The Copper and the Madam (5 page)

In the midst of the dreadful events of the
past few days, she had completely forgotten about Desmond. She was
not in a frame of mind to handle this, but better to see it
done.

“Show him in.”

Desmond entered with his usual brazen
confidence. He wore a gray suit with a sky-blue waistcoat and
matching neck cloth to match the shade of his eyes. She’d never
seen him wear such fancy clothing before. Well. Was the spinster
dressing him, now? Rea took her seat, a weary sigh escaping her
throat. Desmond stood as tall as Rory, though more muscular. His
male beauty never failed to seize her breath, but with the new
wardrobe and his raven hair trimmed and styled, he appeared every
inch a young gentleman.

Desmond placed a small sack of coin on her
desk.

“What Anne owes you for the other night.”

Rea waved him to sit before her and he did,
crossing his long legs.

“What is this nonsense, Desmond? You’re
done?”

“Yes. I’ve fallen in love.”

Rea fought back the bitter laugh.
The
poor, deluded lad
.

“In one night? What you are feeling is lust,
nothing more. Besides, she is older than you.”

Desmond frowned. “Credit me with a few
brains. I know the difference. And why not in one night? The heart
knows. I have been happier and more content these last few days
than in my whole life. Anne is my world entire. God, to be loved so
completely, regardless of my past…. There is nothing like it. Age
is just a number. It means nothing to me or her.”

Desmond’s passionately spoken words squeezed
her heart in longing. Who didn’t wish to be loved and adored in
such a way? Alone in her room late at night, the same yearnings and
longings fueled her dreams. Nearly all of her fantasies had Rory
Kerrigan front and center. Desmond’s face glowed with utter bliss.
Good God, he
was
in love.

“What will you do now?”

“Anne is selling her place of business, and
we are moving to a small village in Cornwall. I suppose we shall
open our own bookstore once we are settled. Anne has money put
aside so we will not starve. And Rea, your lessons did not go
amiss. I managed to save a pretty penny these years as well.” He
smiled. “We are to be married.”

Rea slid the sack toward Desmond. “Take this,
consider it severance, or if you wish, a wedding gift. We are even,
the books balanced. I do not know what else to say. Be joyful in
your new life.”

He approached her, took her hand, and kissed
it. Her heart stuttered in her chest. No wonder he’d been her most
popular male prossie. Anne Sommer was indeed—lucky. Despite
Desmond’s cool demeanor and outward indifference to anything
physical or emotional, he revealed to her years before that all he
longed for is to be loved by someone. Anyone.
Don’t we
all
.

Desmond picked up the leather sack and
stuffed it in his pocket. He stepped to the door, then stopped and
faced her.

“Remember our fantasies of how we would leave
this life? There will be no sweeping in by my mother’s family to
rescue me, no secret title to bestow upon me. I will not have the
ending and fate of Oliver Twist, but I will be content all the
same.”

Rea chuckled. “Ah. Your favorite book.
Perhaps not, but you are getting a happy ending nonetheless. You
deserve to be loved, Desmond.”

“I wish for you to find what I have with
Anne. If anyone deserves to be loved and cherished, it is you. Your
generous heart knows no bounds. If it weren’t for you, I’d be
sucking cock in some dirty alley, or worse, dead in a mass
grave.”

“I’ve could have done more,” she
murmured.

He shook his head. “You did not put a
revolver to my head. The choice was entirely mine. My life and my
heart were empty. I didn’t care what I did or who I did it to. Anne
has changed all that. Do not hide, as I did. Find love, Rea, and
treasure it.” A slow smile broke across his handsome face. “Give my
regards to Sergeant Kerrigan. He’s a good man. But you know that,
don’t you?”

Desmond gave her a jaunty salute, and slipped
into the hall, closing the door behind him. She heard his good-byes
to Jacob and the others. He’d mentioned Rory—had he guessed? She
had not hidden her desire for Kerrigan as well as she thought.

Perhaps she should have revealed Gordon’s
fate, but to what end? Desmond was leaving this life behind, and
the man seemed so unbelievably content, she did not want to spoil
his good mood. In truth, she’d never seen him so happy.

