Three Nights of Sin

by Anne Mallory

  The smiles transformed his face. Without guile, without sarcasm, he fairly beamed. She swallowed with difficulty and turned away from watching him.

  “If you could fit Miss Winters with a few garments? The standard ones should be fine.”

  Clarisse bobbed her head and followed Noble to the door. Marietta quickly stuffed the rest of her bread in her mouth and quietly followed.

  “Are you familiar with a Mr. Archibald Penner?” he asked Clarisse.

  “He owns some shops over on the East End. Mostly pleasant. Likes the shopgirls, though he’s not a bully. Doesn’t have a reputation as a ruffian, but likes his drink well enough.”

  “Invaluable as always, Clarisse.”

  Marietta saw the blush stain the girl’s cheeks and stifled a sigh.

  “Will you be wanting Miss Winters to have the look of a shopgirl?”

  “Something like that would do well. And an assistant’s outfit. Maybe something that shows a bit of skin around the collar.”

  Noble left them at the door of Marietta’s room and Clarisse got to work.

  Marietta watched her curiously. “You work with Mr. Noble often?”

  Clarisse nodded and fastened a pin. “Is this the first time you’ve worked with him? I haven’t seen you afore.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, these garments will all work for later tasks too, so long as you don’t gain much weight. Not that you couldn’t stand to add a stone or two.” She looked at her critically and Marietta bit her tongue. “But you are tall. More places for the weight to be distributed when you do,” she said in a cheerful manner.

  “Mr. Noble likes his victims with a little more flesh, I gather.”

  Clarisse frowned up at her. Her brow puckered and she looked remarkably confrontational, just as Mrs. Rosaire had, but then her brow smoothed. “I forgot this is your first task. You’ll change your tune as soon as Mr. Noble has solved your problem. They all do, whether they want to or not.”

  Marietta narrowed her eyes. “That is not what I am taken to understand. I have understood there is some uncertainty about his intentions at times. That he is not to be crossed.”

  “That he isn’t.” The girl gave her a serious look. “You’d do well to heed him. He can be difficult, but he is infinitely fair. He will do right by you.”

  Right by her. As if any other man had done so, she was supposed to trust completely that this one would. This man who had twenty different smiles, one to entice each woman. Who exuded nothing less than sex and desire, and knew exactly how to use it to his advantage. And yet, here she was.

  “How many women have you dressed like this, Clarisse?”

  “A fair few,” she said, a bit cagily.

  Wonderful. With that face and those smiles, a stream of women had probably trailed through his bedroom doors like an unending Eton parade.

  “And the men?” She assumed there were a few on his client list since she had been referred by one. “Do they also get costumed?”

  “Oh, yes. My brother is an excellent tailor. Family business. Mr. Noble helped us a few years back. And he pays extremely well, of course.”

  That answered two of her questions.

  Clarisse talked more about the family business and Noble’s wonderful, magnificent, perfect presence. It was getting on noon before she finished, but Marietta had two perfectly serviceable servant’s garments, a shopgirl’s outfit, and two dresses that would provoke a society matron to fits. All were either close to fitting her or pinned in a crafty way to look tailored already. Smart girl, Clarisse.

  Marietta followed her back to the kitchen when they were through.

  “All done?”

  Noble was still sitting at the table, papers spread around him, a small sty of ink-stained linen and parchment.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be back later with the last of the garments that need refitting.”

  He nodded and returned to perusing the documents. Clarisse seemed to think this perfectly normal as she waved to Marietta and let herself out the door.

  Marietta waited a moment, but Noble didn’t look up.

  “Clarisse is full of energy,” she said.

  “Yes. Stew is in the pot.” He pointed absently to the stove.

  Marietta watched him scratch his chin and make a notation in the corner of a piece of parchment. It seemed so odd to see a man like him so serious and studious.

  She sighed. Every wandering thought seemed to be about him. Maddening. She served herself a bowl. “Would you like a bowl?”

