Regency: Rakes & Reputations (Mills & Boon M&B) (16 page)

He stood in conversation with their host, Lord Geoffrey Morgan, and watched as a footman lifted Gina’s cloak from her shoulders. When she turned toward the room, he broke off in the middle of his sentence. Gina wore a gown of French blue fashioned with a bodice that dipped to a low point between her breasts, revealing only the lush curves to each side. Oh, but it hinted at so much more. A white mother-of-pearl cameo fastened to a matching blue ribbon circled her throat. The gown was tenfold more seductive than Missy Metcalfe’s bold gown of last night.

Behind him, he heard a man whisper to his companion. “Good Lord! Who is that breathtaking creature in blue? And what would I have to do to gain an introduction?”

“I believe that is Miss Eugenia O’Rourke. She is the sister of Andrew Hunter’s bride, and the chit who was betrothed to the Marquess of Olney but ran off with Devlin Farrell.”

“Wild blood, then? All the better. Here’s Morgan. Shall we maneuver that introduction?”

As the men moved from behind to face them, Jamie was ready. He’d be damned if he’d allow another man to taste what he’d tasted. Gina was his.

That thought astonished him.
His.
Gina was
his.
Damned if he didn’t love her. Why had he never realized that before? Oh, the mere thought of her, the memory of her, had haunted him since they’d met. He’d wanted her for as long as he had known her. He’d been saddened by the realization that she could never love him because he was a memory of everything loathsome to her, but he’d never stopped to realize that he
loved
her. Yesterday he had
proposed
to her. But he’d never
recognized his own feelings for what they were. Love had happened to him at last, and it was undiluted Hell.

“‘Lo, Morgan,” one of the men said.

Geoff Morgan nodded. “Hoppes,” he acknowledged. “Worick.”

“Excellent diversion,” Hoppes said by way of pleasantries. “Worick and I were wondering if you could introduce us to that comely creature who just arrived with the Thayer twins.”

“Afraid he couldn’t,” Jamie answered for Geoff.

Geoff covered his surprise and regarded Jamie with an appraising eye. “Uh, yes. My good friend Hunter, here, has laid claim.”

Hoppes and Worick regarded Jamie with a jaundiced eye. “Declared yourself, have you?” Worick asked.

He nodded.

“Haven’t heard any announcements,” Hoppe added.

Jamie gave them a cold smile. “You will.”

“If she should change her mind, tell her I am waiting.”

Change her mind? She hadn’t the least notion yet that she would say yes. But she would. He’d do whatever he had to do to make that happen. “She won’t.”

Both men gave a quick bow to Geoff and backed away.

“Congratulations?” Geoff ventured.

“She hasn’t said yes.”

“Will she?”

Jamie shrugged. “I may have some persuading to do.”

“Just made up your mind, eh? From the interest she is garnering, I’d make my intentions clear very soon, Jamie.”

Excellent idea. “Thanks for the advice,” he said, handing his wineglass to Geoff and heading for Gina’s group.

Charlie saw him coming, glanced between him and Gina, and took a single step back to make room for Jamie at Gina’s
side. She was engrossed in conversation with Harriett Thayer and she hadn’t seen him.

“Miss Eugenia,” he greeted her with a bow.

She turned to him and his heart stood still for a moment, then resumed beating in a rapid measure. She was dazzling and conjured memories of their night together. Her lips curved in a smile, then dropped into a straight line as she evidently recalled their last conversation. He’d been boorish and bad-tempered, but she’d tweaked his pride rather badly. He’d apologize and find some way to make it up to her.

He extended his hand in a silent invitation, then held his breath at her hesitation as she stared at a point over his shoulder.

“Miss O’Rourke! How fortuitous. I have been looking for you. Might I beg this dance?”

“I was…Of course, Mr. Booth.”

G
ina glanced over her shoulder at Jamie. He was staring after her with such a thunderous look that she suspected she would answer for it later. But she could not depend upon finding a moment with Mr. Booth later.

“Did I interrupt something, Miss O’Rourke?”

