Книга - The Duke’s Daring Debutante

The Duke's Daring Debutante
Ann Lethbridge


Disgraced by His Grace!Freddy, Duke of Falconwood, has vowed never to marry, instead dedicating himself to protecting his country. But when he’s caught in a very compromising position with a coquettish debutante Freddy does the only thing that will salvage her reputation – he proposes marriage!Even though Minette Rideau craves the stoic Duke’s touch, she knows she can’t become his wife. For giving in to her desires will reveal a shameful secret, putting much more than her virtue in jeopardy…







Freddy broke their kiss and pulled Minette close.

Breathing rapidly, she rested her cheek on his chest and he bent to kiss her crown, his own breathing none too steady.

‘It wouldn’t do to be caught out again,’ he said gently.

‘No,’ she agreed, much to his body’s painful disappointment.

She placed a hand on his lapel and stroked down the fabric. Delight with her response to his touch was a wild beat in his blood. This attraction was a positive sign for their marriage. There was much pleasure to be had between them, as long as he made sure not to let things go too far. Not to get too out of control.

‘We really should go before someone misses us,’ she said, not moving an inch. She sighed. ‘We don’t want to set tongues wagging again.’

Wagging tongues were the story of his life. He had told himself a long time ago that he didn’t care. But he didn’t want her hurt by vicious gossip.

‘Yes, we should.’ He kissed her forehead and linked his arm through hers, feeling for the first time in a long while a sense of hope.


AUTHOR NOTE (#uaa592df8-07b0-5ccc-b698-ccbfc901e137)

I hope you enjoy this offshoot of the Beresford Abbey stories: Haunted by the Earl’s Touch and Captured Countess. When we first met Freddy and Minette I could not understand why they seemed to dislike each other when they would be perfect together. I have enjoyed finding out what was keeping them apart.

Another fun part of researching this story was learning about Mr Brummell’s game of cricket in 1807. Like Minette, I was surprised to see the Beau engaging in anything so active—and with an audience too!

I love to hear from readers, so feel free to email me at ann@annlethbridge. If you would like to know more about my books or sign up for my quarterly newsletter go to my website at annlethbridge.com (http://www.annlethbridge.com). And if you are a history buff, you might enjoy my blog: regencyramble.blogspot.com (http://www.regencyramble.blogspot.com)


The Duke’s Daring Debutante

Ann Lethbridge




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


In her youth, award-winning author ANN LETHBRIDGE re-imagined the Regency romances she read—and now she loves writing her own. Now living in Canada, Ann visits Britain every year, where family members understand—or so they say—her need to poke around every antiquity within a hundred miles. Learn more about Ann or contact her at annlethbridge.com (http://www.annlethbridge.com). She loves hearing from readers.


Each book has a life of its own and is influenced by many people, but I would like to dedicate this book to those who serve their country in whatever capacity they choose—as my dad did in the army.

I believe he would have liked my foray into authorship, since he was a dedicated Georgette Heyer fan and loved reading about history.


Contents

Cover (#u244d6cc5-35de-5580-bce6-7b6d9c4ead43)

Excerpt (#u4f979d1d-8fcf-537a-96ca-86c778d17272)

AUTHOR NOTE

Title Page (#ud69b4360-7345-598d-9b00-76581aa3be9c)

About the Author (#u64ab0df9-b8da-5f41-8f95-776aeb418ff1)

Dedication (#u640a30c7-1d4b-57a8-af34-a9f1b1b8e325)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#uaa592df8-07b0-5ccc-b698-ccbfc901e137)

The foul stench coated Minette Rideau’s throat. With her skirts held high in one hand and the other clutching Granby’s arm, she focussed on taking only tiny sips of air as she picked her way over Bridge Alley’s slimy cobbles. One of many narrow passages in the reviled district of St Giles, it led to London’s most infamous hell. The only one owned by a duke. Falconwood. The man she now risked her reputation to track down in his lair.

Ancient tenements crowded in on both sides, the glimmer of lanterns behind oilpaper giving them menacing aspects. All around, noises of a seething mass of humanity pierced the darkness. Shouts and curses, music from the tavern on the corner. A child crying. A woman coughing.

So very different from the elegance of Mayfair, but not the worst she’d seen.

Granby halted before a low wooden door bound with iron and set with studs. The lantern above the door cast an oily gleam in the slime oozing along the alley’s central runnel.

‘This is it?’ she asked. ‘The Fools’ Paradise?’

‘It is,’ Granby croaked as if his throat was parched.

It had required all of Minette’s powers of persuasion to convince Lieutenant, the Honourable Laurence Granby, to be her escort when she’d named her destination. Now he was peering over his shoulder with the expression of one who had regained his sense of self-preservation and feared for his life. Finally he had realised that if this little adventure ever came to light, he was destined for a wagonload of trouble.

He cleared his throat. ‘You can’t want me to take you in there.’ Begging her to change her mind.

An unpleasant sensation squirmed behind her breastbone. A guilty conscience was an uncomfortable companion, but not unfamiliar. Guilt lay behind this expedition to London’s worst slums. Even as the idea had germinated, she’d known her escort hadn’t deserved to be placed in such an awkward position. Honour balanced against gentlemanly conduct and no way to reconcile either. He was a nice young man. Open. Honest. And too terribly susceptible to female manipulation. For all that her conscience pricked her, in the end she’d been unable to come up with a better alternative.

Worse, it might all be for naught. The man she’d come to for help had been going out of his way to avoid her for years, hence this charade. For all her careful scheming, he could easily turn her away and report her to Gabe, her sister’s husband.

If so, she’d have to think of another way to achieve her ends and avert disaster.

A disaster she’d set in motion years before. When she’d been young and exceedingly reckless. Not to mention in love.

She patted Granby’s arm. ‘Surely you aren’t going back on your word?’ She put a full measure of disappointment at his lack of courage into her voice.

The young man straightened his shoulders. ‘Certainly not. Gentleman, you know. But really—’

‘Courage, mon ami. Knock. It will be très amusant, n’est-ce pas? No one will ever know.’ She cast him a blinding smile.

Predictably dazzled, Granby rapped on the door with the head of his walking cane.

A square peephole opened. A glimmer of light quickly blocked by an eye peering out. Pah. Men and their dramatics.

‘Ah, ’tis you, sir,’ a gruff voice said from behind the door. The peephole snapped shut, and the door swung inwards. The porter’s glance slid over her without interest. Unlike proper gentlemen’s clubs, here there was no ban on admitting females. It was part of the hell’s attraction, along with wickedly deep play. Hopefully there would be others of her gender present tonight. Creating a stir was not her aim. A simple word with the club’s owner, His Grace, the Duke of Falconwood, was all she wanted.

Granby tucked her arm under his in a rather sweet gesture of protection and escorted her along a short, dimly lit passage to a red velvet curtain drawn to cover a wide doorway. A liveried lad of about fifteen pulled the curtain aside, and they entered the low-ceilinged subscription room. The smell and haze of cigar smoke hung so thick in the air that Minette struggled not to cough as she gazed at men of every age and social class seated at green baize tables. Games of chance occupied their full attention. Pharo, deep basset, dice, to name but a few. Sovereigns and scraps of paper littered the tabletops. The bowstring-taut atmosphere reeked of both triumph and despair.

No sign of her quarry. The elusive Duke of Falconwood, Freddy to his friends, though she did not rank among their number. Anticipation tensed her shoulders, her stomach fluttering with the hope he wouldn’t turn her away mingled with the expectation he would. The unpleasant churning brought bile rising in her throat.

A stocky, pugnacious-looking young man in his thirties, neatly dressed in the style of a butler, his light brown hair fashionably dressed, stepped forward to greet them. ‘Lieutenant Granby. What is your pleasure tonight?’ The maître d’hotel, then. His gaze focussed on Minette, and she read surprise in his narrowed blue gaze.

She held her breath, waiting for him to turn her away. Instead, he gave her escort a look of enquiry and she let her breath out.

‘Vingt-et-un, if you don’t mind, Barker,’ Granby said, as agreed earlier in the evening.

The maître d’ settled them at a table and snapped his fingers for a waiter to take their orders while Minette casually glanced around, trying to spot her man. The back of her neck prickled. Awareness. Someone watching.

The suave-looking gentleman seated at the next table leaned back in his seat. His heated gaze took in her face and the low cut of her gown. ‘Welcome, lovely lady,’ he said, eyeing her escort in the way of a male prepared to compete.

She merely inclined her head and leaned closer to Granby. The gentleman shrugged and turned back to his game.

After an hour of play in which Granby lost a great deal of money to her and there was still no sign of the Duke, she decided her quest was hopeless. So disappointing. And irritating. She’d been certain she would find him here tonight after trying for days to catch him at his lodgings. Now she’d have to think of a different way to meet him. She was running out of ideas.

‘Why am I not surprised?’ The familiar deep male voice struck a chord low in her stomach. He’d always had that effect on her, though she’d tried to ignore it. As she did now. Slowly, she put her cards face down and glanced up to meet a pair of dark, insolent eyes set in a lean, saturnine face.

A face of pure male beauty, his eyes of the darkest blue ringed by grey. He’d changed since she’d last seen him. His expression had grown colder, harder, more remote. More darkly fascinating. And while his form remained elegantly slender, he’d broadened across the shoulders to match his six-foot frame, which he now used with great effect to loom over her with all the menace of a greater physical force.

Not that she was surprised by the anger smouldering in his dark eyes. She’d invaded his very masculine sanctum.

‘Good evening, Your Grace,’ she said coolly, the daringly low cut of her gown seeming far more outrageous than when she’d left home. Nom d’un nom, she would not give him the satisfaction of feeling embarrassed. She lifted her chin. ‘Quelle surprise.’

His intense dark gaze shifted to her companion. The cold, hard scrutiny of an offended aristocrat.

‘Your servant, Your Grace,’ Granby said, rising to bow, colour flooding his face.

A dark eyebrow lifted in question. ‘Hardly the place to bring a lady, Lieutenant.’

Granby tugged at his neckcloth. Perspiration popped out on his brow. ‘A wager,’ he choked out. ‘Lady wanted to see the inside of a hell. Debt of honour and all that.’

‘Naturally you are not one to argue with a lady.’ The Duke’s narrowed gaze flicked down to the cards and the guineas on her side of the table. ‘Your companion has the devil’s own luck, I see.’

He was being careful not to use her name. She couldn’t help but be grateful for the courtesy. She offered him a sweet smile. ‘Don’t you mean skill, Your Grace?’

‘A newly won skill, then.’

As she had hoped beyond hope, he hadn’t forgotten her or their card games aboard ship some two years before. While she had played off her feminine wiles to get his attention, he’d treated her as little more than an annoying child. Brat, he had called her on the last occasion he had visited Meak, or any other of her brother-in-law’s residences.

‘Unfair, sir,’ she said, keeping her expression flirtatious. ‘I learned from the best.’

