Reckless in Pink (21 page)

She had absolutely no inclination to bow. Surely royalty should evoke that, but it didn’t here. For all his status as deposed, or rather, never enthroned, this man was a Stuart—a member of a royal house that went back further than she could recall. Kings immemorial, one might say. When she’d been presented at court on her introduction to society and met other members of the royal family subsequently, curtseys had come naturally to her. Perhaps, stripped of all their trappings of royalty, she might feel the same about King George, but she didn’t think so. This man gave her absolutely no reason to present him with an obeisance, even though he was glaring as if he expected it.

Dominic swept her brothers and Max with a level gaze, and lingered on Max before he groaned. “The man with green eyes in the Cocoa-Tree.”

“Just so,” Max said. “I was there on business. I don’t frequent society events very often.”

“Only when he wants something,” Darius said. “St. Just, meet my cousin Maximilian, the Marquess of Devereaux.”

Dominic only smiled and inclined his head, but in a weary tone, he added, “Is there nowhere the Emperors do not go?”

“No,” Darius said shortly, and grinned.

“You must forgive me,” Max said. “I am unremittingly curious. I recognized you. Part of my business is knowing people. To see you with a known Jacobite recidivist engaged my interest, particularly since you’d recently become betrothed to my cousin.”

“You fished the note out of the fire.”

“When you throw something into a fire, it is best to ensure the fire is actually lit,” Max said.

“The note said nothing particular,” Dominic said.

“It did if you knew the sender or the recipient. One visit to my cousin’s house revealed the whole.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, that also meant Claudia came with the note.”

“How could I remain at home with Dominic in danger?” Claudia said. “In my house, too!”

“Ah, yes, we were forgetting that.” Dominic tucked his knife back where it had come from.

She would have to get him to show her how he did that without cutting himself. Presumably it involved a sheath. She should really take to carrying something of the kind in her pocket.

“Has it escaped your notice that you are holding these two gentlemen at gunpoint?”

The Duke of Northwich laid his weapon carefully down on a nearby table and folded his arms. “Don’t mind me. I know all about familial disputes.”

Somehow she hadn’t thought about Northwich in that way, as a man with a family, instead of the head of an enemy faction. He must have day-to-day business, as well as the other kind—the kind that required meeting disgraced would-be heirs to the throne in filthy rooms in Covent Garden.

“This isn’t a dispute,” she said. “We’re all together in this.”

Now they were here, what did they do?

As if to answer her, Darius left the room and returned in a second. “Unless we plan to turn this into a debating club, we should be leaving soon. The bullies out there aren’t going to remain asleep too much longer.”

“We came for you,” she said to Dominic. Foolishness, because he was not only in this room with two traitors, he was armed. Was he with them? Was she deluded in him?

No, she was not. She understood him and his sense of justice and honor. Damned honor that had caused him to break her heart. Well, he would do so no longer.

Dominic bowed. “You have my eternal gratitude.” He turned his attention to Northwich. “If I may have my weapon back, I would appreciate it. That is my favorite pistol, and I have no mind to lose it now.”

Darius left the room and returned shortly with a well-worn but cared-for weapon. “This one?”

Dominic took it from him, hefted it, and smiled. “Yes. Thank you.” He pocketed the pistol. It gave an odd line to his coat, but it didn’t seem to burden him at all. “The next time I’ll bring my gun belt. Fashionable clothing doesn’t lend itself to storage.”

“I have inside pockets made on all my coats,” Val said, as if they were conversing at their club. “If you have the coat made to accommodate the extra size or carry a carriage pistol, you need never be without one.”

Dominic saluted him. “A capital notion. Then I shall do the same.”

The man in the chair sat watching them, his lowering frown ominous. She would not curtsey. She refused to give him even that much.

However she did glance at him. “Good evening.”

He saluted her with his full glass, the wine slopping over the rim as a result of his expansive gesture. “You enjoyed your family outing, ma’am?” He sounded English, but with a very slight lilt. It wasn’t every day she found a would-be king in a whore’s bedroom.