“Not precisely, sir. I collect Mr. Hunter was about to ask me for a dance, but I wanted to talk to you.”

He grinned, clearly pleased to have been chosen over Jamie. “I am gratified. As it happens, I have been able to uncover a bit of information for you. ‘Twill be difficult to discuss this over a dance. Shall we take a turn about the room, instead?”

She took his arm as he led her to the perimeter of the dance floor. Her excitement built when he laid one hand over hers as they walked slowly. “I wish there were someplace we could be private, Miss O’Rourke. This is not the sort of thing one would wish to be overheard.”

“I have not been here before, Mr. Booth. I do not know if there are any private venues.”

“There are some private rooms, but I believe that would cause a bit of a scandal, would it not?”

She laughed. If Mr. Booth knew just how accustomed she was to scandal, there would be no denying him. She gestured to the niches with upholstered benches along the far wall, which provided quiet, private opportunities for conversation.

He led her to one near the back of the room, and therefore away from the light of the chandeliers and the sound of the orchestra. He waited for her to be seated, then sat quite close to her and tilted his head toward her. “There, quite cozy, are we not?”

She smiled and folded her hands in her lap. Mr. Booth was flirting and she did not want to give him an opportunity to touch her in a familiar manner. “Quite,” she agreed.

He took a deep breath and fastened his attention on the toes of his shoes. “After we talked last night, I spent a great deal of time wrestling with my conscience. Though I had no complicity in what was done to you, Miss O’Rourke, I still bear a measure of responsibility and guilt for my presence there, and that is why I have agreed to help you.

“I was not the only one to be drawn into the promise of entertainment of a salacious sort. Metcalfe was another. I can see now that Henley and Daschel were slowly accustoming us to experiencing ever increasing debasements. He took us on an excursion to Bedlam, then to those tableaus with nak—unclothed females in provocative poses. At each turn, he increased the titillation, likely believing that we would join him in his ‘brotherhood.’ Please believe me when I say that I had no knowledge of his true purpose that night.”

Gina sighed deeply, wondering just how many men present that night would make Mr. Booth’s claim. And were they true? Or merely an excuse? She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and thought he appeared sincere. She had learned
nothing if not that appearances could be deceiving. But he hadn’t asked for forgiveness, so she remained silent.

“And because I feel a need to atone, I have begun asking questions. There are very few of us left—those who were there that night. It ruined a good many lives, you know.”

A polite way of saying Mr. Henley was blackmailing them? Yes, he’d already told her this. “How much have you paid, Mr. Booth?”

He gave her a quick appreciative glance. “To date? At least a quarter of my fortune, Miss O’Rourke. And I have heard by the grapevine that I am not the only one. Henley has made quite a fortune on this, and I’ve begun to wonder if it wasn’t the whole purpose from the beginning. He and Daschel were both living beyond their means. What better plan to improve their fortunes than to draw the ton’s wealthiest men into a scandal, and then bleed them to keep quiet?”

“You will not make me see you and the others as victims, sir. You could have refused Mr. Henley at each step.”

“I am painfully aware of that. He played on our basest instincts and won, to our everlasting shame. Henley must be put down like the rabid dog he is.”

“Quite an advantage to you and the others if he were. I cannot help seeing your motives as being rather self-serving.”

For the first time, Mr. Booth looked angry. “What would you have me and the others do, Miss O’Rourke? Pay with our entire fortunes and allow Henley to go scot-free? Why, I have come to think Henley continues the blackmail to enrich himself in preparation for an escape.”

She fell silent. Perhaps enlisting Mr. Booth’s aid had been a mistake. Could she ever join forces with anyone who’d been there that night? Could she ever trust him?

“I doubt it will make much difference in the end,” Mr. Booth continued in a lowered voice. “Henley is determined
to ruin us all. And he has more than money as a motive for some of us.”

“Because you can testify against him?”

“I do not believe he is much worried over that. How could we testify without exposing and implicating ourselves?”

Gina had thought that same thing. Self-interest was a powerful emotion. She could not expect anyone to step forward if they would suffer in any way for doing so.

