“Not now. You know nothing yet, and you know better than to make assumptions.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Seaton.” He stared up at her with cold eyes.
“Good afternoon, Lord Somerton.” Fear made her tremble. He knew nothing, she told herself again. If he knew she’d taken the necklace, he would say or do something.
“Have a pleasant afternoon, Miss Seaton. Be warned, I hear the evening may turn nasty.” He turned and left without another word.
Victoria wondered about his words. His ominous tone sent a trickle of apprehension through her. Did he suspect she was the thief?
Sophie walked quickly to her. “I had no idea you were there, Victoria.”
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to overhear you. I didn’t know you knew Lord Somerton. Is he a client?”
Sophie had become quite the thing as a matchmaker among the ton. Perhaps Somerton was looking for a wife.
“No, he is not a client,” Sophie replied flatly. “We met many years ago.”
Victoria walked into the salon expecting Sophie would continue, but she did not.
“Now, what brings you here today?” Sophie asked as she sat in the brocade wingback chair.
“I need some assistance,” Victoria started slowly. She had to know if the handsome man making veiled threats was whom she thought he was. “There is a man in my past.”
“And he wasn’t exactly a gentleman, was he?”
Victoria frowned and looked over at her friend. How much could Sophie know about this? “No, he was a gentleman but did not act as such. I fear he may be returning to my life, and I was hoping you might tell me if that is true.”
Sophie bit down on her lower lip. She reached over and clasped Victoria’s hand. “Yes, it is true. I think in your heart, you already knew this, didn’t you.”
Victoria trembled again. “Does he know who I am? Do you?”
Sophie nodded. “I know you are not Victoria Seaton.”
Victoria slapped her hand over her mouth. Everything she had spent the last ten years trying to forget came crashing back to her. She had to determine a way out of this mess.
“Does he know who I am?”
“Yes,” Sophie whispered. “I don’t believe he means to harm you, Victoria. I think he wishes to apologize for his actions.”
“What do you know about this?”
Sophie sat back, and said, “I believe you and this man had a brief relationship. After which, you somehow came into some money, changed your name, and opened your home to several orphans.”
“That is all you know?” Victoria asked.
“I know your real name was Anne Smith. And I know who the man was who treated you so poorly.”
Victoria stared at the floral design on the rug. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
“You don’t remember?”
“He only told me his name was Tony. And he was different then. Younger. His hair was longer and lighter. His nature softer and sweeter—”
“Somerton sweet?” Sophie asked incredulously. “In my nine years of knowing him, I would never have called him that. He is one of the hardest men I have ever met. He seems to care about nothing and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants or needs.”
Sophie’s perception of Somerton didn’t match up with the young man Victoria remembered. He had been the only gentleman who actually said hello to her when she sold oranges. He would smile at her and not in a leering manner. He could not have changed so drastically.
“What do I do now, Sophie?”
“You will return home, and hopefully, if he comes to pay you a visit, it will be to apologize for his actions. Accept his apology and he will leave.”
“He can expose me for the fraud I am,” Victoria cried. “Everything I have spent the last ten years building will be for naught. If Avis, Jennette, or Elizabeth discovers the truth, they will hate me for lying to them.”
“Your friends will not desert you. But if you are that concerned, then you must make that part of the apology. You only accept it as long as he promises to keep your identity secret.”
Victoria nodded. Deep inside her was still the fearless girl she had been. The girl who at nine could pick a man’s pocket without being caught. She had known every street and alley in Whitechapel. She only hoped her last ten years of playing the timid mouse hadn’t destroyed her.
“I am finished with this business,” Anthony said, glancing around the room at White’s. To anyone who might see them, they appeared to be two friends settling in for a drink.
Roger Ainsworth sat back against his chair and smiled. “You do not mean it. You love the excitement of it all. Travel and intrigue, you live for it.”
Anthony raked his fingers through his short hair. He’d considered his mother’s words with extreme care for the past day and she was right. In order to get his respectability back, he had to stop performing jobs for Ainsworth. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I am tired, Ainsworth. I’ve been doing this for almost ten years. I have caught your spies and other assorted criminals. I am done.”
“You cannot be.”
Anthony raised an eyebrow at him in question. “I can.”
“Do not make me beg, Somerton. There is no one else I can turn to for this. It’s quite a simple case and you do not even have to leave the country.”
“No.”
“Please, hear me out before you say no again.” Ainsworth reached for the bottle of whisky and poured two glasses.
“Drinking on the job?”
“If that is what I must do to get you to agree, the prince won’t mind.”
Anthony wondered how much information the prince even had of these jobs.
“All I need you to do is collect a missive. Marcus Hardy will be at Lord Farleigh’s house party starting on the twelfth of December. My source said Hardy will be given information regarding a plot to kill the prince regent. All you have to do is collect the note and bring it to me as quickly as possible.”
“Farleigh?”
Ainsworth nodded and then sipped his drink.
