Regency: Rakes & Reputations (Mills & Boon M&B) (18 page)

Christina sat heavily on a bench in the middle of the garden and turned her face up to the sun. “And you did …”

“But there must have been others. Someone he favored at balls and soirees?”

“Just me and Missy. And once, Mrs. Huffington.”

Gina recalled hearing that name before but she could not put it with a face. “I do not believe I have met her.”

“She is the ward of Lady Caroline Betman. The orphaned child of a dear friend, I think. Widowed twice though quite young.”

Would that fit with what Mr. Booth had told her? But what would Mr. Henley want with a poor relation? He was a money-grubbing extortionist, intent upon amassing a fortune from other men’s coffers. Could he have been cozening Mrs. Huffington for the same purpose as he’d cozened Gina? Or was there more? A young woman widowed twice? Could there be something, well, murderous about her? Something that complemented Mr. Henley’s nature?

Suddenly Christina blinked, took her hand and squeezed tightly. “Gina, you must go home immediately. I have had the most extraordinary feeling…oh, what if you are the next to be killed?” She stood and hurried back toward the garden door. “We should not be outside.”

Gina followed, curious at Christina’s sudden change of mood. The moment they were inside and the door was closed, Christina turned to her, earnestness written clearly on her face. “You must listen carefully to me, Gina. About Mr. Henley. He used to watch Missy as if he wanted to seduce her. I always thought that odd—after all, he was Stanley’s friend.”

“I rather thought Mr. Henley wanted to seduce most every girl he met,” Gina said.

Christina led the way straight through the sitting room toward the front door, leading Gina with a hand on her arm. “It occurs to me now that he may have been planning to put Mr. Booth out of the way so he could have Missy even back then. I shall send her a letter at once, but you must also warn her at the first opportunity. Come to me tomorrow. I need to think. It is all so confusing.”

Gina nodded as she was fairly thrown out the door and into Nancy’s waiting arms. How very astonishing!

“Did you make her angry, miss?” Nancy asked as they entered the foot traffic on the street.

Gina paused to look back at the door. A curtain moved in an upper window, as if someone had been watching her. “I must have.”

They walked slowly, since Gina had no desire to return to the house where her mother would be in a frenzy of packing and making arrangements for their departure. She knew she and Nancy would have to pack the trunk that had been delivered to her room that morning, and she was surprised by her own reluctance. A month ago, she’d have given anything to be going home. But today?

Today she only wanted to enjoy the afternoon, which had turned crisp as a precursor to autumn. She wanted to think of seeing James at the family dinner Lord Lockwood was hosting to mark their departure, and the musicale after. She wanted to think of anything, in fact, but her imminent departure.

Nancy tugged at her sleeve. “Oh, miss! There’s Tom, the milkman. Might I have a word with him? Who can say if I will be seeing him again?”

The lament was so akin to Gina’s emotions that she could only smile and nod. An empty park bench beneath a tree offered her refuge, and she sat where she could watch her maid talk and flirt with the strapping young milkman.

She had just lulled into a pleasant lassitude when a hand on her shoulder and a voice from behind her interrupted her thoughts.

“No. Do not turn around, Miss O’Rourke. I have a knife at your back. I would hate to use it so soon. No scenes, eh?”

Everything inside her screamed with terror. Mr. Henley! She would recognize his voice anywhere now. She took several deep breaths to steady her nerves before she could speak. “What do you want?”

“I hear you may be leaving in a day or two, m’dear. Is that so?”

She nodded.

“Ah. Well, I had been putting our meeting off until a bit later, but now I think I shall have to move it up.”

“You would not kill me here. I would scream. Half the park would see you and give chase.”

“You underestimate me. I do not intend to kill you
here,
chit, unless you force my hand. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead. I’ve had more opportunities than you know. No, I only wanted to inform you that you will never be safe from me. I will have my revenge—sooner or later, here or in Belfast. I will come for you. You owe me, and I will damn well collect.”

Cold anger drove her fear away. She would not be his victim yet again. She braced herself, catapulted from the bench, and spun around to face him. His look of utter amazement at her boldness was reward enough for the risk she’d taken. “Your days are numbered, Mr. Henley. You cannot elude James Hunter for long. He grows even more weary of your threats than I. Do your worst or slink back into the hole you came from.”

