Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Gentlemen of Intrigue Book 1) Page 3

  “I am not a bloody spy,” Xavier said through clenched teeth.

  Farrin flashed a sly smile. “You are if I identify you as one.”

  In other words, if Xavier was caught, he would never see home again. Hell, he might even be executed, which settled the matter quickly in his mind. He wouldn’t be caught.

  “Prove you intend to release me after I bring you the map. I’ll need decent clothes and money for my fare.”

  “And a bath,” Benny added.

  Xavier frowned up at him. “You said you didn’t smell anything.”

  “You always ask for a bath. I thought you’d be pleased.”

  Farrin growled under his breath, and Benny snapped his mouth closed. “I will find clothes for you,” Farrin said. “Benny can see to the bath. We leave at dusk.”

  Xavier lifted the paper to study the drawing once more. “Wedmore House. I don’t believe I had the honor of meeting Mr. Wedmore during my time in London Society.”

  “Earl of Wedmore.” Farrin’s reddish brow arched. “Nor do I expect you ever will, Mr. Vistoire.”

  Several hours later, they were headed to London. Xavier was clean, well attired in clothes only slightly too large for him, and wedged onto the same bench with Benny in Farrin’s travel coach. The blackguard had only kept part of his word.

  “Where is the money for my passage to New Orleans?” Xavier asked. “That was part of our agreement.”

  Farrin flicked a disinterested look in Xavier’s direction before pulling his hat over his eyes and reclining in comfort on the spacious side of the coach. “You must think I’m a fool, Mr. Vistoire. What is to stop you from running to the docks as soon as you are out of my sight? You will receive your money when you deliver the map.”

  Xavier bit back a curse. His time in London had been fruitful before he was abducted. Large wins at the gaming tables would allow him to return home a wealthy man once again, but he couldn’t access his bank account at this hour. And he had no proof of his identity. No shipmaster with a head for business would allow him passage without a guarantee of payment. He had to rethink his strategy for paying his fare because he wasn’t coming back to collect it from Farrin.

  Merde! A rather distasteful idea came to mind. Before he found a quick exit from Wedmore House, he must take a piece of jewelry. Xavier had committed many sins in his life. He’d gambled, drank his weight in rum, and cavorted with paramours, but he had never been a thief. It hardly seemed like the best way to begin his life as a reformed man, but he was out of choices.

  Three

  The evening of the Eldridge ball, Regina joined her two sisters and aunt in the drawing room while they awaited their escort. Cupid had wormed his way between her sisters on the settee and was catching up on his sleep.

  Sophia and Evangeline were dressed in gorgeous gowns made from silks Uncle Charles had brought back from one of his excursions to the Far East. Sophia wore her favorite color, blue, and Evangeline had chosen a rich yellow that highlighted the subtle copper color of her hair.

  Aunt Beatrice had donned a more vibrant emerald green gown. As she was fond of saying, even though she had never married or borne children of her own, she had managed a household and raised three girls. She’d earned the privilege of wearing whatever she pleased.

  “You all look lovely,” Regina said.

  “Thank you, dearest.” Aunt Beatrice took up her yarn and needles from the sewing basket at her feet. After years of knitting, her aunt could create a shawl in her sleep, and she liked to keep her hands busy.

  Sophia smiled, revealing a dimple in her right cheek. “I wasn’t certain which gown I should wear. Octavia said the Eldridge ball is the most prestigious social event of the Season, and I didn’t want to be underdressed.”

  Octavia was Sophia’s best friend, and they hadn’t stopped chattering about the ball for days. “You’ve chosen well,” Regina assured her as she dropped onto the wingback chair across from her sisters.

  Sophia leaned forward, her blue eyes sparkling. “Octavia said Lady Eldridge only chooses diamonds of the first water to attend her annual ball.”

  Evangeline snorted softly. “I think Octavia might have wool for brains. I am hardly a diamond, and I was included on the invitation.”

  “Of course you were,” Sophia said. “You are one of the Darlington Angels.”

