Years ago, before reaching his majority, Stephen would have been amused by Flavion’s unflagging appetite for different women. On this day, however, he was not.
“How long did you stay at the ball?” he asked instead of offering his opinion on his cousin’s infidelity. And God, how pompous and self-righteous his thoughts sounded, even to himself, for a man who had spent the night in a married woman’s bed.
“At the ball?” Flavion roused himself enough to toggle his eyebrows at Stephen. “Enough to get the chit to agree to leave with me. The rest of the evening was spent outside in my carriage enjoying said long legs and perfect hourglass shape… hey, hey.” Except then, Flavion frowned. “And then, just after Alice climbed out, a couple of bruisers climbed in and hijacked my carriage. Not well done at all. I had barely gotten my breeches back on.”
“Had you ever seen them before?” Stephen asked, thinking that if Flavion had spent much time with the Findlays before his marriage, he might be able to recognize some of the industrial giant’s hired thugs.
“Lord, no,” Flavion answered with his eyes closed and head tipped back again. Stephen reached for a nearby pitcher the footmen had left, stood up, and tipped it over Flavion’s head. It was slightly satisfying that the water in this pitcher had not been heated.
Flavion jumped forward, sputtering and gasping. “Hell, Stephen. Tell a man before doing something like that.” Reaching out with his good hand, eyes pinched shut, he ordered, “Hand me my soap, will you?”
Stephen did so, along with another washcloth.
“Where did these thugs take you?”
Flavion did not answer. Instead, he was examining his injured hand with a bewildered look in his eyes. “Do you think it’s broken, Stephen? Where is that blasted doctor?”
Stephen peered closer at the swollen appendage. “It doesn’t appear to be, but we’ll let the doctor decide. Did they twist it behind you?” Stephen had, before his more successful days, been on the receiving end of similar attacks more than once. He hadn’t always had the blunt to frequent the finer establishments while traveling.
“Yeah, I think that’s what they did. Damn near killed me and then left me lying in the street. I’m lucky nobody else came along to finish the job.”
“So robbery was not their intention. It was punishment,” Stephen said baldly.
Flavion let out a deep sigh and then looked over at Stephen again. “I suppose. Do you think it was Cecily’s father’s men?”
Stephen was bothered by this, but yes, he did. It sounded exactly like something Findlay’s employees were capable of. “I’m not sure, Flave. I’ll have to investigate the matter.” And on that note, following a quick tap, the door pushed open, and Patterson timidly entered with the doctor following behind him.
Stephen stood up and patted his cousin on the shoulder. “Get some rest, Flavion. Do as the doctor tells you.”
In an absentminded manner, Flavion agreed with a nod before handing over the soap and washrag to his valet. Patterson efficiently lifted one of Flavion’s arms into the air and began eagerly scrubbing his lovely master. Stephen closed the door behind him and frowned. Where was Cecily? He needed to speak with her about this. God in heaven, if that minx was behind this, he would throttle her himself.
We had a deal.
Mr. Sherman informed Stephen that Lady Kensington had left a short while ago in order to take a walk in the park with her friends. He gave him directions as to the approximate place she normally went to on the days when she liked to feed the waterfowl.
With no patience to await her return, Stephen set off on foot toward the park. His adrenaline carried him quicker than he would normally stroll, and as he passed other pedestrians, he received a few curious glances. But he could not be bothered by them.
In his mind, her words replayed themselves over and over again, making him feel like a fool. Women be damned. He ought to have known better.
As he reached the park, he peered across the lawn, hoping to see the object of his wrath without wasting too much of his time. Would she admit to knowing about the attack? She was a woman, after all, and therefore not to be trusted. Where the hell is she?
He did not slow his stride until he noticed some sort of an altercation taking place along the banks of the water up ahead. The normal peaceful atmosphere of the park had been transformed into a carnival-like scene with jeering, cheering, and splashing.