His lips quirked at the corners, his eyes glinted, the brief smile making him appear less austere. And more devastatingly handsome. An unwelcome pang pierced her heart. As if she had missed his smiles, which back then had been wickedly teasing. Oh, of a certainty she had missed him. The way one missed a stone in one’s shoe.

The maitre d’, standing at a little behind him, gave an impatient cough.

The flash of amusement on Freddy’s face vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his chilly gaze on her escort. ‘Lieutenant, may I offer you a parlour where you can continue your game in private?’

The commanding tone of his voice was something she certainly didn’t miss. His attempts to act like her older brother. To take charge, as if he had some authority over her actions. She damped down the instant raising of her hackles. After all, this was the reaction she had set out to achieve. His wanting to protect her from her own folly. Not that she would let him know the full extent of her error.

Granby’s expression collapsed into something like relief. He gulped. ‘Very civil, Your Grace. Perhaps...’ He gave Minette a pleading look. ‘Perhaps we should leave?’

Several nearby patrons, including the man who had inspected her when she’d first arrived, had paused in their game to watch the unfolding drama.

‘Oh, no,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘We should accept His Grace’s kind offer.’

Granby’s face crumpled. ‘Really?’

‘Naturellement.’

Freddy bowed, his expression mocking. ‘Be so good as to follow me.’

He led them through a door in the back wall of the subscription room. As she passed him in the doorway, Freddy leaned close and murmured in her ear, ‘I wonder what Gabe is going to think of this piece of mischief?’

She cast him a glance from beneath her lashes. ‘I didn’t take you for a tattletale, Your Grace.’

Granby gasped.

His Grace glowered.

Minette gave him her brightest, most innocent smile and breezed past him. Her gamble had paid off. She had his full attention.

Now came the most difficult part of her plan.

* * *

Following in the wake of the shamefaced Granby and the clearly recalcitrant Miss Rideau, Freddy curbed his ire. The attraction he’d always felt towards the stunningly beautiful French girl, with her velvety brown eyes flecked with gold and her deliciously creamy skin, of which he and everyone else in the club had seen far too much this evening, had nothing to do with his anger.

He was a normal, red-blooded male, and she was a lovely young woman.

No, it was Minette’s lack of respect for the feelings of his friends, Gabe, the Marquess of Mooreshead, and his wife, Nicky, that had him clenching his jaw to the point of cracking his back teeth. How could she be such a little idiot as to come to a place like this? ‘Heaven’, as his customers like to call his establishment when in the throes of their disillusion. For he had no doubt this was all her doing.

Fortunately for her, Barker, his maître d’, knew a member of the Quality when he saw one. The moment Freddy had come in by way of his private entrance, his man had brought him the news that the wrong sort of woman had strayed onto the premises. She wasn’t the first lady to wander through his portals. Usually they were older, married, matrons looking for a bit of excitement after doing their marital duty. As long as they were discreet, no one paid them any mind. However, never did freshly minted debutantes like Minette Rideau darken his disreputable door. Neither did he want them to. He liked his women as dissolute as he was, when he bothered with them at all.

She was lucky no one had recognised her. If they had, not even Gabe could save her reputation.

Minette was trouble. Reckless. Heedless. Things the male predator within him had recognised at their very first encounter on board ship. Apparently, she had no more idea than a baby about the harsh truths of the world in which he resided. The need to beat a little sense into the baby-faced Granby pulsed in his blood. How could the man have let her inveigle him this way?

He escorted the pair along a carpeted passageway, the salacious pictures on the walls advertising the purpose of the rooms at the back of the house. Some of his customers preferred their amusements out of the public eye. Such as those who held political positions, where deep play would cause a raised eyebrow or two. Others demanded more carnal forms of entertainment.

Minette carefully kept her eyes lowered, but he knew she saw them.

He opened the door to a room set up for gentlemen who took their cards seriously to the point of utter ruin. Windowless, panelled in dark wood, the only ornament a marble fireplace and mantel.

Once the pair were inside, Freddy closed the door and turned the key. Granby started.

Freddy put up a hand. ‘To ensure we are not interrupted.’

The lieutenant nodded and looked relieved.

Freddy fixed him with a look designed to freeze. ‘Are there maggots in your brain, Lieutenant? What do you mean by bringing a gently bred girl to a hell?’

‘Pardonnez-moi,’ Minette said, her voice equally icy, ‘I do not believe what I do is your concern.’

‘Well, you believe wrongly,’ Freddy said. ‘Well, Granby? Are you indeed so bacon-brained you did not realise that any one of your friends might have walked in and recognised Miss Rideau?’

The poor tongue-tied lad gulped and shifted on his feet. ‘Told you. Debt of honour.’

Freddy leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Tell me about this wager of yours.’

‘Lady Cargyle’s al fresco breakfast,’ he blurted in a rush.

Freddy waited for the next burst of words. If memory served, the young man had a bit of a stutter, which he manfully controlled by these staccato deliveries.

‘Croquet,’ Granby choked out. ‘Wager. Ball through three hoops with only one knock of the mallet.’ He blushed. ‘Not possible.’

‘So did she?’

‘Kicked it through the last one.’ He looked at Minette with a wan grin. ‘Fair. No rule about kicking.’

Minette lifted a defiant chin.

Unwanted laughter bubbled in Freddy’s throat. With great effort he managed to hide it. The girl was a minx. As smart as paint and always got what she wanted—by fair means or foul, according to a harassed Gabe.

Too bad she wouldn’t want— He cut the thought off before it fully formed. He wasn’t interested in respectable young females and if he had been, she had certainly never masked her dislike of him from the very first. Intelligent woman.

Now she was staring at him in that direct way she had, as if daring him to criticise.

He focussed on Granby. ‘What on earth made you agree to such a hen-witted wager?’ He waved a hand to encompass the club.

Minette bridled, her brown eyes flashing sparks of gold. Saints, in a temper she wasn’t just beautiful, she looked like a goddess of war. Gabe really needed to take a firmer hand on her bridle or the girl would find herself dished before she had time to make an eligible marriage.

The thought of her married painfully pierced the wall of ice he’d built around his emotions. Really? Mentally, he shook his head. It wasn’t possible. He didn’t care what she did, as long as it didn’t ruin his friendship with Gabe. One of the very few people he valued. He focussed his attention on her young idiot of an escort.

The boy looked as if he wanted the floor to open beneath his feet. ‘I didn’t know. Secret wager. Written on paper. Held by the judge.’

‘I can imagine what you wrote on yours.’

The blush turned fiery. That was the trouble with fair hair and skin—there was no hiding your embarrassment. Freddy felt a grim sense of satisfaction as the discomforted young man swallowed hard. ‘Nothing terrible. I swear.’

The fact that Freddy had sympathy for Minette’s victim didn’t mean he would be let off the hook. ‘What? Are you a sheep to be led by the nose?’ Some other part of his anatomy more like. ‘You are fortunate I do not intend to report you to your colonel for conduct unbefitting.’

Resentment flared in the boy’s eyes at the slur. No doubt he was thinking his tormenter was a pot calling the kettle black, but Freddy held his gaze and knew he’d made his point when the lad’s shoulders slumped. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘You can go. As a family friend, I will see Miss Rideau home.’

Granby looked at Minette in question.

An expression flickered over Minette’s face. If he had to guess at the meaning of that brief flash in her eyes, he would have said it was triumph. It didn’t make sense. Chagrin more likely. Annoyance at being stuck with him as an escort. She knew very well he’d not put up with her nonsense.

She gave Granby the nod of acceptance. He felt as much relief as Granby clearly did that she’d decided not to refuse or make a fuss.

He really ought to tell Gabe about this little escapade, but he wouldn’t, as long as she was reasonable. It would only worry Nicky, who he had heard was in a delicate condition. No, Miss Rideau would have to endure a lecture from him instead.

Freddy unlocked the door and opened it wide. ‘Lieutenant?’ he said softly, making sure the other man heard the authority in his voice. ‘Not a word of this evening to anyone. Do I make myself clear?’

The young man snapped a quick salute in reply. ‘Wouldn’t dream...’ he blurted. ‘Mum’s the word.’ He scuttled out.

Freddy closed the door and turned to face the real villain of the piece.

Taking in her false expression of innocence, something inside him snapped. Fear for what might have happened had she chosen some other club in which to exercise her need for adventure. ‘What the devil did you think you were doing? Did you want to marry the fellow, or simply ruin his career?’

She recoiled, the colour draining from her face, but, pluck to the backbone, she recovered in a second, squaring her shoulders. ‘I wanted to see inside a hell.’

He narrowed his eyes, instinctively sensing dissembling. ‘Why?’

The defiant gaze met his square on and, like the first time they had met, he was struck by her fragile beauty and the shadows in those beautiful doelike eyes. Secrets and pain. Once more, he was aware of a very real desire to shield her from a harsh world, even knowing she’d seen far more of it that any gently bred girl should have to witness during the years she’d wandered revolutionary France.

He gestured for her to take a seat. When she did so, he strode to the decanter of brandy and the two glasses on a side table. As was usual in the presence of a beautiful woman, he was aware of his awkward gait. He carried the glasses back to the table, taking care not to spill the contents yet not showing he was in any way conscious of making an effort. He’d had years to practise what other men took for granted. And while the slight halt in his left leg was so much a part of him it rarely discommoded him, it did demand more care in some of the simplest actions of life.

She looked at the glass he set in front of her with an expression of surprise.

‘You will find it to be the finest cognac,’ he said.

‘Smuggled, no doubt.’

He shrugged and sat down in the seat on the other side of the table. ‘Naturally. How else is one to obtain French brandy?’

Her shoulders relaxed. She sipped and nodded her approval. ‘Excellent.’

‘I am glad you approve.’

Her gaze shot to his face as if she suspected him of sarcasm. He was careful to show nothing of what he was feeling. Anger that she’d risked her reputation on a whim. The wish that she’d chosen some other club in which to play her games. No. He was glad she had come to Heaven. At least here she was safe. He took a mental inventory of those present in the subscription room who might know who she was and spread gossip. None sprang to mind.

‘What do you think Gabe will say?’ he asked. ‘Or your sister?’

His jab clearly hit home. Though she disguised her reaction well, the winding of the strings of her reticule around her fingers gave away her nervousness. She had small hands, neat and quick as they knotted and unknotted the delicate cord. Hands that would feel wonderful on his body, stroking and caressing— He cut the thought off, dragged his gaze from their restless twisting. He hated it that he’d made her nervous, but it was as he had intended.

‘Does Gabe know you own such a wicked place?’ she asked.

Wicked. His body tightened at the image of the sort of wickedness he’d like to engage in with this girl who had become a woman since they’d last met. A beautiful desirable woman he had no right to be near. But, of course, it was the gambling she was talking about, not the other vices rampant beneath his roof. He considered the other import of her words. ‘What makes you think I own it?’

