‘Unless it is an act, a front to convince others he is of some standing. We must consider that,’ Ashe interjected.
‘Not this time.’ Riordan had warmed to the subject. ‘Everything was perfect about him. Men who posture towards greatness don’t carry off the nuances. They forget about things like the fingernails and the shoes.’
‘Like Abernathy,’ Alixe offered softly. It was a name not spoken among the group; the man who had pretended to be a gentleman to lure Alixe into marriage.
‘It seems so clear now that he was never what he pretended to be, but we were all swept up in the obvious: his house, his wardrobe on the whole—we didn’t look at the little things about him and we should have.’
Riordan nodded. ‘Wildeham is not a fraud when it comes to creature comforts.
He knows what he likes.’
‘Then we can rule out inns and places on the outskirts.’ Genevra made a strike on her list. ‘That leaves town houses, rented rooms and hotels.’
‘Not rented rooms or a rented town house,’ Merrick suggested. ‘He didn’t have time to make those arrangements and it would have been impossible to find a town house on short notice at this time of the Season.’
‘That leaves hotels.’
‘Berner’s or Grillon’s comes to mind as the most obvious watering holes for his type,’ Merrick offered. ‘Alixe and I have stayed at Berner’s the few times we’ve come up.’
Riordan nodded. He could trust their judgement. Merrick and Alixe were perfectly happy on their manor in Hever with no desire to keep a place in town.
They would know about hotels.
‘We can go tonight.’ Ashe stood. ‘Ladies, I would ask you to wait. When we come back there will be plenty to do, children to comfort and all that, unless you want to return home and see to your own children?’ He shot a quizzical glance at Genevra. ‘We brought the baby with us and it’s been a few hours,’ he offered by way of explanation.
‘Of course,’ Riordan said vaguely, not wanting to embarrass Genevra with a direct comment. In his opinion it was rather liberated of her to want to nurse her own child.
‘I’ll be all right,’ Genevra assured Ashe. ‘It won’t take you long. We’ll wait.’
Riordan smothered a smile at Genevra’s veiled warning. They were to come straight home and be gone not a moment longer than necessary to retrieve Riordan’s wards and governess.
Berner’s drew a blank. No one under the name Acton Humphries was listed in the guest register. Riordan knew a moment’s disappointment at the thought Wildeham could have used an assumed name. Not likely. People would need to communicate with him. An alias would complicate that. Merrick clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly. ‘There are other hotels. We’ll find him.’
*
Grillon’s was busy. At half past eight, the lobby bustled with well-dressed people going out to evening entertainments. Riordan waited impatiently for help at the front desk. ‘I’m looking for a Baron Wildeham,’ he asked a bespectacled clerk who looked frazzled by the night’s activity.
‘May I enquire why? We’re not in the policy of giving out information about guests.’ It was meant to be a discouraging statement but Riordan saw only the hope. Wildeham was here!
‘I have business with him,’ Riordan answered smoothly.
‘At half past eight?’ the clerk queried in disbelief.
Riordan felt a hand come around his shoulder, a sparkling guinea flashing on the counter. ‘It’s a gentleman’s business.’ Ashe’s soft tones carried a hint of menace.
‘Yes, sir.’ The clerk swallowed hard and pocketed the guinea, the privacy of Baron Wildeham’s room failing to weigh in as much as the sum of three weeks’
wages. The clerk consulted a ledger. ‘Here he is—he’s in the suite on the third floor, room three-twenty-nine.’
A certain manly exhilaration raced in Riordan’s veins as they took the stairs.
‘Remember, Wildeham is mine,’ he told Ashe and Merrick. ‘Remember, too, if there’s any danger you’re to keep yourselves safe. Your wives would never forgive me.’
The last was said jokingly, but underneath it, Riordan wasn’t sure what they might encounter in the hotel room. If Wildeham had hired thugs who shot at servants simply to make a point, and if he was willing to force a woman into marriage, there was no telling how far he’d go to protect his interests. The only surety was that Wildeham would not go quietly.
They reached the door of the suite. Riordan raised his walking stick to knock.