His mind noted a very large man dressed all in black, suspiciously familiar, and an oversized mongrel, also suspiciously familiar, barking encouragingly at the melee. Another smaller, but louder dog yelped frantically as well. Stephen lengthened his strides and rushed over to assure himself that the spectacle was not being created by the person he suspected.
He was to be greatly disappointed.
Realizing immediately that Cecily was one of the mud-covered ladies wrestling in the water, he rushed past the onlookers to pull her off the other nearly unrecognizable creature. Salaam was doing likewise with… Was it? He took a closer look. Yes, it was; Miss Daphne Cunnington.
Cecily was like a woman possessed, though, as she struggled to free herself from his hold. He wrapped one arm tightly about her sodden waist and spoke into her ear. “Relax, Cecily, sweetheart. Let it go. She isn’t worth it.” In spite of the mud, he could see that tears streamed from her eyes. It was impossible to stay angry with a woman when she was so obviously distraught. Oh, hell.
At his words, she ceased her protestations.
He pulled her farther away from the onlookers and up onto the shore. His boots were most likely ruined, and his clothing now nearly as wet as Cecily’s. Struggling to remove his jacket with only one free hand, he used his other to turn Cecily and press her face into his chest all the while mumbling reassurances to her. He didn’t want anybody else to see that she was crying. As if the altercation itself wasn’t enough, he knew she would be mortified for the ton to see that she had allowed the situation to reduce her to tears. Somehow, he knew this would bother her more than anything else.
When he’d freed himself from his jacket, he placed it upon her shoulders protectively and, with a slight jerk of his head, sent Salaam to retrieve the lady’s carriage. A companion he assumed to be Miss Cunnington’s stepped over to assist the other combatant.
The wet bedraggled form in his arms began shivering. Whether from the cold or the aftermath of released violence, he knew not. “Decided to take a swim, did you?” he cajoled jokingly. And then without thinking it over, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the arriving coach. “Come along, let’s get you home.”
She wrapped her hands around his neck and clung to him, continuing to bury her head in his neck. “I didn’t start it. Oh, my God, what have I done?” She was apparently coming to her senses somewhat.
Realizing that the eyes of several bystanders watched them curiously, Stephen logically surmised that if maneuvered properly, this situation could be utilized to further Cecily’s campaign for Flave to divorce her. Again, without allowing himself to consider his actions further, Stephen turned his head so that he could find Cecily’s face.
And then he kissed her.
STEPHEN’S KISS WAS delightfully unexpected, but that didn’t stop Cecily from relaxing her lips and allowing him to carry on. She did not think about the people watching. She did not think about their bargain. In fact, she did not think about anything except that being held and kissed by this man felt utterly right. His taste was familiar and his embrace full of relief and protection.
He was a bedrock of security and comfort. She welcomed his kiss and his touch without any reservations whatsoever. Ah, to belong…
When Stephen ended the kiss, she realized that they had arrived at the street, and the carriage had been pulled around for her. Not revealing any emotions whatsoever, Stephen set her down on her feet and then assisted her in. The driver looked at them askance. Yesterday it had been the dog, and today it was this. Coachman John was never going to forgive her for getti
ng mud all over the interior twice in as many days. The man was fastidious about his care of Flavion’s conveyances.
Cecily sagged into her seat and then watched as Stephen climbed in, closed the door behind him, and pounded his fist on the ceiling. Neither of them said a word until the carriage swayed into traffic.
“What about Salaam and Chadwick?” she asked, realizing they’d left her bodyguards to fend for themselves.
“They will find their way back to the house,” Stephen said in a clipped tone. “I need to ask you something.” His demeanor had turned quite serious, his brows beginning to furrow again.
Where was the man who’d just kissed her senseless?
Was he to blame her now for this confrontation with Miss Cunnington? “I did not push her in.” Cecily lifted her chin, ready to defend herself. “She slipped on her own, and when I went to assist her, she pulled me into the water. That woman belongs in Bedlam. She thinks I am a threat to her. I do not want him. Does she not realize that?”
