Once Bitten (The Heart of a Hero Book 3)

by Aileen Fish

  Thorn raised his glass and took a swallow. “Where is Boiselle during the day?”

  “Sleeping, like the majority of the ton,” Adam answered.

  “Are you certain? Wouldn’t that be the perfect time for him to move about unnoticed? Even the footpads wait until dark to prey, so the watchmen are more prevalent.”

  Adam stood. “I have a footman observing the comings and goings at Boiselle’s home. I just can’t be in enough places to keep my eye on the man when he isn’t performing. I’ll find a way, however.” He began to walk away, but Thorn stopped him.

  “You know we’ll help you when you have something more specific you need. Take more of my men, as many as you require. Our best chance is to find the evidence we need while he’s here in London.”

  Nodding, Adam left the club. Thorn felt the loss of their uncle as deeply as Adam did, but he’d always been the more circumspect of the two brothers. Adam had continually earned the disapproval of their father and their professors, although their friends, including Markham, cheered him on. Sometimes he wondered if they laughed at him, not with him, but it mattered little. He spent little time attempting to please others.

  He yawned. The streets were quiet, only the occasional carriage driving past. He flagged down a hack to take him home, and planned to sleep very late once he got there.

  Chapter Three

  Having an afternoon away from Mama was a nice break for Mary Jane. With the excuse of spending the evening with her dearest friend Charlotte Harrow, she and her maid went directly to a meeting of her favorite debate society. Charlotte stood near the door watching for her arrival.

  “I was afraid you couldn’t get away,” she said, hugging Mary Jane.

  “One day soon Mama is going to speak to your mother and we’ll be found out.” Scanning the room, she saw the familiar faces—mostly women—who’d come to hear Mrs. Greenly speak. Debate societies were supposed to be primarily for men, but more and more, women like herself and Charlotte were emboldened enough to attend. Since they were both past the debutant age, they were no longer pushed by their parents to follow the assemblies in the marriage mart each spring, for which they were eternally grateful.

  “I saved us seats over there.” Charlotte took her arm and walked in that direction, while their maids remained in the back of the room.

  The speaker was exceedingly dull, spoiling the delight Mary Jane took in going somewhere her parents disapproved of. During the break, she remembered the handsome man she’d met backstage two nights before.

  “I have an intrigue for you. A handsome man lingered backstage last night, but wasn’t there to see Miss Clarke.”

  “How handsome? A face you wouldn’t mind looking at each day across the dining table, or one that sends fans a-fluttering?”

  “Fans. Most certainly fans. Although he wore old clothing, his blond hair was neatly trimmed and perfectly styled. He’s quite tall, so I was unable to see his eye color, but his features are fine, and his smile, charming.”

  “I see he made little impression on you. If he likes the theatre, and didn’t scold you for being backstage, perhaps he’s someone you should know better.”

  Realizing she’d revealed more of her attraction than she’d planned, Mary Jane quickly took Charlotte’s arm. “Let’s have some refreshment.”

  Picking up a mug of punch and a nibble each, they again moved to the edge of the group where they could speak more privately. “This is a nice size gathering. Our numbers are growing, although more slowly than I’d prefer. Too many ladies are afraid to speak for themselves.”

  When Mama was young, she’d been much like Mary Jane, wanting changes in society to allow women more control over their lives. Now, she was such a proper matron, knowing what to say in all situations and how to comport herself whether she spoke to the Queen or a servant. All the tales her mother told of her younger days, before marrying Mary Jane’s father, sounded like they came from a novel. Her mother would never join an angry gathering shouting their demands. She had too much respect for what was expected of a young lady of her station.

  At times, Mary Jane had wistful dreams of a husband and children of her own, but no man would allow his wife to be so outspoken. She couldn’t give up that much of herself for anyone. No matter how many gentlemen her parents paraded before her, she would never say yes.

