Would it be so very awful? she wondered unhappily. So very awful to have him care for her, to allow him to set her up in a fine house, and to have him buy her lovely clothes, but most of all, to have him in her arms and bed? Would it really be a fate worse than death? Not if he cared for me and it wasn’t just my body that he wanted, she acknowledged honestly. If he cared deeply for me, I would be able to deny him nothing. Angry at the train of her thoughts, she grimaced at her own silliness, and some of her embarrassment fading, she sat up and looked morosely about her tiny room. Life had been so simple less than a week ago. Well, not exactly simple, she confessed fairly as she recalled her fears of the one-eyed man. But at least it had been familiar! At least then she had recognized her enemy, but now ...
Now I am my own enemy, she thought dryly. My own enemy and so much like my mother that it frightens me. Gloomily she considered the possibility that all-unknowingly she had somehow prompted the ugly incident in the dining room. Why else had an utter stranger come bang-up to her and suggested she might like to be his mistress?
For a long time she thought about that incident, and the more she thought about it, the more positive she became that the man’s offer had not been prompted by anything that she had done. He had been looking for me, she concluded suddenly. Looking for me. And the offer, if I had accepted it, was merely an excuse to get me out of the house! He had even, she remembered uneasily, offered to buy me from Royce! A chill splintered down her spine. The one-eyed man! He had to have been behind it!
Royce had already come to the same conclusions, but at the moment he was too busy to speculate about the schemes of the one-eyed man, cursing himself for being an unprincipled rutting boar, unfit and untrustworthy to associate with any women other than whores and light-skirts. He was appalled by what had nearly happened between Pip and himself in the library, and infuriated by the knowledge that, given the same circumstances, the same thing could happen again. Would happen again! And the next time, he thought grimly, I damn well might not be able to stop!
What the hell was there about young Pip that made him nearly abandon a lifetime of principle? He was supposed to be protecting her, not seducing her, he reminded himself furiously. And if that was not reason enough, he would do well to remember that, temporarily at least, she was his servant, and he never dallied with servants—his own or anybody else’s! His actions with Pip had left him genuinely horrified. Horrified, but unfortunately, not repentant. Even while vilifying and cursing himself, he still could not get the sweet taste of Pip’s mouth out of his mind, nor the exciting softness of her skin, the tantalizing silkiness of the firmly rounded flesh of her buttocks. As he stood there in the library, memory washed warmly over him and he could still almost feel her yielding body in his arms, still feel her moving sensually against him, still feel the exquisitely soft texture of her mouth and tongue as he had kissed her....
Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he frowned blackly as he gazed unseeingly down the long room. And what disgusted him most of all was the unpleasant knowledge that what had happened would be repeated.... Having held her in his arms once, he knew himself too well to delude himself in thinking that he would now, with righteous morality, put her from him. He wouldn’t, and he knew it. He wanted Pip, and he regretfully, but bluntly, admitted that he was going to have her....
CHAPTER 11
Grimly refusing to dwell further on the vexing problem of Pip, Royce deliberately switched his thoughts to something that had been niggling at the back of his mind. It seemed odd that there had been no further word from the Fowler brothers, and while he wasn’t precisely worried, he wondered if all was well with them. Belatedly he realized that he should have made arrangements for them to keep in touch with him—even if only in a dire emergency. Royce’s mouth thinned. Pip was not only turning his world upside-down, she was also, it appeared, addling his wits!
Wanting some distance between himself and Pip, and deciding he might make some very discreet inquiries about the Fowlers, with no certain destination in mind, after speaking briefly with Chambers, he left the house.
Since strolling alone through London after dark was a dangerous proposition at best, Royce had not gone very far before he realized his own folly. Irritated by this further proof that he was not thinking very clearly these days, he stopped abruptly a few feet from the murky light shed by one of the gas-fueled streetlights. On the point of turning on his heel and returning home, he froze as he heard a furtive sound issuing from the shadowy darkness of a narrow alley to his left. Certain it was a thief looking to rob him, he cursed himself again and one hand tightened on the fashionable walking stick he was carrying as he carefully reached for the small pistol he automatically always kept with him. Hoping he could avoid bloodshed, he called sharply, “Who’s there?”
