“You aren’t going to lose me. I will still be chasing you when I’m an old man, and you’ll be wishing I would leave you alone.”
“Never.” She twined her arms around his neck. “Promise you will be careful. Claudine fears the duke will come for you once he realizes she is gone.”
“Stanhurst is a coward who hurts those who cannot fight back.”
“But he brought Farrin into your life—into our lives—and now we are entangled in this mess with Claudine and the duke too.”
Xavier stiffened. “Do you believe Stanhurst has a connection to the map? What did Claudine tell you?”
Regina’s eyes flared. “I— No, she said nothing. It didn’t occur to me that Stanhurst might be involved with the map. I figured he was responsible for your disappearance. Do you think the duke is Farrin’s buyer?”
“Farrin would need a giant set of brass ballocks to defy the duke’s wishes and then use me to make a profit off him. If Stanhurst leveled charges against me to get me out of Claudine’s life, I’m sure he expected Farrin to kill me. The duke has powerful friends in Parliament. Farrin would be foolhardy to test his reach. I think it is unlikely Stanhurst has any interest in the map.”
“Maybe Claudine can tell us if he collects antiquities. She already admitted to knowing Farrin. He dined with the duke several times years ago, which is rather damning. I have no doubt Stanhurst tried to get rid of you.”
“We will speak with Claudine after dinner. The duke’s connection with Farrin and now his resurgence could be a coincidence, but I wouldn’t want to be caught unaware. I suppose I have one last gamble in me.”
He tried to grab the paper, but Regina jerked it out of his reach.
“You are not facing Farrin and his men alone. Not this time.”
“You are not accompanying me.” He grabbed for the map once more and she hopped from this lap, dancing out of his range.
“Yes, I am.” She folded the paper into a small square and shoved it into the bodice of her gown. “I will keep it safe in the meantime.”
He allowed a wicked smile to slide across his face. “You know I am not afraid to fish around for it.” Slowly, he stood and took a step toward her.
Her lips parted in surprise. “Don’t you dare come any closer.”
“Or what?” He prowled toward her as she scurried backward. “Are you going to unman me before our wedding night? I do hope you will ponder the consequences and reconsider.”
A red blush rose in her cheeks. “I would never do any such thing. It is improper to even suggest it.”
She backed into a stack of books and lost her footing. Xavier pounced, catching her around the waist and pulling her toward him before she tumbled. She clung to his jacket, a breezy laugh escaping her. “Thank you. That could have been disastrous.”
“Allow me to check you for injuries.” He skimmed his hands along the curves of her waist and brushed the undersides of her breasts.
She grumbled and tried to twist away, but as soon as he grazed her nipple, she held still. He circled the pad of his finger around the erect bud, avoiding contact until she began to whimper and lean into his touch. He rewarded her with a light pinch then twirled the nipple between his thumb and fingers.
She closed her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. Her head lolled back, exposing her neck and chest. Pushing the yellow muslin from her shoulder, he placed a kiss on her dewy skin and nibbled along her collarbone. Her pulse fluttered beneath his lips. The soft little noises coming from her were as erotic as hell, and he was losing sight of his original purpose.
The folded paper blocked full access to her other breast. He reached into her bodice, grasped the edge, and leisurely pulled the map from her gown. Tossing it over his shoulder and not caring where it landed, he grinned. “Now you are all mine, Miss Darlington. There is nothing to keep me from touching you wherever I like.”
“Regina,” one of her sisters called from the corridor. “I have been sent to retrieve you and Mr. Vistoire for dinner.”
“One moment, Sophia.” Regina jerked her gown to cover her shoulder as Sophia appeared at the threshold. Regina cleared her throat. “We will meet you at the table.”
“Um, all right. I will let Aunt Beatrice know. Take your time.” Sophia turned on her heel and left.
“Oh, law.” Regina held a hand to her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “Do you think she saw us? I won’t be able to look in her direction without dying of mortification.”