“Nevertheless, Miss O’Rourke, I have been able to determine a few things. First, I believe that Henley killed Metcalfe.”

She was certain of it, but one question remained. “Why? If he was extorting money from Mr. Metcalfe, would killing him not run counter to his purpose?”

“I believe there was some sort of personal grudge. And in such cases, it tends to be a woman.”

How could it be possible that Mr. Henley would have tender feelings for any woman and still do the things he’d done? And yet, Mr. Renquist had reported that Mr. Henley had met with a woman, and Gina had seen the proof of that in the letters.

“I believe there may be a chance to trap him through her, but I have not been able to find out who she is. I am still looking. I hope I shall have a name soon.”

“I shall pray for it, Mr. Booth. The poor thing needs to be warned what sort of man he is.”

Mr. Booth nodded in agreement. “I shall keep looking, Miss O’Rourke, but I do not see him frequently. Only when he wants money.”

“When was the last time you saw him, sir?”

“The night of the Morris masquerade. He was collecting from me, but he was obsessing over something he said he’d misplaced in his last move.”

Gina turned to him. “When was that?”

“Very recently, I believe. He said he’d gone back to his
previous rooms but that the landlord told him everything he hadn’t taken had been disposed of.”

Could this
something
be the box Mr. Renquist had purchased for her? But she couldn’t recall anything of particular value except for the dragon cravat pin. Had she missed some clue in the items? Mr. Renquist had turned the list and letters over to the Home Office, but she still had the box.

“Miss O’Rourke?”

She came back to the conversation with a start. “Yes?”

“There is one more thing.”

She met his gaze and waited.

“The last time I spoke with Stanley Metcalfe, he was very nervous. He mentioned that he knew something, or had learned something, that Henley would kill for. Whether he meant that figuratively or literally, I cannot say.”

Yes, Mr. Metcalfe had been quite nervous when they’d met at the masquerade, and moments later he was dead. She sighed. There had been altogether too many deaths.

“Do you wish me to continue asking questions?”

“Please, Mr. Booth. Anything might help. Most especially, if you could find out where he lodges…but be careful.”

He nodded as he stood, and offered her his hand. “I should take you back to your friends, Miss O’Rourke. We have been gone longer than a dance or two.”

Heavens! She had lost track of time.

But she needed a moment to think about the things Mr. Booth had told her. She shook her head. “Go on without me, sir. I need a moment to collect my thoughts. And thank you so much for your help.”

He bowed and backed away from her, a puzzling expression on his face.

Her head spun. What had he said? That he suspected Mr. Henley had killed Mr. Metcalfe over a woman? But what women might Mr. Henley and Mr. Metcalfe have had in
common? Christina Race? Surely not! Christina had been hopelessly in love with Mr. Metcalfe. Then, Miss Metcalfe? Ridiculous. Unless…Mr. Henley had somehow wronged the girl, as he’d wronged Gina.

Suddenly she wanted to go home and examine the contents of Mr. Henley’s wooden box. Was there some damning clue in the tiny cravat pin with its ruby eyes? Something that would betray where he could be found?

Jamie studied Gina from across the dance floor. She had shaken her head and Booth had left her there alone, retreating with an air of extreme nervousness. Now she looked down and a dark ringlet fell over her shoulder. She brushed it back and continued deep in thought. What could cause her utter distraction? An indecent proposal?

He shifted his attention to the retreating Booth. He should go after the bounder and beat him within an inch of his life. If he had hurt Gina in any way, had caused her the least distress, he would pay for it.

But Gina stood and began walking toward him and he put Booth from his mind. They had matters to discuss. Things to settle between them. She came directly for him and he was gratified that she did not attempt to avoid him further.

“I think we need to talk, Mr. Hunter.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I am—Mr. Hunter? So you are still angry with me?”

Her lush lips twitched. “A bit. You were not quite a gentleman last night.”

“You were not quite a lady,” he reminded her.

“But you left me unfulfilled.”