More than a little suspicion was behind Stephen’s glare. “Are you certain that you mightn’t have… accidently pushed her?”
“Of course I’m certain! Why would you not believe me?” He was a most untrusting gentleman! She’d given him no reason not to trust her, and yet he persisted in questioning her motives at every turn. “If you don’t trust me, then come right out and say so.”
He leaned toward her, resting his arms on his knees, and looked directly into her eyes. “I. Don’t. Trust. You.”
With those words, Cecily leaned back into the plush upholstery and then folded her arms in front of her. The motion would have been a bit more effective if her arms didn’t make a squishing, bubbling sound as they pressed against her bosom, forcing water to gush outward and upward.
“Oh, holy hell,” she cursed. This really was too much! She tried to continue glaring at Stephen but felt a smile tug at her lips.
If she was not mistaken, a glimmer of mischief appeared in his eyes at the absurdity of her condition. And then one corner of his mouth pulled up to crease his cheek. He was laughing at her, the dratted man.
But he had said he didn’t trust her. The thought sobered her again. “Why not?” she said, pushing out her bottom lip.
He shook off his laughter and leaned forward again. “Flavion was set upon last night. Some thugs hijacked his carriage and roughed him up pretty badly. He’s at home resting now. In light of our earlier agreement, I am compelled to ask. Do you know anything about this?”
Cecily bit her lip. Was it possible?
“Did they shoot him? Did they use knives, any weapons whatsoever? Did they rob him of his belongings?” The answers to these questions were important. Her father’s employees had very specific techniques and adhered to them proudly. They did what was necessary while following their own tightly held moral code.
“No weapons. No robbery.” Stephen watched her closely. Oh, double drat and damnation! She needed to speak with Niles. But she had promised Stephen she would not allow her father to harm Flavion.
“I did as I promised. I posted a letter to my father yesterday.” Regardless of the relationship of sorts that had arisen between her and Stephen, she did not want either of them to know of her transactions with Niles Waverly. She could not be sure that Stephen wouldn’t assist Flavion in attempting to confiscate her personal funds — even though they were carefully tied up in trust for her by her father. Stephen was obviously very astute when it came to business and might be ruthless in spite of… whatever was going on between the two of them.
He continued to display an increasingly annoying level of loyalty to Flavion.
“I know of no plans to harm Flavion,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster. For in truth, she did not. She only suspected… In an attempt to change the subject, she looked down and pulled her water-laden skirts up and away from her thighs. “Oh, this is beyond the pale. This dress was only just delivered from Madam Chantal’s this morning.”
Stephen did not comment. He merely watched her suspiciously.
“Are you dissembling with me, my lady?” he finally asked.
Cecily looked up at him and opened her eyes wide. “I would never dissemble with you, Mr. Nottingham.” And in his eyes, she could see that he knew she was lying. And she could also see that he knew that she knew that he knew.
“I will find out eventually, Cecily. And when I do, all bets are off.” Suddenly he didn’t look like the safe and serious Stephen she’d known up until now. He looked a little dangerous. And with his hair disheveled, his appearance had taken on a bit of rakishness.
“I’ve given you my word. And what do you mean by bets? Are you referring to our bargain?” Oh, dear lord, their bargain! That was why he had kissed her in the park! Not because he’d been overcome with affection for her. He’d done so to further their efforts in angering Flavion. The thought was rather deflating.
Stephen leaned back and rested one muddied boot atop his other knee, not quite crossing his legs. His breeches, which were as wet as Cecily’s dress, clung tantalizingly to his rather muscularly impressive thighs.
Just then, the carriage pulled up in front of Nottinghouse and lurched as the driver and footmen jumped off.
“You know what I mean,” he said. And then the door opened, and she was being helped down to the pavement with Stephen emerging behind her. She rushed inside without any further assistance. She needed to get cleaned up and then go to Nile’s office.
Before anything else happened to Flave.
