Whitechapel Wagers 02 - Wanton Wager

by Christy Carlyle

  He yielded to the nagging pain in his leg and let his body sink into his favorite chair.

  “Long enough for me to chase Miss Hamilton away, apparently.”

  “Indeed. What the devil did you say to her?”

  “Not as much as I wish to.”

  Kate choked on the biscuit in her mouth and reached for her teacup. After a rather unladylike swig, she shot him her fiercest glare.

  “Have you…” She edged forward on her chair, leaned toward him, and lowered her voice to whisper. “Have you done something unseemly to that woman?”

  Not as much as I wish to. He couldn’t repeat the words to his sister, but his body, still aching from the effect of Miss Hamilton’s presence, was a testament to the truth of it.

  “I kissed her.” Will had never lied to his sister. It was a principle they had agreed upon as children. And it was less about deception than about being wholly plain-speaking with one another. No matter how shocking.

  Kate looked indignant. “Here? Just now? You kissed her right here in the drawing room?”

  “No, before. In the carriage.” Just mentioning the moment brought it vividly to life in his mind. His mouth, his whole body, throbbed with a kind of burning ache at the memory of their kiss. He shifted in his chair and hoped his sister would think it due to his tormenting leg.

  Kate slumped back in her own chair and put a hand to her chest as if she was having an attack of the vapors, but his sister was not a woman for feminine theatrics.

  He had a moment of real concern before she sat up straight and gazed at him with a conspiratorial grin cresting her face.

  “I had almost given up hope the day would come.”

  What day she referred to escaped him, but he could see she was bursting to say more.

  “William Andrew Selsby, you have not spared a glance for a woman for seven years. I thought poor Nerissa Thrumble was going to launch herself into the Thames after all her failed attempts to capture your attention.”

  “Who is Nerissa Thrumble?”

  “You see. Exactly.”

  Will searched his mind for anyone, any woman, who had made the slightest effort to— Ah, yes, the lady’s society friend of Kate’s. She had watched him so closely it made him shiver. He felt he was back under his mother’s all-seeing gaze.

  “Please give my apologies to Miss Thrumble.”

  “She is happily married to some railroad baron. I’m sure she never spares a thought for you these days.”

  “What a relief.”

  “Don’t be churlish. When did you become acquainted with Miss Hamilton? And how? It is difficult to imagine you venturing into Whitechapel without a good reason.”

  It had not been a good reason. It had been desperation. Shame was the only emotion he could identify now, but when he had accepted Ashdowne’s wager, it had been born of a kind of fierce need, long denied and more potent due to neglect. He had lived without passion, without gratifying his carnal desires for years, but the prospect of a woman in need of protecting had stoked something primal in him.

  Now the tragic truth was the protection Beth Hamilton needed had been too long in coming, and her sister wanted nothing from him. Not protection. Not affection. Not even a broach he had purchased years ago and never given to the woman he hoped to make his wife.

  In truth the jewel would have never suited Emilia. Her preference would have been for rubies or diamonds. The opals required a discerning eye. Modest gems at first glance, they only glittered with kaleidoscopic fire on closer inspection. While Miss Ada Hamilton was a striking beauty at every glance and would have looked delicious dripping in diamonds and rubies, something about the opals suited her. The variegated colors of the gem reminded him of her eyes, which seemed green one moment, blue the next.

  “Will? Now who’s gone off to some other county?”

  “I met her two days ago. In Whitechapel. The rest isn’t worth telling.”

  Kate opened her mouth as if to speak and then closed it again, but she watched him, squinting her eyes a bit as if trying to see more. She opened her mouth again. And closed it.

  “What? Say what you wish to say. We have never been coy with one other.”

  “You looked so pleased to find her here.”

  Will could not deny that. “Yes.”

  “If your intentions are honorable toward her—“

  “Kate.” Will lifted his hand, as if the simple gesture could prevent her from meddling.

