One Night With A Prince (2 page)

“She probably wants to get close enough not to miss this time,” Gavin said. “With Haversham dead, she’s settling old scores. How did he die, anyway? Did she shoot at him, too?”

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“Nothing like that.”

“Well,I didn’t kill the man, if that’s what this is about. He paid me in full right before he died, so I had no reason to wish him dead.”

“She knows that. Besides, he died in a fall from a horse.” Draker poured himself some brandy. “And how he died has nothing to do with it.”

“But you don’t know what does,” Gavin remarked.

“Prinny wouldn’t say, so you’ll have to ask her yourself.” With a sly glance, he added, “Unless you’re too afraid of the woman to talk to her.”

Gavin snorted. Yet another attempt to coerce him by pricking his pride. Hadn’t Draker learned by now that he could see through such ploys? “I’ll let the woman speak her piece. But she’d better be unarmed for the meeting.”

Iversley shot Draker a smile. “What do you say, Draker? Shall you search Lady Haversham now or shall I?”

“She’shere ?” Gavin growled. “Have you lost your mind? You let her in your house, around your wife and son? Did you lock up your firearms first?”

Draker scowled. “We had to arrange a meeting between you and her that no one would find suspicious, so you’re both here for dinner. But she can’t be as bad as you say. The woman seems perfectly amiable, if a little…well—”

“Mad?”

“Forthright.”

“If that’s what you call it,” Gavin muttered. “Fine, go fetch the wench. After I hear why she wants to drag me into this, I’ll consider your proposal.”

Draker nodded and left the room with Iversley. Only a minute passed before Lady Haversham herself marched in. Up close, she was prettier than he remembered, despite her awful widow’s weeds and lopsided coiffure. She also looked quite fierce for a woman who came up only to his chin—a little spitfire with snapping green eyes and an impudent nose.

He stubbed out his cigar, though he wasn’t sure why he bothered. Despite her title, Lady Haversham was no lady. She was a soldier in skirts.

“Good evening, Mr. Byrne.” She thrust out her black-gloved hand as boldly as any man. Gavin took it in a firm grip, then in one quick motion, jerked her around so he could clamp an arm about her waist and hold her still from behind while he smoothed his other hand down her starched wool gown. She began to struggle. “What the devil—”

“Be still,” he growled. “I’m making sure you didn’t pack a pistol in some pocket.”

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“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she muttered, but stopped fighting him. After a moment of enduring the indignity of having his hands on her, she snapped, “My pistol is in my reticule, which is sitting in Lord Draker’s drawing room. All right?”

The woman was a walking arsenal. “All right.” He released her, not because of what she’d said, but because running his hands over her petite but surprisingly womanly figure had perversely aroused him. He didn’t want her to know it, however—the female was liable to shoot off his cock for its impertinence. She faced him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well? Will you help me?”

Nothing like going to the heart of the matter. “Why me?” he countered. “The last time we met, you weren’t exactly impressed with my credentials.”

A small smile touched her lips. “You mean I nearly put a hole in your credentials. I suppose I should apologize for that.”

“That would be a good start.”

She lifted her chin. “I was only trying to save Philip from certain ruin.”

“Ruin! Your husband paid off his debt easily enough.”

A weary sadness passed over her face. “Yes, he did. He gained the money by selling to Lord Stokely something belonging to my family.”

Suddenly, things began to make more sense. “That’s why you want an invitation to Stokely’s. To retrieve your property. Or more accurately, to steal it.”

“If I couldbuy it back, I would. But Lord Stokely won’t sell.”

“You asked him?”

“His Highness asked him.” When Gavin’s eyes narrowed, she added hastily, “On behalf of my family, of course.”

Not bloody likely. Prinny didn’t have a philanthropic bone in his body. Whatever her property was, Prinny clearly had a vested interest in it. Otherwise, he would never offer Gavin a barony to help recover it.

“How can you be sure it’s at Stokely’s estate? He has a town house. He might even possess a special vault at a bank.”