‘Bah. I’m not a fool. The pugilist dressed as a maître d’ went to fetch you and stood back as if you were in charge.’

No, she wasn’t a fool. ‘I own a part share.’ He wondered what she’d think if she knew who owned the other share. Sceptre had thought it a grand joke.

Her head tilted. ‘An odd enterprise for a duke.’

He’d inherited his title a little over a year ago, six or seven months after he had invested in the Fools’ Paradise. He still had a nasty feeling in his gut it had been the last straw for his father. The last straw in a long line of them that had caused the apoplexy that had taken his life. He took a long pull at the warming liquid in his glass. ‘Why are you here, Minette? If you think I am fooled by that tale of a wager, you can think again.’

Women never did anything without an ulterior motive. Not the intelligent ones. And he had no illusions about the sharpness of her mind.

A crease formed between her straight brows as if she was trying to make up her mind about something. Probably whether she could trust him with the truth. She couldn’t, of course, but that was something he didn’t intend to point out.

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Or explain it to Gabe later. Your choice.’

Looking down at her hands, she slowly unravelled the twisted strings.

Not going to trust him. The hollow ache of disappointment in his gut was a surprise. Perhaps it was merely because he was left with no recourse but to force the issue. He tossed back the balance of his brandy and went to pull the bell.

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I need to locate someone. I thought you might help me.’

Yet another surprise. His breath caught in his throat. She’d come to him for assistance. The cold inside him seemed to melt a little. As if he liked the idea she’d turned to him for aid. Not good. Not good at all. He was the wrong man to be offering his help to a woman with a reputation to protect. He strode back to the table and looked down at her. ‘Who?’

A defiant lift of her chin. ‘You must swear to say nothing of this to Gabe or Nicky.’

‘Not tell them verbally, or in writing, or both?’ Two could play at the game of cheating. She needed to understand that, unlike Granby, he was nobody’s fool.

She glared at him. ‘Not to tell them in any manner, shape or form through your own actions or that of any other person.’

Another bubble of laughter fought for escape. It was so long since he’d wanted to laugh, no wonder it hurt. But this was no laughing matter. ‘You would have made a good lawyer, I think.’

‘Women aren’t allowed to be lawyers. They are not allowed to do anything useful.’

Oh, was that was she thought? ‘Oh, believe me, they have lots of uses.’ He let the wicked ideas in his head show in his eyes, echo in his tone of voice.

Undisturbed by the innuendo, she lifted one shoulder in a very Gallic gesture of disdain. ‘Men.’

Not a blush in sight. His blood heated. Was it her boldness that attracted him, when most debutantes had him running for the hills? ‘So jaded?’

A flash of pain in her eyes, followed by an acceptance he didn’t understand, robbed him of amusement. He should not have resorted to idle teasing. They weren’t on those kinds of terms. ‘I beg your pardon, but that is the sort of male jocularity you exposed yourself to by coming here.’

‘Thank you for your concern, but I am perfectly able to take care of myself.’

‘Are you?’ He pulled her to her feet, tilting her chin with one hand to look down into a stormy gaze that reminded him of trees in autumn lashed by the wind, pulling her hard against his body with the other. Her sweet curves were an aphrodisiac in his blood. His body hardened as he took her mouth in a punishing kiss. Show me, sweetheart, he willed. Resist me. His heart thundered and blood roared in his ears.

For a satisfying moment he felt her tense, but even as he prepared to force himself to let her go, she melted sweetly, kissing him back with a passion that would have seared his soul. If he’d had one.

His mind blanked of everything except the sensations scorching through his body, the feel of her softness melding into him, the taste of brandy on her silken tongue sliding against his, the scent of her, jasmine and hot summer nights. Delicious. Tempting.

Luscious and...not for him. He pushed her away before he forgot himself entirely.

Twin spots of colour blazed on her cheekbones. Embarrassment. Shame.

Self-loathing burned like acid in his throat. ‘See how vulnerable you are?’ he said harshly, all too aware of his raging desire and uneven breathing. ‘No woman has the strength to prevent a determined man from taking what he wants. Dressed as you are, you told every man in the establishment that you are available and willing.’

Her eyes widened as if he’d wounded her feelings. Good. Perhaps she had learned her lesson. He’d certainly learned his. Keep his distance. ‘Give me your word you won’t try anything like this again and I’ll take you home.’

He reached out to take her arm.

She jerked away. ‘If you promise not to tell Gabe about this evening, I will not tell him of your insult to my person.’

Though he showed nothing on his face, he was surprised to discover her words hurt more than a slap would have done. Yet she was right. It had been an insult. Deliberately so. Outcast by the more respectable members of the ton, his attentions should be unwelcome. He’d used his reputation for vice to gain the trust of the dregs of society, the informants, the spies, and earned the scorn of his peers. He raised a brow. ‘Blackmail. How unworthy. And what do you think Gabe would do? Call me out? He’d be more likely to insist we marry.’

A strange look came to her face. Yet another one he couldn’t read. She shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’

He did not bother to keep the bitter edge from his tone. ‘My sentiments exactly.’ He intended never to marry, and certainly wasn’t going to let a little chit like her change his mind.

‘I wouldn’t have had to come here,’ she shot back, ‘had you responded to my notes.’

Notes he should have returned unopened, instead of stuffing them in his desk drawer. ‘A young lady doesn’t demand a gentlemen wait on her. It is not good ton.’

‘Oh, and I suppose you are good ton,’ she muttered, then lifted her gaze to meet his face. ‘You avoided me on purpose.’

He’d been avoiding her like a man avoided the hangman’s noose. She was too damnably attractive. ‘Well, here I am now.’ He poured chill into his voice. No easy task when his body burned with lust. ‘Tell me who it is you want found and then I’ll take you home.’

‘You’ve no doubt heard that Moreau is back in England.’ Clear, velvet-brown eyes met his in challenge.

A spy placed in England by Fouché, Moreau had very nearly succeeded in a plan to assassinate King George. He had used Minette to lure her sister Nicky, now Gabe’s wife, into helping him. He’d almost captured Gabe into the bargain. It had been a near-run thing, but ultimately Nicky and Gabe had outwitted him. Moreau’s spectacular failure had resulted in him being relocated to Madrid, where he must have helped Napoleon’s brother gain the throne of Spain. No doubt back in favour, he was once more assigned to help in the downfall of the only country stopping Napoleon from ruling the whole of Europe. Britain.

‘Nothing I didn’t already know,’ Freddy said. ‘And not your concern.’

Her eyes darkened. ‘Is it not?’ She took a deep breath. ‘What if he goes after Nicky? After the way she tricked him...’ The slight gesture of her hands encompassed the enormity of what a man like Moreau could do to an enemy.

Admiration caused something in his chest to expand. She looked like such a fragile creature, with her glowing skin and fine bones, while the blood of a Valkyrie ran in her veins. The understanding shook him to the core. He forced himself to focus on the very real danger within her words.

‘He will be found and dealt with.’

‘Like you dealt with him before? You don’t even know what he looks like. I do. And if you won’t help me, I will find him by myself.’

The challenge in her voice, her manner, raised his hackles. The Frenchman had a network of informants all over England. One hint that he was at risk of discovery and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill.

Anger at her bravado chilled him to the bone. He kept his voice was calm. ‘What have you heard?’

‘You have to let me help in his capture.’

He almost laughed. But that would have hurt her feelings. And, besides, it wasn’t the least bit humorous. ‘Do not be ridiculous.’

Her chin went up. ‘Someone I know has seen him. I thought you would want to know. If you won’t let me be part of it, I will seek his aid.’

His blood ran cold. Moreau was a dangerous man. A killer when cornered.

‘Why this renewed interest in Moreau?’ he asked.

Shadows skittered across her face. ‘He tried to use me to harm Nicky. I need to know first-hand he is no longer a threat.’

Sincerity shone in her gaze. She’d given him the truth, but only part of it. He’d spent too long working for Sceptre not to recognise a half-truth. ‘Trust me to do my job and I will let you know when he is taken care of. Come, I will take you home.’ And in the meantime he’d have to discover what she was hiding.

When she hesitated, he gave her a glare that would have turned Granby to a pillar of salt. On Minette, it had no effect.

She glared right back. ‘You always did treat me like a child.’

To stop himself from treating her like a desirable woman. Not something she needed to know. ‘My carriage awaits us at the back.’

‘Would you mind dropping me off in the mews?’ she said airily. ‘I left the gate open before I left, since no one knew I went out this evening.’

Thus embroiling him deeper in her scheme. He bit back a curse.


Chapter Two (#uaa592df8-07b0-5ccc-b698-ccbfc901e137)

Seated in his curricle, Minette watched Freddy leap nimbly aboard to take the reins. He showed no sign of discomfort or awkwardness. She’d noticed that, although he limped, he did not seem to find whatever ailed his leg an impediment. Except when people offered him a seat as if he were some sort of invalid. Then he looked ready for murder.

The horses’ hooves ringing on the cobbles, they turned onto Broad Street. The roads were quiet at this time of night and, in this quarter of Town, ill lit. Ruffians lurked in shadows, watching their passing with keen eyes. It said something about the dangerous air of the man beside her that their carriage suffered no interference and they soon reached the well-kept streets of Mayfair.

‘Why do you never come to see Gabe and Nicky?’ Minette asked. ‘Are you too good for us now you are a duke?’

The streetlight caught his grim expression in stark relief. ‘Gabe has moved on. It is better if no one knows of our prior...association.’

Gabe had once worked as a spy, too. ‘He saved the King’s life.’ The attempted assassination had never been mentioned in the newspapers, and Moreau remained at large. The sound of his name in her head left a bitter taste on her tongue. A vile concoction of betrayal, regret and guilt.

‘If you would accept my help, I am sure we could find him more quickly,’ she said.

‘You need someone to put you over a knee and give you a spanking,’ he muttered.

She swivelled in her seat to face him and traced a fingertip along the length of his thigh. ‘Is that your idea of fun with a woman?’

He turned a choke into a cough, and she smiled innocently up at him as the next streetlamp caught her full in the face.

‘You little minx,’ he said, when he finally caught his breath. ‘You should know better.’

Since Gabe had first warned her and Nicky that Moreau had been recalled to France, she’d been expecting him to show up in England. He wasn’t one to leave unfinished business. She’d had her French maid, Christine, ask discreetly among the émigrés. Moreau, as he’d called himself in England, had destroyed more lives than the English could even guess at. The families of those people had long memories. ‘I have a contact who will give us the name of someone who has seen him.’

‘Us.’

He made a sound of scorn, the kind one’s elders made when one said something stupid. Apparently her kiss—she resisted the urge to touch her lips where the heat of his mouth on hers still lingered—hadn’t convinced him he was dealing with a woman grown. If he knew, if any of them knew what she’d done...

