Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) (20 page)

“This building is a part of London,” he protested. “My father used to entertain me with stories of the days he would devote here, along with any number of nobles and artists and actors. Do you know that Mr. Christian refused to offer more than thirty chairs and when they were filled one was forced to wait in the streets until a seat became vacant? He claimed the only reason he ever rose before noon was to ensure a seat near the window.”

Jane smiled rather wistfully, almost able to see the distant ghosts laughing and shouting at passing pedestrians.

“All in the past now, I fear. No one is willing to travel these streets.”

“They are a bit shabby, I admit, but . . .”

“Hellion,” she interrupted with a hint of impatience, “the buildings on either side are brothels, and just down the street is a well-known opium den. All hint of respectability has been tarnished beyond repair.”

Oddly reluctant to concede to her more experienced judgment Hellion gave a lift of his hands.

“What are a few brothels?”

She gave a choked laugh. “Only a man would ask such a question.”

“Granted it might be difficult to lure proper ladies to such a neighborhood, but there are few men who would feel such delicate distaste,” he insisted. “You must simply concentrate upon a business that caters to gentlemen.”

“Such as?”

“A gentleman’s club, or a private gambling hell,” he promptly retorted.

Jane was caught off guard. It did not seem at all like Hellion to waste his thoughts on something so mundane as an empty building. Perhaps the sentimental value of his father’s long-ago stories had stirred a sense of possessive attachment to the place.

Unnoticed by either Jane or Hellion, Mr. Steinman stepped up beside them, his lips pursed in thought.

“’Tis not a bad notion, Miss Middleton,” he said.

Jane turned to regard her agent with a frown. “What?”

He nervously cleared his throat. “It would be a shame to see an end to such a long-standing establishment. With a bit of work it could be brought back to its former glory.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes heavenward. It was obvious both gentlemen were attempting to be of service. Unfortunately neither of them seemed to comprehend the delicacy of her position.

“Perhaps, but it will have to be done by another owner. I will not become involved in such a venture,” she said with a crisp finality. “Mr. Steinman, would you please begin with the inventory?”

Familiar enough with Jane to know that her mind had been set, the agent offered a ready bow.

“Of course.”

With near military precision Mr. Steinman turned on his heels and marched up the narrow flight of stairs to begin his task. Watching his retreat Jane failed to notice Hellion’s tight features and distinct absence of amusement in the dark eyes.

“It is unlike you to be so bloody-minded, Jane. At least when it comes to business.”

Instinctively Jane bristled at the implied criticism. Perhaps she was overly sensitive when it came to those questioning her decisions, but dash it all, she had been forced to battle for her right to make her own choices for so long it was not easy to remain indifferent.

“I am not bloody-minded. I simply must make the decisions that I feel are for the best,” she retorted stiffly.

He gave a lift of his brows, his lips thinning. “Are you certain that is all there is to it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Hellion stepped abruptly forward, his expression impossible to read. “Could it be that you simply do not desire to hear any suggestions from a frippery rakehell?”

She blinked at the unexpected attack. Hellion almost seemed . . . offended. Which did not make sense at all.

“That is absurd.”

“Is it?” he demanded. “I have noted that you have never once asked my opinion or included me in your business affairs.”

Wondering what the devil had gotten into the man, Jane planted her hands upon her hips.

“You were the one to claim that your only business was pleasure, Hellion. I did not presume you would be interested.”

“And if I assure you that I am? Would you be prepared to listen to my advice?”

Jane faltered at the blunt question. She had never actually considered sharing her vast responsibilities with another. Not even her husband. Somehow she had just assumed whomever she wed would be content to run the estate and see to his own interests.

“I . . . would always listen to advice,” she cautiously retorted.

As if sensing her reluctance his lips twisted. “Just as long as it did not come from me, eh Jane?”

There was an edge of bitterness to his voice that made her heart abruptly clench with regret. Although she was uncertain what she had done, it was obvious that his pride had been wounded.

“Hellion, it is not that I do not desire to listen to your advice.”

“Then what is it?”

“As a woman it is difficult enough to command respect among those gentlemen I must maintain contacts with. I must always recall that one misstep could ruin everything.”