‘Who’s there?’ came the gruff masculine reply.
‘Room service,’ Riordan answered.
The door opened ever so slightly. A man’s face peered out. ‘What’s this about?
We didn’t order anything from the kitchens.’ He tried to shut the door, but Riordan’s boot was already there.
Riordan grinned. ‘I know.’ Then he pushed his way in, the man at the door no match for an earl in love.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Ah, more guests for my party, how good of you to come.’ A man strode forwards, reeking of false affability as if three well-dressed men forced their way into his hotel suite with nightly regularity. Riordan took in the sight of him, focused not so much on the clothing but on his physical appearance. Ah, there it was: the tell-tale signs of dissipation and perhaps something more that looked an awful lot like smug satisfaction. His next thought was: I am too late. Riordan clenched his hand around his walking stick, fighting the urge to unsheathe the sword inside and skewer the devil. He might have done just that if Vale hadn’t chosen that moment to rise from his corner and make his presence known.
‘My cousin has come. I thought he might. Too bad we didn’t wager, Wildeham.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Riordan growled. He’d not expected Vale and Wildeham to be as thick as this.
‘Celebrating, same as Wildeham.’
‘I’m to be married tomorrow,’ Wildeham said expansively, not quite hiding the edge in his voice. ‘You’re just in time. I’d have been married tonight, I’m that eager, except no one will perform a ceremony until nine in the morning. Deuced silly law if you ask me.’
That was where the supposed affability ended. He stopped in front of them, he and his men arranged themselves defensively, making a wall. The man who’d answered the door stood at their backs, blocking any escape, not that Riordan was inclined to take it. He’d not come here to escape. He’d come to fight. He gave the suite a quick quarter with his eyes, searching for Maura and the children, but there was no sign of them.
‘Now, who might these gentlemen be?’
‘We’re friends of the bride,’ Ashe ground out, he and Merrick stepping up to flank Riordan.
‘Ah, the exquisite Maura.’ Wildeham sighed. ‘She seems to collect “friends”
wherever she goes.’ Wildeham narrowed his pale eyes. ‘Perhaps you’d like to see her? Digby, bring her out.’
Digby returned shortly, a hard hand on Maura’s arm. Maura was frozen, a walking mannequin. Her hair was dressed formally with a sparkling tiara on top of her red-gold curls. She wore a gown of deep silver, full of flash and sequins almost gaudy in detail.
‘Maura!’ At the sight of her, Riordan took an involuntary step forwards and met with Wildeham’s hand on his chest. ‘What have you done to her?’
‘I’ve done nothing.’ Wildeham tossed a look at Maura. ‘You told me he would come, my dear. It seems you’ve picked quite the gallant.’
‘Where are the children?’
‘Ask Maura.’ Wildeham smiled evilly. ‘Maura, dear, tell the earl the good news.’
Maura’s eyes moved, looking at him directly for the first time. She betrayed no other emotion. ‘I’ve sent them home. They should be there by now. I’ve given my consent and they’re safe now.’
So that was the bargain Wildeham had forced while she’d waited for him. It was hard to breathe. He felt as he had the one time he’d fought with Elliott.
Elliott had hit h
im in the stomach so hard he’d lost his breath. In a way, he was too late. The children might be home now, but that didn’t change any of Vale’s charges. That particular issue would still be awaiting resolution depending on the outcome of this evening’s attempt to rescue Maura.
‘I have papers, Chatham,’ Wildeham gloated, picking up a sheaf of documents from a nearby table and flourishing them. ‘With her name on them, I might add.’
A thousand thoughts pulsed through Riordan’s mind. Maura must have been frightened beyond words to have signed those papers. She must have thought there’d been no hope, no other way. Worst of all, she must have thought he wouldn’t come, wouldn’t save her. The last nearly destroyed him. How could she not know?
Riordan drew a deep breath, determined to hide the anguish ripping through him. He rubbed his hands together in a wiping motion in a common gesture to indicate all was finished. ‘Well, that’s settled, then. I assume your debt with Harding has been cleared?’