“Really? Hmm. I do not recall it quite that way. I believe I was the one to leave unfulfilled.”

She flushed but bravely met his gaze. “I am referring to the fact that you did not answer my question.”

God. How could he give her an answer that would satisfy her? The truth was so…blasted unsatisfactory. Lie? But that was not in his nature. She tilted her head to one side, and still he did not answer.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Very well. I shall wait for you to get over your pique. Meantime, there are other matters we must discuss. I have information regarding Mr. Henley, and—”

He took her arm and turned her about. “And we should not discuss this where we could be overheard.”

He guided her down a corridor to a salon, ushered her through the door and gestured for her to sit on a small settee, leaving the door ajar for the sake of propriety, and to preclude any repeat of last night in the sitting room at Duchess House.

When he turned back to her, she appeared so proper that he almost sighed. “Now, Miss O’Rourke, I would like to hear any news you might have of Mr. Henley or any of his cronies.”

“Last night I enlisted Mr. Booth to assist my inquiries, and he has brought me news.”

“How in the world did you persuade him to take that risk?”

“I asked him if we had met, and he seemed embarrassed. He was beneath the chapel that night, and confessed that he was ashamed to have been even a small part of that. I used his guilt to gain his consent.”

Ah, then he could let Booth live. Fortunate for them both since a duel at dawn could draw all manner of unwelcome attention.

Gina smiled at him, evidently proud of her machinations. “Tonight he brought me news. According to Mr. Booth, Mr. Henley has been blackmailing a good many people. I believe he may be putting money aside for an escape. A rather grand one, from the sums I gather he’s been collecting.”

Jamie nodded as he paced with his hands behind his back. He knew all this from Mr. Morris, but he did not want to stop Gina when she’d finally trusted him enough to bring him such news.

“I have also come to believe that Mr. Henley is involved somehow with a woman. Perhaps one who meets with him frequently.”

This was new information. “Do you know who she is?”

“I fear not. Though surely there cannot be too many who would be willing to trust him.”

“If they knew his true nature,” he appended. “Society at large does not know of the events that night, or before. Everyone has been quite close-mouthed. Husbands would not want their wives to know, nor would unmarried bucks want such news spoiling their chances to land an heiress.”

“There is more. Mr. Booth suspects the woman is from the ton. He thinks that Mr. Henley killed Mr. Metcalfe over her. Nothing else makes sense, since killing Mr. Metcalfe would dry up the funds he was extorting. Do you know of anyone Mr. Henley might have been close to before he was exposed?”

He tried to think of the women he’d seen with Henley. Since he’d been friends with Metcalfe, he’d been seen in the company of Missy, and also Miss Race. Apart from that…Wait! That was why he had recognized Miss Race—he’d seen her in the company of both Metcalfe and Henley on a few occasions: the theatre, soirees and a few more questionable events. Could she—surely not. An unknown woman, then. Someone who traveled in their circles, but had not been previously connected with Henley. Yes, it made sense. A personal grievance was the missing motive for Henley to kill a friend—especially one who was paying him for his silence. He would inform Wycliffe at once of this new avenue to investigate.

He thought aloud. “We could find Henley through this woman.”

She looked uncertain, as if she wanted to say more, then she shrugged and the moment was gone. “I am glad I could help. I would do more, you know. Whatever is necessary.”

He admired her bravery and determination. “I wish you would do less, Gina. I do not like you putting yourself in harm’s way.”

“You will be getting your wish very soon now. Mother and I are leaving in two days. Meantime, I intend to do everything I can to bring an end to this.”

“Two days …” Jamie’s gut twisted. Two days, and Gina would be gone from his life. Two days, and life would return to its dull sameness.

He reached out to touch her cheek when the unmistakable report of a pistol being fired reached them. The sound had come from the street and he crossed the little room to look out the window.

Almost directly beneath them, a body lay facedown on the cobblestone. By the manner of the man’s dress, he had been in attendance at one of the events at the Argyle Rooms that night. As he watched, people began to gather around the body. Jamie recognized Geoff Morgan and Charlie among them.