A Scandalous Winter Wedding

by Marguerite Kaye

  And, pray, how did he think he could have done that? Cameron forced himself to take a good hard look at himself. Six years ago, how would he have felt if Kirstin had got in touch? He knew what he’d have done, and that was married her, there was no question, but would doing the honourable thing have made either of them happy?

  The answer to that was extremely unpalatable but it had to be faced. He would have resented having both a wife and child foisted on him, for they’d have kept him at home. And Kirstin—would she have consented to marriage? And, if she had, would he have permitted his wife to become The Procurer?

  ‘Permitted,’ Cameron muttered. Knowing Kirstin now, he would neither wish nor try to order her life, wouldn’t dream of deciding what she could do or what she wanted to do. But back then...? Though he’d love to think otherwise, honesty forced him to admit that he’d have tried to force her into a conventional marriage, would have tried to make himself a conventional husband and father. He shuddered. They would both have been miserable.

  Droplets of rain gathered on the brim of his hat had started to trickle down his back. Cameron stood up, shaking the folds of his greatcoat. Deep in thought, he began to retrace his steps, heading for Half Moon Street where he would spend the day on watch. There was no point in going over what had happened or what might have happened six years ago, because it was done. What mattered was the future.

  He loved Kirstin. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And his daughter.

  Good grief, he had a daughter! Tears stung the backs of his eyes. He slowed, almost overwhelmed with the love which surged through him like a physical force. He had a family. He would move heaven and earth to be with them. Whatever sacrifices he had to make to shape his world to Kirstin’s he would make. He would convince her—

  Doubt clutched at him, stopping his thoughts in their tracks. What if he was wrong? What if she didn’t care? Saw their time together as nothing more than a brief dalliance? It was possible, even if he didn’t want to admit it, for a person to love and not be loved in return.

  But this was neither the time nor the place for navel-gazing. He had a niece to rescue! As he turned off Curzon Street, Cameron forced himself to put Kirstin and his new-found daughter to the back of his mind.

  Half Moon Street was, according to Kirstin, a rather mixed bag of a district. There were several town houses occupied by those who either disdained the grander and stuffier parts of Mayfair, or were considered unsuitable by the residents. There were genteel apartments for those whose income could not run to a town house. There were several gentlemen’s lodging houses, for the street was conveniently close to the clubs of St James’s. And there were a few discreet houses occupied by a few select ladies kept by gentlemen with the means to support two households for very different purposes.

  The house which Griffiths had described was halfway down on the left-hand side of the street, with a red door and a knocker in the shape of a lion’s head. The lower windows were barred, though so too were the windows in several other of the buildings. The windows of the attic and the second floor were shuttered, but those on the ground and main floor were curtained. The rooms behind were dark.

  Frustrated, Cameron looked around for a place from which to spy, but each house abutted the next. He could not stand there all day without raising suspicion. So he’d have to find a hiding place.

  * * *

  ‘You did what?’ Kirstin exclaimed.

  It was very late by the time Cameron returned, but she had held back dinner for him.

  ‘I hired a room in the lodging house diagonally opposite,’ Cameron said, helping himself to a leg of chicken. ‘A room at the front, of course. With an excellent vantage point.’

  ‘How did you explain the fact that you had no luggage?’

  ‘I told some tale of it having been lost in transit. The landlady didn’t believe a word of it, of course, but she was happy to go along with it when I supplemented my tale with a very generous down-payment. I’ll go back tonight, get my money’s worth out of that room.’

  It was wrong of her to be disappointed. Guiltily, Kirstin set aside her own inappropriate ideas for how the rest of the night might be spent. ‘You’ll not see much in the dark.’

  ‘No.’ Cameron frowned down at his chicken as if it had offended him. ‘How did you spend your day?’

  ‘That’s the second time you’ve asked me that. Is there something wrong?’

  ‘No. Yes. No.’ He pushed aside his plate, uncharacteristically leaving it half-full. ‘Kirstin, I—Never mind, it can wait.’

  ‘What can wait?’