  Drawing her attention back into the room, Mary Jane set her shoulders, fully prepared to continue her battle to live her own life. “Isn’t it time for the next speaker?”

  “Not yet. You can tell me more about your handsome beau while we wait.”

  “He’s not my beau. Since he wasn’t waiting for Miss Clarke, he must have a more nefarious reason for being there.”

  “What sort of intrigue could he find backstage? You and your mysteries, puzzles, and fantasies.” Charlotte shook her head, squinting her eyes like a very proper governess. “Why can’t you grow flowers or paint landscapes instead?”

  “You sound like my mother. You enjoy the puzzles as much as I do.” Mary Jane suddenly groaned. “I almost forgot. Mother insists I go to Lady Eleanor’s debut tomorrow night. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

  “I’d hidden that invitation, but I can tell Mama it slipped behind a cushion.” Charlotte grinned conspiratorially. “I can’t let you suffer alone.”

  “Care to wager who claims the supper dance with Lady Eleanor?”

  “The more interesting bet would be who approaches us for it. I think we’ve frightened off most of the eligible men.”

  Mary Jane laughed. “I believe you’re right. The only ones who ask to dance with us now are the ones avoiding the matchmaking mamas, since they know we’ll not press for an engagement. Who do you think will ask you?”

  Charlotte tapped her finger on her chin, looking toward the ceiling. “I’ll choose my cousin, Trey Lumley. His sister tells me he’s formed an attachment for her friend, but she isn’t aware of him at all. Poor soul. You know, if a gentleman worked as hard to earn my favor, I might have to give him a chance.”

  Giving her friend a sideward glance, Mary Jane could hold back her laugh only a moment. “No, that’s not likely to happen.”

  Both girls were daughters of businessmen—wealthy ones, but they only received invitations from matrons looking for a connection to Charlotte’s uncle, the Earl of Bridgethorpe, or Mary Jane’s grandfather, Viscount Morningside.

  Neither of the girls cared one bit about it, either. They enjoyed their lives too much to pine over the lack of attention from an unmarried gentleman, titled or not.

  When they returned to their seats, they continued their conversation in whispers. Charlotte placed her hand on Mary Jane’s arm. “Perhaps your gentleman will also be there.”

  “He wouldn’t recognize me dressed in my finery, so I have no fear of being exposed to Mama.”

  “That wasn’t what I hinted at. He might be the perfect decoy to keep your mother from forcing you to dance every dance.”

  “Now there’s a plan. I could finish the season safe, with no marriage proposals to refuse.”

  Charlotte disagreed. “I wager you’d win his heart before summer.”

  “I could challenge you to do the same. I’ll buy you the hat of your choice if you can entice him to propose.”

  “Why would I want to do that? I’d have to marry him, giving up the lifestyle I prefer.”

  The idea of toying with the gentleman’s affections didn’t sit well. “We can’t do that to him. He’s got a kind heart, I feel, and would be well and truly hurt by being abused in that fashion. Let’s talk about him no more.”

  When they prepared to part after the meeting, Mary Jane hugged Charlotte. “You’ll come for me in your carriage tomorrow night?”

  “Of course. We’ll escape Mother’s eye as soon as we arrive, and we will have fun in spite of ourselves.”

  Chapter Four

  After telling his hackney driver to trail the carriage Boiselle rode in, Adam couldn’t have been more surpri
sed when Boiselle’s stopped at Lady Eleanor’s house in Mayfair. The earl’s daughter played hostess for her father now that her mother had died, and the earl didn’t seem the type to mingle with actors. Again, Adam had to open his list of suspects to an entirely new group of people.

  Waiting until Boiselle entered the house, Adam paid the hack driver and followed. As the brother of the Duke, Adam never had to worry about needing an invitation when he arrived at a ball, because all of Polite Society knew he was the unmarried heir-apparent to the dukedom, and they’d be more than happy to welcome him as a son-in-law.

