Whitechapel Wagers 02 - Wanton Wager

by Christy Carlyle

  “That is ridiculous! I never promised the girl any such thing. It was some silly notion she dreamed up all on her own. Said she was afraid she might get with child and then were would she be. Thank the gods she never did.” He took another cigarette out of the case and placed it between his lips. Without lighting or removing it, he spoke around it. “I will tell you this though, Selsby. The girl required no persuading. She was as ripe as late summer fruit.”

  Will caressed the head of his cane and ached with the desire to wipe the lecherous grin off of Ashdowne’s face.

  When he was angriest, Will strove for calm, reason raging against instinct.

  Slowly and carefully he spoke each word he had come to say. “You will put this right with the girl and her family. Send them money, enough for the girl to settle into a comfortable life. Enough for the mistakes she has made not to haunt her. I do not care about your financial troubles, Ashdowne. Do something decent for this young woman you have wronged.”

  For a moment, Ashdowne merely stared at him as if Will had gone mad. Then he bowed his head, and Will wondered if he might be feeling a bit of shame, a sliver of repentance. He lifted his head and Will saw the smile on his face and heard the chortle bubbling up his throat. The man laughed loudly, holding his belly as if unable to contain his mirth. Then he took two steps forward, toward Will, and held his hand out as if to shake his hand.

  “Congratulations, Selsby. You truly are the most honorable fool I have ever met.”

  But Will knew he wasn’t honorable. He had gone to Whitechapel to seek out Beth Hamilton to sate the same hunger that drove Ashdowne. In the end, he had only met her sister and now couldn’t get the woman out of his mind. Oh, he was a fool, but honor had nothing to do with it.

  He ignored Ashdowne’s hand, though his smug face was just close enough…

  “Freddy, whatever are you doing in here? Have you forgotten our guests?”

  A woman with the same dark hair and eyes as Ashdowne swept into the room. She was too young to be anything other than man’s sister, but Will had never met her.

  “Captain Selsby. How wonderful.” The woman approached him in a cloud of peach silk, and took him by the arm as if he was a long lost friend. “You are so good to have come on such short notice to even out our numbers for dinner. Dr. Tully bid off for the morning luncheon, so we were uneven. But now you will supply our deficit. It’s just…wonderful.”

  “My God, Hetty, you have not even been properly introduced to the man.”

  Ashdowne seemed truly put out by his sister’s social faux pas, and Will would have laughed at the man’s hypocrisy if the situation was not so awkward.

  “Selsby, this is my sister, Lady Harriet. Hetty, apparently you already know Captain Selsby.”

  “Only by reputation.”

  Will knew of no reputation he could claim that would make him known to an earl’s daughter. When he arched a brow in her direction, she explained.

  “You poor man. I know of your heroic sacrifices, Captain. You are quite the hero in my book.”

  Will detached the woman’s fingers from his jacket sleeve as gently as he was able as he spoke. “I am nothing of the sort, Lady Harriet. I was wounded, and I survived the war. That is all.”

  “Oh pish posh. I know your sister, Katherine. We both do charity work at the Bethlem Orphanage. She has told me the most horrific stories of your bravery. Every time I hear the one about your horse, I am positively miserable.” The woman’s sharp, white smile belied her claim.

  Will was surprised to hear that his sister spoke of him in heroic terms. If anything, he’d believed himself a bit of a burden to her since his return from Afghanistan.

  Will offered Lady Harriet a smile he hoped looked more sincere than it felt. “You cannot expect a sister to do anything but embellish her brother’s exploits.”

  The lady shot her brother a look over Will’s shoulder. “I am not certain I agree, Captain. I have never been tempted to embellish any of my tales about Freddy. And I have plenty of them to tell.”

  The enmity between the siblings sparked to life like dry kindling.

  “Run along, Hetty. Selsby and I will be there directly.”

  Will was surprised Ashdowne’s sister immediately obeyed his command and left them alone. He did not have to remind Ashdowne of the reason for his visit. The man offered his answer.

