“Lucas—I mean Lord Winchester—says she knows much of the old gossip that flowed through the town like the Thames. He says even if most people have forgotten an event, she usually recalls something of it,” she said.
“And who is this again?” Roz asked.
“That’s the mystery of it! I have no idea, and Winchester simply calls her an old friend. I think they met during the days he worked for the Crown.” She leaned in, elbows on knees, and dropped her voice. “He does not admit it outright, but I am sure he worked in some capacity in the art of deception.” She paused. “For God and Country, of course.”
Roz tipped her head in a knowing gesture. “Of course. God save the King.”
“I get the idea that this woman deals in information. It is all very cryptic, but Winchester seems to believe she will indeed know something about his father,” she said.
“I am devastated that I am unable to help in that regard,” Roz said, a little pout in her voice. “You know I pride myself on my intimate knowledge of everything that happens in society.”
“Well, you know boys, they like their secret clubs. Maybe they were able to keep everything hush hush,” Gemma said.
“Quite,” Roz said with a laugh. “Boys and their clubs. But I have never heard even a whisper of scandal surrounding Lord Winchester’s father. Perry was a bit more of a rake than Winchester, but the normal nonsense. Some gambling, a few affairs. Nothing out of the ordinary for a gentleman.”
“Well, I suppose that is why blackmail is effective,” Gemma commented. “They’ve managed to bury the secrets so deep in their gardens, no one has a clue.”
“Yes, but they are not being targeted for their fathers’ secrets, they are being targeted for their own,” Roz paused. “Or, in Lord Winchester’s case, his sister’s.”
“True. So it is possible we are going about this in the wrong fashion, and their fathers’ connection will have nothing to do with the case!” Gemma threw her hands in the air then let them fall back into her lap. “This whole investigation feels like we are chasing our tails. Every time something seems promising, reality comes crashing down.”
Roz reached out and patted Gemma’s hands. “Dear heart, this could be the very key to unlocking the whole mystery. At the very least, do not give up until you have spoken with this woman.”
Gemma heaved a breath. “You are right, of course. I am sorry. In any case, she must be more helpful than Lord Perry.”
Roz chuckled. “Do you know what his secret is, by chance?”
“No, I do not. How he is able to dress himself in the morning, perhaps?” she said, a bit caustically.
“Oh, that’s no secret. I am sure his valet dresses him,” Roz answered and they dissolved into laughter.
…
At precisely five minutes to two, Gemma was in the foyer, peeking every few seconds through the heavy beveled glass by the front door. Then she paced the length of the floor to the stairs and back again. Bird stood stoically by, watching the mad march.
If only they were closer to getting a handle on any part of the case. What she had told Roz earlier was true: they were chasing their tails, forever making deductive leaps that did not turn up results. The only progress they had made was to discover even more questions. She had to keep tamping down her rising frustration and panic. This next step needed to be the break for which they were waiting. She peered out the glass once more before resuming her pacing.
Her aunt lived on one of the quieter circles in one of the most fashionable boroughs of London, so she was able to hear Lucas’s carriage roll to a stop in front of the townhouse. Bird’s sharp look was the only thing holding her back from dashing out the door without a thought to propriety. But she dare not challenge Bird on social etiquette. They would wait for Lucas to fetch her to the carriage himself.
The moments dragged on, and Gemma tapped her foot on the floor with unladylike impatience. The act earned her another glare, but she was beginning to think Bird’s face was set in permanent disapproval, and really, there was nothing she could do about that.
Finally, the heavy knocker echoed through the room, and the butler made his way to the door.
“Good day, Mr. Bird,” came Lucas’s voice from around Bird’s stout body. “I am here to retrieve my fiancée for a drive in the park.”
She pushed her way forward. “Yes, yes, here I am, my lord. What took you so long?”
Lucas made a show of pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time. “I believe I have arrived two minutes early, my dear.”
Gemma waved off the facts. “Irrelevant,” she said, all but skipping down the steps toward his carriage. The coachman stood ready to help her up the little stairs, but Lucas was there to steady her.
“I do have to warn you about something, my dear,” Lucas said once they’d settled into the velvet benches and the carriage rolled into the street.
“It seems to be the day for that,” she muttered to herself.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing, my lord. Please continue,” she said, cheeks blazing. The last thing she wanted to bring up was any tender feelings she might be developing toward him. He would leave a Lucas-sized hole in the carriage door just to escape her, she was sure.
He narrowed his eyes, and she could tell he wanted to pursue the conversation. Instead he left it alone and said, “The woman we are meeting…I should have mentioned this to you before we were on our way.”
“Yes, my lord?” Gemma prompted as he trailed off, her patience expiring.
“Well…” He cleared his throat, clearly nervous. She was fascinated as to what would cause Lucas to feel such discomfort. He was usually so composed. “She was a well-known brothel owner back in the day.”
“How interesting.” Gemma sat forward. “I have never met a brothel owner before.”
“I should hope not,” Lucas said, a trace of amusement in his deep voice.