  Boiselle presented an invitation at the door, and he looked completely at ease entering the ballroom. There were no shocked faces nor whispers behind fans following him into the room, which confused Adam.

  Was he so well-loved an actor that everyone wanted him on their guest lists? That didn’t make sense. An operatic diva perhaps, and one of a few noted actors whose friendship gave one a certain cachet, might be accepted into Society, but this man was no one. Worse, he was a spy pretending to be no one.

  Adam followed far enough behind him to not be obvious. Boiselle greeted guests here and there, but didn’t stop to linger. Who was he there to meet?

  Eventually, the spy joined a group of men and ladies who seemed to know him well. Adam searched the ballroom for any acquaintance with whom he could strike up a conversation and blend in to the guests. Then he saw her—the girl from the theatre. Who was she? He’d assumed she was a poor woman who must work to support herself, but in that case, she’d never be allowed to attend a ball like this.

  She stood with another young lady, and an older one who was likely their mother. He approached them.

  “Madam, forgive me for not finding our host for a formal introduction, but I believe your daughter and I have an acquaintance, however brief, although we didn’t exchange names.”

  The matron looked at the young ladies, neither of whom responded. “You must be mistaken. My daughter is rarely out in society without myself or her brother at her side.”

  “I’m Lord Adam St. Peters.” He only resorted to tossing his name into the conversation when absolutely necessary. Instinct told him not to mention the theatre.

  The concern on the woman’s face slowly relaxed, to be replaced by the widest grin as the name sunk in. Identifying himself as the brother of a duke opened numerous doors.

  “I’m Henrietta Harrow, and this is my daughter Charlotte.”

  She was the wrong young lady.

  Almost as an afterthought, she added, “And her friend, Miss Mary Jane Watson.”

  Miss Watson pinned Adam’s gaze and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Clearly Mrs. Harrow wasn’t aware that she visited the theatre…worked at the theatre until all hours of the night. How intriguing. He’d love to learn more, but that wouldn’t happen while she stood with her chaperone.

  “Miss Harrow, may I request a dance later this evening?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Harrow glowed.

  “Miss Watson, are you free for the next set of dances?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her voice was much softer than at the theatre, even though she’d spoken in a stage whisper there. He could barely hear her over the voices and music in the large room.

  The thrill her words gave him must be due to being able to find out more about what she was doing at the theatre, not because of any attraction on his part. Was she connected to Boiselle? He smiled politely. “Will you walk with me while we wait?”

  She looked to Mrs. Harrow for permission. The woman quickly masked her scowl. “We’re honored, sir.”

  Adam offered his arm and he and Miss Watson made a wandering path through the crowd. “I didn’t expect to find you at an assembly such as this.”

  “I hate them. I refuse to flutter my fan and encourage men I don’t care to know.”

  He chuckled. “Why does that not surprise me? All I know of you is that you’re quite comfortable backstage.” Would she give away her connections, or did she have reason to keep them to herself?

  “I would prefer to perform, but my father would ban me from leaving the house until he’d arranged a suitable marriage for me, and then only with my mother at my side.”

  “I understand. My mother has a list of young ladies for me to consider. Like you, I enjoy other activities more.” Adam stepped back to let her pass through a tight squeeze, then continued when he was again by her side. “Your father allows you to work at the theatre? I’d think that would be even less desirable than in front of the curtain.”

  “He doesn’t know. Please don’t let on to Mrs. Harrow where you saw me. If she asks, say it was the lending library. I’m there almost every day.”

  Adam took note of that. Knowing her better would give him an excuse to spend more time watching Boiselle. Steering her toward where he last saw the spy, he said, “I saw someone you might know…Mr. Tilney is here.” He used Boiselle’s pseudonym.

  “Oh, him. We might pass each other in the hallway by their dressing rooms, but we’ve never spoken. He thinks too highly of himself to make him worth getting to know.”