  “I will not give the girl a shilling, Selsby. I have paid for what I wanted, and she has benefited greatly from our…acquaintance. If you’re so keen on playing hero, go and give her money yourself. Or give it to her sister, who probably has a much cleverer head on her shoulders.”

  “She won’t take it.”

  “The sister. Did you already offer her money?”

  “No. But after meeting with her, I am under the impression she would not look kindly on charity.”

  Ashdowne studied him, and Will almost looked away, eager to hide whatever Ashdowne was seeking.

  “You are taken with the woman.”

  Ashdowne seemed to find great glee in the observation, and Will loathed how insightful it was.

  “My knowledge of her consists of a brief conversation, Ashdowne. Hardly taken.”

  As if to prove him a liar, Will heard the voice of Miss Ada Hamilton. Her speech held a certain timbre and warmth he would recognize anywhere and for the rest of his life.

  It came from the direction of the foyer. When Will turned his head toward the sound, Ashdowne seemed to notice it too. Unhampered by a cane or limp, he beat Will to the doorframe and swung the door open. Lady Harriet approached from the opposite hall, shouting in a sort of high-pitched whine.

  “Who in the world is shouting in my foyer? We have guests, Collier! Quiet the woman down.”

  Miss Hamilton emerged from the open front door, sweeping past the young butler, and toward Lady Harriet.

  “My lady, please. I must speak with Lord Ashdowne.”

  Miss Hamilton looked magnificent, even with her hair constrained in an artful arrangement, every bit the proper lady. Will’s body charged with a kind of electric hum at the sight of her. She exuded a magnetic force that drew him.

  Ashdowne seemed to guess at her identity, no doubt from the stunning shade of her hair. His smile was predatory.

  “Miss Hamilton, I presume. My, my, Selsby. I see now why you were so easily smitten. She’s even prettier than her sister.”

  At the sound of Ashdowne’s voice, Miss Hamilton turned her head in his direction, but her gaze skimmed past him and she looked at Will.

  “Mr. Selsby.”

  Her tone held a note of disappointment that lanced at Will’s gut. What must she think to find him with Lord Ashdowne? His impulse was to go to her, to help her, to let her know she did not need anything from Ashdowne. Will would put things right, even if the aristocrat refused to do so.

  Instead, he merely held her gaze and said her name, relishing the opportunity to speak even those two words to her again.

  “Miss Hamilton.”

  “Whoever you are, you must leave. Now. Collier, see this young woman into a cab and back to wherever she came from.”

  Lady Harriet’s harsh tone matched her expression. Will watched her approach Miss Hamilton, as if she meant to push her out the door herself, if necessary.

  “I will go, my lady. But first I need Lord Ashdowne to tell me where my sister is.”

  “Back in Whitechapel, seeking some other protector, I presume.” Ashdowne’s tone was dismissive, but his gaze continued to rove over every inch of Miss Hamilton’s body.

  “Freddy, what sordid business have you brought to our door?” Lady Harriet redirected her ire from Miss Hamilton to her brother in the blink of an eye.

  “My sister is missing, my lord. She went to visit her friend on Monday evening, but today that young woman told me my sister actually set out on an assignation with you. Here in Mayfair.”

  Miss Hamilton’s accusation was met with silence. Will thought he saw a flash of fear cross Lady Harriet’
s face and Ashdowne merely continued to stare at Miss Hamilton. When the man finally spoke, his voice dripped with menace.

  “Get out. That young woman is a liar. Your sister was a liar. And you have burst into my home uninvited. Take yourself from my doorstep, Miss Hamilton, or I shall have you removed.”

  Will thought she might protest. Her back was as ramrod straight as the evening before, and her expression held the same look of determination as when she had entered the Ashdowne foyer. But Will noticed that she held her mouth stiffly, and her eyes had grown a fraction rounder. She was scared, and everything in him wanted to protect her.

  She took a step back and faltered, tripping over the hem of her own dress. Will approached her more swiftly than he had moved in years and reached out to steady her. His hand clasped her upper arm and she reached up to place her hand over his.

  “Let me take you away from here. My carriage is just across the road.”

  She nodded her head, a small, slight movement, and let him lead her, as if he was a husband escorting his wife, from the Ashdowne’s townhouse. As they crossed the threshold the grip of a strong hand encircled Will’s arm.