  “I was only going to suggest that you call on her again. Or invite her to call here for tea. I barely had a moment to speak to her, after all.”

  Miss Hamilton did not wish to see him again. The finality of their parting was clear. She had returned the broach. She had not looked back.

  “She does not wish to further our acquaintance.”

  He should explain to Kate about Ada’s sister, about the whole sordid business with Ashdowne. But he could not find the words. And he feared telling her would mean she might never let the matter rest.

  “More’s the pity.”

  It was a pity, though the word seemed inadequate to match the stitch of pain in his chest at the thought he would never see Ada again, never touch her, never know her as he wished to. To cherish her. That was what she had said he should do—find someone to cherish him. Yet she was the one who deserved to be cherished, and he wanted to be the man to do it.

  ***

  “Good God, Selsby, you just can’t keep away. Must be my excellent brandy. Shall I pour you a splash?”

  Will did not wish to drink, and that was a new impulse. He considered whether drink might loosen Ashdowne’s tongue, but decided clouding his own reason was not worth whatever could be gained by partaking with the man.

  “No, thank you, Ashdowne. I do not wish to take up too much of your time.”

  He did not wish to spend one more moment with the man than was necessary.

  “I still cannot locate the woman we wagered for.” Just speaking the words left a sour taste in Will’s mouth. “No one has seen her since Monday last.”

  “Has she still not turned up? Her new benefactor must be keeping her under lock and key.”

  Ashdowne’s smile was grotesque, more like a viper baring its fangs than a man expressing mirth.

  “Did you have plans to meet her last Monday?”

  “I did not. She threatened to come here, to Ashdowne House, but I put her off. Told her we were closing up house and heading back to Wythorpe. The season’s over. Truth is we should have gone back months ago.”

  Will recognized the name Wythorpe as the Ashdowne’s country estate in Derbyshire.

  “Do you think she would try to make her way there? To find you?”

  “To Wythorpe?” The notion seemed impossible for Ashdowne to even contemplate. “How the devil would she get there, Selsby? She doesn’t have a farthing to her name. And it is a bit too far to walk.”

  “I thought you gave her money.”

  “I gave her gifts! And my time. I gave her plenty.”

  Will stood abruptly, ignoring the twinge in his leg. He did not wish to waste another word on Ashdowne. But it seemed the man wasn’t done with him.

  “There are plenty of whores in Whitechapel. Even after that madman is done culling a few, there will be plenty more.”

  It was clear women meant nothing to Ashdowne, their lives even less precious than his collection of stuffed beasts. Will glanced around Ashdowne’s study, taking in the array of dead animals adorning every wall. In that moment, he determined it would be the last time he ever saw the man or his morbid collection.

  As he took one last look at Ashdowne’s lupine smile, a horrific thought struck Will. Did he stand across from a man capable of the kind of horrors being perpetrated in Whitechapel?

  CHAPTER TEN

  The hectic bustle of Samaritan Hospital’s admitting room overwhelmed Will from the moment he crossed the threshold. The sound of so many people—some crying, others moaning in pain—reminded him of the field
hospital he had been taken to after his injury at Kandahar.

  The smell of carbolic was different though. While they had striven for cleanliness in the field, a makeshift army tent hospital was simply not as well equipped as the efficient machine Will observed before him. Chaos reigned momentarily when a large group of injured men rushed in after an omnibus accident, but Will noted how each man was quickly assessed and sent off to the appropriate ward. Within moments the nurses had reasserted order to the admittance process.

  An intense, dark-eyed woman in a starched white nursing costume approached him and asked about his complaint, all the while scanning him from head to toe, as if seeking his injury. He saw her eyes snag on his cane and then catalog the scar on his hand before she met his eyes again.

  “Afghanistan or Africa?”

  The diminutive woman had the deductive abilities of Sherlock Holmes, it seemed.

  “Afghanistan, but it is no physical complaint that brings me to the Samaritan.”

