The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 6

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  George tapped his chin consideringly for a time. "You've met several of the Rakehells now that your sister has married into the set. What are they like?"

  Sebastian poked at the glowing embers a few moments before replying. "Good men. Real radicals. Maybe not so much as Philip, but most definitely men of principle. But if Alistair was right, then my asking a whole mountain of questions and poking my nose in might cause problems for them all."

  "True."

  "Alistair thought toward the end of the whole Cato Street Conspiracy that someone had been spying on the Rakehells and their friends for at least the last six years. At first, I thought, as he did, that it might be one of them, but the records didn’t go back very far. Not during the whole war, for example, which would have made more sense. They also, so far as I could tell, didn’t seem to be very detailed. There were lots of general names, dates, places, of the Rakehells, but not anything really damning. It was more like a general checklist of their whereabouts every month or so. More gossip and tittle-tattle than anything specific."

  "Still, there's a pattern to all this. I feel it in my bones."

  Sebastian put down the poker and looked at his pacing friend. "It makes no sense, though. The war was over. Why have someone spy on them? And by the Foreign rather than Home Office?"

  "Maybe they never had the right person in place before."

  "And do you think you will now?" he asked quietly.

  George nodded. "I think so. We’ll have to do. But I might need you in reserve. Are you averse to a bit of B and E?"

  He gave a tight smile. "Not at all. That’s how I got started in this game. Count me in."

  "But if you’re caught, you'll have no immunity now," George warned.

  Sebastian laughed shortly. "Sodomy carries an instant sentence of hanging. I’ve been on the steps of the gallows for years. If I had had the guts, I’d have just let myself be hung or transported, rather than live the life Castlereagh made me lead."

  He patted his friend on the shoulder. "You did it for your sister Viola."

  "I did it because I was a coward," the young man fired back bitterly.

  "No, you’re not," George said firmly. "You’re far braver than me. I’d have quit. Given up the ghost. Slit my throat."

  "Don’t tempt me," he sighed.

  George looked at the handsome young blond man sharply. "You’re not to even joke about such a thing, do you hear me?"

  "I’m sorry," he muttered, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Really. I’m not going to do anything foolish, I swear. I did for a time. Swived every wench in sight to prove I was a real man. It only made me feel worse than before. Even more dirty. The truth is I don’t know who the hell I am any more, George. But I owe it to myself to find out."

  "I’ll be glad to help. A job, money, anything. For you or Viola, you know that."

  "So who is she really?" Sebastian asked after a time.

  "Who?"

  "Miranda, of course. The woman who has you out of bed at this hour of the morning acting like a madman."

  He gave a warm smile. "She’s a good woman. The best. I don’t want to foul this up and get her killed too."

  "I’m telling you, the other was an accident!"

  George shook his head. "Philip talks about instinct. I had it for a long time during the war. When my first brother vanished and my second was captured, I lost it. Ever since Miranda, well, I’ve got it back again. I have an idea where Jason is, but strangely enough, everything inside of me is screaming for me to find Simon before it’s too late."

  "Simon, your middle brother?"

  George nodded. "Aye, the sensitive genius, not the merchant, though he is smart enough to put his mind to any work. But if I go blundering in looking for him, I may just cost a hell of a lot more lives. As bad as it was when that girl Anna was killed, this would be far worse. These are my friends, whom I love and care about."

  "Alice. She was called Alice," Sebastian said gently. "And you never loved her. This is all guilt talking."

  He sighed and put his head in his hands. "You’re right, of course. And that was a significant slip of the tongue. Anna was our one and only sister. And where this all began, actually."

  "Oh?"

  George sighed heavily. "That was the first time I ever killed, trying to save her and my mother from the mob. Think how much worse I’m going to feel if anything happens to a woman I love."

  "Really love?" Sebastian asked, trying to suppress the burning envy he felt.

  "Yes, really love," George admitted in wonder. "I can’t stop thinking about Miranda, smelling her, tasting her on my tongue. It’s like I’m being suffocated. And yet as if I’ve never drawn breath before, can scarcely breathe without her by my side. She walks into a room, and sunshine and rainbows and a fresh spring breeze come with her. She goes out and it’s like the sun being eclipsed, and winter setting in."

  "All right, I believe you. It has to be love for the great taciturn George Davenant to be spouting so poetically. I’m glad. I always sort of hoped you and Viola, but—" He shrugged. "And she and Alistair are so happy now."

  "I love Viola like a sister. I think I always knew that deep down. I will admit to being a tad jealous where Alistair was concerned, but I swear, anyone so much as looks at Miranda the wrong way and I’m ready to de-limb them."

  "Yes, it’s love all right," Sebastian laughed. "She’s a remarkable woman in every sense. Congratulations."

  "And you?" George asked with a sigh.

  "Not yet. Maybe never. Looking for love in all of the sewers of London is probably a bad idea."