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

She whispered, “Good-bye, Desmond.”

***

Cian sat at his desk at Kennington Station,
with Rory right across from him. A uniformed constable brought them
mugs of tea. While he slurped away, Rory left his untouched. The
man was deep in thought. Rory Kerrigan had a keen mind and
possessed a gut instinct Cian envied. The last couple of years they
had partnered exclusively.

At thirty, Cian was in the best shape of his
life and had a feeling Rory kept him around for his brawn more than
his brains. No matter. He sipped his tea, as Rory continued to tap
his fingers on the desk, his brow furrowed. Cian had learned long
before not to interrupt him when he was puzzling out a problem.

Rory thumped his fist on the desk. “Any man
who would glory in the spilling of blood to the point of bathing in
it could easily graduate to murder and mutilation.”

“Aye, there’s that. Should we contact the
lass involved? You said she’s married to a baron?”

Rory shook his head. “By all accounts, Lila
and Stonecliff are content. No need to bring up her sordid past.
We’ll leave them in peace for now.”

“The murdered lad,…I’ve seen him at The Blind
Cupid when I used to partake of their services. Poor bastard. This
is one murder I want to see solved, Rory. I’ll do whatever it
takes, do whatever you say.” he stated, his voice firm.

He meant it. Being an ex-champion boxer he
could work over a man with deadly skill. He’d done it before. He’d
do it again with pleasure.

Rory nodded. “Charles Embry is a peer of the
realm; we have to tread with a good deal of care.” He picked up his
mug and sipped. “Remember I told you about the ripper murders and
Inspector Abberline’s frustration? The peers had to be protected,
which interfered with the investigation. Same with the Cleveland
Street Scandal. The bloody aristocracy has to be guarded and
shielded even to this day.” He slammed the mug on the desk, tea
sloshing out the sides.

“Way of the world, mate.”

“Well, I’m damned tempted to get you to lay a
beating on this earl, but it would only serve as a temporary
solution. First, we need to locate the sick fecker.”

Cian nodded, slamming his fist into the palm
of his hand. “Give me a task, boss.”

“I want you to check the usual places the
upper crust congregate, but do it as subtly as you can. We want to
know if Charles Embry, Earl of Southen, has been seen in London and
if so where. Any information you can glean. You follow?” Rory
said.

“Aye. I have my ways.”

Cian knew how to use his long, curly black
hair, pale blue eyes, and charm to gain the information he needed.
Many a prossie had told him his good looks—though marred by a
crooked nose and a few facial scars left over from his boxing
days—could get him anything he wanted. Fair play. He would do
whatever it took.

“Also check out a few of the male brothels.
Even though we found semen on and in Gordon, we have no way to
prove it came from Southen. Any gossip about his lordship’s
proclivities could aid us.”

Cian stood and placed his wide-brimmed black
hat on his head.

“Consider it done.” He left.

Rory had worked with the man the past three
years, yet he knew next to nothing about him. They never spoke of
their private lives to any extent. No doubt he didn’t have one,
same as him. All he knew was Cian had come to London from Donegal.
Perhaps that was why he enjoyed working with him. He was
intelligent, private, and dangerous. Same had been said about him.
He respected Cian, and had no doubt the detective would be diligent
in his assignment.

After what Jacob had relayed to him at the
cemetery regarding the incident with Lila and the earl, Rory’s gut
alarm clanged at full force, insistent and noisy. Fine. He would
follow the lead where ever it took him.

The constable who had brought the tea handed
him a note. He broke the seal and read it. Rhiannon invited him for
supper.
Tonight. I’ll be damned
.

Rea spent the afternoon planning the dinner
she would share with Rory. She also toyed with the idea of changing
her clothes, but out of respect to Gordon, decided to keep the
mourning gown on.

How fortunate to have Caroline on hand.
Another lost child found on the streets who, Rea soon discovered,
had a prodigious talent for the kitchen, so for the last eight
years, Caroline had worked her culinary magic for the staff of The
Blind Cupid. Rea had never bothered to learn domestic skills of any
kind. When would she ever have the chance to use them?