  “No, I’ve already eaten.”

  She settled back at the table and broke off a piece of bread. “What are you reading?”

  He tapped his quill against the paper and looked up through thick lashes. “All of the information about your case. The barrister you’ve hired—and what he has declared. Your brother will have to answer every question posed by the judge and jury members and deliver his own summary. Barristers do nothing to interrupt or lead, no matter what yours promised. According to this—” He held up the paper. “You’ve been promised the moon. Right gulled. You’d do well to get your money back.”

  Her bread dropped into the bowl. “But Mark said—”

  “Quite.”

  She dipped her head and fished her bread from the bowl with trembling fingers. She’d kill him. Mark had assured her that the barrister would solve everything. The barrister had assured her as well. She hadn’t had time to research the legal system, not with the work she’d been doing on the side, unnoticed by her brother—small jobs to bring in an extra few pounds here and there. Legal issues had mattered little to her daily life other than to keep them from debtor’s prison.

  “We will stop there Friday, then find your brother new counsel,” he said.

  Perhaps she should stop there today.

  As if reading her mind, he gave her a sardonic look and said, “My source said your barrister is out of town on business. He’ll be back Friday. We’ll retrieve your money. I’ve dealt with his sort before.” His brows slashed together as he focused back on the papers before him.

  Marietta nodded and determined to read the legislation herself tonight. She shouldn’t just take Gabriel Noble’s word either.

  “A more important matter than the barrister, we need to discover how your brother came to be standing over a dead woman’s body. I am working on getting us into Cold Bath Fields, but it may take another day or two.”

  He checked something off on his page without looking her way. Good thing, as her heart had stopped beating.

  “I need you to distract Archibald Penner today, so we can learn as much as possible about that night, at least from an outsider’s perspective. I need you saucy, not vengeful, in order to get the information we need. We can get your brother’s story later.”

  Her heart started thumping again. He didn’t believe her brother innocent yet, she could tell by the tone of his voice, but if he could get her into Cold Bath Fields to see Kenny, she could forgive him much.

  “Thank you.”

  He looked up and just watched her with those unnaturally bright eyes for a few moments before looking back to his papers. “Just distract Penner.”

  Archibald Penner answered on the second knock. He was a square man, too square, as if lines had been drawn from shoulder to hip, his body fitting itself to the mold. He had sandy blond hair and brown eyes, which while not especially sharp, held a spark.

  “Mr. Penner?” Noble asked, an easy smile on his face, his features somewhat obscured and softened by a low slung cap.

  “Yes?”

  Noble stuck out a hand. “Nathaniel Upholt, from the Times. We’d like to do a piece on your capture of the Middlesex murderer.”

  Penner’s square shoulders puffed back and two spots of color appeared in his cheeks as he vigorously shook the proffered hand. “Come in, come in.”

  Marietta followed Noble inside. Her first impression of Penner’s house was that it was…fastidious. Too many perfectly framed pieces, no spare bit
s of color or style. Geometric. She looked again. Square. Everything was squared away, just like Penner himself.

  “This is my assistant, Miss Klein. Don’t mind her. She’s more for display,” Noble whispered in a stage voice.

  Marietta didn’t know whether to be offended or amused. And what was he thinking? Nathaniel Upholt was a real journalist. Noble didn’t seem to understand the importance of that, though, as he calmly retrieved an ink pot, quill, and paper.

  Penner gave her a once-over and licked his lips. “Nice, nice.”

  In her low cut outfit she wasn’t surprised she warranted a second look from a man with a taste for shopgirls. Noble had given her cosmetics to apply, and they made her look surprisingly different. They hadn’t turned her into a raging beauty, but they had softened her harsh angles and made her look halfway alive again. Her eyes were longer and more almond-shaped, her cheeks and lips brighter, the shadows and pale features covered by the brightness.

  “Have me commendation right here.” He gave her what she assumed was a coy look. “A real upstanding member of London.”