Wildeham nodded and Riordan thought, Good, one less player in the game.
Now this could be between the two of them, no third parties. The children were on their way home to Alixe and Genevra’s arms. He would settle later with Vale.
First things first—he had to get Maura back. He eyed Wildeham with a sly gaze. ‘I find myself reluctant to let her go. Since you won her in a wager, perhaps you’d consent to another wager.’
He saw interest flicker to life in the depths of Wildeham’s pale eyes, eyes that had been hardened by dissipation and fast living. This man was a gambler to his core. The only thrill that remained to him was the next dare and the next and they had to be extraordinary in order to appeal. The bigger the risk, the more intense the excitement. For a man of Wildeham’s ilk, there was not much left unexplored in his world of depravity.
Wildeham turned an assessing gaze on Maura, a cruel grin taking his face.
‘Would you like that, my dear? Would you like me to play for you? Perhaps it would convince you of your worth.’ A little flame of hatred kindled in Maura’s eyes, the first signs of true life Riordan had seen.
‘I think I will play,’ Wildeham said. ‘But I’ll need something in return. It’s not fair if I’m the only one putting anything up.’ He gave a dramatic pause and thought. ‘I have it—if you lose, you come to the wedding tomorrow and sign as one of our witnesses.’
There would be no contesting the legality of the marriage then. How could he contest a proceeding he’d witnessed and approved? Well, he’d worry about that if he lost. ‘Cards or dice?’ Riordan said calmly.
‘I’m a card man.’ Wildeham opened a drawer on a side table and pulled out a pack. ‘Brand new.’ He grinned, certain he had Riordan on the run. Good. Be cocky. It would be that much easier to force a mistake.
Riordan merely nodded. ‘Let’s play.’ It took a man of vice to recognise a fellow spirit. It was time Wildeham was beaten at his own game.
*
They were going to play for her! Of all the horrible things that had happened today, this was arguably the worst. It promised hope after she’d thought there was none, after she’d given up any ounce of hope for herself and yet, if Riordan won, she had no idea what that might mean. Had he come solely for the children?
Out of a sense of duty? Her heart had leapt at the sight of him, pressing into the room, challenging Wildeham. But his eyes had gone cold at the sight of her. Of course, the gown was hideous, something a demi-monde might wear, an imitation of something a lady would put on. And then he’d bet Wildeham. Did she mean so little to him that he could afford to lose her?
Yet she wanted him to win so very much. Whatever disappointments lay at Riordan’s hand, they would be far better than life with Wildeham. Just two hours in his presence had assured her that her judgement was correct on that account.
Once she’d made up her mind, Wildeham had been willing to bargain. If she signed her name on the betrothal documents and put on the hideous dress—after all, he’d so longed to see her in it—he would send the children home post-haste. If not, he’d go ahead and sell them to a certain establishment with a certain reputation. His men and carriage were waiting. There had been no time to think.
No time to question whether or not Wildeham would keep his end of the bargain.
She’d signed and then she’d kissed the children goodbye, fighting her own tears as they were bundled into a carriage and given Chatham’s address.
Now Riordan was here and blithely sitting down to cards with the devil’s own spawn, her future once more in someone else’s hands instead of her own.
Riordan’s friends stood vigilant on either side of him, sharp eyes no doubt watching for cheating.
She didn’t want to be drawn to the game. She wanted to watch dispassionately at a distance. But she couldn’t. Riordan drew people like flames drew moths. He could no more be in a room than she could ignore his presence. Maura moved quietly towards the table. There was no question of escape. Digby stood at the door. Riordan might have pushed his way in, but no one was going to push their way out.
They’d settled on the particulars—the best of seven hands of écarté. Riordan was shuffling the deck, removing the two through six of all suits. He handed it to Wildeham to deal out the five cards. Wildeham flipped up the eleventh card to determine the trump suit. Seven of hearts. Riordan made his first proposal. He wanted to exchange two cards. As the dealer, Wildeham could refuse, but the refusal risked costing him a point. Wildeham opted to play it safe and accepted, sliding two cards towards Riordan. Riordan discarded his two other cards and added the new ones to his hand.