His expression remained as unyielding as granite. “And?”

She waved an impatient hand about the shabby common room. “Can you imagine what the gossips would do to me should they discover I have opened a business next to the most notorious brothels in London? Especially a business that caters solely to gentlemen? There is not a businessman about who would not close his doors to me. And society . . . gads, I would be worse than a wallflower. I would be an utter pariah.”

With a restless motion Hellion turned away, his hand lifting to rub his nape as if plagued beyond bearing. Which was ridiculous, she told herself somewhat grumpily. If anyone was being plagued it was she.

“You are right, of course,” he said in flat tones. “I did not consider.”

It was clear that he was far from appeased by her perfectly reasonable explanation and Jane heaved a sigh of impatience.

“For goodness sakes, Hellion, what is it?”

For a moment he kept his rigid back firmly turned before at last he swiveled to regard her with a burning gaze.

“It is not about the coffeehouse, although it is a shame to think of this place falling to ruin. It is about the manner in which you allow me to draw close one moment only to have you fade to a wisp of smoke the next.”

She blinked at his fierce tone. Gone was the playful seducer and nonchalant gentleman of leisure. In his place was a proud, exasperated male very much at the end of his tether.

“That is not true.”

“Yes, it is.” He gave a slow shake of his head. “To be honest, I am at a loss. I have attempted every means to win your heart, but it is your trust you continue to withhold. I begin to wonder if there is anything I can do to earn that.”

Her hand instinctively reached out as she battled an unexpected flare of panic. Did he mean to walk away from her? Had her hesitancy at last become too much to bear for such a proud man?

“Hellion . . .” she breathed, an odd flare of panic racing through her stomach.

Without warning he pressed the basket into her outstretched hand, performing a stiff bow.

“I shall allow you to enjoy your luncheon alone, my dear. ’Tis obvious how you prefer it to be.”

From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, May 25th, 1814:

Jane was in a fretful mood.

Hardly a dire situation for most females. It was a natural part of one’s existence to stew and brood when life did not go precisely as planned. And of course, when one added a handsome, unpredictable rogue into the mixture there were bound to be a great deal of worrisome moments.

Jane, however, had managed to blaze through life with an inordinate amount of confidence. It was a rare occasion when she discovered herself wavering in indecision.

Which no doubt explained why she discovered the unfamiliar sensations so troublesome.

Pacing the length of her beautiful library, Jane momentarily perched upon the padded window seat, only to hop to her feet again when a vexing shiver of unease raced over her skin.

Damn and blast Hellion, she inwardly cursed.

This was entirely his fault, of course.

He refused to play the game by her rules. Or any rules, for that matter. Which was not at all acceptable to a female accustomed to being in control of every aspect of her life.

What the devil was the matter with him? Last night he had been the wicked seducer she had come to know intimately. He had quite literally made her swoon with pleasure. But this morning . . .

This morning he had been different. Tense. Impatient. And clearly determined to take offense at the slightest provocation.

No, she slightly chastised herself. That was not entirely fair.

She had perhaps been a bit more than merely provoking. Not that it had been in any way intentional. She simply was unaccustomed to sharing her authority or having her decisions questioned.

And as for his claim that she refused to trust him . . . well, it was not so simple as he wished. Not so long as her heart was involved.

Reaching her desk she abruptly spun about to heave an exasperated sigh. Whether at her own ridiculous behavior or that of Hellion she was not entirely certain.

Seated in a leather wing chair, Anna at last broke her self-imposed silence with a click of her tongue.

“Good Lord, Jane, you are a mess.”

Jane came to a halt as she flashed her friend a jaundiced frown. “Well, that is very helpful, thank you, Anna. I am so relieved that you called this afternoon.”

“I merely speak the truth.”

“I know.” Jane ruefully grimaced. “It is all that . . . scoundrel’s fault.”

“Hellion?”

“Is there another?”

The curvaceous brunette gave a lift of her brows. “Quite a few actually. What has he done now?”

“He is . . .” Jane struggled to conjure the words that would explain Hellion’s unreasonable behavior. It was remarkably difficult.

“What?”

“He is making me batty” was the best she could do.