  “Selsby, you must stay for supper, old man.”

  Instinctively Will jabbed his arm back toward Ashdowne, dislodging the man’s grasp and nearly knocking him off his feet. He didn’t look back to see if Ashdowne fell, but turned instead to Miss Hamilton, pressing her arm gently to guide her as quickly as possible across Grosvenor Square and into his carriage.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ada wanted to speak, to thank Mr. Selsby for extracting her from the Ashdowne’s townhouse, but she still felt as wobbly as when she’d stumbled on their marble floor. She wasn’t certain she could speak without her voice shaking as noticeably as the rest of her body. Was it obvious to Mr. Selsby within the dark confines of the carriage?

  The conveyance was well appointed, but the space inside was close. Her skirts brushed Mr. Selsby’s legs and the heat of his body warmed her. She could smell the scent of his soap, hear the steady pulse of his breathing. If only her own breathing were as steady.

  “Your sister—“

  “Thank you—“

  They spoke over each other, and Ada had a ridiculous urge to giggle. But nothing about the day had been cause for giggling. Nancy had known more about her sister’s disappearance than she’d ever admitted. And Ashdowne had proven less helpful and more odious than she imagined he might be. The way he had looked at her, the loathing and hatred she had sensed in his gaze, chilled her to the core.

  “Pardon me.”

  For a man who had come to Whitechapel looking for a woman to satisfy his baser needs, Mr. Selsby was scrupulously polite. Polite and chivalrous. And far too handsome.

  “You did not tell me of your sister’s plight last evening.”

  His voice was warm and quiet. They sat so close there was no reason to speak loudly. If she turned her head just so, she could whisper in his ear.

  “You didn’t know her. I knew you had no idea where she might be.”

  They were quiet again, and Ada’s heartbeat began to steady. The further away they travelled from Lord Ashdowne, the more her fear eased. Something about William Selsby put her at ease too. The man was a conundrum. Her every sense was heightened in his presence and she found it impossible not to catalog each detail about him as she darted furtive glances in his direction—his long, elegant fingers, the scar that marred the skin of his left hand, the fullness of his lower lip, the light golden stubble on his chin and cheeks. She felt safe and secure with him near, as if all would be well, and yet it wasn’t true. Nothing would ever be right until she found out what happened to her sister.

  His velvety voice interrupted her examination of his profile.

  “Is there nothing I can do to help you, Miss Hamilton?”

  He turned toward her as he spoke and caught her staring.

  It was difficult to be rational when he watched her so intently, let alone speak. “Wh-why do you wish to?”

  He looked down at her bare hands gripping the folds of her dress. He moved his own hand a fraction as if he meant to clasp one of hers and then stilled.

  She was glad she had not worn gloves and he had not donned his own after leaving the Ashdowne’s. She longed to be bold, to move her hands toward his to signal her desire for his touch. As he gazed at her, Ada could not help wanting to know the story behind the sadness she saw in his eyes—the details of every wound, the history of every scar.

  “My intentions last evening were far from honorable. I would like to make amends.”

  “You owe me nothing, Mr. Selsby. And my family, all of us, have worked for as long as I can remember. We do not take charity.”

  He grinned, a slightly lopsided but utterly charming expression that made Ada long to trace the curve of his mouth.

  “I told him you would say that. Ashdowne. I told him you would accept charity from no one.”

  “He said I would?” The pompous lord seemed to Ada like a man who believed he could buy anyone or anything he wished. Whatever he had given to Beth, whatever she had given to him, Ada knew her sister well enough to believe it had not been about money. Beth had been completely smitten with the man.

  “He was wrong.” Mr. Selsby’s tone was emphatic, as if he believed Lord Ashdowne was wrong about a good many things.

  Smitten. Lord Ashdowne had said Mr. Selsby was smitten with her.

  “He said you were smitten with me.”

  It was difficult to meet his gaze as she said the words. She thought she read desire there but feared it was only an imagined reflection of her own feelings. Her heartbeat, which had finally slowed after the debacle at Lord Ashdowne’s, kicked up again and she felt her breath coming in quick, tiny puffs.