“That is why you think she might know something?” she asked. “She was privy to the private lives of influential gentlemen?”
“Yes, most of the men of significance in society have ventured through her doors at one point or another. She knows many secrets.”
“I would imagine so,” she murmured, thinking through the ramifications of what he was telling her. She remembered the intimacy she had felt after simply kissing Lucas. She might not have spilled her closest held feelings, but it would not have taken much to pry information from her in that state. The amount of knowledge the women in a brothel could gather was probably astonishing. She wondered why she had not thought of that before. “The implications are astounding, actually.”
“The women have to be careful with the secrets, though, you must remember,” Lucas said, following her thoughts as usual. “They would not last long in the business if they were blackmailing their clients. Rose would not allow it, either.”
A heavy silence descended in the carriage, and Gemma shifted in her seat. She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. A man would only know of business at a brothel if he had reason to be familiar with their services.
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something to ask me, my dear?” He sounded amused.
“No,” she responded shortly, even more irritated, and refused to look at him. She did not want to know.
Did. Not. Want. To. Know.
And she certainly did not want to see his smug smile. She would not give in to either the curiosity or the jealousy that clawed at her stomach.
The silence stretched on for several blocks as they left the more posh part of town. She oriented herself to their location—they were not in the rough section near the docks, but the quieter area where many merchants and businessmen lived, the ones who were wealthy, but because they worked for a living were not welcome into society. Except when they were serving the upper class, she thought.
She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised at the neighborhood—this Rose was a businesswoman, and if Lucas was to be
believed, a rather successful one at that.
“I have never availed myself of the services of one of Rose’s girls,” Lucas finally said, the amusement still in his voice. “I know you were not wondering, of course, but I thought perhaps we should all enter this interview with the same knowledge.”
So this was something of a joke to him. She no longer cared. The effect of what he’d said, joke or not, washed over her. She tried to ignore the warmth that the reassurance brought her, but it was there whether she wanted to admit it or not.
“I care not what you did or did not do,” Gemma protested, a little too vehemently. She paused as a thought struck her. “Does she know I will be coming with you?”
“She does. She seems intrigued to meet a lady of the ton. She has plenty of experience with the lords, but I’m not sure how many gentlewomen she has encountered in her long career. I am sure it is one of the reasons she took the meeting,” he mused.
She gasped. “So you are using me? Is that what you are saying, my lord?”
“Yes, the only use I have for you is to leverage the status of your birth to acquire a meeting with a notorious prostitute,” he said with a straight face. She swatted at him, and he grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers. Her breath caught at the intimacy of the gesture. She bit her lip as he squeezed her hand once and then let it go, and felt a surprising sense of loss as he released her fingers.
“Surely she would have met with you because you two know each other from the past?” Gemma asked once she composed herself again.
Lucas considered the question. “I think to make it to where she is now, she has not let herself be pulled into situations that might disrupt her life unduly. We helped each other at one time, so I was useful to her and worth the risk of divulging highly sensitive information. However, I have nothing of real value to offer her now. She does not need money, as she sold her businesses and retired several years ago an extremely wealthy woman. I have no power that interests her. To her, information is the only currency that matters now. I come with none of it.”
He locked eyes with her. “But you—a gentlewoman lowering herself to meet with a brothel owner. She would find that impossible to pass up.”
“I understand. I do not know why more women would not want to meet such a fascinating person, but the rules of society are rather strict, are they not? Infuriatingly so, I think. It has improved greatly for me, though, my lord, since we announced our engagement,” she said happily.
He mimicked her earlier gasp. “So you are using me? For the freedom to move about unrestricted by rules developed for your protection? Is that what you are saying?”
“It is precisely what I am saying. Your only usefulness to me is your status as my fiancé.”
He snatched her into his lap and laid a quick kiss on her lips, cutting off her surprised gasp. “Ah, then. I shall strive to do my best in the role.”
Chapter Nine
The carriage pulled to a stop outside a large townhouse. Lucas had grudgingly deposited Gemma back in her seat. There was a time for everything, and on the way to visit Rose Stephens was not the ideal moment for engaging in a passionate tussle.
He glanced at her now. She was a bundle of nerves and excitement. It was both amusing and endearing. He could not imagine any lady of his acquaintance behaving in the same manner. In fact, he could not think of one who wouldn’t be horrified. He had clearly been associating with the wrong people.
They disembarked from the carriage, and he told his coachman to return in an hour. While he had no qualms about his visit to Rose, he did not want to court gossip, especially with Gemma’s name so closely connected to his own. Gemma’s eyebrows rose at the order, but she remained quiet.
They made their way up the steps and rapped on the door. It was opened promptly by a tall, stately woman in expensive but tasteful clothing.
“We have an appointment with Miss Stephens,” Lucas said, producing a calling card for the housekeeper in a practiced move. “Lord Winchester and Miss Lancaster.”