“Damn your bloody eyes! Shut your bone box!” Jacko hissed from his concealment in the alley. “Do you want to let everyone know that we’re here?”
Royce’s relief was immediate. A crooked smile on his mouth, he kept his eyes on the dim gleam of the streetlight and murmured, “You may choose the most unorthodox methods of meeting, but allow me to say that I am most gratified to hear from you. You are all right? Both of you?”
Ben chuckled softly. “Oh, aye, guvnor—except for a few cuts and bruises, we’re right and tight.” He paused, then added with a hint of censure, “You’re a right hard one to catch alone. We’ve been watching the house these past five days hoping that sooner or later you would venture out alone and we could talk. Couldn’t believe our luck when you walked out the door tonight.”
Royce knew he could not dally here long without arousing suspicion. “Is there some place that we can meet safely?” he asked quietly.
“Now, I was hoping that you’d come up with some place,” Jacko replied frankly.
Still betraying no clue of the conversation that was taking place, idly tapping his walking stick on the tip of his boots, Royce frowned for a second, then an idea came to him. “I have a mistress kept in a snug little house three doors down from Serjeants’ Inn on Chancery Lane. We could repair there.”
“The mort won’t cackle?” Ben asked cautiously, in the tenseness of the moment reverting to the language of thieves.
“Er, if you mean she won’t tell, I think I can make certain of that,” Royce answered lightly. He glanced up and down the street before adding, “And I think we should bring this conversation to an end. I shall meet you there in an hour. That will give me time enough to see that Della is either safely out of the house or knows to keep her mouth shut.”
“An hour,” Jacko echoed before he and Ben disappeared.
Royce instantly returned home, and ordering his rig brought around, a few minutes later was driving smartly toward the house of his mistress. He had no qualms about using Della’s house to meet with Jacko and Ben—after all, he was paying for it, and Della had struck him as a singularly uncurious and complacent young woman. As long as she was comfortable, she betrayed little interest beyond what affected her. And if he was being watched, it would not arouse suspicion if he chose to call upon his mistress, no matter what the hour.
He quickly mounted the two steps that led to the house. Irritated and just a bit resentful about the way one small woman named Pip was wreaking havoc in his well-ordered life, Royce entered the house. He was not surprised to find Della home—after all, she was being kept for his enjoyment!
Though the hour was not late, Della had retired to her bed, and after leaving his hat and walking stick with the maid, Royce mounted the stairs to her room. Entering the expensively furnished bedchamber, Royce found Della lying on the wide bed, several plumb black satin pillows arranged around her shoulders, as she idly leafed through a book of various fashion plates. She was clothed, barely, in a diaphanous negligee of emerald green silk, which gave enticing glimpses of her generous curves. Della was undoubtedly a beautiful young woman, and her heavy, dark brown hair emphasized her almost handsome features and delicate, creamy com
plexion.
Delighted to see him, her big, brown eyes full of sensual anticipation as he approached the bed, she flung herself at him, sinuously winding her arms about him, and offered her full mouth to his kiss. Not inclined to resist such a blatant invitation, and perhaps trying to prove to himself that he was not as enamored of Pip as he feared, Royce kissed Della, albeit with far less passion than she had expected. A tiny frown pleating her forehead, she ran her fingers through his tawny hair and asked huskily, “I’ve displeased you?”
Feeling distinctly uneasy, Royce put her slightly from him and murmured, “No, my dear, of course not. I have other things on my mind tonight.”
Raising one perfectly sculpted brow, Della asked blankly, “Then why are you here?”