“He would never let it that far out of his sight. Besides, his town house has only a couple of servants in residence; it would be too easy to break into. He wouldn’t take that chance.”

“Yet you think he’d take the chance of inviting you to attend his party, knowing that he has something you want that he won’t sell to you.”

“He doesn’t know that I know he has it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

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“My husband told Lord Stokely that he’d received it from Papa, when in reality, Papa had given it tome, and Philip had stolen it without my knowledge. I didn’t even realize it was gone until Lord Stokely wrote to His Highness about it and the prince summoned me to London.”

“Why in God’s name would Stokely write His Highness?”

She blinked, as if realizing she’d said too much. “I-I have no idea.”

Liar. For the moment he let it pass. “And how does this tangled web concern me?”

She arched one eloquent eyebrow.

“Ah, you’ve decided I should help you steal your property back because your husband sold it to payme

.”

“If he hadn’t gambled with you—”

“—he would have gambled with someone else. Your late husband’s weakness for cards isn’t my problem, Lady Haversham.”

“I should have known a man like you would have no conscience.”

“Yes, you should have.” When she glared at him, he added, “It’s all moot, anyway. There’s only a slim chance I could help you even if I wanted to.”

“What do you mean?”

He laughed mercilessly. “Stokely only invites a certain type of person to his house party, and you’re not it.”

“Because I’m not a gambler.”

“Because you’re not a certainsort of gambler.” Gavin lit a new cigar and took a long puff. “However, I might consider retrieving your property for you—”

“No,” she said tersely. “I have to retrieve it myself.”

What the bloody hell could this mysterious property of hers be? “At least tell me what you wish to steal and why.”

She stiffened. “I can’t do that. And if you insist upon it, I shall have to ask someone else to help me.”

“Fine. If I can’t get you into that party, though, no one else can.”

An expression of sheer incredulity spread over her pretty features. “Didn’t they tell you that you’ll gain a barony out of it?”

“I’ve succeeded very well until now without one, so that’s not much of an inducement.”

“What if I said that helping me would be a service to your country?”

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He laughed. “That’s even less of an inducement. What has my country ever done for me that I should put myself out for it?”

She looked exasperated. “It’s not as if it would be much trouble for you. You merely need to convince Lord Stokely to invite me to his house party. Just tell him I’m your whist partner or something.”

“Do you play whist with any competence?”

She stuck out her chin. “I can manage well enough.”

The chit was lying again. Badly. “Stokely is always my partner.” Gavin dragged hard on his cigar.

“Besides, his house party includes a very scandalous set—his friends would shock you.”

“I’m not that easy to shock. Remember, I spent many years abroad. I’ve seen more than the average Englishwoman.”

He’d wager she’d never seen anything like Stokely’s party. “All the same, it can’t be done. Stokely only invites longtime gamblers whose playing he knows.”

She frowned. “Other people on the guest list don’t fit that description—like Captain Jones.”

“True, but his mistress, Lady Hungate, does. That’s also why Lord Hungate andhis mistress will be there. You only get an invitation to Stokely’s by being a serious gambler or a serious gambler’s lover, spouse, or mistress.”

Her face brightened. “Why didn’t you say so? You can get me invited as your mistress!”

He stared at her. Few people could astonish him; the hot-headed Lady Haversham had done so twice. This was the most novel invitation he’d ever received.

And oddly enough, the most intriguing.

He trailed his gaze down her body, lingering over her ample bosom and the black fabric that hid what he’d discovered was a trim waist and nicely plump arse.

When she blushed, he nearly laughed aloud. The woman screamed innocence, so why the devil was she offering him this?

Dropping her gaze from his blatant one, she said, “You’re not taking a mistress to the affair already, are you? I know that you and Lady Jenner—”

“Not anymore.” He stubbed out his cigar. “I’m between mistresses at present. But you can’t be serious about this.”

“Why not? I realize I’m not the sort of female you generally prefer—”

“You mean, the sort who don’t shoot at me?”