Maura held her breath, wondering if he’d make another proposal. The object of the game was to put together the best hand possible to take as many of the five tricks as one could. The possessor of the elder hand, the player not dealing, could make as many proposals as he liked to garner the cards he wanted. The dealer could refuse at any time.
Then they would battle for tricks, highest card taking all. The game itself was fairly straightforward: one point given at the end of each hand to the person winning the most tricks. There were bonus points, too, that made it more of a gamble. It wasn’t enough to win the tricks. Players could earn a point for having the king of trump, for taking all five tricks or for defeating a vulnerable player.
‘Will you propose again?’ Wildeham asked, watching Riordan sort his hand and growing impatient.
‘No.’ Riordan smiled. ‘Don’t need to.’ Over his shoulder, Maura hazarded a peek into his hand to see if his bravado was earned and then thought better of it. If she was going to look, she’d better be sure her features were schooled. It would do no good to give anything away.
‘Maura, pet, you can come look in my hand, if you’d like,’ Wildeham crooned.
‘You’ll bring me good luck, I’m sure.’
She saw Wildeham’s intent immediately in the tightened grip of Riordan’s hand about his cards. Riordan’s deductive skills were beginning to wear off on her.
Wildeham’s hopes were obvious. He would use his claim on her to distract Riordan. She could already feel his vile hands on her. He would not hesitate to kiss or fondle in the hopes Riordan would play rashly or stupidly. ‘I’ll just sit here,’
she replied sweetly, strategically taking a chair between the two gentlemen.
The first hand, Riordan scored the point, taking three of the five tricks. The second hand, Riordan won the advantage in tricks again, but Wildeham had the devil’s own luck, declaring the king of trump for a point, making the score two to one. That was a turning point for Wildeham. The third hand, Riordan elected not to propose an exchange, feeling that his hand was strong enough on his own. The choice made him vulnerable. He started off well enough, taking the first two tricks, but Wildeham held club trumps and took the next three, winning not only a point for the hand but a bonus for defeating a vulnerable player. Wildeham led three to two. For the first time in the game, Riordan was behind.
There were four hands
left. The playing shifted, becoming more intense. Both Wildeham and Riordan opted to attempt more exchanges when they had the elder hand, the better to ‘see’ the deck, to have a sense of what might be in their opponent’s hand. In the fourth hand, Riordan lost again. In the fifth, Wildeham, acting as dealer, denied Riordan his first proposal, making himself vulnerable. It was a sign of confidence in his own hand to meet anything Riordan might throw down. The hand was played slowly and with great intent. Maura’s knuckles were white where they lay fisted in her lap beneath the table. Her nerves would only serve to fuel Wildeham and to worry Riordan. She breathed more easily after Riordan claimed three, the simple majority to win the hand. She nearly cheered when he went on to win all five tricks, claiming the vole and an extra point for the bonus, along with another extra point for defeating a vulnerable player.
Wildeham swore colourfully and looked daggers across the table.
Five points to four in Riordan’s favour as the sixth hand was dealt. Riordan was now dealer. He flipped the eleventh card trump. Clubs. Wildeham let out a whoop, arms raised. He tossed the king of clubs on the table. ‘I’ve got the king of trumps this time, gentlemen. One point towards me.’
Vale congratulated him. His other men gathered around in excitement. The game was tied. He leered at Maura. ‘Remember this night the rest of your life, my dear. It’s the night two men of vice gambled for your virtue.’ He winked at Vale.
‘Such as it is. I do know when a pretty girl has been plucked, not that I’m picky when the girl is as pretty as you, darling.’ Maura’s cheeks burned with mortification. She kept her eyes down, not daring to look at Riordan. He won the hand.
‘This is it.’ Wildeham dealt the cards and sorted his hand with the assumed arrogance of a victor despite Riordan being in the lead. They both knew there were too many other ways for Wildeham to score. With only a deficit of one point, the hand was not a foregone conclusion.
How to Sin Successfully (Rakes Beyond Redemption) Page 20