The marchioness smiled ruefully. "We thought we'd spare you the holy terrors this afternoon. Nurse has taken them to the park instead." With concern glowing in her lovely hazel eyes, she asked, "How are you, dear?"
"I'm well," Percy said. More truthfully, she added, "But clearly not as well as you. Why, you've got a glow about you, Helena. Time away from London must have agreed with you."
Though the other lady was always fashionable, today Helena looked especially splendid in a flounced carriage dress of deep green, which complimented her glossy russet curls and porcelain skin. Pink entered the marchioness' smooth cheeks, and she exchanged a glance with her husband. A silent message passed between them; Nicholas gave her a faint nod, his large hand covering her small one.
"The vacation was lovely, but the truth is"—Helena's blush deepened—"we are expecting a new addition to our family. Next spring."
"Oh my dears, how wonderful!" Mama beamed at the couple. "A full nursery is a blessed thing indeed. The twins must be so excited."
"We haven't told Jeremiah and Thomas as yet," Nicholas said.
"You saw how they were during our travels, Anna. With the questions." Helena sighed.
Mama chuckled as she passed around the tea cups. "I don't believe I've heard the word why used so many times in a single sentence." She slid at look at Percy. "At least, not since this one was in her leading strings. She was the most inquisitive poppet."
Percy rolled her eyes.
"You do encourage the boys, my love," Nicholas reminded his marchioness. Picking up his cup, he said, "Helena claims curiosity is a hallmark of intelligence."
"They are such clever little fellows, and I should hate to dampen their natural interest in the world," Helena admitted. "Well, I shan't worry about it. When the boys want to know where babies come from,"—she aimed a sweet smile at her husband—"Harteford will handle it brilliantly, I'm sure."
Nicholas choked on his tea. "Why me?"
"Because you are such a wonderful papa. The boys believe everything you say." Helena's eyelashes lowered demurely. "Besides, I'd say the matter falls under your expertise."
A flush crept over Nicholas' jaw at his wife's teasing. Percy exchanged amused glances with her mama. In truth, marriage had done wonders for Nicholas. He'd gone from a stoic, somber sort to one who showed his emotions more freely. He smiled and laughed more often, and there was no doubting his devotion toward his marchioness and their brood.
Of course, this made Percy think of Gavin. It fueled her hope: love could change a man for the better. If Nicholas could overcome the horrors of his past, then why couldn't Gavin?
"Nick, could I speak to you? In the garden?" Percy blurted.
The laughter fled his eyes. His grey gaze grew wary, and his shoulders stiffened, as if he had been expecting this. "Of course," he said.
"Now, Percy, do not go pestering Nicholas—" Mama began.
"'Tis fine, Anna." This came from Helena, who gave Percy an encouraging nod. "We came so that Harteford might speak with Percy. And while they are busy, I was hoping you might help me with selecting colors for the new nursery ..."
Percy led the way out into the garden. The sun was out, showcasing her mother's prized rose bushes in their rainbow glory. Beside her, Nick walked silently, hands clasped behind his back.
Plucking up her courage, Percy said, "I have questions I want to ask you, Nick. I am afraid they are personal."
"After the events of two nights ago, I don't have many secrets left," he said.
"I know how you value your privacy, and I am so sorry to pry into your past." She bit her lip. "But the thing of it is, Gavin is not as wicked as he seems. He believes he was wronged, and I think if he understood the true circumstances of that night, he would relinquish his desire for revenge." And give our love a chance.
"Hunt was wronged. I left him there. Left him, when I should taken him with me from that hell hole," Nicholas said in stark tones.
Poor Nick. How long has he carried the weight of that guilt?
"You were just a boy. You could hardly fend for yourself let alone another," Percy said.
Though his gaze remained bleak, he replied, "Helena said you would think that."
"'Tis what anyone would think," Percy insisted. "The true villain was not you, but Grimes. Grimes and whoever set the house on fire. And that is the question I have been mulling over. If you didn't start the fire, who did?"
Nicholas ran a hand through his dark hair. "I have been asking myself the same question. 'Twas nearly twenty years ago, Percy, and for so long I have tried to block it all out."
"Can you recall who else was in the house that night?" she asked.