  This seemed to frustrate her, and she tipped back on her heels and looked up at him with far less interest than the moment before.

  “The administrative offices have a separate entrance around the corner, sir. We are here to serve the sick and wounded.”

  “And you clearly do it admirably.”

  This seemed to mollify her somewhat and she let loose the minutest grin of appreciation.

  “I am here to speak to one of your probationary nurses. Miss Ada Hamilton.”

  Fear, unmistakable and raw, shadowed her eyes.

  “Nurses may not have gentlemen callers of any kind, sir.”

  “It is regarding her sister, and I thought she might wish to know immediately.”

  The woman chewed on her lip and then looked back at the line of patients behind him, clearly torn between propriety and her eagerness to rid herself of him and get on to the people who truly needed her help.

  “Sit yourself there, and I will fetch the matron to speak with you.”

  Will glanced at his pocket watch some time later and was surprised to see that nearly one half of an hour had passed before a stern-faced woman dressed in black from head to toe marched toward him from a hallway off the admitting room.

  “I am Matron Marley. I understand you wish to speak with me, sir.”

  Will rose as gracefully as his stiff muscles allowed. The woman was so tall their eyes were on a level when he stretched to his full height of just over six feet.

  “Thank you for your time, Matron. Truth be told, I came to speak with Miss Ada Hamilton. I understand she is a probationary nurse at the hospital and works here during the week.”

  “Follow me, please.”

  Will watched the woman stalk away as if the question of him following her was a forgone conclusion. He did not wish to follow her. He only wished to see Ada and tell her his suspicions about Beth after his meeting with Ashdowne.

  Matron Marley waited for him inside a surprisingly sumptuous and neat-as-a-pin office outfitted with a massive cherry wood desk and bookshelves stacked with medical journals and ledgers. An impressive painting of the Samaritan Hospital, completed when it was recently constructed and still pristine, dominated the wall behind her desk.

  “My I ask your name and interest in Miss Hamilton, sir?”

  “Yes, of course. My name is Selsby, and I believe I may have some useful information pertaining to Miss Hamilton’s sister.”

  “The girl who’s gone missing?”

  He nodded and an expression of real distress passed over the woman’s face before her expression returned to the same grim set of mouth and eyes.

  “That is tragic. I do hope they find her safe and sound. But I must inform you that Miss Adaline Hamilton is no longer in the hospital’s employ. She was dismissed just this morning. And I must say the incidence of a gentleman calling upon her this afternoon…” She indicated Will with the tilt of her head. “Well, it makes me even more certain about my decision.”

  “I do not have a long acquaintance with Miss Hamilton, but I suspect you have lost a fine nurse. Why was she dismissed?”

  “That is not a matter I am at liberty to divulge. Perhaps Miss Hamilton would care to enlighten you.”

  ***

  Will wasn’t looking forward to his next encounter with The Golden Bell’s less than friendly giant of a barkeep. The man had begrudgingly served him a drink after his first meeting with Miss Hamilton, but Will suspected it was just because the barman realized Will would soon be out the door.

  The pub was crowded for a Monday afternoon, but the burly man seemed to notice Will the moment he crossed the threshold. The man’s look was no more welcoming, and this time the giant left his post behind the bar and approached Will.

  “You ‘ave no business ‘ere, my lord.” The man spoke the word lord as if it was the most offensive of curses, as if he was calling Will the Whitechapel murderer and every other kind of monster.

  “I am no lord. And my business here is with Miss Ada Hamilton.”

  Will took a step forward and sidestepped the man, hoping to bypass him completely. But a heavy arm, as thick as the trunk of healthy tree, shot out, not touching him but preventing him from passing.

  “That lady is already crying ‘er eyes out over yer meddling and lies.”

  Will remembered how Ada had cried over her sister the first night he’d met her. He suspected she had shed many tears in the last week, and he was determined to alleviate her misery in the only way he could. She may not wish to know him as he wished to know her, but he would help her find her sister.

