Her Wanton Wager (29 page)

"My thanks," Gavin said.

"Cooperation does have its benefits." Finian stroked a finger across his mustache. "In that vein, I've a proposition for you, Mr. Hunt."

"What is it?"

"My brother and I have an eye on Lyon's club. The business won't last long under Lyon's second-in-command. With a third partner, Patrick and I could take it over."

 In other words, the O'Briens didn't have enough coin or manpower to take it over between the two of them. "I work alone," Gavin said.

"Do you? From what I hear, Kingsley paid you a visit not long ago."

Nosy bastard.
"I said the same to him as I'm saying to you. My business is my own."

"Are you certain you aren't in league with Kingsley? Planning to divvy up Lyon's territory between the two of you?" Finian had an odd smirk on his face. "From what I can tell, you and Kingsley share a lot in common."

"I have nothing in common with Kingsley. And I don't take on partners because I don't like being double-crossed," Gavin snapped.

Finian studied him for a long moment. "If you're not working with Kingsley, then you had better watch your back with the rest of us. He's hired on an army of brutes. Early this morning, one of them bloodied a pair of my best customers and warned them to stay away from my club." Eyes glittering, he said, "I believe you're familiar with that experience."

Bloody hell
. If Finian was speaking the truth, then had Kingsley been behind the attacks on Gavin's patrons as well? Gavin's hands curled into fists. "These cutthroats—you have proof that they work for Kingsley?"

"They
boasted
of the fact. Kingsley has grown fearless." Lines of tension bracketed Finian's mouth. "My guess? Kingsley's found someone to back him. Someone who prefers to remain in the shadows."

The news sent a chill down Gavin's spine. "Black?" With the support of his father-in-law, Kingsley could become more than a nuisance.

 "A likely possibility." Genuine fear flashed in Finian's eyes. "You see, Hunt? We must band together or Kingsley will bring us all down."

"I want no part in the scuffle over Lyon's club," Gavin said.

Yet he found himself pausing as Percy's words played in his head.
No man is an island.
Though he didn't trust the O'Briens farther than he could toss them, mayhap it wouldn't hurt to try building bridges instead of burning them.

"I do, however, have an offer for you and your brother. We put the past behind us and agree to no further violence between our men. Negotiation instead of bloodshed," Gavin said evenly. "What say you?"   

Finian looked relieved. "I say that sounds like we have an understanding, Hunt."

He reached out a hand, and Gavin took it.

*****

Back in the carriage, Gavin filled Stewart in on the proceedings.

"You trust Finian?" His mentor's bushy brows came together.

"No, but I trust Kingsley less. Any news from Will?" Gavin's head guard was monitoring the comings and goings of Kingsley's club.

"Not yet."

"We'll wait to hear his report before interrogating Kingsley," Gavin said.

As the carriage slowed, Stewart frowned. "We can't be back at the club as yet." He lifted the curtain and at the sight of the dilapidated building that housed the second-rate Temple Bar Theatre, he said with a knowing leer, "Oh, it's like that, is it?"

"I'm not here for a tumble," Gavin said curtly.

"No need to play coy with me, lad. You take as long as you need. Better Evangeline 'Arper than that other one."

"What do you have against Percy exactly?" Gavin heard himself say.

"No need to get testy with me. And
Percy
, is it?" Stewart glowered at him. "I
knew
this would 'appen. Tried to warn you, didn't I, but you wouldn't listen. You've gone arsey varsey o'er the chit."

Gavin's face heated like that of a child being taken to task. Which was ridiculous, seeing as how he was a grown man who hadn't asked permission for anything in as long as he could remember.

"It's none of your bloody business what goes on between her and me," he said, his jaw tightening. "And you best get used to the idea of her being around. I mean to have her."

Stewart's eyes widened. A pang struck Gavin for he'd never seen that look on his mentor's face before. The man looked ... hurt?

"So that's how it's to be, eh? Fifteen years we've known each other, an' you'd toss my advice aside for a slip o' a wench."

"Devil take it, that's not what I meant." Guilt needled Gavin as he contemplated the scowling man who had, for all intents and purposes, fathered him. A man he had always trusted. In a gruff voice, he said, "Is it such a bad thing to want companionship?"