“Tolerably, sir. I have had an experience I won’t forget in a hurry.” Family outing indeed! His were probably similar to this. A life of intrigue and plays for power did not appeal to her in the least. The Stuarts thrived on it. “I trust we will not meet again.”

“Not until I occupy the throne.” He nodded at Dominic. “However, I feel our paths will cross several more times. Or once might be enough. Who knows?”

Standing beside him, Claudia narrowed her eyes. What were they discussing before she and her brothers and cousin came in?

Her suspicions roused again, only for her to quell them. He was not the man to deceive. How he’d worked in army espionage for so long she would never know. Maybe one day she’d get to ask him.

“We need to go,” Max said shortly. He’d hardly glanced at Charles Stuart, as if he didn’t want to acknowledge the man existed.

“You,” the duke said, “Will be hearing from me.”

He was looking at Dominic, who raised a brow in a sardonic gesture. He didn’t reply, but offered his arm to her, just as if they were in a fashionable drawing room.

She took it.

Val drew his watch from his pocket and flicked the lid open. “I need to go. I’m meeting Charlotte at Lady Franklin’s.” He rarely referred to his betrothed, and indeed she appeared to take up only a small part of his life.

Claudia glanced at Darius who shook his head slightly, warning her not to make a comment.

Val offered a stiff bow and strode from the room after tossing his pistol carelessly to his brother.

Darius snatched it out of the air one-handed and thrust it in his pocket. “At least I balance out now,” he said. Although the weapons weighed his coat down more than the tailor probably planned, he didn’t look as one-sided as the others.

Claudia hadn’t considered fashion when she’d snatched up her father’s dueling pistols and loaded them. Or when she’d rushed out of the house, only intent on getting to Dominic before he got hurt.

She was probably due a severe scolding from her father, but she’d bear it. It had been worth it.

They’d left the carriage on the Piazza and it was waiting for them when they approached it, but Max bent over her hand and wished her good evening. “I shall pay a visit to my father-in-law who lives close by. We have a particularly interesting business deal approaching.”

“Do you never stop, Max? Has your wife not prevailed upon you to spend more time with her?” Claudia said.

“She is as we speak at her father’s house going over the contract with him.” He regarded Dominic closely, flicking his gaze over him from head to foot and back again. “I have to speak to you, but I would rather speak to my wife first. We will call on you. We have particular information you might be glad to know. She certainly will be.”

Dominic tilted his head to one side, but Max refused to say any more, and turned a warning glance on to Claudia. “Keep my confidence, if you please.”

“You didn’t have to say anything,” she replied, somewhat affronted.

Darius bowed and walked away, too, leaving the carriage to just the two of them.

Suspiciously, she narrowed her eyes at her brother’s retreating back. “Should I take you to your lodgings?” she asked Dominic.

“Yes please,” he said meekly.

In the carriage he sat next to her, which she viewed as a good sign. But he kept to one side of the vehicle, and she didn’t have the courage to move closer. That fear of rejection again. “I suppose you will say we didn’t have to rescue you?” she said coolly.

“No,” he replied, surprising her. “I went armed, but they took the weapons from me. I had begun to wonder. They could have killed me, and that would have solved their problem.”

“They know your secret, then?”

He glanced at her and nodded. “One of them. They know whose son I am. I don’t know if they are aware of the rest, but I suspect not. Otherwise they would have killed me for sure.”

Daring rejection, she took his hand. His warmth filled her with a quiet gladness she’d missed more than she realized. He let his hand remain in hers, and after a moment, curled his fingers around hers in the protective gesture that seemed so natural to him. She suspected that was the reason why he had joined the army, ton that the army had taught that to him. “There are other children.”

“You know that for certain?”

She hesitated, recalling Max’s warning. His wife was one of the children, but she had a different mother. She knew of one other, a full sister to Dominic. That was not her secret to tell, either. “Yes, I do. Please don’t ask me who they are. I’ll contact the ones I know of and ask them if they wish to meet you.”

He nodded, his thumb stroking her palm in an absent gesture. “I wouldn’t ask any more. Are they safe, these others?”

“They are now.” They were female. Less of a threat, even though theoretically they could overset the Young Pretender’s claim. If his father supported them. Considering the woeful condition of his acknowledged sons, he might consider doing so. Then— Her chest tightened. Dominic would be in real danger. They’d want him to stake his claim.