Anthony wondered exactly how Ainsworth would get him invited to that party. Farleigh’s jealousy of his wife was renowned, especially with Anthony.
He sipped his whisky and tilted his head back. This was the last thing he wanted to do. Until the note came requesting his presence here, he had planned to watch the sneaky little Miss Seaton. But the royal family was in an uproar since Princess Charlotte’s untimely death only weeks ago. With the question of succession still in doubt, if anyone managed to kill the prince regent it would produce turmoil.
“And?” Anthony prodded.
“That is it. The information will be in a missive that someone will give to Hardy.”
“So all I have to do is steal it away from him. Why not get Roberts for the job?”
Ainsworth glanced down at the papers on the table. “Roberts was killed trying to get this information three days ago. Besides, I need your ears there listening in case anything is mentioned. And I need someone who can steal into a room to find this note if needed.”
Anthony muttered a curse. “All right. I will do this as long as you realize that this is my last case. Forever.”
Ainsworth stood and held out his hand. “I do understand. Thank you.”
As Ainsworth left, Anthony sat back in his chair in thought. Somehow, he would need to allay Farleigh’s jealousy. A smile lifted his lips upward. All he needed was a mistress to bring with him. No one of any social importance attended Farleigh’s parties because of Lady Farleigh. Therefore, no one would mind him bringing a woman with him. But who?
He had plenty of women he could ask, but he knew they would all want a commitment to become his real mistress, or worse, his wife. He had no real interest in any of them other than an occasional night of pleasure. There had to be someone.
He downed his whisky and checked the time. Damn. It was already almost two in the afternoon. He’d promised the boy watching Miss Seaton that he would not be gone
long.
After nodding to a few acquaintances, he walked out of the men’s club and found his carriage. He rode to Sophie’s house to see if Miss Seaton was still speaking with his half sister. Anthony found the boy standing by a lamppost watching Sophie’s home.
“Anyone left the house, lad?” he asked, as he approached the boy.
“She’s still in there.”
Anthony pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed them to him. “Thank you, but I shall take over now.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said and then ran down the street with a smile.
Anthony waited in his carriage for almost an hour before she finally departed. Foolish woman had no maid trailing behind. He stepped out of the carriage just as she was walking toward it.
She stopped and gaped at him with wide eyes. As she started to turn the opposite direction, he clasped her elbow and steered her toward the waiting carriage.
“Lord Somerton!” she gasped.
“Miss Seaton, it is a fine afternoon, is it not?”
“You must let go of me,” she whispered as if trying not to make a scene.
“Get in the carriage, Miss Seaton. We have much to discuss.”
She attempted to twist out of his grip once more. Realizing her defeat, she entered the carriage. She sat back against the velvet squabs and crossed her arms over her chest.
Anthony climbed inside and sat across from the defiant lady. Her quiet beauty surprised him. She had put her hair up into a loose chignon and several blond tendrils fell across her pale cheeks. Seeing her again, he noticed just how petite she was and far too thin.
And this time, he had no doubt she was the woman he’d been searching for these past ten years.
“You are very good,” he said quietly.
Her blue eyes widened slightly. “At what, my lord?”
“At your chosen profession.”
“I take care of eight children. Nothing more,” she said in a tight voice.
“Indeed.”
She glanced out the window. “Where are you taking me and why?”
“We shall be there soon.” He wondered at her calm demeanor. Most women forced into a carriage would be close to hysterics by now. Something told him instead of panic, she was plotting her escape.
Victoria sat across from the demon lord trying to determine the best course of action. Even if she managed to escape his clutches, he knew where she lived. He knew who her friends were. He would find her.
It appeared there was nothing more to do but wait and discover his intentions. As she watched the shadows fall over his handsome face, she didn’t believe his intentions were respectable.
Seeing him in the light of day, she wondered how she could have imagined it wasn’t him. The man from her past. Somerton had changed the direction of her life whether he realized it or not. And she preferred he never know how much what happened that night affected her life.
The carriage finally slowed to a stop. Somerton quickly scrambled to get down before she could make a move. Her lips turned upward. She could never outrun the man.
“I am not sure what you are smiling about, but if I were you, I would be worried,” he warned.
“About what?” she answered in defiance.
“About what I might have planned for you.”
She climbed down and attempted to pass him only to find her elbow back in his strong grip. “I doubt it could be any worse than what you have already done to me.”
His jaw tightened until a little tic started beating near his chin. “Let’s go.”
Victoria smiled fully. She had found her weapon against him. He led her up the steps of a small townhome only a few blocks from her own house. Well, her home in principle. She certainly could never afford such a place.
The door opened and a gape-mouthed butler stood silent as his employer forced a woman into the house.
“She is not to leave without my permission, Reese.”
“Y—yes, sir.”
He guided her up the stairs to the second floor and then flung open a door. After pushing her into the room, he blocked the door with his large body. A sliver of fear swept down her back. His face had darkened, and his eyes turned from a lovely shade of hazel to a dark green.