  Marietta kept her mouth from falling open. Sure enough, there on the wall of his study was a framed piece of paper with a scrawled commendation from the head of the watch. They really had tried and convicted Kenny without so much as a peep of a trial.

  “And the reward bill. Even looks like the brigand.”

  Marietta looked at the framed handbill with its vague drawing of a man sporting a serious scruff. Nothing like Kenny’s baby cheeks. The reward proclaimed the sum of fifty pounds to anyone who apprehended the murderer.

  “Planning to use the money to do good works. You can print that.” He pointed to Noble’s poised quill.

  “What type of good works?” Marietta had to ask, despite Noble’s warning glance.

  “Oh, this and that. Make sure the lads at the pub have a round or two.”

  Noble gave her a look that promised death should she continue her line of questioning.

  “Now, where were you when you realized you had the Middlesex murderer in your grasp?” Noble asked, his tone both flattering and curious.

  Penner leaned forward. “I was at me pub. The White Stag. Went out for a bit to clear me head. Been celebrating with the lads. Anyways, I heard a sound. A cry for help. I ran around the corner, ready to help the fair lady, but I was too late.” He hung his head. “The bastard had already done her in.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He was hunched over the body! Covered in blood. His eyes met mine. Devil’s eyes! I knew immediately ’twas him. I let out a yell and tackled him.”

  Noble lifted a brow. “You tackled him? Very brave of you.”

  Penner puffed up some more. “Couldn’t let him get away. I’m quite the sportsman. Know how to put a man down. Can handle me fists.”

  Marietta smiled weakly as Penner gave her another coy glance. She looked at Penner’s form. Tall, lanky Kenneth had probably gone down like a sapling felled by a monstrous axe.

  “Did he say anything? Try to proclaim his innocence? Try to run?” Noble asked.

  “Blighter looked smacked in the gob. Like he didn’t know why I had hit him. As if murdering women were not a sin.” Penner closed a fist in disgust.

  Marietta exchanged a look with Noble and was gratified to see a thoughtful look in his eyes.

  “And then what happened?”

  “The watch guards came. We have about five fellas from the Stag that do rounds. One of the men on duty was in the pub.”

  “The man who arrested K—the brigand—was intoxicated?” she asked.

  Noble’s lips pinched together as Penner’s head swung toward her.

  “No more intoxicated than need be. Just what are you implying, miss?”

  Noble tapped the feather of his quill against his leg. His expression said, Talk yourself out of this one.

  “Well, it—it just seems such a dangerous business. You probably needed to double your efforts to keep the murderer subdued if the watchman on duty was below the weather.”

  It wasn’t her best effort at dissembling, but she watched Penner process her words and his slow nod turned more vigorous. “Yes, just doing my duty.” He leaned into her space. “I know how to take care of things.”

  His expression grew coy again. Not quite what she’d had in mind when she’d lamented her failed charms.

  “Lovely.”

  Noble gave her another warning glance, but was no longer glaring as he turned back to make a few more notes. He asked a few more questions—about Penner’s commendation, the White Stag and what had happened after the tackling, but nothing stuck out in Penner’s answers. Just a do-gooder who Marietta fervently wished had not “done good” that particular night.

  “If you need any more information, send your assistant back. I’ll make sure she gets all she needs.” He smiled. “I’m a hero.”

  Marietta forced a smile in return. She had been told she would make a decent mistress once. That her sharp tongue could be put to good use, as disgusting as that had sounded from a man three times her age and size. If she were truly desperate enough to go that route, she would choose someone other than Archibald Penner, the man who ruined Kenny.

  They walked from the house, and Marietta held her tongue until they were well away.

  “What were you thinking to impersonate Nathaniel Upholt? What is Mr. Penner going to do when he doesn’t see his write-up in the paper?”

  Noble looked unconcerned. “Oh, the article will appear in the Times.”

  “What? How?”