  Regina shook her head slightly when Evangeline met her gaze. She didn’t want to spoil Sophia’s pleasure by revealing Crispin Locke, Viscount Margrave—an old family friend—was responsible for the coveted invitation.

  “Regina, I truly don’t understand how you can miss the ball.” Sophia tossed her hands in the air as if she found the whole conversation too aggravating by half. “This could be the most important night of your life.”

  Regina shrugged one shoulder. She still hadn’t told her family about Lord Geoffrey or what the other men were whispering about her. “I am feeling a bit tired. That is all. A restful evening will likely have me back to my usual self tomorrow.”

  “Are you certain you don’t want me to send my regrets and keep you company?” Evangeline asked.

  “You should go. Crispin might need your help keeping the husband-hunters at bay.”

  Regina hadn’t wanted to impose on Crispin by asking him to escort her aunt and sisters to the ball—he unequivocally detested the marriage mart—but he was forever reminding Aunt Beatrice to call on him any time Uncle Charles was abroad. Regina was slightly surprised he hadn’t posed an argument when she saw him in the park and made her request that morning.

  A knock sounded at the front door, and the lady’s maid answered. Crispin could be heard announcing himself, and his purpose in calling.

  Regina hopped up from the chair. “There he is now. Let me see you to the door.”

  Crispin stood inside the foyer; his strong dark blond brows were drawn together. “Your lady’s maid is answering the door now?”

  “Of course not.”

  Regina discreetly shooed Joy away before Crispin took it upon himself to question the help. Because he was Uncle Charles’s godson and had spent much of his young adulthood at Wedmore House, he had a tendency to think he had authority over the ladies of the house. They neither wanted nor needed a caretaker. Regina was already fulfilling the role, and she would see that a new butler was hired soon—although she feared that there might be no one in service left who wanted the position. Between Uncle Charles’s suspicious nature, Aunt Beatrice’s tendency to speak her mind, and Cupid’s general dislike of strangers, it had been difficult to keep a butler.

  When her sisters and Aunt Beatrice came into the foyer, Crispin seemed to forget about the oddity of the lady’s maid manning the door and came forward to greet them. Cupid tore into the foyer, dashing between Evangeline’s and Sophia’s skirts to reach him first. The little dog adored him. Unfortunately, the love affair had been one-sided ever since Cupid ripped the viscount’s pant leg in an overzealous bid for attention. Crispin commanded him to sit, but like all the other residents at Wedmore House, he didn’t believe he had to obey the viscount.

  Regina scooped Cupid into her arms then kissed her sisters’ and aunt’s cheeks. “Enjoy yourselves, and don’t worry about me. I will be retiring early.”

  Once her family and Crispin were in the carriage, she closed the front door and turned the lock. Joy walked out of the shadowy corridor where she’d retreated to wait until everyone left.

  “Would you like to change into a night-rail, miss?”

  “I can manage on my own,” Regina said. “Go help your sister with the baby. Your plans shouldn’t be altered because I’ve decided to stay home. I had Deacon ready the carriage earlier, so you won’t need to hire a hack tonight.”

  Joy nibbled her bottom lip, a nervous habit that made her seem younger than six and twenty years. “I’m afraid your aunt wouldn’t approve of me leaving you alone. My sister will understand.”

  When Cupid began to squirm, Regina placed him on the marble floor, and he da
shed back into the drawing room. The poodle had a short memory. He would spend the next half hour searching the house for her aunt and sisters.

  “I insist you go,” Regina said. “You will return before Auntie, and I will be fine on my own.” She held up a finger when Joy started to argue. “Please. If you refuse to leave me alone, I will feel obligated to attend the ball, and I would rather not. You only see your family when we are in London. I know you must miss them.”

  Joy sighed. “I do. I miss them terribly sometimes.”

  “It is settled then.”

  “At least permit me to loosen your corset before I go.”

  Regina agreed, although she could remove it herself if needed. Joy accompanied her above stairs and helped her strip down to her chemise. “I want to wash up before bed,” she said and playfully nudged Joy toward the door. “Run along to your sister.”