Another realization came to her, but she needed to think about it before articulating. It. She was learning. What if the present King accepted the claim? If Dominic became King? Horror filled her and she had to gasp for breath.

Immediately he turned to her. “Are you well?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“No you are not, but I won’t question you now. Go home and sleep. I’ll call on you tomorrow.”

If he was alive. If something else hadn’t happened. How on earth could she sleep?

* * * *

Livia was waiting up for her. She sat up in the big bed Claudia shared with her, a book balanced on her knees. She closed it when Claudia entered the room but didn’t remove her spectacles.

Claudia went to the dressing table, removing pins from her hair as she went. “You should wear them all the time, Livia. You look enchanting in them.”

Livia made a face. “Tell the society matrons. Tell Mama. In any case, I only need them for reading and close up work. I can manage perfectly well in company.”

“How about gazing into your lover’s face with adoration?”

Livia snorted. “As if that will ever happen. If a miracle does occur and somebody falls madly in love with me, then he’ll have to live with it. The soft gazes will have to be at a distance.”

Claudia laughed and sat at the dressing-table. She didn’t need her maid tonight. She had dressed for an evening at home, had almost been looking forward to a quiet time with her sister, before Max had arrived in search of her brothers. “It’s just as well Mama and Papa were out. Are they still out?”

“Yes, or there’d have been the devil to pay.” Livia paused, giving Claudia the chance to brush out her hair. “I was worried. I’d have gone with you if I thought I would be useful.”

Claudia turned around on the big backless stool they used, making no effort to hide her astonishment. “You’ve never wanted to go with me before.”

“Tonight wasn’t one of your mad adventures. It was a rescue, and it had a serious purpose. Papa might still send you to the country though, once he gets to hear.”

“He might not hear.” She turned back to the mirror and unlaced her bodice. She had no jewelry to take off; she’d removed that before she left the house. She shrugged. “In any case, the season will be over soon enough. I’ll only be leaving a few weeks early.”

“He won’t ask your young man.”

“My young man?” Claudia repeated in a singsong voice. “Who might that be, pray?”

“Lord St. Just is hot for you, and you know it.”

Claudia stood to shed her gown. She tugged it off and laid it over a chair for the maid to deal with. Then her ruffles. She tugged at the loose stitching until she pulled it undone and laid the delicate lace on top of the gown. “I know nothing of the kind. Our betrothal was of a practical nature.”

“Claudia, you’re talking to me. At least do me the courtesy of looking at me when you speak.”

“You sound like a governess.” She spun around and faced Livia. Her sister sat in a pool of light cast by the candle set in the sconce on the bed head and one she’d set on the nightstand on her side of the bed. “Liv, there are things I can’t tell you, but you can guess.”

Livia grimaced. “The Dankworth business.”

She nodded. “The Dankworth business. It’s all to do with that. He’s involved, and—oh dammit, you know!”

Livia nodded this time, and leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees. “Is it you or him?”

“What are you talking about?” She wrestled with the cord on her pocket. Somehow it had become tangled.

“Which one of you is saying no?”

Sighing, Claudia gave up and started on her hoops. “He is. I am. Papa is. All at different times.”

Livia chuckled. “A proper tangle then, not one of your dares.”

“How do you do it, Liv?” The hoops gave way and she left them on the floor. Her under-petticoat followed in short order but she still had her pocket and her stays to manage. She crossed the room to her sister. “Can you help with these?”

“Turn around. How do I do what? Keep out of trouble? Books, dear sister. I read, and when I’m not reading, I think. If I found something I preferred doing, I’d do it, but climbing trees and racing horses doesn’t appeal to me. I can ride. I can climb. Not as well as you.” With a few sharp tugs, the stays were free. Claudia breathed deeply, as she always did when she shed her stays at the end of the day. Livia tugged at the pocket. “You’ve knotted this.” A pause, and then a snip.

She’d used her embroidery scissors to cut the tape. “The maid can sew a new one on in the morning. When the usual way doesn’t work, go around and try something else. The Gordian knot.”