  “I spoke to Nathaniel this morning. He was more than happy to give me the task of interviewing Archibald Penner.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You spoke to Nathaniel Upholt?”

  “By way of courier, yes.”

  “And you did all of this before I awakened?”

  “Not all of us can afford to be layabouts.” His arms swung loosely at his sides as he walked. “You upper class types are all the same. Sleep until noon and then fritter your nights away.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I do not fritter my nights away.”

  “Really? And what do you do at night?”

  “I go to social events. Parties or galas. Sometimes a musicale. Or a charity event,” she tacked on with satisfaction.

  “Well, I must retract my frittering comment in that case.”

  “It’s not frittering. It’s surviving.” She gritted her teeth.

  “Oh, yes. Social survival, is it not?”

  “Quite.”

  “That must be very satisfying.”

  “I find you irritating, Mr. Noble.”

  “I am most distressed to hear that, of course, Miss Winters.”

  He tipped his hat to two girls passing on the sidewalk. Marietta looked back to see the girls madly whispering, eyes wide as they watched him, girlish giggles rolling out one after the other.

  “Must you do that?”

  “Walk?”

  “Encourage them.”

  “I tipped my hat. Are you against politeness?”

  “At this time, quite possibly. My irritation borders dangerously close to dislike.”

  “Yes. I can’t say I’m fond of you either.”

  The lazy grin with which that was delivered made her heart speed up two notches. She was quite irritated by that as well.

  Chapter 5

  Marietta closed her eyes in awakened bliss, then lazily opened them in the way of a contented cat. The smell of the herbs and feel of the warm steam on her face…the colors sharpened, from the tomato red hand towels on the kitchen rack to the daffodil yellow of the sunbeams peeking above the trees. Brought back into a world where color and optimism existed.

  She made a last sweep of her bowl with a piece of the rosemary and dill bread that had become her morning staple. Her belly had been full for days and she was finally beginning to fill back out. Her thoughts raced like a well-oiled phaeton instead of the sluggish, rusted hack she’d been. Her temper had improved
as well, though Noble seemed determined to push it.

  She looked up to see amused eyes watching her. She blinked and the vibrant green was once again shadowed, the gaze arrogant. A picture of masculine confidence and virility, perfection leaning atop the deeply scarred table littered with debris. One long-fingered hand rolled a perfectly formed walnut, hard and brittle, between his thumb and forefinger.

  She pulled the overlapping edge of her robe even further together, tightened like a trussed-up nun.

  His eyes fell to her robe, and she felt one layer shy of naked. “We are going to Cold Bath Fields today. You’ll need to wear servants’ garb.”

  She straightened, her hand still gripping her robe. “We are? Truly?” She felt light-headed. Kenny.

  “Yes. As soon as you are dressed.” He looked her over, his gaze taking in everything from her hair to her robe’s sash. “You shouldn’t need help changing.” His smile turned wolfish, though his eyes remained dark. “Unless you want my help, of course.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” That particular gaze did strange things to her. Her skin warmed, a low thrum beat inside her—and her teeth ground together in continued defiance of becoming one of his worshipers.

  She didn’t respond to his knowledge of her clothing. Clarisse had mentioned creating pieces along the same lines before. No doubt Noble had relieved more than one woman of her clothes in the years that he’d done this type of work. And he was right—one of the dresses was made up of three separate pieces that connected together in the front and on the side. She could handle dressing on her own. Mrs. Rosaire must have come to fix the meal and then been dismissed for the day.

  She ran upstairs. She was going to see Kenny.

  Marietta was unsurprised to discover they were walking to Cold Bath, even though it was quite a distance. For the last few days they had walked nearly everywhere. Noble seemed much happier on foot. Or perhaps he thought walking would annoy her. On the contrary, she enjoyed the exercise, but maintained a neutral expression to keep him from guessing her attitude. He seemed to always be watching her, tossing an unbroken walnut in perfect timing to his steps. In a game where he held all of the pieces, she had to get in her digs where she could.