She should never have allowed Nicky to bring her out, as they called it here in London. They all thought her so sweet and innocent. How could she reveal the truth when Nicky had given up her own dreams to protect her little sister? Nicky had married the brutal Count Vilandry to keep Minette safe and she had thrown that sacrifice away. So now she faced the prospect of refusing any and all perfectly acceptable offers of marriage. And there would be offers. She wasn’t an antidote, as Gabe called ladies lacking in charms, and the dowry Gabe had so generously bestowed on her made her a very eligible parti.

But that was mostly her problem. Worse was the weapon she had given Moreau. He could, whenever he wished, destroy her and Gabe and Nicky with the gift she had given him. He would have no hesitation to use it against them. It did not bear thinking about. ‘I won’t get in your way. I would help identify him and ask him one question. Nothing more.’

‘No.’

Men. They never listened. ‘As you please.’ She folded her hands in her lap in a parody of innocence.

Freddy shot her an exasperated glance mingled with something she could not quite read. ‘If there was any possibility at all of you being able to accomplish the matter alone, you would not have come to me for help.’

The man had a brain. Gabe had said he’d been brilliant at university. Too clever by half, she’d always thought, when she’d tried to cheat him at cards. And he knew it, which was worse. ‘It needs money to get my informant to give up what they know.’

He pulled the carriage into the alley behind the mews in Grosvenor Square. Relief shot through her. Until that moment she’d half expected he would give her away to Gabe. At least he wasn’t going to give her up tonight. Perhaps she was making some headway.

‘You want money.’ He sounded aggrieved, as if she should have wanted something different. ‘Who is this contact you speak of?’

‘Why would I tell you when you won’t help me?’ Her maid, an émigrée, had been given only a titbit of information. ‘Please, Freddy.’

‘You picked the wrong man for your games. Tomorrow I will have the truth. Or I will reveal the whole to Gabe.’

He tied off the horses’ reins, jumped clear and helped her down. He gazed at the garden gate she’d left ajar. ‘Bolt that behind you.’

She stepped inside and then turned to look up at him, put her hand on his arm and felt him tense. ‘I don’t care how much you and Gabe badger me, I will tell you nothing unless you involve me in the plan for Moreau’s capture. It is of the utmost importance.’ It was the most she dared say and she was surprised she was trusting him this much. Except that he had never made her feel unsafe. Irritated, yes. Annoyed, yes. But never in any danger.

He put his hand on the brick wall and loomed over her. ‘Why?’

‘I told you. I was his victim. I need to know he can never harm me or Nicky again, even if it means killing him.’ She held her breath.

His eyes widened. ‘You will not approach him.’

‘Not if you agree to my involvement.’

A frustrated growl issued from his throat.

‘Don’t call in the morning,’ she said. ‘I will know more tomorrow night. Meet me at Gosport’s ball and we can talk again.’ She whisked inside and shut and bolted the gate behind her.

A fist slammed against the wood.

‘Hush,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll wake someone.’

She fled down the garden path in case he should decide to break his way in, but as she slid through the French doors into the breakfast room she heard the sound of his carriage moving off.

Everything depended on the slim chance she’d told him enough to stop him from exposing her visit to Gabe in the morning.

Nicky’s future depended on it.

She touched a finger to her lips, remembering their kiss. How quickly she had responded, how good it had felt. The intensity, almost as if he, too, had felt something deeper between them than passing lust.

Ridiculous. It was his attempt to scare her, that was all. There had never been any doubt in her mind that he disliked her. Probably because she was French. His whole purpose in life was to defeat her countrymen.

* * *

‘Now, don’t you look as fine as fivepence? Bang up to the knocker, you might say.’

Freddy met Barker’s gaze in the mirror and grinned. ‘Sartorial elegance are the words you are seeking.’

Barker liked to pretend he came from the stews rather than a respectable merchant family. ‘Unlikely.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Pity you can’t do something about your expression. You look like a man walking up the steps to the nubbin’ cheat.’

The gallows would be preferable to what he had planned for tonight. ‘Are you sure no one has seen him?’

‘Nary a peep, but we’ll find him, given time.’

Freddy cursed. With Minette on the rampage, he didn’t have time. Neither did he want to play foolish games with manipulating little baggages like Minette Rideau. He should have gone to see Gabe this morning, but that would have finished any hope he’d have of getting her to talk. He’d recognised the signs. He certainly didn’t want her going off half-cocked and ruining any chance they had of finding Moreau before he did any damage. She was as stubborn as she was beautiful. He closed his eyes briefly as the recollection of their kiss flooded his mind. The feel of her soft body pressed against his own. His blood heated. Damn it all, that was the last thing he needed.

He gave one more twitch to his neckcloth and turned from the mirror.

Barker held up his coat, fingering the cloth. ‘As fine a bit of yardage as I’ve ever seen. Weston, did you say?’

‘Yes.’ He slid his arms into the sleeves, and Barker eased the coat over his shoulders.

It was like slipping into a disguise. The persona of aristocrat, rather than that of owner of a hell-cum-brothel. It was the latter part that stuck in the craw of the ton. A gentleman might not mind enjoying its offerings but they didn’t want their wives near the owner of a bawdy house. Not that a truly ambitious mama would care if she thought she had a chance at the title.

The main reason he never went to balls and such.

Hopefully, the Gosports wouldn’t throw their uninvited guest out on his ear. While the ducal title trumped a mere baron any day of the week, likely his host wouldn’t be pleased at such a disgraceful duke darkening his doors.

Freddy grinned at the alliteration. It would make a good title for one of the romances the ladies like to read.

‘Is the carriage ready?’ he asked.

He’d had his mother’s town carriage dragged out and dusted off. Lord, his father must be turning in his grave right now, given the path his heir had decided to follow. As if he wasn’t disappointing enough as it was.

‘Ready and waiting, guv. Er...I mean, Your Grace.’

‘No need to stand on ceremony, Barker. You know me too well for that.’ Barker had dragged him home half-seas over too many times after long nights of talking to his eyes and ears in London’s lowest taverns to scrape and bow to his title.

Barker grinned. ‘Right you are, then, guv. Time we were off.’

Freddy grinned back. Whatever happened, tonight was going to be unpleasant, but at least it wouldn’t be boring. Minette Rideau was never dull.

When he arrived at Gosports’ house he saw that he had timed his arrival to perfection. The receiving line had already abandoned its post at the head of the stairs, his host and hostess off enjoying their party. He slipped the butler a coach wheel. The man closed his fist over the silver coin and agreed there was no need to announce a latecomer, particularly since he’d come at the behest of another guest.

Following the sound of music, Freddy ascended the stairs to the first floor and located the ballroom. A large drawing room with the furniture removed and a three-man orchestra at one end.

Minette, in proper debutante white, looked glorious, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling as she pirouetted beneath the arm of a fresh-faced youth. This was what a girl like her should be doing. Dancing. Flirting. Establishing herself in society. It would be a shame to spoil all that, but if he had to he would tell Gabe what she’d been up to and have her sent to rusticate at his country house until they had Moreau firmly in their grasp.

Her glance met his across the room. He stilled. Caught by the laughing brightness of her face. His chest tightened. She wouldn’t be smiling at him by the end of the evening. Most likely she’d hate him. The thought made him feel colder than usual. He scanned the room, found Gabe and Nicky standing with a group of friends. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.

‘Freddy. I didn’t know you would be here tonight.’ Arthur Stone’s cheerful greeting at his back had him spinning around.

Arthur, his cousin, put out a hand to steady him. Freddy gritted his teeth, avoided the clutching hand and smiled. ‘A surprise to me, too.’

The slow-top frowned his puzzlement. ‘It is good to see you, Freddy.’ He winced. ‘I suppose I should be calling you Duke now or Falconwood.’

‘Freddy will do, cuz. Falconwood sounds too much like Father to me.’

His cousin’s open countenance cleared of worry. He had a naturally cheerful disposition and a dullness of intellect Freddy found hard work, but he was a nice enough chap. ‘It’s hard to believe the old fellow’s been gone more than a year, isn’t it?’ His cousin glanced about him, pity in his eyes. ‘There are some chairs over there by the wall if you need to sit down. I’d be more than happy sit and keep you company.’

Pity for Freddy’s lame leg. Along with the unease people generally felt around someone less than whole. Not to mention a man whose mother had accused him of making a play for the dukedom. A charge levelled behind his back but never laid to his face. Fratricide. The unspoken word lingered in the air like the smell of rotten eggs.

Rather than offering to plant the man a facer, Freddy ignored the suggestion that he sit, along with those other unspoken sentiments. ‘How is the family?’

‘The boys are just like me at their age, full of pluck.’ His face beamed with pride.

Freddy liked that most about his cousin, his love of his boys. ‘I imagine they have grown a great deal since I saw them last.’

‘You really ought to pay us a visit. I’ll have Liz send you an invitation.’

He couldn’t think of anything worse. If Arthur was oversolicitous, his wife vacillated between offers to help the poor benighted invalid and the secret worry that he might yet marry, beget a family of his own and cut out her sons. He had the feeling she agreed with the old duke, his father, that if his older brother had to die in the accident, when they had been little more than boys on the cusp of manhood, it would have been better if Freddy had found the decency to accompany his brother to the pearly gates.

The old man was likely right. And if Freddy had been a kinder man, he would set Liz’s mind at rest. He had no intention of passing on what his father had called, on good days, the taint in his blood.

He watched Minette chattering to the woman beside her in the set and found the tension in his shoulders easing. ‘Perhaps I’ll come down during hunting season.’

‘Hunting?’ Anxiety creased Arthur’s brow. ‘It’s rough country, you know.’ His brow smoothed out. ‘Shooting, you mean. The very thing. We can carry a chair out with us in case...’ He seemed to realise his words were not going down all that well. ‘See how you feel on the day, what?’

Such a dolt, his heir who would one day inherit the dukedom. Biting back the words, he bowed. ‘If you will excuse me, I need a drink.’

He found his way to the refreshment table and had the lackey pour him a brandy. A few minutes with Arthur always left him ready for murder. Guilt pushing to the forefront, no doubt. Glass in hand, he watched Gabe and Nicky chat with friends, but could not bring himself to join them. He hated to break up what looked like a merry party. Such a handsome couple and the darlings of the ton.

Three years ago he would have wagered his best horse that Gabe would never marry. What must it be like? Marriage? And now incipient fatherhood. The emptiness inside him seemed to expand at the reminder of his vow. He downed the brandy as the group around his friends dispersed and walked over to join them.

‘Quelle surprise,’ Nicky said, greeting him with obvious pleasure. ‘I thought you must be hibernating somewhere in the country it is so long since we saw you.’

Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘Stop prying.’ He gave Freddy an intense look. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Perfect.’

They both knew it for a lie, but there were too many ears in such a public place to say more. Gabe was no longer involved in espionage. He was part of the establishment now. It was certainly not the right place to reveal what his ward had been up to. Indeed, Freddy hoped that tonight’s conversation with Minette would put a halt to any need to do so. The set came to an end and Minette tripped back to her sister, her lovely face radiant. She dipped a curtsey to Freddy. ‘Your Grace. How unexpected.’

