Aycliff's Vow: A Hellfire Club Erotique

by Reed, Kristabel

  Parker! The man’s name was Parker, she didn’t think he possessed a title; at least the cobbler had never referred to him as such.

  Gathering her courage to her, Elizabeth went up to him as he impatiently waited for whoever he’d sent for from inside. “Mr. Parker,” she said quietly but quite distinctly.

  He turned to her, instantly mistrustful.

  “Mr. Dervin sent me ta find you,” she said, breaking her English just enough to hopefully disguise her own upper class tones. Dressed as a poor merchant’s daughter, she should also speak like one. “He asked me ta inform ye that yer services are no longer needed.”

  Parker’s eyes narrowed at her, his grip tightening on his cane. For a moment, Elizabeth wondered if he’d use that on her, and braced herself to run should he swing. However, his anger seemed directed not at her, but at Dervin.

  “Bloody hell,” Parker ground out. “That damned bastard told me he wanted this done and tonight.”

  Elizabeth refrained from nodding eagerly and shrugged as if she was only the messenger and didn’t know what he had been supposed to do. Whatever it was, instinct told her this was the right move on her part, following him rather than Dervin.

  Digging into her pockets, she used what remained of her evening’s coin and handed it to him. She didn’t blink at its loss, despite the fact that she teetered perilously close to destitution. Over the last year, she’d spent the majority of her money protecting Callum and searching for information to clear her father’s name.

  “This is all he gave me,” she said and held out her hand with the few coins.

  Parker didn’t bother to count them, but looked at her as if wondering where—not if—she hid more. Backing a step away, she waited. But Parker scowled at her, grunted, and stalked away.

  Just in time, too, as moments later the boy he’d paid to fetch whoever gambled inside the gaming hell reappeared. Elizabeth didn’t recognize the man, seedy looking, unwashed, mostly drunk, and more than a bit surly. The boy looked around the entrance for Parker, and Elizabeth stepped forward.

  “Did you see an old gent here?” the boy demanded.

  “He sent you to retrieve him for me.” She handed him the last coin she carried. In a quieter voice she said, “Disappear.”

  The boy grabbed the coin and raced off. Before she could think on how to phrase her question to the man, he stepped forward.

  “I’m only called on for one thing,” he said in a surprisingly clear voice. “Who do you want to die?”

  Startled, she tried to think of something to say. Already she took too long, and Elizabeth knew it. To buy herself a bit of time, she nodded and looked round as if concerned someone might overhear them. She needn’t have worried, and they both knew it.

  Slowly, she said the name, elongating each syllable. “Caleb Dervin.”

  He nodded and didn’t react as if he knew the name. Elizabeth wondered if he did, but chose to remain silent on that point.

  “You’ll be paid in full once he’s dead. With a bonus,” she added in what she thought was a stroke of brilliance, “if it’s done before sunset tomorrow.”

  The man watched her with hard eyes, chips of coal in the scant light of the street. Finally he nodded and turned to leave.

  She didn’t know if he took her seriously or not, but prayed he had. If he killed Dervin, Callum would be safe.

  Chapter Six

  Callum walked through the halls of the Hellfire Club utterly disinterested in the goings on around him. He nodded to the guard at the doorway and moved further into the labyrinth of hallways. He’d traversed these halls more times than he could remember in his quest for information, and never had he been even remotely tempted to experience the many vices offered by the Club.

  Even now several members, female and male, gestured invitingly to him, but Callum ignored them. He had no interest in any of them, nothing they did excited him. Passing a room where half-dressed people danced enticingly, he looked for Henrietta.

  While he doubted she was in there, he had no time to wait for her this eve. Several interesting bits of information had come his way late that morning. After leaving the alleyway behind Journey’s Pub last night, and unable to sleep, Callum had sent word to his informants for any, any, piece of information they had.

  The guard at Henrietta’s door looked down at him from an impressive height, unfolded massive arms, and stepped to one side. Callum nodded at the man, briefly wondered if anyone had been foolish enough to try to get past him, and entered the inner office.