NILES WAVERLY BARELY glanced up as Cecily let herself into his rather run-of-the-mill office a few blocks off Fleet Street. He really was a very ordinary-looking man. He’d appeared to be somewhere between the age of forty and sixty for as long as she’d known him. He’d worked for her father forever, it seemed, and her father trusted him unquestioningly.
He had set up her personal accounts and investments in a fashion that they were not accessible to anyone but Niles, her father, and herself. Niles was right-hand man to her father. If Papa had left instructions for Sixtus and Brutus, Niles would know of it.
Cecily closed the door to the office behind her and waited for Niles to realize she’d entered. It would take a moment. She knew this from experience. She’d luckily managed to slip out of the townhouse without Salaam’s escort since he’d taken Chadwick into the back gardens for a quick canine bath. That had given her the just enough time to make a hasty visit with Niles before Emily and Rhoda arrived to dine with them. Hopefully, she would not be delayed. She would want to have plenty of time upon her return to dress in something elegant for the theatre. If not, oh, well. Women were allowed, nay, expected to be late.
Not that she ever felt comfortable with this, but it came in handy on this day.
After he finally set down his pencil and looked up, a smile broke out on Nigel’s normally somber features. It was very quickly replaced by a concerned frown. “Is everything well with you, my lady?” he asked formally as he rose to his feet.
“That’s Cece to you, Niles,” she said, coming around the desk to place a buss upon his cheek.
“No, I won’t have it, my lady. You being the only person of quality of whom I have the benefit of an acquaintance, I will give you all of the respect that is due.”
Cecily clucked her tongue before taking a seat. “I need to know if Papa left any instructions for Sixtus and Brutus regarding Lord Kensington.” Seeing Nigel’s features shutter and his lips tighten, Cecily was certain that he knew something. “I must know, Nigel. All is not as it seems. I do not wish for Lord Kensington to be harmed any further.”
“The earl could have been set upon by anyone!” He confirmed her suspicions. “
“But it was not just anyone last night. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, you must call them off for me. Tell them I have sent word to Papa, and he will be very angry if they do not do as I wish.”
Nigel pushed his spectacles up from where they’d slipped down on his nose. �
�Are you quite certain of this, Ce— my lady?”
“I am,” she said, and then for effect added, “quite.” Feeling grateful and a little melancholy, she rose to take her leave. She really must hurry!
Before she would return to her Kensington world, however, she slipped around the desk and placed another kiss on Nigel’s cheek. “I haven’t time to stay and chat, but please, please contact them immediately. Promise me that?”
“Very well, my lady,” he said with a frown. “But I’m not at all pleased with what I’ve been hearing. Is there anything else I can do to be of assistance to you?”
With one hand on the doorknob, Cecily scrunched up her nose. “Would you mind having them keep an eye on Miss Daphne Cunnington? I think she’s been up to some mischief, but I haven’t any evidence. Anyhow, the lady does not hold a favorable disposition toward me, and I wouldn’t put it past her to act upon her feelings.” Perhaps the lady’s threats had merely been all bluster, but what with the strange happenings over the last couple of days along with the suspicions Stephen had managed to plant in her mind, she thought having Sixtus and Brutus keep an eye out couldn’t hurt.
“Very well, my lady.” Niles stood up from the desk and now made a small bow in her direction. Charmed, Cecily could not help but grin. Even if all of the ton did not recognize her rise in society, the people she had known all of her life did. And they were the ones she loved. They were the ones who deserved her loyalty. Just as she didn’t want her father’s employers to harm Flavion any further, she did not wish for Stephen to catch wind of their actions and bring any harm to them.
There were considerable penalties for attacking a member of the aristocracy. She did not wish to see any of the people she’d depended upon for most of her life find themselves in trouble with the law.
She left the office hurriedly to return home and change. She had an absolutely gorgeous new emerald dress made up of chiffon that she wished to wear this evening. She’d likely need another bath as well.
Hell Hath No Fury (Devilish Debutantes Book 1) Page 12