Royce grinned. One of the things that had struck him about Della almost from the moment he had met her was that she seldom minced words—and that she knew precisely her place in his life. There was nothing coy or guileful about Della. She was an expensive high-flyer and she made no bones about it. As long as her current protector kept her in a style she enjoyed and did not mistreat her, she was willing to give him both her body and, oddly enough, her loyalty, and it had been that much-touted last trait which had drawn Royce to her as much as her voluptuous body.
Somewhat ruefully Royce admitted, “Actually, I didn’t come to see you... . I merely wanted a private place to meet with a few friends.”
Losing interest immediately, she said, “Oh!” and sank back against her satin pillows. Picking up the fashion plates, she murmured, “You can tell Annie to serve you refreshments in the front salon.”
Bending over, Royce dropped an affectionate kiss on her cheek. “I think I shall have to buy you that diamond necklace, after all.”
She smiled with pleasure at the promised treat and, after blowing him a kiss, became absorbed once more in the pictures of the latest gowns.
Whistling softly, Royce walked back downstairs, and entering the salon, he rang for the chambermaid, Annie. Upon Annie’s prompt arrival, he told her to bring in a bottle of brandy and some glasses and that she could then retire for the night. For a moment he frowned. Annie might be a problem, but then he remembered that Annie had come with Della, and he didn’t believe that Della would keep a tongue-flapping maid. Still, he was just as happy that Annie’s quarters were in the attics on the fourth floor and that it was unlikely she would notice anything amiss. Reasonably satisfied that everything was going well, he settled back in a green velvet chair to await the arrival of Ben and Jacko.
He hadn’t long to wait. Annie had not been gone more than ten minutes when the door to the parlor cautiously opened and Ben and Jacko slid silently into the room. “No one saw us,” Jacko commented as he took a seat at one end of a long, damask-covered sofa which was placed directly across from Royce. “We came in the back way, through the alley.”
Selecting a channel-backed chair that matched the one in which Royce sat, Ben advised, “I’d get a different lock for the back entrance—it didn’t take me two seconds to have it open.”
Almost idly Royce noticed that both young men had chosen to sit in the shadows, far from the flickering light of the single candelabra that had been lit earlier, but refraining from bringing attention to their actions, he replied lightly, “Thank you.” A faint grin curving his chiseled mouth, he added, “You have both been so generous in showing me the error of my ways. It wasn’t until you Fowlers came into my life that I became aware that a whole new world was unexplored by me.”
Both young men laughed. “And I’ll wager you rue the day you ever met us!” Jacko retorted wryly.
“Er, not yet,” Royce admitted dryly. “Although there are some days that I wonder if my wits have gone wandering!”
Rising to his feet, Royce walked over to the mahogany table where Annie had left the tray of refreshments. Without asking, he poured three very large brandies and was on the point of handing one to Ben when he got a fairly clear look at Ben’s face.
“Good Lord!” Royce exclaimed in shocked accents. “What the hell happened to you?”
Suddenly suspicious, he strode over and grabbed the candelabra, holding it high so that the light fell fully upon the two men’s faces. And seeing the damage that had been done to them, he caught his breath sharply.
Wearily Jacko said, “Put that bloody thing down! We’ll tell you what happened.”
His mouth compressed angrily, Royce replied tartly, “I can see for myself what happened!” But he did as Jacko requested, and without another word, finished serving the brandies he had poured.
It was obvious that someone had administered a severe and vicious beating to both young men sometime in the past few days, and Royce had a very good idea who it had been. Seated once more, he demanded harshly, “Was it the one-eyed man? Didn’t he believe you?”
Ben gave an ugly laugh. “Oh, he believed us, all right. What you see is the result of the lesson he gave us not to fail the next time he sends us to do a task for him!”
Royce winced. He didn’t need to look at their battered faces again to remember the sight of their swollen, bruised features—they were indelibly printed on his brain. Feeling responsible for what had happened to them, Royce was aware of a huge, billowing rage building within him, and unconsciously his hands curled into fists. Just five minutes, he thought savagely, five minutes alone with this one-eyed man, and I’ll teach him not to vent his petty rage on those weaker than himself!