His eyes darted right and left as if measuring his chances of killing her and escaping. “
Your
days are numbered, Miss O’Rourke. Yours and everyone who ever helped you.”

She watched him run toward the street before she sank back to the bench, her knees turning to water. The moment she caught her breath, she would ask Mr. Renquist for a pocket pistol. Mr. Henley could not come for her if she went for him first.

J
amie watched Gina, in conversation with Sarah and the Thayer twins, across the music room at Lockwood’s manor. She wore a greenish concoction that put him in the mind of spring and everything fresh and new. Her frequent glances in his direction had not gone unnoticed by Drew, who nudged him with a question.

“Are you really going to let her go back to Ireland? Have you asked her to marry you?”

He’d started to. And then she’d told him she’d only made love to him to discover if she’d been virgin or not, and
he’d
felt like a deceived maiden. Even as the hurt resurfaced, he knew he’d been an idiot, let his wounded pride get in the way. Gina would never have slept with him if she hadn’t felt something.

“No,” he admitted.

“Time is running out. ‘Twould be a bit unfair to ask her at the docks, eh?”

“I do not know if she loves me, Drew.”

His brother laughed. “Then you’re deaf and blind. Charlie
told me weeks ago. I could see it the moment Mrs. O’Rourke announced her plans. In fact, everyone seems to know but you.”

Gina chose that moment to look toward him and a faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth. He returned the smile and was rewarded with a soft blush. She loved him? Only two weeks ago, she had told him that he was a reminder of all that had happened to her, and that she was uncomfortable in his presence. When had that changed?

He had taken a step toward her when Drew stopped him. “You haven’t said how you feel, Jamie. Do not speak for her if you cannot match her feelings.”

“If she loves me half as much as I love her, I’ll be content.”

Gina appeared nervous when he arrived at her side and gave a small bow. “Miss O’Rourke, might I have a word with you?”

She looked askance at his sister and, at her nod, she accepted his hand. He could have sworn he detected a little tremble there. After all they’d been through, how could she possibly be afraid of him?

“I wished to speak with you, too. There are some things I must give you.”

He led her to the terrace and stepped out to the balustrade, his curiosity piqued. “What things?”

“I have uncovered something new. There is a woman associated with Mr. Henley. I do not yet know how, but she is someone who has been helping him. Perhaps hiding him.”

“How do you know that?”

“I…I saw a packet of letters. One of them said that the woman was working on a solution to his problem, and that he should be patient. Oh, and that she intended to meet him again at the usual place on Tuesday.”

Jamie had seen that very letter just yesterday in Wycliffe’s
office. It, along with several others, had been left anonymously on his desk. At this very moment, a number of agents and runners were trying to track those letters back to their writer. “
You
found them?”

“There is more.”

Jamie sighed, not missing that she hadn’t answered his question. What was she up to?

She plucked a small folded paper from the center of her décolletage and presented it to him. He accepted the paper, still disconcertingly warm from her skin, unfolded it and read the lines. “A list of names?” And a very curious list, indeed. “Where did you get this, Gina?”

She looked at him straight on and squared her shoulders, the endearing gesture that warned him not to ask too many questions. “I believe that is Mr. Henley’s handwriting.”

Jamie would have to compare the list to other documents in order to verify her conclusion, but he did not doubt her. He read the names again. Booth, Metcalfe and half a dozen others were dead. Frisk had fallen down a flight of stairs, Destin had been run over by a coach when crossing a street, Warren had been thrown from his horse onto the cobbles and cracked his head. Accidents? That many coincidences were unlikely in view of this list. Charlie had been shot last night and, but for the grace of God, would also be dead. And then there were the attempts on his own life.

“A murder list,” he concluded.

She shivered. “That is what I feared. Charles …”

“Upstairs being coddled by every maid Lockwood employs. He intends to break free tomorrow.” And then he registered her name on the list. Eugenia O’Rourke. Henley wanted Gina dead. He took her arm and turned back to the house. “We need to get you safely home and under guard.”

She shrugged his hand away. “I am not going anywhere,
Jamie. One day is all I have left. Tomorrow will be my last day in London.”