  He lifted his hand and touched her cheek, skimming the backs of his fingers across her skin. His slid his hand lower, to the sensitive flesh of her neck. He stroked her there, his fingers cool against her warm skin, before slipping his hand around the back of her neck and easing her toward him. He looked down at her lips and Ada felt the heat of his gaze as if his mouth was already on hers.

  He whispered, “He wasn’t wrong about that.”

  Ada wasn’t certain if she leaned forward, he tugged her to him, or he lowered his head. But she knew his lips were warm and soft, easing against hers with a tenderness that melted the worry and fear of the last few days. Ada let her eyes flutter shut and leaned into him, opening to him, savoring the taste and feel of him. He wrapped his arm around her, and she felt protected, surrounded by his heat and scent.

  His kiss turned hungry, deeper, and Ada slipped her hands beneath the lapels of his coat, smoothing her fingers against his shirt front, fiddling with a button and the edge of his embroidered waistcoat. She wanted to slip her hands inside his shirt, to feel his flesh against her own.

  She pulled away a fraction to catch her breath, and he mistook her meaning and pulled away too. He shifted so that their bodies were not touching, just the brush of her skirt against his trouser legs.

  “Forgive me, Miss Hamilton.”

  “No, I…” But what could she say? That she wanted his kiss? That she had thought of how it would be to kiss William Selsby from the moment she laid eyes on him?

  Silence reigned inside the carriage again. Ada longed to speak the truth, but it wasn’t proper. The night before she had ascribed her sister’s actions to innocence and gullibility. How could she admit to her own desires now?

  Ada glanced at Mr. Selsby, his head turned away from her, and noticed through the carriage window that they had entered Whitechapel. She recognized Mr. Mercer’s shop front and the familiar windows of Samaritan Hospital as they passed.

  Time was short and she had to say something, anything that would make the man look at her again and ease the tension between them.

  “Thank you, Mr. Selsby.”

  She was grateful to him. He’d prevented her from toppling over and making a fool of herself in front of that wre
tched nobleman and his sister. He had spared her the cost of another hansom cab ride home. And he had given her the first kiss of her life.

  Ada felt a tiny burning ache in the center of her chest at the thought she might never see the man again.

  Finally he turned to her, but she could not read his expression. He looked grim, yet his eyes seemed as full of fire as the moment before he’d kissed her.

  “Miss Hamilton, please call on me if there is anything at all I can do for you or your family. And please take this. I have no use for it.”

  He lifted a small black box with a green satin ribbon out of his pocket. It looked very much like the box he carried with him the night before.

  When she made no move to reach for it, he took her hand, turned it palm up, and stroked it for a delicious moment before placing the box in the cup of her hand.

  Moments passed as they watched each other, his hand still touching hers, then the carriage slowed and came to a stop. She heard his coachman call down.

  “The Golden Bell, sir.”

  She knew refusing the gift, whatever was in the small box, was proper, what a lady would do. Considering he had brought it the night before to woo her sister into sin, the object should be odious to her. Yet it was some small part of him she could take away with her—this box and the memory of a kiss she still felt on her lips.

  He released her hand and she held very still to stop from reaching for him again.

  Mr. Selsby turned as if to exit the carriage, no doubt to help her out, but she unlatched the door on her side, placed her foot on the single step, and hopped down to the cobblestones. It wasn’t graceful, but it spared her the embarrassment of allowing him to see how their parting affected her. Her chest burned and tears welled in her eyes. She lifted her chin to prevent them from falling.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Selsby.”

  Ada prayed he did not notice the quaking in her voice. Moving quickly, she crossed toward the Bell and the stairwell leading up to her family’s lodgings.

  When she closed the door behind her, Ada leaned against it and let her tears fall. Silently so as not to wake the children or her mother, she cried until the weight on her chest lifted. Tears had never been Ada’s way—she was the eldest, the one who consoled others when they cried. Now she had shed more tears in past week than in the whole of her life. Her handkerchief was inadequate for the task and she finally slumped into a chair with the sodden scrap of cloth in her hands.