Anna offered a charming laugh. “I presumed that was the purpose of all gentlemen. Indeed, it appears to be their one certain talent.”

“Very true.”

“Has he done anything in particular to make you batty?” Anna demanded.

“Beyond being his usual aggravating, unpredictable, utterly irresistible self?”

Anna’s lips twitched with barely repressed amusement. “Exactly.”

Realizing how ridiculous she must sound, Jane wrinkled her nose in defeat.

“Oh, in truth it is not Hellion I am angered with, it is myself. I have been such an idiot.”

“Absurd,” Anna loyally denied. “You have been very brave and daring. There is nothing foolish in taking command of your future.”

Jane gave a short, humorless laugh. “But have I, Anna? I mean have I truly taken command?”

“What do you mean?”

She paced restlessly to the center of the room. “I have always prided myself upon being such a logical woman. I thought I was far too sensible to behave like a silly, goose-witted
débutante
. But here I am. As fluttery over a handsome cad as any schoolgirl.”

Anna frowned. “I think you are being too hard on yourself, Jane.”

“You cannot deny that I have begun to think with my heart rather than my head,” she confessed with brutal honesty.

Surprisingly Anna gave an indifferent lift of her shoulder. As if she did not find Jane’s lack of sense in any way disturbing.

“Is that such a ghastly thing?”

Jane stiffened at the soft words. “Of course it is. My judgment has become dangerously clouded.”

Without warning Anna came to her feet and moved to stand directly before Jane. Then just as unexpectedly she placed her hands upon Jane’s shoulders and steered her firmly backward. Nearly stumbling over the hem of her gown, Jane discovered herself bumping into the low sofa near the fireplace.

“Sit,” Anna commanded, pressing upon Jane’s shoulders until she toppled onto the brocade cushions.

“Good heavens, Anna, what are you doing?” Jane demanded in some bewilderment.

Crossing her arms over her waist, Anna peered down at her friend much like a governess about to scold a vexing child.

“I wish you to listen to me,” she said sternly.

With a lift of her brows at her friend’s high-handed manner, Jane gave a faint nod.

“Very well.”

“Can you honestly tell me that in all of your business dealings you have never once allowed yourself to be led by more than dull facts and numbers?”

“I . . .” Jane gave an uneasy shrug, already sensing where her friend was going with this. “There are many factors that must be put into a business decision.”

“Such as instinct?” Anna pressed. “Or a gut feeling that it was the right thing to do?”

“Perhaps upon occasion,” she grudgingly conceded.

“So why is this so different?” Anna demanded. “If your heart tells you that Hellion is the husband you desire, why must it logically follow that it must be mistaken?”

“Because we are so dissimilar,” Jane burst out, her fingers twisting together in rare agitation. “How could he possibly be satisfied molding away in Surrey?”

Anna slowly narrowed her gaze. “Do you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you are afraid.”

Jane gave an offended blink at the accusation. “Fah.”

“Oh yes. I think you are afraid because this matters.”

“Whatever are you speaking of?”

Anna abruptly dropped to her knees before the chair, taking Jane’s hands in a tight grip.

“Just consider, Jane. If you wed some comfortable gentleman who would willingly disappear into the woodwork after providing you with suitable children, you could still maintain your independence and have the family you desire. You would have precisely what you want and all without risking your heart.”

It sounded perfectly reasonable to her. Indeed, that had been the plan when she had arrived in London.

Before Hellion had come along to perform his particular brand of bedlam.

“What is so wrong with that?”

Anna smiled somewhat wryly. “There is nothing wrong, except that you will never know the beauty of life with a true partner. A companion is all well and good, but a gentleman you can love with all your heart is something quite special.”

There was a throbbing intensity in her friend’s voice that caught Jane off guard. As if Anna were speaking from experience rather than spouting the nonsense usually reserved for fools and poets.

“But my parents . . .”

“Founded a relationship that suited them,” Anna overrode with firm tones. “It does not necessarily mean that it would satisfy you. You are not your mother, nor your father. You are Miss Jane Middleton. You should choose the future you desire, not one that was wished upon you by someone else.”

Jane faltered, her heart squeezing as she forced herself to truly consider a future without Hellion.