  "Your turn will come. Especially if you’ll please reconsider my offer to come work with me in the theatre. Now that I’m acting...."

  "You? Acting?" Sebastian said in alarm. "What on earth? Are you mad? Everyone will get a good look at you now!" His concern and horror were genuine.

  George stared back at his friend grimly. "I’m so tired, Sebastian. I want this to be over, one way or the other. Nay, more than want. I need it to be. If I can’t be free to love Miranda on my own terms and find Jason and Simon, I might as well be dead."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  George concluded his discussion with his friend Sebastian a short time later. Before he left he extracted a promise from him that he would think about the job offer and also thing about taking up his sister on his offer to move into Fulham House.

  "We’ll all feel better about you being there, and you can help keep an eye on the place."

  "And Miranda?" Sebastian guessed.

  "Yes, that too. God, I never imagined I could ever love anyone so much. I was actually thinking of giving up my search," he admitted with a heavy sigh. "I may still do it. This is our last chance. If I don’t find them now, then they really are dead."

  "But what if they’re in France?"

  George thought for a time and then shook his head. "No, they wouldn’t have gone back. Not even I did in the end. I thought that I would when it was all over, but Castlereagh had me by the cullies after Toulouse. Run the network, root out all the traitors once and for all. And every time I said enough was enough, he would dangle Jason or Simon like a carrot in front of my nose, and me like an ass would go off plodding again. Every time I met someone I thought I could care about, they either turned out to be playing me like an instrument, or they were on the up and up and I couldn’t tell them the truth. Didn’t dare, or didn’t want to. More of the latter than the former, to be honest.

  "Miranda is the only woman I’ve ever met I would trust with my life unreservedly. I look at her and I see a happy future stretching out before me for the first time since my family were burned out of our chateaux one by one and I lost all the people I cared about most in the world. I see her lovely face, her gorgeous eyes, and I can see eternity in them. A heaven on earth. "

  Sebastian stood and offered his hand. "Then take it. Reach out and grab it, and damn the whole bloody lot of them. I’ll help you seize the brass ring. Castlereagh made my life hell. I don’t
know if I can ever have a normal life after the things I’ve seen and done during the war and since. But I’m never going to if I don’t try. Come on, give me a hand."

  "A hand?"

  "I need to pack my things. I’m moving to Viola’s. Now."

  Viola was astonished to have not one permanent house guest, but two. She was rather flustered at the news that George was having a woman move in with them, but fortunately Jasmine had taken care of everything and had placed Miranda in the best guest room in her wing of the house.

  Thus when Sebastian arrived not long afterward with his portmaneaux and a smiling George, she was so thrilled at what her friend had achieved she threw her arms around his neck and he spun her around and around with an exuberance which astonished and infuriated Miranda.

  She greeted the angelic-looking blonde woman coolly. George could see them sizing each other up. Viola decided to reserve judgment, but in Miranda’s jealousy, she loathed Viola on sight. Her brother was nice enough, but now he too was looking at her in what seemed a hyper-critical way.

  Miranda was glad when Jasmine suggested food in the breakfast room, and agreed to take tea.

  Of course she had been shocked to discover she was moving into a Rakehell house, and eventually grasped the connection. The Marshalls had one wing, Alistair and his wife the other, and Viola was George’s friend who had lived in the attic at the brothel doing needlework there.

  Jasmine recognised Miranda at once, but was the soul of discretion. Only later did she admit to knowing her when she said in an undertone as they proceeded down the hall together, "Speaking of tea, we had already invited Lawrence to come around to call tomorrow about making George’s acquaintance. He happened to be in Town, he and Juliet. Since The Three Bells is now a ruin, it’s just as well. Philip didn’t know it was you, of course, though he said he had a strange feeling. We’re going to try to withdraw the invitation. But if he does come, do you think he’s going to have a fit?"

  "I don’t know. I don’t think so, but it could be very ugly. Now if it were Matthew, I know he would go mad. Lawrence is much more staid and sensible. I hope. But we do need furniture and fabric, and I would be really glad of Lawrence’s help. After all, the riot in the brothel last night was my fault."

  "The main thing will be if the two of them get along as friends. I know Philip likes George a lot. Do you think there’s something special between the two of you? With the way he speaks of you and looks at you, well..." She shrugged.

  "I don’t know. It’s early days yet, and he seems to be awfully fond of Viola," she said candidly, with a small sniff.

  "That may be true, but it’s never been mutual even if it were. She adored Alistair from the moment they met. And he most certainly loves her. I’ve never seen love transform two people more. It’s like living with a pair of frisky puppies. Sebastian had better not be easily embarrassed, or else you’re going to have a new next door neighbour. Though I have a sneaking suspicion George might not be too happy about that arrangement."