  Henrietta examined several papers on her desk and didn’t look up at him until she’d finished. He didn’t bother her, but sat in the chair opposite and waited. Donald, her lover and co-head of the Club, entered with several missives.

  “My lord,” Donald said with a slight smile. He set the papers on the desk and leaned against it. “Have you come to enjoy the delights of our Club?”

  Callum offered a smile in return and shook his head. Impatience ate at him, but he knew from past experience that Henrietta refused to be rushed. “No, not today.”

  “My apologies, Callum,” Henrietta said as she set down her quill. Pushing her chair back, she rose and went to pour herself a drink. Donald raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, but Callum shook his head.

  “Now,” Henrietta began as she returned to the desk. “How can I help you?”

  “It’s possible,” Callum said, “Dervin may have had contact with a Mr. Parker.”

  “Yes,” Henrietta said and set her drink on her immense desk. “We’ve received the same information and have looked into it. But it seems Mr. Parker’s association with Dervin was brief.” She shrugged as if to say what can one do? “It ended on a distinctly sour note.”

  “Where is this Parker?” Callum demanded, rising. “I want to speak with him myself.

  Before he made it more than a few steps, Henrietta stopped him. For so slight a woman, her voice carried a command generals would envy.

  “That won’t be necessary, Callum,” she stated. “I don’t want you causing a scene with my members.”

  Turning back to face her, he stalked forward. “I told you before, Henrietta,” Callum said in a matter of fact tone that hid none of the threat behind it. “If I must dismantle your Club to get even one inch closer to Elizabeth, then I shall.”

  Henrietta nodded, her gaze as hooded as ever. Donald didn’t so much as twitch, but watched him carefully. “We have questioned Mr. Parker quite thoroughly.” She nodded and her voice softened. “I promise you, Callum, he knows nothing more.”

  “This is the closest I’ve come,” he spat, all his anger and frustration coming out here. He didn’t blame Henrietta, or even Donald, but he couldn’t abide further stalling. He felt close, as if she hovered just out of reach. So much time had already passed; he needed to finish this now. He needed to find Elizabeth. “I want to question Parker and ascertain what he knows firsthand.”

  “Parker knows nothing more,” Donald promised. He straightened from the desk and took a step forward. Shorter than Callum, he looked him over carefully. “Lord Aycliff, if you allow us a bit more time, I’m certain we’ll be able to discover Dervin’s location.”

  Time? He knew time was running out. “I want to discover Dervin myself.” He looked to Henrietta and confessed in a voice heavy with emotion he couldn’t control. “I want Elizabeth to know it was me to discover him.”

  Donald nodded, looked over his shoulder at Henrietta, then back to Callum. He couldn’t read what went on behind Donald’s eyes; they were as inscrutable as Henrietta’s.

  “It’s very important she knows you did this for her, isn’t it?” he asked though Callum could tell the older man already knew the answer.

  “It’s the most important thing.” His words were soft, sincere. Callum cleared his throat of the anger and fear choking him. “I want her to know her name has been cleared. That I’ve worked for it. That it’s safe to come back…to me.”

  “You love her very much.”
Donald’s words weren’t so much a question as a statement. He nodded to himself, and Callum suddenly wondered what more the other man knew that he hadn’t shared.

  “Miss Elizabeth is well.”

  Donald’s words shot through Callum and for a painful heartbeat he wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly. Well? She was well? Callum didn’t remember moving, but suddenly he pressed Donald against the wall. His hand tightened around the other man’s throat, blood roaring in his ears.

  “Where is she?” he demanded.

  Callum couldn’t think of anything more. All this time, all these months, and Donald knew? He squeezed harder, feeling Elizabeth so close and yet still out of his reach.

  “Where is she?” he repeated.

  His control shredded. Before it completely snapped, he loosened his hold on Donald who looked calmly up at him as if he hadn’t been threatened to within an inch of his life.