  The music ended and the string quartet paused before starting the next set. Adam said, “We should take our place with the others. I wouldn’t wish to miss our set.”

  Standing opposite Miss Watson in the two lines of dancers gave him ample time to study her. Her warm brown hair was braided and swept up in a crown, with curls hanging freely around her round face. Her cheeks bloomed even before the exertion of the dance. He’d noticed her eyes were a striking shade of green, almost the color of jade. They hinted at an adventurous side of her, which coincided with her nighttime escapades.

  “When we met, were you there to see Miss Clarke? I know you denied it, but what other reason could there be?” she asked.

  Here was the awkward moment he’d hoped to avoid—his reason for being there. “I share your passion for the theatre, and wanted to see if there was a way I could help. The excitement in the air feeds my soul. Like you, I can’t tread the boards of the stage without causing my family distress. I must live vicariously through the actors.”

  The dance began, so they were only able to converse when they drew close. “Speak to the manager and he’ll find you some work,” Miss Watson said.

  “I shall do that.” He’d continue to shadow Boiselle as long as necessary—speaking of which, where was he now? Making the sweeping turn the dance required, Adam swept his gaze around the room in search of the spy. He was nowhere.

  Miss Watson noticed his distraction. “Are you hoping to meet someone here? It would be impolite of you to look for your next dance partner while dancing with me.” Her expression gave no hint of the emotion behind her reprimand.

  He grew warm with chagrin. “Why no, I can’t imagine finding a lovelier partner. You dance very well.”

  Her light laughter rang out. “Save the flirtation for your next partner, sir. I’m not looking for flattery, nor do I want a beau. I’m here at Miss Harrow’s request, since she feels the same way.”

  “You speak your mind quite directly.”

  “So Mother tells me. I have no desire to make some poor soul believe I’m attracted to him. Let him move on to a more willing victim.”

  Grinning, Adam shook his head. “Victim? Do you feel all brides and grooms are wed under duress?”

  “I’m aware of gentlemen in need of an heir, and ladies who require a man to take care of them…isn’t that the same thing? I would only marry for love, and my parents are fully aware of that, which leads us back to why I’m here. Their dearest hope is that eventually I’ll fall in love.” She laughed as though that was the grandest joke she’d heard.

  The set ended, and Adam led Miss Watson back to her friends. “I’ll see you in the next few days at the theatre. I hope I’m not too bold to ask if I might speak to you there?”

  She shook her head with a laugh, sending her curls fluttering. “You’re an interesting sort of man, Lord Adam. Polite Society has
no influence on one’s behavior behind the curtains. Speak to me as you will; everyone else does.”

  Taking his leave of her, he confirmed which dance Miss Harrow had open, then went in search of Boiselle. He needed to focus. He’d never gather the information he needed on the man if he wasn’t there to see him contact his fellow conspirators. There was too much at stake to dally about.

  Chapter Five

  Most the debutante’s fathers spent their evenings in the well-lit card room in their host’s home, and that’s where Adam found Boiselle. Uncertain if the actor knew who he was, Adam strolled the room behind his back while attempting to identify the other players. They were the usual cast of bored fathers and brothers. Was one of them the spy’s connection, or was he simply passing time? There was no way of knowing what had taken place while Adam was distracted by Miss Watson, so he might have missed his chance of finding another piece to the puzzle.

  That didn’t keep him from remaining close to Boiselle. He strolled out of the room, and upon making certain the hallway was clear, he took up a position in the shadows where he could see the spy’s seat. He lit a cheroot to look as though he had a reason to be there, and settled in to wait.

  Just as he grew board, Miss Watson came down the hallway. Her face lit when she saw Adam. “My lord, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “And whom did you expect?” Was she in search of her partner for an assignation? He hadn’t taken her for the type to do so.

  “No one, silly. I’m avoiding everyone. If I must listen to one more ode to my lavender eyes—they’re hazel, by the way, in case you’ve been composing your own ditty—I will go mad.”