“You have no choice. Once I tell Wycliffe—”

“You won’t tell Lord Wycliffe. Nor will you tell your brothers. Not unless you and everyone else on the list is locked away, too. Even then, I doubt it would stop Mr. Henley. He found me in the Morris garden, he found me at the theatre and he found me in the park this afternoon. He told me I was not safe, even when I return to Belfast, and that if he wanted me dead already, I would be. He promised he would come for me when he was ready. He will find me anywhere I go. I cannot hide, Jamie. So I may as well fight.”

Such cold fury gripped Jamie’s heart that he could happily have snapped Henley’s neck like a twig. Gina’s bravery was admirable and her logic was irrefutable, but both were far too dangerous.

“If it wasn’t me? If it were Hortense or Harriett, would you be so unreasonable? Or would you allow them to avenge themselves?”

Damn. She was right. Hadn’t he and Wycliffe allowed Bella to flirt with disaster in order to get to the bottom of the Brotherhood? And wasn’t Gina every bit as determined as Bella had been? But this was Gina.
His
Gina. How could he refuse her anything she asked? “Do not leave my side, Gina. Is that understood?”

She brightened and touched his cheek. “Thank you, Jamie. You will not regret this.”

“I already do.”

She turned to the terrace doors, prepared to go in now that their conversation was over, but he hadn’t concluded his business yet. He slipped his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. She looked surprised and not a little curious. He lifted her chin with his forefinger and kissed her plush lips with as much tenderness as he felt in his heart. And when it
was done, he uttered the words he’d never thought to say to any woman.

“I love you, Gina O’Rourke. Marry me.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. “I…I …”

“You cannot be surprised how I feel about you, Gina. It is plain enough that all my brothers and half the ton knows.”

“But you never indicated…never said…love. Why, you’ve never even answered my question.”

“What question is that, my love?”

“Am I…was I…virgin?”

That damned question! Why wouldn’t she let it go? “Take it on faith, Gina.”

“Faith? But why?”

Because he did not have the answer she needed to hear, and he could not lie. There had been no telltale stain on his sheets, but that alone did not answer her question. Many women did not go to their marriage beds intact, and time, circumstance, accidents and nature could account for the lack of evidence. But, more importantly, he feared that if she believed Henley had used her while she was unconscious, she would destroy her life over it. And his.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Leave it alone, Gina.”

She looked at him with such incredulity that he wondered what he’d said wrong. She opened her mouth, then closed it to a tight line, as if talking to him would be a waste of time, then spun around and went back into the music room, leaving him there without an answer to
his
question.

Oh! That infuriating man! Why wouldn’t he just say it? He would not have balked at telling her that she’d been virgin. But he hadn’t, so why wouldn’t he simply tell her she’d been raped—which most certainly had to be the answer. She glanced over her shoulder to see him staring after her, a look of utter astonishment on his face.

And that remarkable proposal! How she wanted to say yes! She’d marry him in an instant if she only knew that she was worthy. How could she ever answer his question unless he answered hers?

Had she not been looking over her shoulder, she would not have bumped into a beautiful girl dressed all in pale yellow—not a good color for her since her pale yellow hair faded against the backdrop. Still, nothing could have dulled her lively green eyes.

“Eugenia O’Rourke, is it not?”

“How…how did you know?”

“Why, you are all the talk of the ton.”

People were gossiping about her? “What are they saying?”

“That you are the woman who has brought James Hunter to heel. If that is so, Miss O’Rourke, well done! I gather that is quite an accomplishment.”

Jamie had followed her back through the doors and had gone to stand by his brothers, watching her with a brooding look.

The girl followed her gaze and raised her eyebrows. “My! That is a very dark look Mr. Hunter is giving you, Miss O’Rourke. Did you quarrel?”

She laughed. “Do you think that society will still imagine I have brought him to heel? “

“Love and hate are but two sides to the same coin.” She dimpled. “I am Mrs. Huffington. Georgiana Huffington. I fear I am a virtual stranger to London and have met almost no one. I only arrived early in June.”

Georgiana Huffington? Divine intervention? That was the name Christina had associated with Mr. Henley, and an opportunity not to be missed. “What a coincidence, Mrs. Huffington. We have friends in common.”

“Have we? Well, I’ve been told London is actually a small
town dressed in city clothes. Who, might I ask, do we have in common?”

“Mr. Cyril Henley.”