"That's what the likes o' Evangeline 'Arper is for," Stewart burst out. "Or some other fancy piece if 'er tricks 'ave grown tiresome. Don't shackle yourself to the ball and chain, lad—weren't the 'ulks enough? 'Ang onto to your freedom; that's a man's true companion."

"You cannot be comparing marriage to imprisonment," Gavin said with a frown.

"Can't I, lad? I thought I wanted the one an' ended up with the other."

"Percy is not like Marissa."

"How do you know that, son? 'Twixt 'er own family an' you, a bastard from the stews she's known but a month or two, who do you think she'll choose? Will she even believe your story when Morgan 'as 'is own tale to convince 'er?"

She'll take my side. She won't betray me.

Yet the doubt crept in, widening the cracks in Gavin's earlier confidence. The idea of Percy siding with Morgan made his muscles tense in denial.

What if she leaves me, turns her back?

"Don't make any 'asty decisions you'll regret. That's all I'm sayin'."

"I will think on it." An awkward silence filled the carriage; as ever, unspoken words hovered between them. His hand on the door handle, Gavin struggled to express the sentiment within him ... and gave up. "I'll be back shortly," he said instead. "Keep an eye out for me, will you?"

"Always 'ave and always will, lad.
That
you can count on," Stewart said.

Gavin entered the rickety building. He didn't know what possessed him to search out Evangeline. It wasn't pity precisely, but he couldn't forget the desperation he'd seen in her eyes—the most genuine emotion he'd ever seen from her. She'd needed that money. He'd give it to her, as a parting gift and as a small thank you; for though Evangeline had meant to stir the pot with Percy, she'd instead opened up a world of possibility.

Percy hadn't been afraid of his darker desires. He'd seen her peeking at those tools of pleasure, and her cheeks had gone rosy with curiosity, not disgust. His innocent yet seductive goddess would accept him as he was ... with all his flaws, the darkness in his soul. By God, he
craved
her. Luckily, he had only to wait for tonight.

Passing by the unattended ticketing counter, he made his way into the small auditorium. Several women stood on the cramped stage, bickering with a beleaguered looking fellow with ink stains on his shirtsleeves.

"I ain't arsin' 'round wif this scene no more, Johnny." This came from the skimpily clad brunette standing in the middle of the stage. She had one hand on her hip, her lips held in a pout. "I'm tired an' me feet 'urt from standin' round."

"Just one more time," the director pleaded as he pushed up his spectacles. "Please, darling, you've got to get your lines right. Think of your adoring crowds."

"Gor, t'isn't 'er lines they're 'ere for, is it?" said another of the females.

"I reckon there's more 'an one kind o' talent." The brunette wiggled her shoulders to show off her obvious twin assets, and the rest of the cast roared with laughter.    

"Pardon," Gavin said.

All eyes turned to him.

"I am looking for Miss Harper," he said. "Where can I find her?"

The brunette strolled over toward him. "She ain't 'ere, luvie." She winked at him. "I'm Tilly, and I han't see you 'ere before. Would remember a fine lookin' gent like yourself."

"Do you know when Miss Harper will be back?" he said.

"She won't be." This came from the director. Shooing the actors away, he took Gavin aside and said suspiciously, "Why are you looking for her?"

"I'm an old friend, and I have something for her." Gavin frowned. "Do you mean to say she has left the theatre?"

The other man nodded. Pushed his spectacles up again—clearly a nervous habit.

"Do you know where I can find her?"

"She didn't leave a forwarding address," the other man said in guarded tones.

"Look, I
am
a friend. This is what I meant to leave for her." Removing the envelope from his jacket pocket, Gavin showed the contents to the director, whose eyes grew large at the sight of the money.

"'Tis a fortune," he breathed.

Gavin withdrew a single note, held it up between two fingers. "This is for you, if you'll tell me what you know."

The man licked his lips. "You really don't intend Evangeline harm? Not like that other man?"

"What man?" Hairs rose on Gavin's neck.

"The one who came looking for her earlier. Didn't leave his card, but he was a right nasty looking brute. I think he meant to hurt her."

"What sort of trouble is she in?"