  “Lord Aycliff, this is no way to engender my sympathy so I may tell you what I know,” Donald said evenly. He didn’t massage his throat, though Callum could see the angry marks already reddening his skin. Donald straightened his jacket and nonchalantly tugged his sleeves for a better look, gaze level on Callum’s.

  Reluctantly releasing him, Callum stepped back. He fisted his hands at his sides and looked over his shoulder to Henrietta. Glaring at her accusingly, he silently demanded to know whether she knew about this.

  “I assure you, Callum,” she said and rounded the desk. “Donald didn’t share this information with me.”

  “No,” Donald admitted straightforwardly. “I didn’t. I kept Miss Darton’s confidence as requested.”

  “Where is she?” Callum asked once more. Pleaded now, desperate to know. He swallowed and added in a stronger voice. “Is she alright? Has something unspeakable happened to her?”

  “She’s well,” Donald assured him. “And she is very grateful to you for what you’ve done.” He paused and added with a twinkle in his light blue eyes. “And I’m certain she’ll be extremely displeased with me for informing you she remains in London. However, I grow tired of seeing her suffer…of seeing you suffer as well.”

  Donald moved around him, not, Callum noted with a wry twist of his lips, out of fear for his safety. It didn’t matter, all the fight had left him. Now a new determination burned within him.

  “The answer is so simple.” Donald nodded to him. “Especially now that Garrow and Dervin have been proven as the guilty parties in this.”

  “Why hasn’t she come to me?” he asked. He heard the steel in his voice, but his words were soft. Desolate. “Especially when she’s been so near?”

  Donald shrugged but the careless gesture didn’t reach his eyes. “She feels she’s an unfit match for an earl. In her eyes, her name has been ruined. And particularly,” he paused shook his head and added softly, “since she’s been injured.”

  Panic slammed through him, but Callum managed to remain still. Henrietta eyed him warily, no doubt afraid he’d actually harm Donald this time. He sucked in a deep breath; he didn’t want to give her reason to regret the trust that lay between them. Or reason to cut him off from her very lucrative supply of information.

  “How?” Callum asked.

  “The left side of her face is scarred,” Donald said. Callum noted he didn’t say how only where. “However, it isn’t as horrible as she believes it to be.”

  “I don’t care,” Callum insisted. “I just want her back.”

  Shaking his head, Donald admitted, “I don’t believe she’ll return to you willingly.” He held up a hand to forestall Callum’s questions. “She does want to know you’re safe, and has,” he said with a harsh laugh Callum couldn’t quite decipher. “She’s taken great measures to protect you. But she refuses to see you. And she most definitely does not want you to see her.”

  Unable to help himself, Callum took a step closer. Hopelessness washed through him but he shook it off. “I need to see her. I need to convince her.”

  “If she’s spent so much time in London,” Henrietta said in a crisp clear tone, “and hasn’t contacted you, even after hearing in these last days of Garrow’s guilt, then she sounds a very determined woman. From what I can tell,” here she shook her head and gave an ironic laugh. “At least the romantic in me wishes to believe, she loves you just as you love her.”

  She circled her desk, shot Donald a look that promised a long talk afterwards, and looked Callum up and down. “I have a very romantic, if sexual, suggestion. After all, this is the Hellfire Club.”

  Intrigued, he took another step closer. His hands loosened at his sides but his heart pounded harder. This was the closest he’d been to Elizabeth in over a year. The fact any reunion may be in the Hellfire Club, of all places, barely mattered to him. Callum nodded to his friend.

  “Tonight,” Henrietta said, “there’s a masque ball. You’ve seen enough of the Club to know what sorts of activities transpire here,” she added with a wink. “It’ll be a grand affair we’ve been preparing for weeks. Club members are to arrive with their masques securely in place, and are not to remove them for the duration of the evening.” She paused and added significantly, “At least not in the public rooms. What happens between members in private is entirely their affair.”

  She crossed to the bookshelves behind her desk and picked up a masque. It was beautifully crafted, full-faced, it held a golden tint with delicate filigree along the eyes. Henrietta held it carefully in her hands, examining it as if she’d never seen it before.