“She saw nothing.” Xavier offered Regina the reassurance she needed. Sophia might have stumbled across them, but he would have been obstructing her view. He pointed to the dust stains on Regina’s gown to distract her. “Would you like to change before dinner? I will inform everyone that you will be joining us soon.”
“Yes, thank you.” She dropped her hand to her side. “This settles it. We are spending our wedding night at the hotel. Otherwise, I’ll be wearing a sack over my head to avoid looking at anyone.”
Xavier chuckled and held his hand out to her. “A simple request that I am happy to grant. Will you allow me to escort you to the stairs?”
She placed her hand in his, and he drew her from the room. At the foot of the stairs, he kissed her cheek. “I will see you in the dining room, love.”
Holding the hem of her skirts out of her way, she practically ran up the stairs. When she disappeared from sight, he returned to the library, grabbed the map from the carpet, and tucked it inside his jacket. He was willing to take a risk with his own life, but he would never risk Regina’s. Any meeting he arranged with Farrin would be with him alone.
Thirty
When Xavier returned to the Pulteney Hotel after dining at Wedmore House, he discovered word of his move had reach Farrin. One of the blackguard’s regulars—the dead-eyed gent with pocked skin—was posted on the walk outside the hotel. He stepped into Xavier’s path as he neared, blocking the entrance.
“Come with me,” he growled and tried to seize Xavier.
He evaded the man’s clumsy grab and raised his fists. “In case you have forgotten, you did not fare well in our last scuffle.”
The brute hesitated, lowered his arm, and took a step back.
“Yes, that is much better.” Xavier didn’t relax his guard even though the man seemed to heed his warning. “Tell your boss I have what he wants. I’ll be at the coffeehouse in an hour.”
He nodded in the direction of the coffeehouse on the corner where he’d been earlier. The patrons would be engaged in lively debate even at this hour, which meant more witnesses, and the close proximity to the Pulteney Hotel provided Farrin with less opportunity to nab him along the way.
Xavier couldn’t resist taunting the man for allowing another to control him. “Your master will need to leave you on the street. Dogs are forbidden inside.”
The other man snarled then snapped his jaws before grinning like a Bedlamite.
“You are an ill-mannered mutt,” Xavier grumbled. “Go fetch your master. I will not wait if he is delayed.”
The beast ambled away.
Xavier visited his rooms to retrieve the firearm his brother-in-law had provided for him before making his way to the coffeehouse. Isaac’s lack of questions about the need for a weapon and his brief commentary on the matter had been appreciated.
“Watch yourself,” he’d said.
As planned, Xavier arrived at the coffeehouse first and chose a place at one of the less crowded tables. He sat on the bench facing the door so he could see Farrin when he arrived. Iron candleholders hung from the arched ceiling, bathing the room in a golden glow that matched the jovial mood of the men. Their voices melded together and rolled over him like the rumble of thunder. The gent next to him slapped the table, tossing his head back with braying laughter. Even in a room crammed with men, no one seemed to notice Xavier was there, which was not reassuring.
He reflected on the conversation with Claudine after dinner. She’d been able to shed a little light on the relationship between the
Duke of Stanhurst and Farrin. Xavier and Regina were certain Stanhurst had given him up to Farrin. One evening Claudine had overheard the men talking over brandy and cheroots, but hadn’t known what to make of their conversation.
Stanhurst congratulated Farrin on being named commander of the Regent’s Consul. I didn’t pay much attention to anything beyond that point. I figured they were discussing one of those ridiculous secret societies men are fond of joining.
From what Xavier had seen of Farrin’s men, they were not pampered gents who wished to play at intrigue. They were trained in inquisition and subterfuge, which pointed to the group having a much more subversive purpose.
Despite Stanhurst’s likely involvement with Xavier’s disappearance, he did not seem to be linked to the map. Claudine said she’d never known him to have an interest in antiquities, but his son was an avid collector. She reported that Lord Geoffrey had joined the duke and Farrin for dinner a few times, and while Stanhurst had retired to his study to read, Lord Geoffrey and Farrin spoke of Lord Geoffrey’s latest interests.