  “I must speak with her. About her sister.”

  At those words, the man lowered his arm, though he continued to glare at Will as he made his way past him. Will suspected the man watched him all the way up the stairs to the Hamilton family’s lodgings.

  He rapped on the door only once before it creaked open and a child, eyes red rimmed and sad, opened the door to him.

  “Hello. Might I speak with Miss Ada Hamilton?”

  Will was shocked when the child smiled at him, a wide, genuine expression that lit up her small face.

  “You’re the man with the pleasant voice.”

  “Vicky, come away from the door, dear.”

  Ada did not look as though she had been crying. She looked lovely, and the gaze she directed at Will set his body alight—the same sizzle of heat he always felt when she was near.

  “Please come in, Mr. Selsby.”

  Will was surprised at the ease with which she invited him into her home. He had feared she might turn him away.

  He entered the same family living area where he had first met Ada. She shooed her sister off into another room and offered him tea before they seated themselves at a table in the corner. A delicately woven white doily covered the table and a small vase of wildflowers, blue cornflowers, added a homey touch to the space.

  She looked at him expectantly with eyes as vibrantly blue as the flowers and Will began.

  “I spoke with Lord Ashdowne. If your sister was determined to find him, it seems she may have gone to—“

  “Derbyshire.”

  “You already knew.”

  She grinned but he saw no amusement in her now greener than blue eyes.

  “My mother told me today that Beth confided in her regarding her relationship with Lord Ashdowne.”

  She paused and Will could sense her weighing how much to say to him and how much she should shelter her sister.

  “Beth told my mother that she was with child.” She looked down as she said the words, as if shame for her family prevented her from meeting his gaze.

  Will longed to reach for her, to reassure her, but he knew propriety demanded he keep his urges to himself.

  “Mother says Beth intended to seek out Lord Ashdowne in Derbyshire, at his family’s estate. She cannot recall the name of it.”

  “Wythorpe.”

  “I must go there. I must find out what’s happened to her.”

  “Then let me accompany
you.” The words were out of his mouth before any thoughts of propriety or decorum could restrain them. His desire to be near her, to help her, overrode every other impulse.

  She had been sitting beside him, leaning toward him, but upon hearing his offer she stood and began pacing the length of the narrow room.

  A gentleman would apologize. But propriety be damned.

  “The Samaritan Hospital has dismissed me.” She stopped pacing to gaze at him, as if waiting for his reaction.

  “I called there. I spoke to Ashdowne and wanted to share my suspicions with you immediately. Matron Marley informed me of your dismissal. I fear I might have made the whole matter worse by calling on you.”

  She sighed, concern creasing her brow.

  “Did she tell you why?”

  “She would not.”

  He could not imagine what she might have done to merit such treatment.

  “Lady Harriet is a patron of the hospital, it seems. She sent a letter to the administration requesting my removal from the nursing staff.” Ada pulled a folded piece of paper from her skirt, unfolded it, and held it out to him.

  Will reached for the paper, expecting to read Lady Harriet’s letter, to learn what the woman might have written to lose Ada her position at the hospital. Instead he read a letter addressed to Ada informing her that she had passed her examinations.

  He looked up to find her watching him intently.

  “The letter arrived in the post today.”

  “Well done, Miss Hamilton.”

  She smiled and the beauty of it lit up the room. At least for a moment, the pleasure she felt at her accomplishment outweighed any disappointment over the loss of her position at the Samaritan.

  But curiosity nagged at him.

  “Lady Harriet. What could she have said?”

  Will was sorry to have spoken the words, for Ada’s smile faltered, and she shied again, unable to meet his eye.

  He approached her, and she finally tilted her head up to look at him. His breath came faster and his heartbeat hitched, sounding the tattoo of a drumbeat in his ears. She affected him like no other woman he had ever met.

  Her voice was quiet, almost as if she didn’t wish him to hear the words she spoke.