She scowled. “I mean, the statuesque, blond, shameless sort rumored to hang on your arm at every social event.”

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“You seem to know a great deal more about me than I know about you.”

“Your preference for a certain type of female is legendary. I can’t alter my height and my coloring—or the fact that I get what I want using my brain, not my bosom—but I believe that with some tutoring, I could make a convincing enough mistress.”

“You’d require more than tutoring.” Taking her by surprise, he snatched out the demure black fichu tucked into the bodice of her gown. “You’d have to shed these abysmal widow’s weeds, for one thing. No one would ever believe I’d go about with a woman dressed like a crow.”

Her gaze locked with his, fiercely defiant. “And I suppose you’ll expect me to cut off my unfashionably long hair and torture it into silly curls—”

“No, nothing so drastic.” He liked long hair and he couldn’t wait to take hers down. “But you could use the services of a lady’s maid to dress it better.”

She stiffened. “Ihave a lady’s maid. She’s just not that good with hair.”

“A lady’s maid who doesn’t dress hair. Of course.” He ran one finger along the too-high line of her bodice. Her nicely filled bodice. “And I assume she’s also responsible for your prim gowns.”

She thrust his hand aside. “I can acquire more fashionable gowns if necessary.”

A smug smile touched his lips. “Ah, but can you learn to tolerate my lascivious touch?”

“I’m sure I could play the fawning female well enough. How hard could it be to act the role?”

His smile vanished. “You’re suggesting that youpretend to be my mistress?”

She blinked. “Of course. What else?”

His disappointment surprised him. “If you’re willing to risk scandal by pretending to be my mistress, you might as well be my real one.”

She looked alarmed by the very idea. “Why would I want to do that?”

“The obvious reasons—entertainment, companionship…pleasure. It’s not as if you have to protect your virtue. Widows can do as they wish.” Just how far would she go to gain her “property”? He bent close and caught a whiff of her scent—exotic, unfamiliar, and more spicy than sweet. Amazing. He would have expected the chit to bathe in lye. That glimpse of the real woman further intrigued him.

“Having you as my mistress is the one thing that might induce me to help you,” he said in his best seductive whisper.

To his surprise, she burst into laughter. “You don’t evenlike me.”

“Not when you’re shooting at me.” He skimmed his finger along her jaw, exulting when her breath quickened. “But if you were to focus all that fierce energy on pleasing a man in bed—”

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“As if I know anything about that.” She pushed his hand away with another laugh, but this one was strained. “I’m a respectable woman, for pity’s sake.”

“My mistresses generally are. That doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy themselves in the bedchamber.”

Her amusement vanished. “May I be frank, Mr. Byrne?”

He bit back a smile. “When have you ever not been?”

“I would prefer to be your pretend mistress. If you don’t mind.”

“Ah, but I don’t need a pretend mistress. I can have a real one whenever I wish.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you won’t help me unless I become your mistress in truth?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” It was less a bluff than he’d like. The idea of making Lady Haversham his mistress had begun to hold a certain appeal.

Take care, man,he cautioned himself. It was fine to desire the woman, but her usefulness lay in the property that Prinny seemed so eager to have her regain. Gavin meant to get more than a barony out of this. He would settle for nothing less than Prinny’s public confession of how he’d wronged Gavin’s mother.

Never mind that it might cause a scandal that Prinny could ill afford these days. Gavin wanted the record set straight. But he needed leverage for that, which Lady Haversham might provide—ifhe didn’t let his lust for the woman run away with him.

A long sigh escaped her. “Oh, all right. I suppose I can endure having you lie atop me and do your business if I must.”

That brought him up short. “Lie atop you and—”

“I endured it well enough with my husband, so a few encounters of the sort with you won’t hurt me.”

Her heavy sigh alerted him. She was calling his bluff, but doing it in a way designed to put him off, the clever chit.

“Ah, but if you sharedmy bed, it would be—”

“Yes, yes, it would be sheer bliss with you. Of course.”

Her sarcasm didn’t fool him, either. “Then we’re agreed.”