“What do you plan to do now?” she asked insolently. There was nothing he could do to her that he hadn’t done in the past.
“Get to the truth.”
“Truth about what?”
“Everything,” he answered ominously.
He walked toward her slowly. Victoria glanced around for an alternate means of escape. Being two stories up, with the door blocked by an angry man, she could only retreat. She continued to step backwards until her legs hit the large bed. Why had it taken her this long to realize he had her in a bedroom? His bedchamber from the looks of it.
“What do you want from me, Somerton?”
A small half smile lifted his lips upward. “What’s mine.”
Victoria swallowed the lump in her throat. He could not possibly know about the necklace. Oh God, what if he did? She was never one to let panic overtake her but suddenly her world spun around her. He must never discover where she’d put the necklace.
“I have no idea what you mean,” she said evenly.
He stepped close enough that she could inhale the scent of his sandalwood soap. “It was gold with rubies.”
She pushed away all her anxieties. She could lie her way out of this situation. “And why would I have such a thing? I am a poor woman who cares for orphans, nothing more.”
Why couldn’t she take her gaze off his lips?
“Indeed? So if I were to rummage through your home, I would find nothing that matched the item that I am looking for?”
She stared at him. “Go ahead and check my home, I do not have your necklace.”
Suddenly, he pushed her back against the bed and confined her with his body. She thrust at his shoulders until he seized her wrists and pinned them over her head with his hand. She felt his other hand reach down to her reticule and grab the contents.
She twisted under him trying to break free only to feel his erection pressing into her thigh. “Let me up!”
He chuckled softly near her ear. “Are you certain? There are just so many possible things we could do.”
“I do not have your necklace.”
“I never said it was a necklace.”
Chapter Five
Anthony watched the play of emotions on her face and tried not to laugh. She was, without a doubt, attempting to formulate a believable lie. He’d promised his mother that Genna would receive the necklace on Christmas morning so she could wear it on her wedding day planned for New Year’s Eve. That only gave him a few weeks to find it or have her return it to him.
“All right,” she said with a shrug. “You caught me. Now what?”
He blinked and shook his head slightly. Had she really just admitted her guilt that easily? He rolled off her to sit on the bed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Perhaps I did take a necklace from you. Do you plan on telling the constable?”
How had this slip of a woman turned the tables on him? He’d expected pleading, crying, perhaps even a suggestive bribe to keep him quiet. Not the goddamned truth.
“Should I?” he finally replied.
“Not if you want your necklace returned,” she said with a hint of a smile.
“You are holding my necklace for ransom?”
She slowly stood and walked a step away from him. “It’s a rather brilliant plan, don’t you think? After all, you have no idea where the necklace is. For all you know, I might have pawned it.”
Somehow, the chit had read him that quickly. She knew the necklace was important to him. Damn her. There was only one thing to do—bluff.
“The necklace is not that important. Still, you did commit a crime, so I think I shall take your advice and call a constable.”
She eyed him carefully with one blond eyebrow arched. “Then do it. And you will never f
ind out where the necklace is because I would never be so foolish as to keep it in my home. Only I know who is storing it for me.”
He rose and took a step closer. “And what about your friends? What will they say when they discover you are a pickpocket? And that they don’t even know your real name, Anne Smith.”
She visibly swallowed and then retreated a step. “If they are truly my friends, they will understand.”
Anthony shook his head. “They are ladies of quality. Their husbands would never allow them to come near you or associate with you ever again.”
“Then it appears we are at an impasse.”
“I really don’t see it that way,” he commented.
“What do you really want, Lord Somerton? There is more here than just a necklace.” She crossed her slim arms over her chest.
Anthony sighed. If he ever wanted a mistress, she would be exactly his type. Shrewd, beautiful, and with the ability to keep him guessing. She was the perfect woman to take on this assignment with him. Except, the only way he could have her accompany him was as his mistress.
And that was a dangerous proposition.
Still, short of absconding with one of his mother’s ladies, he knew of no one who wouldn’t be looking for something more out of the situation. He only needed a woman to pretend to be his mistress. This little charlatan might be just the thing. She obviously needed money or she wouldn’t have pinched the pendant from him. Paying her would also absolve some of his guilt for what he’d done to her.
“Very well, take a seat.” He pointed to a chair near the window. For once, she did as he asked without a fight.
Once she sat, he started, “I have a proposition for you, Miss Seaton.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” she said softly.
“Not in that manner. Well, in a way it is in the manner you believe.”
She stood up as if thinking about walking out of the room.
“Sit down, Miss Seaton,” he ordered gruffly.
“What do you want from me?”
“I need some assistance with a slight problem I have. And I believe you are the solution to my issue.”
She tilted her head and a blond tendril fell across her face. She blew the hair out of her eyes. “What is your problem?”
Scandal of the Season Page 4