"I don't know exactly." The man's eyes darted from the money to Gavin's face. "She was a bit of a clam. Which was why she never made it past the bit parts—didn't emote enough, you know. But there was this one time ..."

Gavin handed him the money. "Go on."

 "Several weeks ago after everyone had left, I found her in the changing room. She was drinking and more than half seas over, I suspect. From what I could gather from her rambling, she'd been seeing a fellow. Some rich toff she was head over heels for. He'd promised her the moon and stars ..." The fellow shrugged. "You'd think she'd have known better."

"Did Evangeline tell you his name?" Gavin asked.

The director shook his head. "She wasn't speaking too clearly by that point. She kept crying and saying as how he'd ended the affair and was threatening to hurt her if she didn't leave town."

"And you have no idea where she went?"

The other man shook his head again.

Gavin handed him another banknote. "If you happen to hear from her, tell her the rest of the money is waiting for her at The Underworld."

"Yes, sir. Will you leave your name?"

"She'll know who I am," Gavin said.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Ensconced in a chair in Charity's snug parlor, Percy looked at the clock on the mantel. Eight o' clock in the evening. Butterflies swarmed in her belly at thought of seeing Gavin soon. She needed something to keep her busy until then or she might go mad with impatience.

"Are you certain I can't help with those display case cloths?" she asked.

Charity looked up from the elaborate silver "S" she was embroidering onto dark blue velvet. "No, thank you," she said. "The last time you helped it took me twice as long to finish."

So Percy wasn't the most facile with needle and thread. 

"Why don't you have a bite to eat? You haven't touched the collation," her friend added.

"I can't stomach anything at the moment. I'm too excited."

"Heavens, now you're making
me
nervous." Charity set down the hoop. Seeing the notch between the other's straight brows, Percy forecasted what her friend would say next; after all, Charity had been uttering the refrain for weeks. "Are you certain I can't dissuade you from this, Percy? I feel very strongly that this is a bad idea."

"I know you do," Percy said, "which makes you twice the dear for helping me tonight. Even when you disapprove."

"
Worry
is more accurate. Oh, Percy, are you certain this is the future you want? I cannot fault you for being disillusioned with the
ton
, but surely there are options less extreme than this. Within our own circle there are plenty of eligible bachelors—"

"I love Mr. Hunt. He's the one that I want," Percy said.

"And does he want you?"

You're important to me.
Her chest warmed; the time for self-doubt was over. "I rather think he does," she said.

"I mean in a respectable way. Has he proposed?"

"Not yet. But I have a feeling the topic may come up this evening." If Gavin didn't bring it up, Percy told herself she would. She was no longer a powerless girl to wait for what she wanted. Gavin had given her the confidence to reach for the stars—even if it meant a shift in her universe. "Charity, if I'm to become the wife of a gambling hell owner," she said in a tremulous tone, "would you still be my friend?" 

"Of course. We're to be bosom companions for the rest of our lives, remember?" Charity came to sit beside her. "You told me so that first day at Mrs. Southbridge's when I was standing there, frightened and alone. I don't know what I would have done without you all those years."

"Nor I you," Percy said.

"And now you are about to embark on the grandest adventure of all."

Hearing the wistful edge to her friend's voice, Percy said, "You could have an adventure too. If you wanted, you could search out your own destiny—"

"Papa needs me. And you know I've never been a dreamer like you."

"You
do
have dreams, Charity," Percy said. "You used to talk of opening your own shop, remember? And of getting married and having your own household."

"You know I can't leave Papa. Not when he is so alone." Charity picked up her embroidery again.  Her gaze focused on the fine cloth, she said, "Have you seen Mr. Fines since earlier this week?"

Percy studied her friend a moment longer before sighing. "I haven't. And I hope I did the right thing in giving him more money."

"What else could you do, dear?" her friend murmured.

"Well, Mr. Hunt has a better idea. He is getting Paul barred from some of the clubs—doing this at no small risk to himself, I might add." Craftily, Percy said, "Even you have to admit that is noble."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps Mr. Hunt has given you the skirmish with the intention of winning the war." Charity put in another stitch. "If he loves you, why doesn't he simply set your brother free?"