  "It’s all right. It will all be fine, I’m sure. So long as I don’t cause a riot in your home. If Lawrence finds out, he finds out. As for myself, I want to play this charade to the end for many reasons."

  "Ah, yes, I did want to ask—"

  "Suffice to say it's a long story, but the main thing I wish for at this point is the truth. I want to see if a man can love me even believing the worst about me. Not chasing me for my fortune. You understand. George thinks I’m a streetwalker down on my luck."

  Jasmine laughed and shook her head. "Not the first time that’s happened. Men are such children. They see a lovely woman and assume her to be a sexual object. Or a possession. At least you and George are getting to know each other like real people."

  Miranda gave a small frown of concern. "Yes, but if it’s going to damage the theatre or your home—"

  "It was bad luck last night. It won’t happen again."

  "Are you going to tell Alistair and Viola who I am?" Miranda asked softly.

  Jasmine shook her head, her blond curls and violet eyes dancing. "I don’t see any need to at this point, do you? It’s your own business, after all. If they come right out and ask, then you have to decide what you think is best to tell them. Other than that, you’re old enough to know your own mind."

  George came in a short time later. "Everything all right in here?" he asked, looking directly at Miranda.

  "Yes, fine," she said shortly, the sight of the blonde in his arms still rankling.

  "Are you sure? I mean, you must be exhausted after everything yesterday."

  "I’m fine," she insisted, rising from the table. "We should be getting to the theatre."

  "Sebastian will be coming with us. Can we wait a little bit longer for him?"

  "Oh?" she asked quietly.

  "Yes. I’ve decided at last." He gave a small smile. "It’s easier to get another theatre manager to help Daniel than to find an Antony to your Cleopatra. So I shall be reprising my role, and Sebastian shall be helping Daniel. We’re going to put The New Rose on the map. And you, my dear, are going to be its pearl, just as Daniel said." He blushed at the thought, and could not resist taking her arm so he could keep her close.

  Miranda smiled up at him. She was elated at the idea of being with him so much all the time. She was sure she could supplant Viola in his affections if only he gave her the chance.

  "You will of course come tonight to see the performance, all of you," George offered the Marshalls and Grants, who had come trailing in for breakfast. "I’ll leave word at the door to bring you straight to my box."

  "Yes, indeed, tonight would be wonderful. Oh, and Lawrence Howard will be coming tomorrow to help measure up for the new furniture," Philip said.

  "I can do that," Miranda said with a reproachful look at him.

  "Oh yes, well, then we can see about—"

  George gave a small tight smile. "I would be most pleased to meet any friend of Philip’s."

  "Two o’clock tomorrow."

  "Two it is then, here. You can use Philip’s study. Thanks, Jasmine. Come, Miranda let’s go collect Sebastian and get on."

  Miranda and Viola nodded to each other coolly. It was only when the trio were gone and her husband had wandered off to his study that Viola said, "All right, Jasmine, what is it you’re not telling me about her?"

  Jasmine said evasively, "They’re falling in love."

  Viola rolled her eyes in exasperation. "But they’ve only known each other a few days and—"

  "You and Alistair knew from the moment you met. So did Philip and I."

  "Yes, but who is she? I’ve heard rumours about an orange seller at the theatre. She’s not one of them, and she's certainly not an actress, nor an impoverished gentlewoman. Not with that air about her. George has to be careful. She could be—"

  "Believe it or not, she was an impoverished gentlewoman until very recently. She and her sister were raised very simply in the country. Only when her estranged father died did they—"

  "Who is she?" Viola demanded.

  "Now part of the Rakehell set."

  Viola burned with jealousy. Not of the sexual kind, but envy over the tight-knit friendships they all shared.

  "But she wasn’t raised with them. She just became acquainted with her brother and aunt recently."

  "And her brother is?"

  "Matthew Dane."

  "Oh good God! The famous Lady Pemberton’s nephew? So Miranda is her niece? Working as an actress in a flea pit of a theatre and living in a brothel? I don’t believe it for a minute—"

  Jasmine shrugged. "It was her choice. She’s falling in love with George. She just needs to get to know him better. She’s understandably resentful of being treated like a country lass and mauled, or chased for her fortune."

  "And he’ll be bloody chased because of it. Right out of the country, I shouldn’t wonder!" Viola raged.

  "Now, I know you’re jaded, but they really are the best of people. You’ve met Randall and Thomas.
They would never dream of looking down their noses at someone as gentlemanly as George. Matthew rescued his wife from a brothel, as it happens. And I won’t even tell you how her sister ended up married."

  "So apparently scandal follows the whole family wherever it goes," Viola said scornfully. "And you’re just going to let George—"

  Jasmine laughed shortly. "It's not my place to let George do anything. Nor you, come to that. Besides, since when do you care what people think?"

  Viola glowered. "Since I don’t want George to get hurt."