  He stared at her, clearly torn, then shook his head. ‘Now is not the time,’ he said.

  She had the impression he was talking to himself rather than her, for he stared down at his plate again for some time, shifting his dinner about abstractedly.

  Finally, he gave a sigh. ‘What were we talking about?’

  ‘You are determined to return to Half Moon Street. In the dark. Even though you won’t see anything.’

  ‘But I might.’ He sighed again, and gave himself a little shake. ‘No, I’m definitely going,’ he said firmly. ‘I want to keep an eye out for any comings and goings,’ he added grimly. ‘We’ve no idea how many poor lasses are locked away behind those doors.’

  ‘It’s not likely to be more than one or two. What I have managed to extract from my sources, using what Griffiths told us, is that the gentlemen of the Erotes Club are very discriminating.’ Kirstin gave up pretending to eat. ‘They number minor royalty amongst their members. To think that such men—It’s disgusting.’

  He drummed his fingers on the table, frowning deeply. ‘If they find out that you’ve been sniffing around, they will ruin you without compunction. If they are as influential as you say, they’ll know who The Procurer is and where to find her. However we go about breaking into that house, you can’t risk being involved.’

  He looked exhausted, with circles under his eyes, his jaw dark with stubble. ‘They could just as equally ruin you,’ Kirstin said, reaching across the table to clasp his hand.

  He tightened his fingers around hers. ‘It’s my niece we’re rescuing, my promise to Louise Ferguson that we’re honouring. Two young lassies, Kirstin, and a mother at her wits’ end. Compared to that, my business doesn’t matter.’

  ‘I made a promise too, remember? To you, Cameron. I’m not deserting you at the last minute.’

  ‘Kirstin, you can’t risk all you’ve worked for.’ He pushed back his chair, pulling her to her feet and wrapping his arms around her. ‘I can’t let you do that,’ he said, sounding oddly desperate. ‘After everything you’ve—No, I won’t let you.’

  She reached up to smooth back his hair, puzzled by his vehemence. ‘Then we’ll have to make sure that we don’t get caught, because I’m coming with you. No,’ she said, putting her finger over his mouth when he made to protest, ‘listen to me. Philippa doesn’t know you, Cameron. How is she to know you have come to save her, not take her away to endure some horrible fate? It will be much better for her if there’s a woman there to reassure her—and Jeannie, too, if she is in that house.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘And as for those in charge of the Erotes Club—yes, they could ruin us both, I’m not denying it, but we could ruin them too, if we have to.’

  ‘Expose their—their private peccadillos to the public, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly. If we are caught—and we won’t be—then we can threaten to expose them. They have even more to lose than we do.’

  His arms tightened around her waist. ‘They don’t. Kirstin, I—’ He broke off, biting his lip, shaking his head at her enquiring look. ‘Another time. I must go.’

  ‘We’ll find a way to get Philippa back safely. We are so close...’

  ‘I know. It’s not that.’

 
‘Then what?’

  ‘Not now. We’ll make a rescue plan in the morning. Try and get a good night’s sleep.’

  A longing to spend the night sleeping wrapped in his arms assailed her. Not to make love, but simply to sleep. She yearned to smooth away his frown and his worries, and to wake up to his kisses, his tender smile...

  Kirstin untangled herself from his embrace and bestowed her professional smile on him. ‘The sooner we act the better, for the sake of those girls.’

  And for the sake of her own peace of mind too. She could not allow herself to become too attached to Cameron. Feelings clouded one’s judgement. She could not permit that.

  ‘Until the morning.’

  She nodded, was about to head for the door, but somehow found herself wrapping her arms around him instead, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips. ‘Good luck.’

  There was a distinct and inexplicable wobble in her voice. Afraid as much of the emotion in her voice as of Cameron’s noticing, Kirstin fled.

  * * *

  They had spent the morning planning and preparing. Now, on the brink of leaving for Half Moon Street, Kirstin was trying not to panic. ‘You really think this will work? Wouldn’t it be easier to hire a couple of thugs?’