Minx. She knew he’d have no choice but to gather the information she’d promised. He forced himself to ignore the way his blood stirred at the saucy look she cast up at him from beneath thick russet lashes. Somehow she managed to convey all manner of wickedness with a glance beyond any demure English miss. The French called it je ne sais quois. Whatever it was, it exuded from her skin like sensual perfume.

But he was not completely lacking in the charm department, as more than one woman had told him. Though he suspected it was his title they found alluring. ‘Miss Rideau. May I compliment you on your appearance? The other ladies present are no doubt gnashing their teeth.’

Her amber eyes danced with laughter, while her expression remained innocent. ‘Or perhaps they are jealous because I am the only unmarried lady such a great personage has deigned to speak with this evening. You only have to dance with me to completely ruin their night.’

Beside him, Nicky shifted. She knew he could not dance and was tender-hearted enough not to want him embarrassed. Strangely, though, Minette’s words warmed him deep inside. It was as if she had not noticed his halting gait. Or thought nothing of it. The girl certainly had a way, like no other, of catching him off guard. He kept his face impassive. ‘I do not dance, but let us take a stroll about the room, unless you have another partner waiting for this next set?’

‘Oh, pooh. ’Tis only Granby and he is nowhere to be seen.’ She placed her hand on his arm. ‘He must have forgotten.’

The young idiot was probably somewhere hiding behind one of the potted palms strategically placed around the room, in case Freddy was inclined to tell Gabe about his lapse in judgement.

‘Run along,’ Gabe said, smiling, but with puzzlement clear in his eyes. Not surprising when he and Minette usually traded nothing but barbs.

Gabe turned to Nicky. ‘Madame, may I have this next dance?’ His voice was a caress, and Nicky blushed like a girl.

‘Certainement.’

They strolled out onto dance floor.

Their happiness filled Freddy with gladness for his friend but, damn it, he missed Gabe. They had worked well together.

He guided Minette in a gentle stroll around the dance floor, not bothering to smooth out his gait. When he’d been younger he had spent a great deal of time in front of the mirror, trying to appear normal. It had been a complete waste of time.

‘So,’ she said, sotto voce, ‘you have considered my proposition?’

‘The answer remains the same. And in case you have forgotten, it is no.’

Her chin went up.

‘Also,’ he continued, ‘if you even think about going after Moreau yourself, I’ll have you arrested for treason.’

Her eyes widened a fraction, something dark skated across their gold-flecked depths that had him tensing. What the hell wasn’t she telling him?

Her smile turned mischievous, a feminine sideways glance that had his blood running hot. ‘You’d have to catch me first,’ she murmured in velvet tones.

God, it sounded salacious, a challenge of a very different sort.

‘Stop it,’ he said, keeping his voice cold with some effort. ‘Keep your tricks for the likes of Granby.’

She laughed. ‘If I didn’t know better, I might think you were jealous.’

Something like a growl rose in his throat. He stopped it dead.

‘My informant discovered someone who has seen Moreau. Knows the name he is using,’ she said, as lightly as if she’d passed a comment on the weather.

He only just stopped himself from grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him. It was the information he and his men had been seeking for weeks. ‘Who is this informant?’

She dipped a curtsey at a passing matron of obvious consequence. ‘I won’t tell, unless you agree to let me speak to Moreau before you arrest him. I have a plan. Bother, here comes Granby. We can’t talk here. I’ll make an excuse and meet you in the library in a few minutes.’

‘Minette—’

But she was already moving towards the lieutenant, who had halted a few feet away, his expression wary.

Damn it. He should leave. See her tomorrow in Gabe’s presence. But he had the feeling that if he did not talk to her tonight, she might not be at Gabe’s house in the morning. Why the hell did she want to speak with a man who had held her prisoner for several weeks? There was something she had not told them when she had been rescued. Something he had the feeling he needed to know before he went after the man.

He strode out of the ballroom, heading for the library.

* * *

Men, Minette thought darkly as she moved down the set with a smile pinned to her lips. They always thought a woman needed protection from the least little thing. She glanced around and didn’t see Freddy. Either he would meet her in the library or she would find him on Gabe’s doorstep in the morning.

Then how would she get her property back before Moreau was taken?

She should have known Moreau would find a way to get back in favour with Napoleon’s spymaster, Fouché. But what was his purpose here in England? If she’d learned one thing about him, it was that he did not like to be crossed. People paid for it, in blood. A shudder ran down her spine.

If only Freddy trusted her enough to know she would never ask for such a concession if it wasn’t vital. And trusted her enough not to ask why. Then again, she didn’t trust him, either. Men like Moreau and Freddy used people to get what they wanted.

She glanced around. If she was going to meet him before he got impatient and left, it would be best to go before Nicky and Gabe left the dance floor. She smiled at Granby, took his hand for a backward pass across the set and deliberately stepped on her gown’s train. The hem tore beautifully.

‘Bother,’ she said.

Granby stared at her blankly.

‘I tore my lace,’ she explained. ‘I’ll have to pin it. Excuse me.’ She dived through the other dancers, making for the door, in her haste brushing the arm of a tall girl in regulation white.

The young woman gave her a hesitant smile. ‘Is something wrong?’

Nom d’un nom, now she’d have to be polite or risk causing a stir. ‘Someone stepped on my gown.’ She pulled at her skirt. ‘I can’t see, but I think the lace is torn.’

The girl stepped closer, peering down. ‘Yes. There is a long strip hanging by a thread.’

Minette gave a theatrical sigh. ‘I thought so. I was on my way to pin it.’

‘Would you like help?’

Oh, now one of these snooty English mademoiselles decided to be kind. They usually ignored her as an upstart émigrée trying to steal all the best men on the marriage mart. This one looked a nice young woman, like someone she might have liked to know better. Too bad circumstances demanded she turn her offer down. ‘Merci, but I think I can manage.’ She hurried on her way.

The library was only a few doors down from the ballroom, according to a footman, and it wasn’t long before she was slipping inside a room lit by one candelabrum on the round central table.

Standing beside it, Freddy’s lean, almost saturnine face looked thoroughly devilish. A very handsome if austere devil. Her heart gave a little kick. Most unnerving, when he always seemed so utterly indifferent. Except when they’d kissed. Heat rushed upward, engulfing her face. Thank goodness for the gloom.

She closed the door.

‘Well?’ he said, his voice low and menacing. ‘Who is this person who knows of Moreau’s new identity?’

The demand in his voice brought a hot rush of temper to the surface. ‘I will tell you when you agree to let me question him.’

‘You can do so and welcome, once we have him in chains.’

She folded her arms over her chest. ‘If you capture him, you mean. You let him get away once. And without my help you will lose him this time, too.’

His face became even more haughty. ‘Are you proposing that I drive you around London chasing shadows? Gabe may be my friend but he isn’t a fool. He won’t allow his ward to be seen alone in my company.’

‘We could pretend to be engaged.’ It was an idea she’d had in the night when she’d recalled his words at the hell about Gabe insisting they marry. It had seemed like the perfect answer. Then. Now, from the look of horror on his face, she wished she hadn’t mentioned it.

‘Have you lost your reason?’ His expression changed, became harder. ‘Or is it a title you are after?’

Hot anger raced through her veins. As if she would do anything so dishonourable. She struck out at those dark, mocking eyes, her fingers curled into claws, and found her wrist caught in long, strong fingers. Slowly, inexorably he forced her arm behind her back and loomed over her, forcing her to bend back. His breath was a harsh sound in his throat. Her heart raced wildly as she gazed at his beautiful, cruelly smiling mouth inches from hers. ‘No?’ he murmured with soft menace. ‘Then perhaps it is another kiss you seek.’

She froze. Lord help her, but she did want him to kiss her. And more. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. As if sensing her weakness, her racing pulse, he brushed his mouth across her lips. Recklessly, she kissed him back, twining her free hand around his neck, though she had no need for balance he held her so firmly, so powerfully within one arm. She could not resist the hard, strong feel of his chest against her breasts or the pressure of his thigh between her legs. Such a sweet, painful ache.

She parted her lips to the flick of his tongue and revelled in the way he stroked the inside of her mouth. So stirring, so exciting. So achingly perfect.

He released her wrist and held her close while his mouth and tongue worked their magic. His hand went to her breast, his thumb seeking the hardened peak. A groan rumbled up from his chest.

She made a small sound of longing, knowing the pleasures he could bring with his touch. Her head spun with the sensation of the kiss, the sensation of his hand languorously learning the shape of her breast and teasing at her nipple through the thin layers of fabric. Her insides became all liquid fire and exquisite tension.

She wanted...him. His hardness, inside her. She wanted the vast pleasure a man could bring to a woman, not the pale imitation she achieved in her lonely bed.

As if he knew her inner thoughts and needs, he backed her up until she was pressed against the book shelves. The hand at her back slipped down over her buttocks, his fingers rucking up her skirts, while his other hand continued to caress her breasts, attending to each in turn.

She trembled at the promise of delight. Shook with need as the cool air in the room hit her naked flesh above her stockings. The gown now bunched high behind her back, his fingers, those long clever fingers dipped into the crevasse between her buttocks, tickling and teasing and promising. He withdrew his tongue from her mouth, and she followed it, licking and tasting, tangling with his tongue. And then he sucked.

Her knees gave way at the salacious sensation rippling through her body. Her inner muscles clenched, squeezing and begging for the bliss his body could bring.

She wanted all he could give her and he knew it.

He widened his stance. Unable to resist, she reached between them, cupped him between the legs, found the hard ridge of his arousal and the softness beneath. She caressed him with all her skill, squeezing and rubbing until he groaned into her mouth.

Heady triumph shot through her as he broke free, his breathing as loud and uneven as hers.

He pushed one hand deep into the neckline of her low gown, his warm palm meeting bare, hot flesh, grazing across her thrusting nipple.

His other hand brushed her questing fingers away and cupped the hot flesh between her thighs. She rocked into his palm, increasing the pleasure of his touch tenfold.

So delicious. So unutterably, exquisitely pleasurable. Yet not nearly enough. She wanted him as she hadn’t wanted any other man since Pierre’s betrayal, perhaps even more. ‘S’il vous plaît,’ she whispered in his ear, and felt him shudder at the whisper of her breath across his skin. And the words. The words had such meaning. They spoke of mutual pleasure. Of pleasing. Of wanting.

And how she did want. It had been so long.

His hand left her body to tear at the buttons on his falls. ‘I want your breasts,’ he said thickly, as if he, too, warred with a hunger so great it could not be denied.

‘Ties at the back,’ she gasped, longing to feel his mouth and tongue hot and wet on her nipples.

He spun her around, his arousal now pressed against the dip in her buttocks, rocking into her, making her moan with each forward push of his hips, while his hands dealt with the laces of her bodice and then her stays. She reached behind her and cupped him, making him draw in a hiss of breath that caused her insides to quiver with blissful anticipation.