No doubt it would be far more peaceful, she acknowledged. And certainly her heart would be safeguarded from disappointment and pain.

But was it also a future that suddenly seemed unbearably empty?

“Gads, why must this be so complicated?” she bemoaned.

“Because you came to London to discover a dull fish and instead landed a Hellion.”

A reluctant chuckle was wrenched from her throat at the droll words. “Oh Lord.”

“What do you want, Jane?” Anna gave a fierce squeeze of her fingers. “What do you truly desire?”

She did not even hesitate. “Hellion.”

“Then you had best tell him. A gentleman such as Hellion will not allow his pride to be forever trampled.”

Jane wavered for a moment more. Bringing herself to the point of admitting that she desired Hellion as her husband was one thing. To actually confess her desire to Hellion, well, that was something else altogether.

Still, as she met Anna’s steady gaze she realized that her friend was absolutely right.

Hellion was clearly becoming impatient with her hesitation. Perhaps not without some cause. She had waffled about like the veriest nitwit, encouraging his seduction at one moment and then shying from him the next.

The time had come to behave as a mature woman rather than a quaking child.

“You are right.” With a brisk motion she rose to her feet, pulling Anna upright. “Will you come with me?”

Anna blinked at the sudden flurry of movement. “Now?”

Jane wrinkled her nose. “I must. Otherwise I shall manage to convince myself this is all some ghastly mistake.”

“True. But . . .”

“What is it?”

Anna gently cleared her throat. “It is not entirely proper to call upon a bachelor’s household.”

Jane gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “It is if that bachelor is about to become my husband.”

“I suppose you do have a point,” Anna conceded.

“And you shall be my chaperone.”

A sudden smile curved Anna’s lips. “My carriage is waiting outside.”

“Then let us go before I lose my nerve completely.”

Suppressing the urge to dash out of the house like a common hoyden, Jane forced herself to calmly gather her bonnet and gloves while she informed the butler that she would be spending the afternoon with Miss Halifax.

Then arm in arm the two women left the house, pausing to direct the groom to the tidy square not far away as they climbed into the waiting carriage.

Once rumbling down the street, Jane discovered her gaze absently watching the passing houses, her heart not certain whether to race with excitement or to lodge in her throat with dread.

It was ridiculous. She had made her decision. She should be content. That was what she had expected.

Unfortunately a shadow deep in her heart continued to plague her.

“You are very quiet.” Anna at last intruded into her brooding.

Pasting a smile onto her lips, Jane turned to meet her friend’s searching gaze.

“I am practicing what I shall say,” she hastily improvised, not wishing to bedevil her poor friend even further.

Anna gave a startled laugh. “Good heavens, you are not hoping to borrow money from the man. What you say should come from your heart.”

“If I should say what is in my heart I should end up sounding like a lunatic,” she confessed with all honesty.

“You are supposed to sound like a lunatic, that is what love is all about.”

Jane rolled her eyes heavenward. “You are not comforting me, Anna.”

Anna merely chuckled. “Sorry. Oh . . . I believe we have arrived.”

Not waiting for the groom Anna shoved open the door, and grasping Jane’s hand she tugged her out of the carriage and up the narrow path. Stumbling behind the determined young lady, Jane abruptly pulled them both to a sharp halt.

“Wait.”

No doubt sensing Jane’s inner turmoil Anna turned around to regard her with a fierce glare.

“What is it now?”

Repressing the urge to turn tail and run, Jane steeled her failing courage.

“I hear voices in the garden.”

Anna widened her eyes. “We cannot . . .”

Squaring her shoulders Jane headed toward the path that led around the narrow town house.

It was now or never.

“Come along, Anna.”

 

 

Standing next to the roses that had long ago been left to grow into an untidy tumble of thorns and fading blooms, Hellion frowned at his rat-faced friend.

A part of him knew that he should have refused to allow Biddles to reveal the information he had unearthed concerning Jane and her father’s secret dealings. It was one thing to pry and sneak into Jane’s past when he was uncertain of her motives concerning him. But now that he was determined to make her his wife, it did not seem at all the thing.

There was another part of him, however, that was not nearly so concerned with tedious things such as conscience or morals.