  ‘Easier if we want all hell to break loose.’ Cameron turned from the mirror, where he had been adjusting his cravat. ‘And that’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid.’

  ‘I know that.’ She managed a strained smile. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t lose my nerve.’

  ‘That is one of few things I’m not worried about. Come here, sit down for a minute.’ Cameron patted the sofa, clasping her hands in his when she sat down beside him. ‘The more time we can buy ourselves between spiriting the girls away and our little ruse being discovered the better, right?’

  ‘Right.’ It was foolish to be reassured simply by the clasp of his hands and a warm smile, but she was.

  ‘So we will persuade this Mrs Allardyce woman Griffiths says is the housekeeper that we’ve been sent by her employers, the Erotes Club. The mention of the name should be enough to convince her we are legitimate visitors.’

  ‘But if she is cautious and insists on checking first?’

  ‘Then I will point out how foolish she is being to risk upsetting her paymasters by contacting them unnecessarily when discretion is all. And if that doesnae work,’ Cameron said in his broadest Glaswegian growl, ‘then I’ll batter the life out of the two thugs on the door, and you can take care of the lassies.’

  Kirstin shivered. In his guise of a rough Glaswegian, Cameron made her feel fragile, helpless, when she was never any of those things, and he made her feel completely safe, sure that he would never let any harm come to her, though she was in no need of a protector.

  ‘It is to be hoped that we can avoid any physical violence,’ she said, unable to prevent herself from pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

  ‘If there is, then you’ve chosen the perfect disguise, Nurse Grey.’ He smiled wickedly. ‘I’m tempted to get myself a wee bit bloodied just so you can be my ministering angel.’

  ‘Oh, no, Dr Black, you are quite mistaken, I am no ministering angel,’ Kirstin replied in Nurse Grey’s clipped tones. ‘I’m the stern, cold-baths-and-plenty-of-fresh-air kind of nurse, who tolerates no malingering.’

  ‘But who also has a wee soft spot for Dr Black?’ Cameron winked.

  ‘Dr Black, I think you are trying to distract me from the task in hand.’

  He kissed her softly. ‘Is it working?’

  Kirstin sighed, smiling reluctantly. ‘Yes. I am much better now. Shall we go?’

  He narrowed his eyes, scrutinising her for some moments. What he saw obviously satisfied him, for he nodded, getting to his feet and pulling her with him. ‘Aye,’ he said curtly. ‘Let’s get this business done.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Half Moon Street was eerily quiet in the middle of the afternoon. The pavements were deserted as the hackney carriage pulled up in front of the red door of number nine. Dr Black, in a long cloak, with a tall hat, carrying an old-fashioned swordstick in the guise of a malacca walking cane with an embossed silver top, descended first. Nurse Grey, in a plain brown wool dress and short cape, with a white starched apron and cap to match, emerged behind the good doctor, carrying his bag and keeping her head lowered.

  Though Kirstin’s heart was hammering, her mind was completely focused on the task in hand, taking her lead from Cameron.

  A sharp rap of the knocker revealed a tall, well-built woman of about forty, dressed in a housekeeper’s garb. Her smile failed to meet her eyes.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Mrs Allardyce.’ Dr Black had the plummy, booming, confident voice of a man sure of his station in life and his welcome. ‘I take it we are expected? I am Dr Black,’ he said, upon receiving a blank look, ‘and this is my assistant, Nurse Grey. Please resist making the obvious comment, it has been done to death.’

  Taking advantage of the woman’s confusion, he pushed passed her into the hallway with Kirstin scurrying behind. The two thugs who guarded the house and its precious contents stood, arms folded, at either side of the stairs, like grotesque and oversized newel posts.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Dr Black said, with a careless nod.

  Mrs Allardyce, meantime, had recovered her nerve. ‘I am afraid you are under some misapprehension, Dr Black,’ she said coolly. ‘There is no one here who requires the services of a medical man.’

  Cameron clapped his hands together and tutted with just the right amount of condescension. Kirstin, still hovering in the background and taking covert stock of the place, wondered who his role model was, certain that he had one.