Bodice undone, he brought her around to face him, stepping aside to let the subdued light of the candle play over her breasts. Full and proud, the nipples, dark rose and hard with excitement, jutted towards him, seeking his touch. His gaze travelled to the juncture of her thighs. She knew he must see the evidence of her desire, even as she gazed in longing at his own readiness.

‘Lovely,’ he said, hoarsely.

She licked her lips.

He covered her with his body and kissed her full and hard, while he took himself in hand in preparation for entry.

‘Oh,’ a female voice cried.

Freddy cursed, froze, looking down into her face. His eyes widened as if with realisation. He shook his head in disbelief and horror. ‘You little fool,’ he whispered. ‘What in the devil’s name have you done?’


Chapter Three (#uaa592df8-07b0-5ccc-b698-ccbfc901e137)

Why the hell hadn’t he locked the door? He should have guessed she’d do something to force his hand. A typical female trick. Freddy fastened his buttons and turned to face the intruder, shielding Minette from view as much as was possible. Behind him, he heard the rustle of the adjustment of clothing.

He glared at the young woman in white hovering on the threshold, light spilling in a wide arc into the room. A woman he didn’t know, of pale complexion and mousy brown hair. Fortunately the light from the corridor did not reach fully across the room, though the candle gave enough light to reveal their embrace, if not the details. ‘You required something?’

The girl, whose pallid face was clearly visible, gulped, her eyes round. ‘Oh, no. I was looking for someone. Miss Rideau. She had torn her gown and I thought to offer my pins. Someone said they saw her enter the library. Please, excuse me.’

She started to close the door. God. They were going to get away with it. He moved towards the door to lock it.

‘What are you doing here, Priscilla?’ A male voice. ‘The ballroom is at the other end of this corridor.’

The young woman turned to look at whoever had spoken. ‘I was looking for the withdrawing room, Papa. I missed my way.’

‘Not meeting someone, are you, my girl?’ The door swung back.

Freddy swallowed a curse as he faced an irate-faced gentleman. Lord Sparshott, if he recalled correctly.

‘Good God,’ the other man said, his face turning turkey red. ‘Priscilla—’ He halted, and Freddy knew the man had no illusions about what he was seeing.

Sparshott grabbed his daughter’s hand. ‘Come away. This is no place for a decent gel.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Freddy said, hoping like hell Minette had herself decently covered. ‘I am sure you and your daughter would like to be the first to congratulate Mademoiselle Rideau and me on our betrothal.’

The other man snorted and bowed stiffly. ‘My commiserations, mademoiselle. Come, child.’ He stalked off with his daughter in tow. Just before she disappeared she glanced back over her shoulder. Freddy had the distinct impression there was regret in her eyes.

He closed the door. Hell and damnation, there was no key. Had she planned that, too? He swung around to face her, to assess the full extent of the damage. Thank God she was decently covered, if a bit dishevelled. At a quick glance one could assume it was no more than a kiss they had been sharing in the dark. The dull throb of an arousal denied served to increase his fury.

‘You did it on purpose.’ He kept his expression cool, his emotions under guard. Now was not the time to express his anger.

‘I did not,’ she snapped back, her eyes flashing fire.

A fire he would like to have put to better use than an argument, but it was far too late. He was dished. Done up. Betrothed, when he had planned never to marry.

‘Turn around.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘Are you going to—?’

‘No, I’m bloody well not. I’m going to see you properly laced and back into the ballroom. We have to break the good news to Gabe and Nicky before the gossip gets out of hand.’

‘Oh.’

Damn it, had that been disappointment he’d heard in her voice? That they wouldn’t finish what they’d started? His body twitched appreciatively at the very idea as she turned around and let him fix what he had undone. Hell and damnation, the girl had made him lose all sense of civility and reason. He should never have met her alone. It had been far too long since he’d taken a woman to his bed. Surrounded by women in the brothel had given him a distaste of coldly commercial transactions. And, if he was honest, seeing Gabe’s marital happiness had made him want more. No wonder the first brush of Minette’s skin against his palm had sent all his good intentions going up in the flames of lust. Because she was the one woman he had always wanted and could never have for the flick of a finger.

And now he was trapped. After years of him denying his unwanted attraction out of respect for Gabe, who knew of his vow never to marry. Who knew dalliance was all he ever wanted or needed. As Gabe’s ward, Minette deserved far better than he would ever be. And a far better life than he could offer. Finished with the buttons and lacings, he spun her round to face him. ‘You and your little friend have properly put us in the basket. There’s no backing out of this, you know. We are shackled for life.’

She lifted her chin, her eyes huge and roiling with emotion. ‘I didn’t plan it, you idiot. You kissed me, remember? And, besides, it will be forgotten in a week.’

‘It won’t. Of all people, you had to pick Sparshott’s daughter to help in your schemes. He’s one of the biggest sticklers I know. You can be sure he won’t let people forget, even after we tie the knot.’

‘Mon Dieu. You will stop saying I planned this. She saw my hem was torn and offered to help. I said no. She followed me of her own accord.’

‘A happy coincidence, then,’ he said, trying to bury his frustration. There was no sense in being angry. What was done was done.

She eyed him speculatively, as if she didn’t believe his resignation to his fate, and dug in her reticule. ‘You had better pin up my hem before we go back.’ She handed him some pins.

Grimacing, Freddy fell to one knee and worked on reattaching the delicate flounce.

The door opened to admit a grim-looking Gabe.

‘How very touching,’ he drawled, his expression as hard as granite.

‘Don’t be an ass,’ Freddy said, placing the last pin. He leaped to his feet, grabbed Minette’s hand and gave his friend a smile he did not feel. Although there was something satisfying in the feel of that small gloved hand within his palm, as if it belonged there. ‘We were about to come and find you and share our good news. You can be the first to congratulate us on our betrothal.’

The grimness around Gabe’s mouth did not ease. ‘I gather, then, that Sparshott did not offer his felicitations.’

Sarcasm. From his friend. They’d often disagreed, but they’d always had mutual respect. ‘It was a rather awkward moment.’

Minette’s hand quivered in his. His spine stiffened, the tension growing second by second as he prayed her temper wasn’t such that she would deny their engagement and send Gabe’s anger over the edge. He was a good friend, but when it came to his women he was very protective. Renewed anger simmered in his own veins. At her role in driving a wedge between him and a man he’d come to think of as a brother. He held Gabe’s gaze without flinching. ‘Well, aren’t you going to wish us happiness?’

Gabe blew out a breath and stuck out a reluctant hand. ‘Congratulations.’

The tension in his neck eased as he shook it. He glanced down at Minette and realised she wasn’t looking any happier than he felt. He pulled her close and kissed her cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Gabe. Our passion got the better of us when we realised we both wanted this. We should have come to speak to you and Nicky right away.’

‘We will talk more in the morning. You will both come with me now.’ Gabe shot a glance at Minette. ‘We need to look like a family with joyous news.’

A bright smile appeared on Minette’s lips. ‘Bien sûr,’ she said gaily. ‘Très heureux. Is it not so, my dearest Freddy?’

‘Without question,’ he replied, with an equally false smile.

God help him, what a mess.

* * *

To Minette’s acutely sensitive emotions, it seemed as if the buzz of conversation ceased when she and Freddy entered the ballroom. But it resumed too quickly to be sure. She held her head high, showing not a scrap of shame on her face. The heat she felt on her cheeks was caused by her anger at Freddy’s assumption that she had intended to trick him into marriage.

Why she would care so deeply about what he thought she didn’t know. This engagement was the perfect answer to her conundrum, so why did she feel so uncomfortable inside? The answer struck her in one of those odd flashes of realisation. Freddy’s reaction. His horror. Pain stabbed behind her breastbone. The pain of betrayal.

Nonsense. The whole thing was a horrible accident. One she’d find a way to put right.

Shackled for life, he’d said with such cold remoteness. Hardly. She would cry off after a time and that would be that. Not even a duke could force a woman into a marriage she didn’t want. This wasn’t the Middle Ages. And certainly she wouldn’t marry a man who thought he’d been tricked. A girl had her pride.

Sweet smiles and blushes were to be expected from a newly betrothed debutante, so all she needed to do at this moment was curve her lips and fool the world. The anxious look from her sister said it wasn’t working, so she surged forward and took both of Nicky’s hands in hers. ‘Wish me well, sister. His Grace has done me the honour of asking for my hand.’

If anything, Nicky looked even more concerned, but a warning glance from Gabe had her lips curving in the well-practised smile of a politician’s wife. ‘Dearest,’ she said, leaning forward to kiss each of her cheeks. ‘Are you sure?’ she whispered.

Always Nicky offered her support. And always Minette felt as if she’d let her sister down. She threw her arms around Nicky’s neck. ‘Positive.’ Later would come the recriminations and even later the disappointment of an ended engagement, but right now they would show a united front.

She stepped back and received Gabe’s blessing, a formal kiss on each cheek.

Her brother-in-law then shook hands with Freddy.

Nicky also held out her hand, and Freddy bowed over it with the manly elegance that always stole Minette’s breath.

‘You will be good to her,’ Nicky warned.

He nodded and looked perfectly content, as if he really did want this marriage. The man was an excellent actor, easily able to hide his true feelings. He wasn’t the only one. She kept her smile bright.

The musicians struck up the opening bars of the next set and everyone’s attention drifted slowly away. A quick scan of those about her assured her no one really cared. Her gaze met that of the girl who had accidentally given her and Freddy away. Priscilla.

Seeing that Minette had noticed her regard, the girl offered a tentative smile and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’

Minette waved an airy hand of forgiveness. Not that she had anything to forgive. This was the outcome she’d wanted. Almost. Freddy’s agreement to her plan without all the scandal would have been a hundred times better than what had occurred. She’d seen Lord Sparshott’s face as she’d peered around Freddy. He’d definitely realised things had gone quite a bit further than a peck on the cheek or even a passionate kiss. He’d be quick to express shock when she cried off.

A pretend engagement agreed to by both parties in private, as she’d suggested, would have been a much better idea.

Tiens. It was far too late for remorse. What was done was done. But Freddy was wrong about one thing. The situation was not irretrievable.

* * *

Freddy left Gabe’s study reasonably satisfied with the settlement he had reached with his future wife’s outraged brother-in-law. At first, Gabe’s attitude had bordered on starchy, but once he realised Freddy had no intention of being anything but generous, and that he intended to observe all the courtesies with regard to his prospective bride, he’d mellowed. They’d even managed a cordial glass of brandy and a toast to the future. Indeed, Freddy had the very real hope he might one day regain the trust of his once best friend.

One thing he had not done had been to relay his suspicions about Minette’s entrapment of him or her reasons. That concerned no one but the two of them.