Mrs. Huffington’s smile dropped and her face drained of color. “I…I have met the man, but I would not call him a friend.”

Gina gave her a reassuring pat on her shoulder. “Have you seen him recently?”

“I saw him at a garden tea not a week ago, but we did not speak. When he saw me, he went in the other direction. I think he was not there long.”

Had Mr. Henley fled because of Mrs. Huffington? “If you do not mind me asking, how did you meet?”

“A mutual friend. I met Miss Melissa Metcalfe through Harriett Thayer, and it was Miss Metcalfe who introduced me to her brother, Mr. Booth and Mr. Henley.”

They had walked near the fireplace and Gina was relieved to note that they were quite alone. She had detected a note of reluctance in Mrs. Huffington’s voice and did not want to risk being overheard. “Am I correct in thinking you are not pleased with the association?”

“Miss O’Rourke, I scarcely know you. I conceive we are having an unusual conversation for two women who are so recently acquainted. I am not accustomed to speaking so frankly to casual acquaintances.”

“And you do not wish to speak ill of anyone, I am certain. I hope you will not think me presumptuous, but my family has had some dealings with Mr. Henley, and I would like to solicit your honest opinion.”

“You would do better to ask someone more closely acquainted with him. We have only met on two occasions.”

“I gather that was enough to form an opinion?”

Mrs. Huffington looked down at her feet. “Yes.”

“An unsatisfactory opinion?” she guessed.

“I think, under the circumstances, I will have to trust you. If I can spare you what I suffered, I feel it is my obligation. But what I have to say is for your ears only, Miss O’Rourke, or I shall say nothing at all.” Mrs. Huffington looked around, almost as if she expected to find Mr. Henley lurking nearby. Servants were placing chairs about the room in preparation for the performance and not paying the least attention to them.

Gina nodded, her heartbeat racing. If she could trust Mrs. Huffington, she could enlist her aid in locating Mr. Henley.

“I met Miss Metcalfe at a crush in early July,” Mrs. Huffington began. “I recall that precisely, because I was fresh out of mourning and we had just come to town. Miss Metcalfe and her brother were part of a large group of merry-makers. They invited me to join them in an excursion to Vauxhall Gardens. Lady Caroline, my aunt, said she could see no impediment after the group was vouched for by Lord Daschel, whom she knew quite well.”

Gina scarcely blinked at the mention of that loathsome name. Lord Daschel had been a founder of the Brotherhood, and responsible for seducing Cora into meeting him the night they killed her.

“We took a barge across the Thames, laughing and jesting the whole way. It was then that I met a Mr. Booth and Mr. Henley. I thought I had truly ‘arrived,’ if you know what I mean—terribly flattered to be a part of such a haute gathering.”

A smile came to Gina’s lips. She knew the feeling quite well. She, too, had wanted to belong.

Mrs. Huffington removed a lace-edged handkerchief from the little reticule dangling at her wrist and dabbed delicately at the corners of her eyes. “In the beginning, it was great fun. We danced and watched the fireworks, and then Mr. Henley
brought us libation, toasting often and encouraging us to drink deeply.”

Just as he’d done with Gina when they’d left the theatre and gone to another part of town for the tableaus. She recalled growing quite tipsy rather quickly, and had begged off subsequent glasses of wine. Even so, she’d been quite ill the next day.

“I began to feel fuddled,” Mrs. Huffington continued. “Then Mr. Henley took my hand and asked me to walk with him. I thought there could be no harm in that and that perhaps it would clear my head. The walks were well lit and there were people all about. But we were no more than out of sight of the rest when he led me down quite another path. I learned later they call those paths ‘dark walks’ or ‘lover’s walks’ because they are not lit.

“I did not grow alarmed until Mr. Henley stopped and began to press me for favors.” She twisted her handkerchief as she recalled the events of that night. “Perhaps it was because I am a widow that he thought I would be receptive to such a ploy, but I demanded he stop at once. He did not. The more I struggled, the more…inflamed he became. I think…I really think, he enjoyed my terror.”

Gina covered the woman’s hand with her own. “You needn’t continue, Mrs. Huffington. I perceive the drift of your story.”

“There is more, but I have not spoken of it since that night. I have not even told Lady Caroline. I was afraid she would not trust my judgment after that.”