"There were a dozen boys at least. Nameless, broken wretches Grimes kept chained like slaves." Nick's jaw looked harder than granite. "Pathetic as it sounds, I doubt any of them would have set their only home aflame."
"Did Grimes have any enemies? Perhaps one of them seized the opportunity to destroy his place once and for all," Percy mused.
"Any number of men wanted Grimes dead." His brows drawn, Nicholas hesitated before saying, "When I was discussing this with Helena, I did recall one man in particular. A rival cutthroat whose feud with Grimes had caused bloodshed on both sides."
"What was his name?" Percy said eagerly.
The sun glinted off the silver at Nick's temples as he shook his head in frustration. "I never knew his name. He went by Jack Spades."
"That's not his real name?" Percy asked.
"'Twas a common moniker used in the stews to describe a one-eyed man." At her puzzled look, Nicholas explained, "In a deck of cards, the Jack of Spades has a side profile, so only one of his eyes is seen."
"So it's possible this man would want to burn down the flash house?"
Nick gave a terse nod. "Especially with Grimes' body in it. You see, Grimes was the one who'd cut out Spades' eye. In a street brawl ... I witnessed it." Swallowing, he added, "Grimes always vowed to get the other one, too."
Percy couldn't suppress a shudder.
"None of this is fit for your ears," Nicholas said suddenly, "nor will the past change the present situation. Heed me on this, Percy: Gavin Hunt is a dangerous man. You must stay away from him."
"Gavin wouldn't hurt me," she protested.
"He meant to ruin you and to destroy Paul. Simply to get to me."
"He wanted to marry me. And he protected Paul from falling deeper into debt. He can be tender and kind and ... I know he isn't a bad man," Percy pleaded. "If we can sort out together what really happened the night of the fire, perhaps he can let go—"
"Hunt has built his life on rage and a need for revenge. I can understand why; I also know that such a man will not change. The rookery and the hulks have made him who he is," Nicholas said flatly.
"But look at you! You've changed. You've risen above your origins."
"I got out earlier than Hunt did. And I had a helping hand from your father." Nicholas took her by the shoulders. "Percy, I owe my life to your family, and I will not stand by and watch you get hurt because of my past. Promise me you'll steer clear of Hunt."
Percy shook free. "First Mama, now you. Why won't anyone treat me like a grown woman capable of making her own decisions? I don't want to lie to you, Nicholas—I ... I have feelings for Gavin. Real ones. And I will not give up on him so easily."
"Then you leave me no choice. Until I've settled this business with Hunt, you will be under the watch of Mr. Kent and his men. You will go nowhere without them."
"You might as well toss me in Newgate and throw away the key!"
"Trust me, I considered a similar option," Nicholas said. "Helena dissuaded me."
"From what?" With a hand shading her eyes from the sun, Helena ambled toward them, an inquisitive smile upon her face. "Apologies for interrupting, but Lisbett's rolls are ready, and you know how she likes to serve them hot."
Percy ran toward her. "You must take my side," she pleaded. "Tell Nicholas I am not to be treated like a pri
soner."
"Oh." Helena cleared her throat. "This is about Mr. Kent's protection, I take?"
Percy gave a vigorous nod.
"The thing is, dear, the state of affairs is precarious, and Harteford simply wishes for your well-being," the marchioness said. "Besides, having Mr. Kent and his men for company is surely better than being locked up on our country estate."
"You were serious about that?" Percy turned disbelieving eyes upon Nicholas.
"It is my responsibility to keep you safe," he said, his jaw taut.
"Helena," Percy begged, "say something."
"I already did. That is why you're not being banished to Hertfordshire. I know you will hate hearing this, but Percy," Helena said apologetically, "'tis for your own good."
The Hartefords stood side by side: Nicholas large and unyielding, Helena petite and concerned. And Percy knew any further argument would prove futile. When it came to unraveling the secrets of Gavin's past, she would have no further help from this corner; she would have to venture forth on her own.
"Nick, if I agree to this, will you promise me one thing?" she asked.
"What is it?"
"Please don't hurt Gavin," she said.
