wood case. At that point I was of no further use to the Clan.”
He shrugged. “It must have been easy enough to plant evidence of your person at one of the explosion sites. In fact, it wasn’t even clever.”
She smirked a sly, hollow grin. “Yes, if it were clever, you would have spotted the ruse. But since it was not, you missed the obvious.”
“Yes, the ring did the trick.”
He grilled her on every detail of their operation. She gave up enough small bits of information to keep him interested, but after several hours, his head ached and his unseen wounds began to throb. “I have been authorized to make you an offer. You name your targets, as well as Clan safe houses, shipping contacts, ports of entry—“
She snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes even as his spee
ch grew acerbic and clipped. “You will also name your American contacts, as well as Fenian sympathizers in Parliament. If your information proves itself, we are prepared to release prisoners.” Zeno paused. “Including James Carey.”
Her eyes sparked at the mere mention of her brother’s name and her stare faltered. “They never told me much. But …” She hesitated.
Feigning apathy, he flipped open her file and held his breath.
Chapter Nineteen
Zeno stepped off the train at Farnham Station at exactly thirty-seven minutes past four o’clock in the afternoon, just seven minutes off schedule. He swayed a bit on his feet.
“Mr. Kennedy?” A tall, athletic young man with sandy-brown hair and clear gray eyes, no doubt a dominant Erskine trait, approached him. “I’m Cassie’s brother. Rob Erskine.”
He held out his hand. “Call me Zak.”
The cooler Surrey air made a refreshing change from the thick, oppressive humidity of the crowded rail coach. A damp shirt clung to his back and he unbuttoned his jacket.
“Splendid, you came dressed to ride.” Cassie’s youngest brother studied him with an open, honest face and curious eyes. “You look a bit wilted. The commuters bugger us all on warm days.”
Zeno nodded, glancing around the emptying platform.
“Cassie waits for us in the woodlot across the lane.” Rob pointed to a stand of sycamore trees.
He squinted. “Ah, there she is.” She sat astride a striking gray hunter holding the reins of two other first-class mounts. She waved to him.
He raised an arm in return and a bruised rib reminded him he was still on the mend. A cool breeze ruffled his clothes and hair. For a moment, he could not take his eyes off her. Rob politely nudged his bag out of his hand and carried the suitcase to a small luggage cart parked by the side of the station platform.
Zeno followed after, taking long strides to stretch his legs and get the blood flowing. “Cass and I mean to give you a tour. Take the long way round the village and surroundings. By the time we arrive home, you’ll have your tosser up again.” Rob patted the pockets of his riding breeches. “Sorry, don’t have a farthing on me.”
Zeno paid the driver and headed off across the road, his eye on the prettier Erskine. Without a doubt. Her hair was tied back with a velvet ribbon and she wore a simple white shirt, open at the collar but neatly tucked into tight-fitting breeches. As he and Rob drew closer, he could see there was no hiding her figure—from anyone. Her shifting seat and repeated glances signaled she expected his disapproval. This modern Erskine woman displayed a rather perverse need to unsettle him.
Zeno determined then and there not to lift an eyebrow over her attire. Two could play this game. He removed his hat and coat. “I find the afternoon air much too sultry for jackets. And the idea of wearing a hat without a coat, well …” He shrugged.
“And there isn’t much point to this.” Zeno unbuttoned his waistcoat.
“I say, grand idea.” Rob shrugged out of his jacket and grabbed Zeno’s things. “I’ll just toss these on top of your bag.”
“Hold on.” Zeno loosed his tie and unbuttoned his collar, tossing both to Rob. “Might as well finish the job.”
“Dog’s bollocks.” Rob grinned at his sister. “I do believe Zak and I shall get on.”
Zeno returned to Cassie and executed a slow, purposeful once-over with his eyes. A faint curl to his lip likely alerted her to his frame of mind. “You look beautiful, as always, Cassie.”
Rob’s cheerful adviso came a bit late. “That’s it, Zak. No use letting Erskine women know when they’re shocking. It only encourages them.”
She wrinkled her nose at her brother. “It is by mother’s request I ride astride. She claims the gates and hedgerows we jump are too wide and high.” She handed off reins to her brother. “Besides, Zak has been forewarned.”
Rob brought round a handsome bay hunter. “This is Jupiter, he’s our brother Jamie’s horse. Very athletic, good-hearted character with a bit of a temper. Dad said you were in the dragoons—you’re going to love him.”
Zeno checked the girth.
“Give you a leg up?” Rob offered.
He nodded. “With these ribs taped, I believe I’ll need one.” Rob gave him a boost onto the saddle and made small adjustments to his stirrup lengths.
Reining his horse alongside Cassie’s, Zeno let his gaze move from her smiling eyes, down the rounded curve of her backside to long legs fitted into tall, black top boots. She rode astride with beautiful form, shoulders back, toes up, heels down. Exactly where he wanted them later this evening when they were alone together.