  ‘Well, now, Mrs Allardyce,’ he continued, dropping his voice to a confidential stage whisper, ‘I sincerely hope for your sake no one here is ill, since it is your job to keep them fit and well, and that would constitute a dereliction of duty.’ He smiled benignly. ‘Rather, it is a matter of my verifying that they are up to specification. For the coming experience. If you take my meaning. This is the first occasion the goods in question have been sourced from a madam such as Mrs Jardine, so the powers that be prudently wish to satisfy themselves as to their suitability.’

  ‘I am not sure I can allow...’

  ‘Now, I am very sure that you don’t want me to disclose in front of these fine gentlemen here precisely who sent me, for your—let us call him your benefactor—would not wish his name to be bandied about, would he?’ Dr Black’s smile became menacing. ‘He pays you a great deal for your discretion. You would not wish me to cause him to think that his money has been badly spent.’

  Kirstin was not surprised to see Mrs Allardyce wither, but the woman had not earned her trusted place in this hellish house for nothing. She did not dismiss the thugs. Instead she opened the door of a small parlour and indicated that Dr Black should follow.

  Kirstin hesitated, but a tiny shake of his head informed her that Cameron wanted her to remain where she was. The door was left open, giving her a view of Mrs Allardyce and Cameron, she remonstrating, he standing his ground, shaking his head, saying little. Though Kirstin’s hearing was acute, she could make out only the odd muttered phrase.

  The two thugs made no pretence at uninterest, their attention fully focused on the confrontation. Taking advantage of this, Kirstin studied each of them, noting the unmistakable outline of cudgels under their rough coats. To deter unwanted visitors, no doubt. Her mouth was dry. How many girls had been incarcerated here, locked away, kept fed and watered, physically unharmed, but in mental turmoil? What kind of state would they be in when they were finally taken to meet their fate? And what happened to them afterwards? Some of the many questions she had been unable to obtain answers to. With this case, she had for the first time reached the limits of The Procurer’s influence.

  The booming tone of Dr Black made her start. ‘A wise move,
Mrs Allardyce. Your caution does you credit, but I fear you might undermine your position were you to trouble your superiors with a spurious query as to my credentials. They are not the type who like to have their actions questioned.’ Cameron was shaking the woman’s hand. ‘I shall inform His Grace that he is being very well served indeed. Now, if you will call off these gentlemen...?’

  A nod from Mrs Allardyce and the men stood aside. ‘Nurse Grey, if you will bring my bag we will complete our task and be gone.’

  He began to stride up the stairs, so Kirstin hurried after him. Cameron paused for a mere second at the top of the landing on the uppermost floor to swear under his breath.

  ‘That was one hard nut to crack, but she decided discretion was the better part of valour. Philippa is in the room at the end of this corridor. Jeannie is with her.’

  ‘They have cudgels, both men,’ Kirstin said.

  ‘Better that than pistols.’ Cameron raised his voice. ‘Hurry along, Nurse Grey, I’m a busy man. I don’t have all day.’

  There were two doors on either side of the hallway in addition to the one in which Philippa was being held. All four of the rooms, to Kirstin’s utter relief, were empty. She knew that any attempt to release other victims would put Philippa’s safety at risk, it was something they had both discussed, and a conclusion painfully reached. But she knew that Cameron would have been still tempted, and as for herself—well, she was simply glad not to be put to the test.

  ‘This is the one, Nurse Grey,’ Dr Black boomed, throwing back the first bolt.

  As he stooped to open the second bolt Kirstin saw that his hand was shaking, fumbling with the mechanism. She touched his arm. Their eyes met briefly. He gave a firm nod and pulled back the bolt, opening the door just wide enough for the pair of them to step through, before shutting it again and leaning his back against it.

  The girls, one with raven-black hair, the other with a tangled mop of bright red, were huddled together in the furthest corner of the room. They were dressed in white shifts, barefooted, but while Jeannie’s face was a picture of utter terror, Philippa was trying desperately to compose herself.