"If Mr. Hunt attacks, my husband has no choice but to defend himself," Helena said, an edge to her tone. "Surely you don't want to see Harteford hurt."
"Of course not." Percy bit her lip. "But I don't want to see anyone hurt."
"I have no desire to harm Hunt. I've done him enough wrong already," Nicholas said quietly. "My hope is to find some way to make amends—if he will accept."
That was something, at least.
"Thank you." Hearing the summons of Lisbett's supper bell, Percy sighed. "We best go in before she comes after us with the rolling pin."
She headed back to the house. At the edge of the garden, she paused; the other two had not followed. They were still standing there, surrounded by roses and sunshine. As she watched, Nicholas pulled his lady close, and a moment later buried his face in her hair. Helena appeared to be murmuring to him, her arms wrapping around his waist.
Percy swallowed, feeling a pang of guilt for Nicholas' pain. Yet she knew Gavin was suffering, too, and she longed to be a comfort to him the way Helena was to Nick. So much was at stake—the lives of everyone she loved. She had to find a way to put an end to this. She had to ... but how?
THIRTY-FIVE
"Bloody Christ!" Gavin choked out curses as an icy wave towed him into wakefulness. He bolted upright, frigid water dripping down his face; his mind struggled to surface from a sea of spirits. He was sitting on a settee in his office. Two small faces peered down at him. Davey, Alfie … and the latter had an empty bucket in hand.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Gavin growled, swiping water off his face.
"We 'ad to talk to you, and there weren't no other way to get you up," Alfie said. "You've been drunker than a sailor on 'is first leave."
Snatching the towel Davey held out, Gavin mopped irritably at his face. "I said I wasn't to be disturbed." Memories returned, and his gut clenched in pain.
Stewart's ... gone. Percy, too.
"Trust me, you'll want to 'ear this. But you'll need this first." Alfie passed him a cup. "'Tis my ma's old recipe—made it e'vry mornin' for 'er 'til the day she cocked 'er toes up."
Gavin eyed the greenish sludge. What did he have to lose? He gulped it down, and the most potent hair of the dog he'd ever had blasted through him.
He coughed. "What news do you have, Alfie?"
"First off, they fished Finian O'Brien from the Thames this mornin'. Soon thereafter, 'is brother went runnin' for the hills."
Christ. The news was as sobering as Alfie's concoction. "Do they know who did it?"
Alfie gave him a wry look. "There ain't many culprits left, I reckon."
The urchin reckoned right. "Kingsley," Gavin said grimly.
Alfie looked at Davey. For some reason, the latter shook his head, his face pulling taut with fear. Alfie nudged him none too gently with an elbow. "Go on, Davey. Tell 'im what you told me." When Davey continued to stand there mutely, Alfie snarled, "Tell the man or I will."
A tremor passed over the boy's narrow shoulders. "I ... I'm sorry, Mr. Hunt," he blurted. "I han't been straight with you. And you've been good to me."
"What is it, Davey?" Gavin said.
"I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was afraid. After what 'appened to Mr. Stewart ..." As Gavin's insides twisted, the boy lowered his unruly head, his voice emerging as a whisper. "I can't 'ide any longer. 'Tis my fault. I was sent 'ere to spy on you."
A chill gripped Gavin's nape. "By who?"
Fear dilated Davey's pupils. "The gent 'as information on my brother, Mr. Hunt. 'E said 'e'd 'ave Eddie tossed in Newgate if I didn't do what 'e said."
"Who, Davey?" Gavin rose.
The boy let out a shuddery breath. "Mr. Magnus."
Magnus. With a fresh stab of grief, Gavin recalled Stewart's distrust of the old man. "What have you reported to Magnus thus far?"
Davey's face flamed, and even his oversized ears turned scarlet. "I've told 'im bits an' pieces that I overheard. I—I figured out your secret corridor, an' I've been usin' it ..."
"To eavesdrop," Gavin said brusquely. "I get it. Now tell me exactly what you've told Magnus."
"I told 'im about Mr. Kingsley's visit and 'ow you turned 'im down. And once I 'eard you and Mr. Stewart ..." The boy trailed off, his lip wobbling.
"Go on," Gavin said.