Did you ever hear Lord Geoffrey speak of the Black Death? Regina had asked. Claudine confirmed the men had seemed fascinated by the topic, and she had always excused herself since discussions of plagues were not pleasant after-dinner topics of conversation.
It seemed the duke and his son had been in bed with the devil, and perhaps Lord Geoffrey still was.
Farrin entered the coffeehouse alone with ten minutes to spare. He scanned the area until he locked eyes with Xavier. His expression was blank as he sauntered toward the table. Xavier took in the plainness of his gray jacket and the beaver hat pulled low on his head. Farrin didn’t want to be recognized, which provided Xavier with an advantage.
The blackguard slid onto the bench across from him, frowning when the man beside him elbowed him in the side without seeming to notice. He skipped any pleasantries. “Hand it over.”
Xavier aimed a humorless smile in his direction. “I’m afraid you have mistaken the purpose of our meeting. I am not here to kowtow to you. I have a proposition.”
“Is that so?” Farrin leaned across the table and bore his teeth. “What do you think you can do if I refuse to hear your proposition?”
Xavier pushed his jacket aside to reveal the holstered firearm. “I could shoot you now and be rid of you, or perhaps the Duke of Stanhurst will handle the matter when he arrives. He is your partner, is he not?”
Farrin blanched and threw a wild-eyed look behind him. Power rushed through Xavier’s veins. He had Farrin by the short hairs, and the other man knew it. “I don’t take your meaning.”
“I believe you understand perfectly.” Xavier drummed his fingers on the table. “I wonder, did you receive payment for doing his bidding, or were you simply expected to obey a man of superior status?”
Farrin quivered, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“I do hope it was the latter,” Xavier said. “The duke is a vengeful old crow. Can you imagine what he would do to a man who duped him and stole his money?” Xavier tsked and shook his head. “Although I fear the man who betrayed him would face a most unpleasant outcome even if larceny was not involved. Angering a wealthy and influential duke is never wise, sir. One often finds himself at the end of a hangman’s noose, although he is rarely guilty of the crime of which he has been convicted. Of course, Stanhurst isn’t the type of man who would stoop to lies to rid himself of his enemies.”
Farrin glowered as Xavier took a gulp of coffee. “Show me that you have the map, and we will negotiate.”
Xavier was deliberately slow to set down the cup and withdraw the folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. He brandished it and tucked it back into his jacket without revealing what was written on it.
“How do I know you have the real map?”
“You are looking for the Black Death, are you not?”
Farrin’s Adam’s apple lurched. He eased back on the bench. “You are mad. The Black Death, indeed. Why would anyone care about the bubonic plague?”
“Perhaps Stanhurst will have an answer.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want to know who hired you to retrieve the map.”
It could be coincidence Lord Geoffrey had been present at the lecture about the Crusades, and that he’d spoken to Farrin of his interest in the ancient group years earlier. Xavier didn’t want to erroneously believe Lord Geoffrey was responsible for placing Regina’s and his families in danger while the true culprit remained a threat.
The muscles in Farrin’s jaw bulged beneath his pale skin. “We’ve never met in person. He sends anonymous letters and money.”
Xavier didn’t believe him for a second. If Farrin revealed his buyer’s identity, he could forfeit the financial reward coming to him.
“If you wish to protect your buyer, I understand. Although you should be more concerned about protecting yourself.”
Farrin’s rust-colored eyebrow hitched up.
“The duke appears to have been delayed, but I can’t imagine it will be much longer.” Xavier narrowed his eyes. “A name for the map.”
“I will consider your proposition.” With one more glance over his shoulder, Farrin rose from the bench and strode toward the back of the establishment. Likely, he would make use of an alley exit.