Good God, he was actually going to be married. To a little spitfire who heated his blood beyond reason. Heaven help him. The thought of having her in his bed almost made up for how she’d got him to the sticking point. And the thought of Liz’s anger when she heard the news of his engagement was almost worth the price. Not that he intended to do his nephews out of their inheritance. He didn’t want children any more than he had wanted a wife.

And that was going to be a problem, based on what he’d learned in Gosport’s library. He found Minette’s boldness practically irresistible. Before coming to England, she’d not led the innocent, protected life of her peers. And if during that time she’d used her feminine wiles as a means of defence he would not blame her one bit. The fact that she also used them as a weapon, against him, gave him pause. And sent blood racing south.

There were ways to prevent the arrival of children that did not require forgoing mutual pleasure. He certainly wasn’t going to let her cry off, as she had suggested.

He would not permit another scandal in his family. Particularly one easily avoided.

And now he would have yet another responsibility he had never wanted. A wife.

No doubt this one would be troublesome. Demanding. Wily. Untrustworthy. Utterly, deliciously sensual. Hell, his mind was wandering again. Theirs was going to be a marriage of convenience. With added benefits. The coldness inside him prevented any deeper feelings. As long as children didn’t ensue, everything would be fine.

He headed for the drawing room, where Gabe said Minette was waiting, knocked on the door and entered. She was standing at the window, looking down into the street, standing to one side so she would not be seen.

As always, her feminine allure called to his baser urges.

But it wasn’t that alone, it was her audacity, her passion, the energy she exuded. Dangerous attributes to a man in his line of work.

Slowly, she turned to face him. ‘Is it done?’

The calmness in her face troubled him. Their dealings had never been calm. No doubt she was trying to hide her triumph at the success of her little plot. He would do well to remember how she had tricked him.

‘The terms are agreed upon,’ he said.

She nodded.

For some reason, he wanted more than cool looks and calm acceptance. He crossed the room and took her hands in his. They were cold. As icy as her expression. Was she suffering qualms? Too bad. It was too late for second thoughts. He lifted first one hand to his lips and then the other. A formal acknowledgement of their future. ‘I will inform my mother of the good news and arrange for an engagement ball at my estate in Kent at the end of next week. That will be time enough to send out invitations. The wedding will take place in three months. After the banns are called.’

She lowered her lashes as if to hide her thoughts, but her gaze was clear when she finally looked at him. ‘Engagement ball? Is it really necessary?’

‘Gabe insists. And I agree. A ball will confirm our assertion that what Sparshott saw was a congratulatory kiss, as well as uphold your virtue and put paid to some of the gossip. An event attended by all the right people showing their approval will do the trick.’

She looked far from happy. ‘What about our other plans? Won’t it interfere?’

‘I thought this was what you wanted. An engagement, so we can go about together without engendering comment.’

‘It was, but is it necessary to involve so many others?’

Could it be that while she wanted the title, she was ashamed of the owner? Or had she been truthful all along and it had been nothing but a dreadful coincidence? None of it mattered. ‘We have no choice but to go through with it in proper style.’

‘You are right. We will deal with the engagement part later.’

Deal with it? He eyed her narrowly as with quick, short steps she headed for a chair by the hearth and perched on its edge. She gestured for him to sit on the sofa. ‘We need to arrange our meeting with the person who can help us find Moreau.’

The reason for this whole fiasco. ‘So it was not some Banbury tale?’

A slight shake of her head, a puzzled frown. ‘Banbury? I do not understand.’

‘It means lies.’

Her face cleared. ‘Mon cher Freddy, you misjudge me but then, you always have. There is a woman who lives in Southwark who can tell us what we need to know. For a consideration, as I mentioned.’

‘Us? I wouldn’t take a dog of mine to Southwark, let alone a young lady.’

The determined chin came up. ‘If you go alone, she will tell you nothing. Women talk to other women. And she is French.’

‘There are other women I can use.’

She shrugged. ‘But you do not know her name. Come tomorrow at nine in the morning. I will guide you to her door.’

With a glare, he rose to his feet. ‘I will take you driving tomorrow. In Hyde Park. It is important that we be seen together. But we will not be going to Southwark, je vous assure.’

‘How prettily you speak French,’ she said with a catlike smile. ‘So perfect. So very English.’

He cursed under his breath. God preserve him from stubborn women. As he saw it, he had two choices. Refuse her request and risk her going off half-cocked without him, or give in.

‘Nine tomorrow morning,’ he said through gritted teeth.

Surely by then Barker could find this woman, now he knew where to look.

* * *

Minette tried to sit still while her maid finished dressing her hair. Anxiety gnawed at her belly. What if Madame Vitesse was lying about her knowledge of Moreau? What if it was a trap? Freddy would be so angry. He would certainly never give her a second chance. No. She had been so very careful. Things had to go according to plan. They must.

‘All done, mademoiselle,’ the maid said, eyeing the effect of her handiwork in the mirror. Curls framing her face. Her hair piled on her crown, ready to receive the straw bonnet whose plumes matched her form-fitting carriage dress of pale blue sarsenet.

Minette rose from the rosewood dressing table and took the bonnet from her maid’s hand, placing it on her head, just so. The maid tied the blue velvet ribbon under her left ear. ‘You look beautiful, mademoiselle. The Duke is sure to be pleased.’

Unlikely, but that was no reason not to look the part.

‘Christine, you must promise not to breathe a word of our intention to visit Southwark today to anyone.’

‘Mais, non, mademoiselle. Your secrets are safe with me. Always.’

Minette believed her. The maid, too, had lost innocent family in France’s grand experiment and had been embarrassingly grateful when offered this position. She would not lie to Minette about anything.

Nicky breezed in looking very matronly in a pale green morning gown that clearly showed her expanding waistline. ‘Freddy’s phaeton is outside the house. He sent his tiger to the door, since he won’t leave the horses. Are you ready?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Ready for battle. She kissed her sister on the cheek and hurried down the stairs. If there was anything to put a man in a temper, she’d learned since coming out, it was keeping his horses fretting at their bits. And an irritated Freddy would only compound the difficulty of her task.

The butler bowed her out of the door with a warm smile. At the kerb stood a shiny black vehicle with wheels picked out in navy and gold, drawn by a pair of matched black horses with white stars on their foreheads. The phaeton had attracted the rapt attention of the street sweeper, who had left his customary post on the corner to stand mouth agape.

Helped up by the waiting footman, Minette bestowed a smile on Freddy. ‘Good morning, Your Grace.’

The dark look he gave her did not augur a better mood than yesterday. Fa-la. No more than she’d expected.

He gave the horses the off and the tiger jumped up behind.

When they entered Hyde Park she glowered. ‘We were to go to Southwark.’

He reined in the horses. ‘Jimmy,’ he threw over his shoulder, ‘go and find some violets for the lady.’

‘Wot, at this time of year, guv?’

‘Violets,’ Freddy said firmly. ‘Take them to Barker. He will arrange for their delivery upon my return.’

The tiger muttered something under his breath and jumped down.

‘If you wanted us to be alone, you could have sent him home, instead of on a wild-goose chase,’ she said.

‘I could. But then I wouldn’t have had a reason why we were driving alone.’

‘Ah.’

He set the horses in motion. ‘Now I’ll have the whole of it.’

‘I do not understand your meaning.’

A brow shot up. His lips pressed together as if he was seeking to contain words he did not think he should say. After several long seconds he spoke. ‘Who is this woman in Southwark and how do you know of her?’

She gave him a glance full of sympathy. ‘Your men didn’t find her, did they? When we get there you will learn all you need to know.’

He muttered something under his breath. A curse, no doubt. ‘I hope you don’t live to regret this, Mademoiselle Rideau.’

‘Should we not be on a first-name basis now we are betrothed?’

He glanced over at her, his lips eased very slightly, and was that a twinkle in his eyes? ‘Minette.’

Yes, indeed, his voice had laughter at the edges.

She smiled at him. ‘Come, it will not be so bad, Freddy. We will work together to put Moreau in the ground.’

He gave a slight shake of his head. ‘I do not like this game you are playing and, believe me, I’ll not be giving you a free hand, my sweet.’

My sweet. Her heart gave an odd little flutter. Too bad he did not mean it. She smiled coolly. ‘Naturally not. But there are some things I must insist upon at the outset.’

‘We’ll deal with those later. Right now I need to know where I am going.’

‘We cross the river at London Bridge.’

His expression darkened. ‘So I am to follow your directions street by street. You do know Southwark is a hotbed of unsavoury types, do you not?’

‘Naturellement. But, then, I have you to protect me.’

His jaw flexed, his expression became thoughtful. ‘So you do.’


Chapter Four (#ulink_360e670b-f780-530e-8f5a-d90a0f895c76)

The drive to London Bridge remained starkly silent, with Freddy apparently too engrossed in managing his team in the press of traffic for conversation. Or too annoyed with her prevarication. Not that the streets were quiet. Indeed, they bustled with people and carriages, assaulting hearing, sight and each indrawn breath. The cacophony of colour, noise and smells became more intense as they drove east. A stench of manure, rotting vegetables and overcrowding battled with the noise of street vendors and vehicles of every kind.

It took more than an hour to reach London Bridge and make their way to Southwark.

‘Now where?’ he asked, with his usual chilly reserve and an expression she was sure was designed to keep her at a distance. Her and the rest of the world.

‘Aren’t you going to ask for the address?’

‘I have no doubt you will tell me when you are ready. I have no doubt that it will be located among the worst of the slums. You have a penchant for going where no lady should tread.’

A jibe at her presence at his club. So there was to be no quarter given between them. Not that she had really expected it. Not when he still thought she had trapped him on purpose. She almost wished she had, then she wouldn’t feel quite so aggrieved, since she could not deny that this engagement suited her purpose admirably. But his anger and distrust gave her a miserable feeling. They had never been friends, but now they were going to have to spend a great deal of time in each other’s company, and it would be better if they could at least be cordial.

‘The house we seek lies behind St George’s Church,’ she said.

His mouth tightened but he continued along Borough High Street. As they proceeded, the buildings on either side of the street became meaner and the road muddy and ill maintained.

‘When we arrive, let me do the talking,’ she said.

‘So I am to remain silent and pay the bill.’ He sounded less than pleased.

She turned in her seat the better to see his face. ‘This family has not been well treated since their arrival in England. They are bourgeoisie. They gave up much to follow the king and feel they have been abandoned.’ There were a goodly number of French families living in Southwark who were scratching out the most meagre of livings in the worst of circumstances. ‘They no longer trust the English to treat them right.’

‘And you think they will trust you?’

She gripped her hands in her lap. ‘I don’t know. I do know they want their king back in France so they can return home. If they believe this will help, then perhaps, yes.’

‘Very well, I’ll remain silent. As long as you don’t promise them the moon.’

It was a warning he would not let her make promises he could not keep. Fair enough.

‘Turn onto Mint Street.’

‘You may as well give me the address,’ he said, throwing her a glance of suppressed anger.