  Joy smiled, ducking her head shyly. “Thank you, miss.” She slipped from Regina’s bedchamber, pulling the door partially closed behind her.

  When Regina was finally alone, she took a cleansing breath. She would have to return to the ballrooms soon, but tonight she welcomed the peace and quiet. Stripping her chemise over her head, she moved toward the washstand to fill the basin with water from the pitcher. She kicked off her slippers before removing her drawers and stockings.

  Her door swung open when Cupid nosed his way inside. His black curls glistened in the candlelight as he crossed the thick carpet en route to her canopied bed.

  “You little rogue,” she chided. “Don’t you know better than to disturb a lady during her toilette?”

  The poodle paid her no mind and hopped on the mattress, turned several circles to find the most comfortable place on the luxurious counterpane, then plopped down to nap while Regina prepared for bed.

  She wet a cloth and drew it over her bare skin. When she reached for a sliver of her favorite soap, she accidentally bumped the dish and knocked it off the stand. Cupid jerked awake with a yelp. His large round eyes were like wells of ink. He snapped his head from side to side as if searching for the culprit responsible for disturbing his nap.

  “It is all right, sweetheart,” she cooed as she retrieved the soap and unbroken dish from the carpet. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She held the soap to her nose to draw in the spicy orange scent. It was the most delicious smell in the world, and she hated that it would be all used up soon. If she was lucky, Uncle Charles would bring back a whole crate when he returned. He never arrived home from his travels empty-handed.

  Cupid continued to stand at attention with his floppy ears twitching. First his right, then left, then right again. Before she could utter another word to soothe him, he leapt from the bed and tore out of her chamber.

  “What has gotten into you, you silly dog?”

  She dipped the soap in the water then scrubbed it against a cloth to make suds. Just as she touched the cloth to her cheek, the loose tread on the servant’s staircase creaked.

  Regina’s heart bolted into her throat; she froze.

  “Joy,” she called softly. The maid didn’t answer. Regina strained to listen for evidence she was not alone in the house until the high-pitched ring of silence vibrated in her ears.

  Cupid’s sudden deep-throated growl outside her door caused goose bumps to rise along her arms.

  A muttered curse carried on the air.

  Cupid’s growl grew more ferocious.

  Regina’s heart pounded so hard, she could barely hear anything over its drumming. She snatched a bath sheet draped over the dressing screen and covered herself, debating if she had time to grab a wrap from the wardrobe before the intruder reached her doorway. Her gaze landed on the fire poker next to the hearth. Making a hasty choice, she hurried to grab the iron weapon and tiptoed toward the doorway.

  “There, there, you seem like a reasonable pooch,” the man crooned in a thick accent. “Could I trouble you to move aside? You are blocking the path.”

  A snappish bark made her jump.

  “Damnation! That was unnecessary.”

  Cupid whimpered as if truly contrite for making a fuss.

  “There, that is better.” The man’s deep, smoky voice washed over her, leaving her slightly breathless. “You should know, I like dogs under normal circumstances, so do not take offense. But nothing was said about a dog.”

  Regina furrowed her brow. He was uncommonly chatty for a thief, not that she’d met many. It just seemed counterproductive to be talkative when one’s success depended on his ability to sneak into homes unnoticed.

  Cupid apparently tired of the man’s nonsense and renewed his efforts to drive him away. His barking grew frantic, increasing her panic. He dashed into her chamber a second before tearing back into the corridor.

  Faith!

  In just a few steps, the intruder might be at her door. She tightened her grip on the poker, holding it aloft. The element of surprise was on her side, but for some unfathomable reason, she hesitated. Perhaps the way man spoke to the little dog as if Cupid were a person with feelings gave her pause. Or maybe it was simply curiosity over what ridiculous thing would come out of his mouth next.

  Before she could sort it out, Cupid dashed back into her chamber, and the man lunged to grab the door handle to shut him in the room. He spotted her standing just inside the threshold with the poker raised.