The woman stared at Gemma, eyes narrowed, as she ran a finger over the expensive paper. She stepped back after a few tense moments, and Gemma gave her a quick smile as they followed her into the house.
The Amazon led them to a small, well-lit parlor near the entrance. Rose was a seated general, in control of her battlefield, but she stood gracefully as they were announced.
“Lucas,” she said, both hands held out in welcome. She grasped his and squeezed them before turning her attention to Gemma. “And Miss Lancaster. Welcome, both of you.”
“Thank you so much for having us, Miss Stephens,” Gemma said as they settled into chairs opposite of Rose’s.
“Please do call me Rose. Mrs. Darling, we will have the oolong,” she said, calling out the order to the Amazon as she returned to her seat.
Rose had easily slipped into the life of a high society lady, or at least the trappings of one. If he didn’t know better, he would find it hard to believe the woman sitting in front of him had grown up on the streets of East London. But her smile gave her away. It was too cunning, too sharp. It told those watching closely that it would be dangerous to underestimate her—or forget that she’d run a business that pulled desperate women into the same lifestyle that she’d hated so much.
She was ruthless. He just hoped that trait would be of use to them.
“Shall we forgo the small talk, Lucas? I can see you are well, and I am the same.” She waved a dismissive hand at her expensive surroundings. Nothing in the room was audacious or gaudy, but the furnishings clearly showed her good taste and wealth. Even her gowns were the height of fashion. He knew it meant more to her than she was letting on.
“We do not want to waste your time, Rose,” he said as she poured them the tea that her housekeeper had placed on the table between them. “We are looking for information.”
“Of course you are,” she said, her lips curling up as she sipped from her fine china. He answered with a sardonic smile.
“Did you know my father?” He had many questions he could ask, but he went with one of the most basic ones. He could not very well ask more prying questions when he did not yet know what answers he needed.
She thought for a moment.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “He was not a frequent customer of my establishment. By then he had set up in your country seat, for the most part. But I believe he had his favorite places in his younger days.” She glanced at Gemma, as though checking to see if she was scandalized.
“Most men right out of school go through a rabble-rousing phase,” Gemma said, and he couldn’t help but admire her composure in the face of the risqué subject matter. “Nigel did.”
Lucas nodded, unable to deny his own slightly sordid years when he was a younger gentleman. “I think that’s the time we would like to know more about. Have you heard of Lord Perry?”
“I know him well,” Rose said without hesitation.
“His father—did he…” Lucas stopped, wondering the best way to phrase it. “Was he connected to mine?”
Rose slowly placed her cup in her saucer and tipped her head as she considered the question. “Now that you mention it, they did associate. For a short period, a long time ago, they ran in the same crowd.”
He sensed Gemma’s heightened awareness, though not through any perceptible movement on her part. Rose didn’t even seem to be aware of the shift. It was as if he were acutely attuned to her every breath, her every emotion, her every reaction.
“I do not think I would have even recalled it had you not mentioned both men,” Rose continued. “It was about forty years ago, and I had just gotten my own room in a house. Neither of them were customers at the time, but another gentleman came by frequently. He mentioned Perry and your father a few times.”
“Impressive that you remember this after so much time has passed,” Gemma murmured.
Rose turned her sharp eyes on Gemma. “I have always had the gift of an excellent memory. It has served me
well in the years. But as it happens, I still might not have remembered except this gentleman was a lifelong client up until a few years ago. The thing is, he always wears a ring, I’ve never seen him without it. I asked him about it in the early days. I’m not sure at that point I’d seen much that was as expensive as that ring.”
All of Lucas’s instincts came alert, but he kept it hidden behind a smooth mask and a calm voice. “And that has something to do with my father and Perry?”
“Mmhmm. On the underside of the ring was an engraving of some sort.”
“A lion?” Gemma asked.
“Yes. That was it exactly.” Rose glanced between the two of them, appraising. She wanted to see if her information was hitting its target. “This means something to you?”
Lucas considered how much to give up. He did not trust this woman in the slightest. She was more than likely filing away the entire conversation to benefit her at a later date. But he wanted to retrieve as much from her as possible. He had to give her something. “We think it might be a connection. Did he say anything about the ring in particular?”
“He said he and three of his friends had commissioned it right after they finished their education. He said they called themselves the Kingsmen. Grand plans they had, he always said. It was strange. The club fell apart after a season. But even toward the end of our time together, which was only a few years ago, he was talking of them. They had shaped his life, and they could have shaped all of England’s future, socially and economically. If only they’d stuck together, they would have taken over the world,” Rose said. “That is what he said.”
“Did he say why they were not still the Kingsmen?” Lucas asked.
“No, and I did not ask. Many men have silly delusions of grandeur. That is all this seemed to be. And a few friends who were no longer as close, well, it is a common tale. Like I said, the reason I remember it is because of the ring, and that he would bring it up on occasion, usually when he had been in his cups.”
“Would you be able to tell us the names of the two other gentlemen of the Kingsmen? Other than Perry and Winchester’s father?” It was Gemma who asked the crucial question.
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