“You appear ready for a vigorous romp in the countryside, Cassie.”
“Indeed I am.” A rush of color to her cheek suggested she took his meaning, but her gaze remained focused on the road ahead. “However, I must tell you I have been instructed to take it slow and easy with you.”
“I cannot express how much I look forward to the ride.” He waited for a smile. When she tossed back her head and laughed, he collected his reward.
“I find you both clever and charming when you wish to be, Zak.”
“Ah.” He grinned. “That is because I am inspired, Cassie.”
Once they wound their way through the bustling little village, Rob led them off onto rugged back roads where they cantered the horses along a narrow trail that crossed a wide expanse of meadow and jumped a few low hedgerows. Cassie looked back with a smile. “You seem healthy enough for another gate or two.”
“Lead on.” Zeno’s heartbeat drummed in his chest. His leg muscles ached a bit but the exercise felt wonderful.
Wonderful to be alive.
Jupiter sailed over thicket fences, wooden gates, and an ancient stone wall. Zeno followed the two Erskines as they splashed their way through a neighborhood brook, and galloped up a broad expanse of hill.
On the rise of a craggy slope overlooking Muirfield Park, he reined Jupiter in alongside Cassie’s mount. With a shine in her eyes, flushed cheeks, and a few wild wisps of hair about her face, she could not have looked lovelier. He turned to the view of her family home. “So this is where you grew up, Cassie. Enchanting.”
She shifted her gaze to him. “It does me good to be home, even for short visits.”
Far from a stern gothic fortress, the Erskine manse resembled more of a rambling Tudor manor house comfortably set among an idyllic park filled with formal gardens, wilderness, and a pond large enough for a good swim.
He gave his horse several good strong pats on the neck and received a gentle snort in answer. “What a hardy chap this one is.”
“Ripping,” Rob enthused. “Jupiter is perhaps the best mount in the stable. Takes an experienced hand though, like you or Jamie. He has sorely tested lesser riders.”
Cassie’s brows drew together as she chewed a lip. “If we take Piper’s Lane through the woods, will that leave us off near to our park entrance?”
“Haven’t taken that route in ages.” Rob swept a hand through unruly locks and nodded. “Good memory, Cass.”
She led the way up a narrow byway just as an open landau approached them. They guided their horses up a berm to one side of the lane to clear the way. The carriage slowed, revealing a merry party of four. A pair of ladies sat opposite two gentlemen, out for an afternoon’s drive. Zeno inhaled a sharp, painful breath as he recognized Lord Delamere.
His lordship tipped his hat. “Well, if it isn’t the Erskine clan out with their celebrated weekender.” Cold eyes examined his faded cuts and bruises. “In the news again, Mr. Kennedy?”
“Lord Delamere.”
Neither Cassie nor Rob greeted his lordship. In fact, Rob’s steely-eyed expression appeared murderous, which neatly fit into Zeno’s own notions about the man.
Zeno sat back in the saddle, while he and the arrogant lord eyed one another. Delamere had them at a disadvantage. They were, all three of them, in a near scandalous state of dishabille. He and Rob rode without jackets or hats, but C
assie was by far the most provocative of all. His lordship appeared transfixed and made no secret about his admiration, leching over every inch of her.
Zeno glanced across the carriage to the women in Delamere’s party, perfectly attired in spring frocks. The young ladies nervously twirled parasols and could not help twittering at the sight of men with a bit of chest hair peeking out of open collarless shirts.
For a moment, Zeno almost laughed. Good God, he was becoming an Erskine.
“Someone must keep me up on the latest rage. Have breeches come into fashion along with pantaloons, Mrs. St. Cloud?” Delamere’s expression transmuted from lurid ogler to ruffled peer.
To Cassie’s credit, she gave everyone in the open carriage a cool, elegant stare even as her lips curled into a dry, mocking smile.
“A lady may risk such attire when escorted by gentlemen she can trust.”
She turned her horse toward the road ahead and with a light tap, her mount moved smoothly away from the carriage into a fast canter. He and Rob delivered a polite nod to the women in the group. “Ladies.”
As they galloped up the rise after Cassie, Zeno announced, “I grow to hate that man.”
Rob returned the sentiment. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.” They crested the hill and found Cassie waiting for them in a field ahead. Zeno cued Jupiter to slow to a walk and Rob followed suit.
“We ran into Delamere at the Stanfield Ball. I have not asked Cassie directly, but there appears to be a story between them too private or distressing to speak of.”
Rob glowered. “He tried to rape her when she was seventeen, on the evening of her coming out.”
His jaw clenched. “Might I ask what he is doing here in Surrey?” Zeno kept his eyes trained on the fair woman up ahead.
“Part of his estate borders Muirfield. It makes our place look like a tenant cottage by comparison.”
“He made a remark to Cassie at the ball. Something about—” Zeno adjusted his seat. “He had asked for her hand and received a bruising refusal?”
An Affair with Mr. Kennedy Page 18