  His jaw dropped, and vibrant green eyes locked with hers. Her breath froze in her lungs. He looked nothing like the vagabond she’d pictured. Except for the unruly dark curls ringing his rugged face, he had the appearance of a gentleman. But his eyes surprised her most. They were clear and radiated kindness and... Was that regret? No, her mind must be playing tricks, and she couldn’t afford to be fooled.

  He was at Wedmore House to steal from them, plain and simple—his gaze slid to the bath sheet draped around her, and his eyes darkened—or worse.

  She clutched the bath sheet tightly and adjusted her grip on the poker with her other hand, brandishing it. “Leave here or I’ll—”

  She couldn’t bring herself to utter what she’d do if he took one step closer. She would defend herself, but he wouldn’t fare well if she struck him with the iron poker. In all the years she’d prepared to protect herself and her family, she’d never considered what it would mean to be called to action. It was one thing to discourage a persistent rake, tarnishing his pride and perhaps leaving him with a bruise or two. But the reality of hurting someone—possibly fatally injuring another—caused her stomach to pitch.

  Cupid was barking like a rabid beast now, snapping the air close to the thief’s ankles. The man’s gaze never strayed from her, however. He released the door handle and held his hands up in surrender. Deep creases appeared between his thick brows. “I beg your pardon, miss. There has been a mistake.”

  A mistake seemed like too mild a term for breaking into someone’s home.

  He backed into the corridor with his hands still raised. “Please, don’t be alarmed. I am leaving.”

  She held her breath as he kept his word, retreating without turning his back to her. He was almost to the servants’ staircase when the dog flashed his needle-like teeth with a harsh growl. Cupid attacked, latching on to the man’s pants leg. A string of words she couldn’t understand spilled forth from the intruder as he shook his leg to dislodge the poodle.

  “Cupid, no!” Regina lowered the poker and hastened into the corridor before her aunt’s precious pet got hurt. “Let go!”

  As usual, the dog ignored her command. Planting his paws on the carpet runner, he tugged the man’s pants leg with all his might. The intruder continued to shout unintelligibly while hopping on one foot and kicking his leg. The heel of his boot came down on the edge of the stairwell. His eyes flared wide. As he tipped backward, he grabbed for the railing, but his fingers slipped off the polished surface.

  Regina stood rooted to the carpet, helpless to stop his fall. Cupid released him before he, too, was dragged down the stairs. The imp
act of the man’s body shook the floor beneath her bare feet. More bumps and a loud boom broke her trance, and she rushed to the stairs. He lay crumpled in a heap against the landing wall. A muffled moan came from him.

  “Oh, thank God!” He was alive. She dropped the poker and scurried down the steps. Kneeling beside him, she held the bath sheet together with one hand and grabbed his shoulder. “Can you move?”

  He slowly rolled to his back; his face twisted in pain. A large, shiny knot was already peeking through the curls lying on his forehead. His glassy gaze wandered around the stairwell as if he couldn’t locate her voice.

  “Sorry I frightened you,” he muttered between gasps.

  His dark lashes fluttered. He was losing consciousness.

  “No, wait.” She gingerly patted his cheek, fearful of causing further harm, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Sir, you cannot die here. Wake up!” Emboldened, she smacked him harder.

  His eyes opened to slits.

  She grabbed the front of his jacket to shake him. “I say, you cannot die in Uncle Charles’s stairwell.”

  “I understand. The scandal...” His eyelids drifted shut.

  She frowned. Since when did thieves concern themselves with causing a scandal? “Sir, please wake up. I don’t know what to do. Is there someone I should summon to come for you?”

  He gripped her hand. “No, please. I need...rest. Then...then I will leave.”

  His fingers relaxed, and he dissolved against the floor.

  “This week couldn’t get any worse,” she grumbled. Cupid sat at the top of the stairwell with his tongue flopping from the side of his mouth.

  “I hope you are pleased. This is another fine mess you’ve made for me to clean up.”

  Only this wasn’t a shredded pillow or puddle on the marble floor. This was a man. Battered and bruised. She turned back to him, flummoxed. His inky lashes fanned against olive skin, and his chest rose and fell with regular breaths. He was no longer gasping, much to her relief.