Once Xavier was convinced Farrin was gone, he left the coffeehouse to return to his rooms. He moved at a quick pace, keeping watch for Farrin’s men and listening for the sound of his squeaky carriage. Xavier arrived at the hotel without encountering either, and a thorough look around the street reassured him that Farrin’s men were no longer stationed outside. But he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew Serafine was safe. He hailed a hackney coach to take him to his sister’s home.
“Wait here,” he said to the driver. “I will only be a moment.”
He walked up and down the deserted street several times without finding any signs of danger to his family. Eventually, he returned to the carriage and gave instructions to carry him to Wedmore House. He repeated the same routine until he was satisfied Regina and her family were safe.
The sky was streaked with pink when he returned to the hotel. The Pulteney was abuzz with staff as they went about their morning tasks. Upon reaching his door, he withdrew the pistol from the holster and searched his rooms. They were empty and nothing had been disturbed. When he determined all was well, he collapsed on the bed for a couple of hours sleep before he needed to ready himself for his wedding day.
Joy was placing the last pin in Regina’s hair when Sophia bounded through her chamber door.
“Mr. Vistoire has arrived,” she said. “Aunt Beatrice will keep him company while you finish your toilette.”
Regina’s heart performed a clumsy flip. “He is here now? He isn’t due for another twenty minutes.” She had hoped for more time to mentally prepare herself for their wedding night, or perhaps she hadn’t wished to think about it at all before they spoke their vows. Her trepidation was not due to a lack of enthusiasm, however. Rather, she worried that she might be too eager for his attentions, which she had recently discovered no proper young woman should ever be.
Sophia crossed the room to place her hands on Regina’s shoulders and leaned down to meet her gaze in the mirror. “He is early. I believe that is a good sign.”
Regina smiled at her sister. “It is a good sign he arrived at all, no?”
“There.” Joy stepped back to view her handiwork. “Not a single hair is out of place.”
“Everything looks perfect from this angle,” Sophia agreed. She moved to stand beside the looking glass, ran her gaze over Regina, and applauded. “Brilliant work!”
Joy beamed. “Will there be anything else, miss?”
“No, thank you, Joy,” Regina said. “You’ve truly outdone yourself today.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey before heading for the door. Once Regina and her sister were alone, Sophia whistled. “You look marvelous, Gi. Mother’s diamonds suit you
well.”
Regina turned her head from side to side to admire the stunning teardrop jewels crowning her head. “This headpiece was a gift from Papa during their courtship. Mama’s parents wouldn’t allow her to accept it, because they thought it was too extravagant. He saved the gift and presented it to her on their wedding night.”
“How romantic.” Sophia sighed. “And you’ve chosen the perfect gown.”
Regina felt truly beautiful in the lavender chiffon. She moved to the looking glass so she could get a full view of her gown and hair together.
Sophia picked up the thin book lying on Regina’s side table. “A Proper Lady’s Guide to Marriage: an Essential Handbook for New Brides,” she read aloud. “Please don’t tell me you read this rubbish.”
They had found it earlier in the week when they were searching Uncle Charles’s library.
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Regina said. “I thought I might learn something of value to help prepare me for tonight.”
“It is written by a man.” Sophia brandished the brown leather bound book. “I assume the thin volume is reflective of the author’s knowledge on the subject.”
Regina chuckled, appreciating her sister’s unusual candidness. “He could have stopped writing after the first paragraph. I should have stopped reading it.”
Sophia sank on the edge of the bed and flipped the book open to the first page. She sat in silence for a moment then wrinkled her nose. “He makes the marriage bed sound as appealing as snuggling with bedbugs. Consummation is a duty to be endured? The marriage bed is for begetting an heir, and no enjoyment is to be had by either party?” She slammed the book closed and tossed it over her shoulder. “Well, you know what they say, those who fail to please are always the first to criticize those who succeed.”
Regina laughed. “No one says that.”
Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Uncle Charlie's Angels Book 1) Page 23