  “Donald, please invite Miss Darton to the Club. Let her know Lord Aycliff will be in attendance,” she handed the masque to her lover and looked back to Callum. “He’s been cajoled into coming this evening to release some of his pent-up frustrations.”

  At this last, Callum shot her a sharp look. Henrietta held up a hand to prevent his protests, and he waited. The last thing he wanted Elizabeth to think was that he’d forgotten her or somehow dismissed her from his life so easily.

  “Callum,” Henrietta said with a soft smile. “Don your own masque and find her. My suggestion is that you bed her and show her how much you want her.”

  He nodded, eager to implement Henrietta’s plan even as a thread of fear gripped him. So many questions crowded his mind, so many what-ifs.

  “Don’t reveal yourself too soon, Callum,” she warned. “She’s scared and you don’t need to frighten her away. Let her remember.”

  Mouth dry, Callum asked the only fear that made any sense. “What if she refuses to come?”

  “She won’t,” Donald said. He looked as if he wanted to say more, glanced at the masque, and looked back at him. “No, Lord Aycliff, I don’t believe she will refuse.”

  Callum nodded and turned to leave. He wanted to thank Henrietta and Donald for this, even if it didn’t work. Even if Elizabeth didn’t appear here, or she did but ran away when he took her to one of the private rooms.

  It didn’t matter; this was the closest he’d have been to her in long, solitary months.

  Ignoring the rooms of Club members who had started their celebration early, Callum retraced his footsteps along the winding paths. Once outside, he blinked at the sunlight and let the noise of the Western Exchange beat around him.

  New energy beat through him, and he walked home, uncaring of the distance. Tonight couldn’t arrive soon enough.

  Chapter Seven

  Donald looked quite unrepentant as he gazed back at her. His light blue eyes held hers with a steadiness that told Henrietta he still wouldn’t give up all Miss Darton’s secrets. She accepted that. While they had no secrets from each other as far as the Club and their relationship went, many members often shared confidences with one of them or the other.

  “How did Miss Darton find you?” she finally asked.

  “Her father’s friend introduced her,” Donald said, settling more comfortably on the corner of her desk. “I’m sure you remember Mr. Edwin Barritt?”

  Henrietta scowled. She did indeed remember that slit
hering snake. Barritt continuously looked for leverage in the Club, a way to gain a hold over either she or Donald. His end goal, so far as she could tell, was to insert himself as a managing member of the Club.

  “Of course I remember Mr. Barritt,” she said. Wandering around the room, she turned to face Donald. “What does he have to do with this tale?”

  Her lover shrugged, but the fire burning in his eyes belied the casual movement. “He brought Elizabeth to me with his usual ulterior motives. But seeing what Elizabeth was going through,” he said and took her hand. “I had to assist her.”

  She did love that about him. His sense of chivalry, given the world they’d made for themselves, was the quality that had originally drew her to him. Cupping his cheek, she smiled. “I do love how gallant you can be.”

  “I knew you’d understand.” He kissed her lightly on the lips and pulled her closer. “I couldn’t betray either her confidence or her wishes.”

  “Until now,” Henrietta pointed out reasonably, but didn’t pull back.

  “I’ve seen exactly how miserable they are without each other.” He settled her between his legs, but the look in his eyes was anything but romantic. “It’s no longer a matter of treason that would taint the earl. Elizabeth’s reputation is once more in the clear. They simply need a way to return to each other.”

  Henrietta smiled and refrained from again commenting on his romantic streak. It wasn’t well known, in fact if more than a handful of people knew about the soft heart that lay beneath his hard, cynical exterior she’d be most surprised. Instead she nodded and turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

  Breaking the moment, she stepped from his arms. “I agree with you.” She nodded. “And these are the correct steps to take. But it’s something else that captures my attention.”

  “What’s that, my love?”

  “Mr. Darton’s case.” She tilted her head just slightly and added, “The treasonous aspect of it. Aycliff uncovered the plot which framed Darton.”