"I 'eard you and 'im talkin' 'bout your past. 'Bout the hulks and the flash house owned by some fellow named Grimes. And 'ow you planned to get your revenge on Nicholas Morgan ..."
Gavin's head throbbed as the boy continued to mumble out details. Bloody hell, Davey's ears were clearly more than just for show. The question was why Magnus wanted all this information ... and how the bastard planned to use it against Gavin.
" ... and I also told 'im about Miss Fines," Davey said, his eyes filled with misery.
Gavin pulse thudded faster. "What did you say about her?"
"Magnus asked me all sorts o' questions. And I answered 'em." Tears spilled down the boy's cheeks, and he dashed them away with his knuckles. "I didn't want to. She was nice to me, but he said my brother would swing from the gallows if I didn't tell 'im everything."
"What did you say about her?" Before he realized what he was doing, he had Davey by the arms; the boy's frail muscles trembled in his grasp.
"I told him ..." The boy shut his eyes. "I said you was in love with 'er. I said you'd do anything for 'er, only you tried to 'ide it."
The boy's words held a mirror up to Gavin's soul. The reflection dazzled him. Of course he loved her. Loved her more than anything. Her soft pleas rang in his head. We can be happy, I know we can ... Prove that you love me as much as I love you. Even with the truth of his revenge revealed, she'd been willing to give him a chance.
And like a fool, he'd run her off. He'd been so torn up that night ... so confused ... he'd hadn't been able to sort past from present. To act as he should have.
Another realization assailed Gavin. Something Fines had said about the assailants. Said you'd been keeping company with a pretty miss who could be my twin ... said her name was Persephone. Had Magnus been behind that attack? If Magnus had identified Percy as the weak link in Gavin's armor, then the old whoreson would not hesitate to strike out again—at her.
"Please sir, don't 'urt me."
Davey's whimper reached through Gavin's panic. He released his grip, shoving the boy aside. He ran for the door.
"Where are you off to, Hunt?" Alfie called. "What should I do wif Davey?"
He didn't stop to look back. "Keep him here. We'll figure out the business with his brother later. Right now, I've got to find Percy."
*****
Percy studied Mr. Kent from across the carriage. Dressed in dark, well-worn garments that hung from his rangy frame, the investigator looked a bit like a scarecrow. Yet his pale eyes had an
intelligent gleam, and his thin features an air of sadness that made her wonder about his life's journey. At any rate, she couldn't blame Mr. Kent for following her around like a terrier; he was merely doing his job.
"I am sorry to inconvenience you for naught, sir," she said.
Somber eyes studied her. She was certain she'd never seen Ambrose Kent crack a smile. "'Tis no inconvenience, Miss Fines," he said.
"You must have better things to do. Criminals to apprehend, ships to search, that sort of thing." She wrinkled her nose. "I can't imagine that the Thames River Police typically concerns itself with the errands of a middling class miss."
"The Thames River Police owes much to the patronage of the Marquess of Harteford," Kent said simply.
Ergo, Nick's orders were to be followed. Which meant she had better get used to having an escort. Sighing, she brushed her fingers against the brooch Gavin had given her; she'd pinned it next to her heart, wanting to keep him close as she fought for their future. She cast the policeman a considering glance; perhaps she could turn the situation to her advantage.
"Mr. Kent, might I solicit your advice on a matter?"
Though he looked surprised at her request, the policeman nodded.
"I'm wondering how one might locate the whereabouts of a criminal," she said.
Mr. Kent's brows climbed. "Are you indeed?"
"It's for my novel," she improvised. "One of the characters is, um, a detective. And he needs to search out a villain from the past."
"Ah," Mr. Kent said.
"Now the detective doesn't know the villain's name, and he is working from a single clue." Percy paused. "The man he is looking for has a missing eye."
"Physical characteristics are helpful in a search. How long ago was the suspect last seen?"
She hazarded a guess. "Fifteen years, perhaps twenty?"
"Hmm. Then I'd suggest ..."
"Yes?" She bent forward.
"That your character leave the job to the professionals." Mr. Kent aimed a stern look at her. "His lordship is having the matter of Jack Spades investigated, and the last thing he needs is your interference."
Her Wanton Wager Page 27