Knowing any offer of sympathy would be rejected out of hand, Royce took a sip of his brandy. Selecting his words with care, he asked, “Is it safe for you to remain in association with him?”
Again Ben laughed bitterly. “If you will remember, we don’t have much choice!”
“Very well,” Royce said quietly, putting down his snifter of brandy. “Let me tell you what I have been busy about since we last talked.”
Briefly Royce told them everything that had transpired since their first meeting, ending with this evening’s curious event involving Stafford. The two Fowlers had remained silent until Royce finished speaking; then, after taking a long pull on his brandy, Jacko said, “I had wondered what he planned when he told us that he would take care of it himself.” A wolfish grin suddenly slashed Jacko’s cheeks. “Seems the one-eyed man was no more successful than we were!”
Royce frowned slightly. “You’re certain that what happened wasn’t just a coincidence?”
His blue eyes very bright and direct, Ben entered the conversation; looking at Royce, he asked dryly, “You don’t think it was the one-eyed man?”
“Oh, I’m positive it was; I just don’t want us starting at every shadow and becoming convinced that anything out of the ordinary is always caused by the one-eyed man. And by the way,” he asked wryly, “does our nemesis have a name? Other than dimber-damber or the one-eyed man?”
“None that I ever heard,” Jacko replied. “Even Mum never referred to him as anything but the dimber-damber or the one-eyed man. Why?”
“I was just hoping that perhaps we might gain a clue to his identity if he had a name—even a first name might give us a clue.”
“You could ask Pip,” Ben interjected. “She might have heard something that we didn’t. She was at home more than we were and with Mum a lot more. Mum might have let something drop.”
From all that he had heard of Jane Fowler, Royce doubted that she would have ever just “let something drop.” In his opinion, she seemed to have been a very closemouthed, secretive woman. She had been, on the surface, very open about her proclivities and life-style, yet he found it particularly revealing that none of her children had any clue as to their parentage, nor, when questioned, did they have any real knowledge of her life before she came to London. While she had told them the bare facts of her upbringing, she had neglected to tell them precisely where she had been born, neither the county nor the village ... or the name of her father. The whole story might have been the most outrageous fiction, all of it a lie. Except that at some t
ime in her life, Royce concluded thoughtfully, she had learned the ways of the wellborn—her children’s speech and manners were proof of that! Perhaps she had merely mimicked her lovers? It was a possibility. Switching his mind back to the matter at hand, Royce nodded his head slightly and said, “I will talk to Pip, but I doubt that she will have anything to add to what you have already told me about the man.”
“So what do we do now?” Jacko asked.
Royce hesitated, then slowly inquired, “How dangerous would it be for you to attempt to follow the one-eyed man? To find out where he goes when he is not busy with your, er, knot. He has to have some other life beyond what you know of him. And if we could discover what that life is, we would be in a better position to strike back at him, or at least protect ourselves from him.”
Both young men seemed startled at the idea of taking aggressive action against the dimber-damber, Jacko’s blue eyes widening in shock and Ben’s young face going blank with astonishment. All of their lives the one-eyed man had been the power that controlled their every waking hour, and even while they had considered ways to escape from that power and had defied him about whisking Pip out of Royce’s house, the idea of taking direct action against him had never occurred to them.
“You mean spy on him?” Jacko demanded incredulously.
“Why not?” Royce returned imperturbably. “Unless we learn more about him, we are fighting with a blindfold over our eyes. He can strike at will, and at present, we have no way of either anticipating his moves or even of taking preventive action.” Leaning forward in his chair, his topaz eyes intent, he added vehemently, “Don’t you see! Knowing nothing about him, we are as vulnerable as a staked lamb to a tiger! We are forced into the position of taking evasive action only after he attacks, and we are forced to simply wait for him to strike at us, whenever he chooses—as it is now, he has all the cards.” Royce grimaced. “Not all of them—our only ace is the fact that he still believes that you two are loyal to him.”
Whisper To Me of Love Page 18