She’d invited Rory ostensibly as a way to
thank him for all his comfort and support. The clear, unvarnished
truth was she wanted to see him and to hear his deep, musical tones
when he spoke. Watch his beautiful eyes reflect his emotions. She
yearned for Rory to take her in his arms again.

Caroline, now twenty-two years of age,
knocked and entered the dining room.

“Everything is ready, madam.”

“Tell me again what we are having.”

“We’ll start with a shrimp salad, next,
oxtail soup. Then I have a nice baked salmon with dill sauce, then
the main course of a crown roast of pork with braised vegetables.
For dessert, a chocolate soufflé. I also made raspberry tarts.
There is a fine Madeira in the decanter.”

“Caroline, you are a treasure.” Rea
smiled.

“Jacob will serve. It will bring back
pleasant memories of his footman days.” Caroline winked, returned
her smile, and then slipped from the room.

Rory deserved a meal fit for a king. She ran
her hands over her hips. She should not be indulging in such rich
fare. Keeping her weight under control had become a daily struggle.
The corsets couldn’t be pulled any tighter if she tried.

Rea moved to the window and tugged back the
heavy, velvet burgundy drapes. Late afternoon sunshine poured into
the room. Specks of dust danced in the ribbons of light. Humanity
bustled about the busy street. She did not venture out much;
perhaps she hid away in this protective prison she’d created. She
had reasons, ones she did not like to admit to herself.

Rory hailed from St. Giles. She never would
have guessed. His voice sounded cultured, his lyrical, Irish lilt
slight but still present. Enough to send shudders of desire along
her spine. He’d received an education. She lacked proper schooling,
though she tried to read many books on various subjects. Her
learning and childhood had been cut short.

About to step away from the window, she
spotted Rory turning the corner. A shaky exhale escaped her lips at
his powerful, self-assured stride. Lord, what a compelling
specimen. A few women turned their heads to give him a second
glance. A couple of the vendors tipped their hats in a respectful
greeting and Rory returned it. Rea stepped back as he came closer
so he would not spot her ogling him.

By the time she returned to her desk, Jacob
had shown him into the room and closed the door.

Rory removed his hat and set it on a nearby
chair.

“Dinner again? What have I done to deserve
this?” he teased, running his hand through his long hair.

“I wanted to show my deep appreciation for
your unwavering support the last couple of days.”

“Is that the only reason, Rhiannon?”

“No. Truth is—I did not want to be alone. I
enjoy your company.”

A slow, sensual smile curved his mouth.
“There now, that wasn’t too hard to admit, eh, lass?”

He lifted her hand to his lips, gently
nibbling on her knuckles before turning it over and kissing her
palm. Heat traversed up her arm and arrowed straight to her heart,
giving it a shock. Twice that day a handsome man had kissed her
hand. Rory’s touch tumbled her insides, his by far the more
intoxicating. His long lashes swept upward in a fiery look before
he let go.

“Whiskey?” She cleared her throat and moved
to the sideboard.

Rory took his seat at the table and poured
them both Madeira. “Let’s have wine.”

Before she could sit, Rory jumped up and
pulled the chair out for her. In all the years, he had never done
that before.

His gallant gesture caused her heart to
tumble.

Jacob entered and served the shrimp salad,
then graciously left them alone. Rory returned to his seat, snapped
open his napkin, and laid it across his hips, as always.

“Fancy. A formal meal, then?”

“If that is all right with you. There are
several courses. I hope you are hungry.”

“I am yours for the night.” He smiled,
lifting a forkful of baby shrimp and lettuce to his mouth.

Oh lord, she
did
enjoy watching him
eat. This rough, gruff man had such a sheen of elegance about him.
Rea could picture Rory sitting in the finest dining rooms of
London. Hers for the night. If only that were true. She ate a small
amount of the salad, catching quick, clandestine glimpses of Rory
in between bites.

“Desmond stopped by to see me earlier
today.”

“Did he now? How is the lad doing?”

“You were correct. He fell in love. He’s
done. He and the spinster, I mean, Miss Sommer, are going to be
married, and they are moving to Cornwall.”

“Good for Desmond.” Rory raised his wine
glass. “To the happy couple.
Maireann lá go ruaig ach maireann
an grá go huaigh
.”