He was right to be angry. She could not continue to treat him as if she didn’t trust him, even if good sense advised caution. She needed his help. ‘Well’s Court. They are expecting us.’

‘How do you know people living in Well’s Court?’

She winced at his harsh tone. ‘Through my maid, who I found by talking to the parish priest. We émigrés help our own whenever possible.’

He halted at the entrance to a small alley. He glanced up at the surrounding buildings and around at the loiterers in the street. He gestured at one of them who lounged over to them. ‘M’sieur?’

He tossed the man a silver coin. ‘Mind the horses. There’s another for you when we return.’

The man’s eyes brightened. He touched his forelock and went to the horses’ heads.

‘Will they be safe?’ she asked.

‘It’s a little late to be thinking of that.’

* * *

Freddy guided Minette through the narrow entrance to the court, surreptitiously checking the small pistol he had tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. He also had a dagger in his boot. Barker, who had been instructed to follow them, would be somewhere nearby. He doubted all these precautions would be needed—it was, after all, broad daylight—but it didn’t pay to take chances. Not if he wanted to survive. The contrast between the wealth of Mayfair and the poverty of this area was a stark reminder of the desperation of some of London’s people. He placed his hand in the small of her back, ensuring that anyone watching would know he took her safety seriously.

A pang of guilt twisted in his gut. Minette thought she was in control. In the not-too-distant future she was going to discover he had no intention of involving her in the capture of Moreau. If Gabe knew he’d gone this far, bringing her to such a dangerous part of town, he’d be stringing Freddy up by his thumbs. No, after today, she would discover herself on the sidelines. He would not let her put herself in danger.

A small, ragged boy sitting on a step in front of one of the tenements leapt to his feet the moment they set foot in the courtyard at the end of the alley. He approached warily.

‘You are here for Madame Vitesse?’ His English was carefully spoken. Not the accent of the local people, but that of a well-tutored boy.

‘We are,’ Minette replied.

‘Follow me, if you please.’ The boy led them into the building and up a set of rickety stairs to the third floor. On the landing he opened one of several doors. He reverted to his mother tongue as he spoke to the occupant. ‘Maman, they are here.’

A woman of about thirty with hard eyes and a careworn face appeared in the doorway. The look she gave Freddy reminded him of an animal preparing to defend its young, then she turned her attention to Minette. ‘You are Christine’s mistress?’

‘I am.’

‘This is your fiancé? The Duke?’

‘I am,’ Freddy said.

‘Come in. We will discuss the matter between us.’

They sat down on a pair of rickety wooden chairs, while their hostess took a stool. She glanced up at the boy. ‘See we are not disturbed.’

The boy closed the door, shutting himself outside.

‘Christine said you might be able to help us in our search for a certain man,’ Minette said.

‘For a price,’ the woman said.

‘How much?’ Freddy asked. ‘And how can we be sure you have the information we need?’

Minette glared at him. He ignored it. If she thought he was going to sit here like a bump on the proverbial log, she should have known better.

The woman rolled her shoulders. ‘You cannot be sure, but this man you seek is as much my enemy as he is yours. If not for him and his like, my husband would be alive and I would be living in Paris.’

‘We understand, madame,’ Minette said gently. ‘You have lost much. I would like to help you as well as find the man we seek. We will pay what is reasonable for the information.’

The woman’s expression contained resentment. ‘I am not asking for charity, mademoiselle. The chance to make a decent living, to bring up my son in a good home, not this...’ she shuddered, glancing around her ‘...this rat-infested room, surrounded by criminals who are allowed to wander the streets.’

Many of the criminals were debtors, allowed the freedom of Borough as long as they did not step outside set boundaries, but there were other sorts of criminals here, too, as there were in all the poorer neighbourhoods of London.

‘Name your price,’ Freddy said. ‘And we will see if the information you have is worth it.’

‘I personally do not have the information you seek,’ the woman said.

Freddy looked up at the ceiling, a plea for divine intervention. None came. ‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘Freddy,’ Minette said in a warning. ‘Who does, madame?’

‘My brother. He hides where you will not find him until our demands are met.’

‘Your brother,’ Freddy said. ‘His name is Vitesse?’

‘No.’

Of course not. The woman was a widow, using her married name. To find her brother he’d need her maiden name. No doubt the Alien Office would have collected that when they had permitted her to take up residence in England.

Minette also looked unhappy with the woman’s reply. ‘You told Christine you had information about Moreau.’

The woman tensed. ‘Henri is afraid. He wants to help, but if this man finds out...’ She pressed her lips together. ‘He needs to know, if anything happens to him, that I will be cared for. It is his duty as the head of our household. It is a small thing to ask.’

‘What is it you want?’ Minette asked with a very practical tone to her voice.

‘Christine says you are to be married. To this Duke.’ She nodded at Freddy. ‘You will need a trousseau of the finest.’

Freddy frowned, but Minette was smiling. ‘You are a seamstress.’

The other woman nodded. ‘I do fine work. You will see.’ She raised her voice. ‘Lilly!’

A girl of around eight peered around the open door. ‘Oui, Maman?’

‘Bring them,’ the woman commanded.

The child disappeared and returned a moment later, struggling to carry in her arms what looked like three dolls. Madame Vitesse took them from the girl and stood them up on the table. ‘This is my work.’

Dolls?

‘Oh,’ Minette breathed, fingering the fabric of the doll’s gown. ‘This is beautiful. I have seen nothing like it in London. Look, Freddy, isn’t it exquisite?’

Really? He narrowed his eyes at the doll. The dress was some fancy silky stuff, and it revealed quite a bit of the doll’s shape above the neckline. Revelation came like a flash. He’d seen something like it in his mother’s drawing room as a boy. ‘They are dressmaker’s dolls.’

Both women looked at him as if he was a dolt.

‘You see, mademoiselle,’ the woman said, ‘I was just beginning my business in Paris. I had left my old mistress to start on my own. I had one very important client, a woman at Court. She would have made my name but—’ She made a chopping motion with her hand. ‘There was nothing. No work. No food. Everything we had we left behind.’ Tears welled in her brown eyes. ‘Family. Money. Everything. Henri was positive we could start again. But for that I need a patron. I have no contacts here in England. No money for a shop. For fabric.’

‘So if we give you money to open a shop, you will tell us what we want to know.’

The woman’s face hardened. She shook her head. ‘That is only part of it. You will wear the gowns. Go to parties. Talk of my work. Then I will give you the information you seek.’

She was using them. Imposing on Minette in the worst possible way. Anger surged in Freddy’s veins. He rose to his feet and glared at the woman, who seemed to shrink in her chair. ‘That will take weeks. I am sorry, madame, but there are other ways to obtain this information.’

‘Freddy is right,’ Minette said also rising. ‘We do not have time—’

‘Two weeks,’ the woman said, her face white, her voice weak, scared. ‘I can do it all in two weeks.’ She glanced over at her daughter. ‘Please. For the sake of my children.’

‘Not a day over two weeks,’ Minette said.

‘No,’ Freddy said. ‘That is too long to have him running freely around England.’

The woman’s eyes became crafty, as if she sensed she could drive a wedge between them and come out a winner. ‘The man you seek, he has much to do before he is ready. You will not want him alone. You will want his web.’ She nodded. ‘Web. That is what Henri called it. Move too soon and you will cut off the head, but you will not have the body.’

‘If she’s right...’ Minette said, looking at him.

He clenched his jaw so hard he felt his back teeth give. ‘If she’s lying, her children will be orphans.’

A satisfied smile crossed the Frenchwoman’s face. Clearly she did not believe the threat any more than Minette did, because she was shaking the woman’s hand. ‘It is a bargain.’

Freddy reached into the pocket in his coat. ‘How much do you need to get you started?’

The woman’s eyes gleamed. ‘A hundred pounds. It will rent the shop and the accommodation above and buy enough fabric for the first gown.’ She narrowed her eyes, her gaze running over Minette. ‘A carriage gown like this one,’ she said, picking up the doll dressed in green velvet with fancy decoration down the front. ‘Are you to attend a ball soon?’

‘My engagement ball is in a couple of weeks,’ Minette said. ‘Many important people will attend. It is to be held at my fiancé’s estate in Kent.’

The woman beamed. ‘You shall wear my gown.’

‘Understand this, madame,’ Freddy said. ‘If this delay causes me to fail in my task to find this man, you will not like the consequences.’

The woman’s gaze flew to Minette and back to him. ‘I assure you all will be well.’ She picked up a small cloth bag at her feet and pulled out a bunch of string. ‘I will measure now and send a note to say when I will come to you for a fitting. Then we will choose the fabric for the rest of the gowns. Please, stand and I will help you unclothe.’

Minette rose and turned her back to the woman. ‘Freddy, please. Madame Vitesse will help us.’

Madame Vitesse was helping her all right. Helping her to be naked.

Freddy’s body tightened at the thought of seeing her wearing nothing but little bits of string. Inwardly cursing, he turned his back. ‘Hurry up. I don’t want to keep my horses waiting any longer than is needed.’

A low laugh from Minette said she didn’t believe his impatience for a moment.

It must have been the hoarseness in his voice.

* * *

‘That went excellently well,’ Freddy said, once they were back on the road. ‘The woman gulled you. Gowns.’ He snorted.

The derisive edge in his voice brought Minette straighter in her seat. ‘It could have been worse.’

‘I suppose it could. She could have asked me to dress every lady in the ton.’

‘You are being a bear. This way you will get both him and his men.’

He grunted. ‘If I didn’t know better, I might think she knew about this betrothal of ours before we did.’

She winced. ‘About that. As soon as we have dealt with Moreau, we will announce our engagement is at an end.’

He sent her a look full of disgust. ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

‘I’ll cry off.’

‘Wonderful. Tell me what other schemes there are floating around in that lovely head of yours.’

‘There is no need for sarcasm.’

‘I’m not being sarcastic. I simply want to know what I am in for next.’

Why was he arguing about this? He had made it quite clear he didn’t want to wed her any more than she did him. Contrary man. No matter what she said, he would argue. And yet... She frowned. ‘Are you saying you actually want this marriage?’

The glance he gave her was full of exasperation and something else. Bleakness? Loneliness? ‘I’m saying we don’t have a choice. What about Gabe and your sister? If you don’t care about anyone else, what about their sensibilities?’

‘I will simply inform them we discovered we did not suit after all.’

His chest rose and fell with a huge sigh. A man tried to the limit of his patience. She braced for his next assault. It wasn’t long in coming. ‘After what Sparshott and his daughter saw, your reputation will be ruined, Minette. Those things don’t go away. There will be no decent men throwing their hats in the ring. Not after that. You need the protection of my name.’

For a man who had been so set against marrying, his insistence was odd. Something inside her twisted painfully. Longing. Surely not. The man was marrying her to preserve his honour. Using her for his own purposes, as Pierre had used her. She wasn’t fool enough to think it could possibly be more. ‘I don’t want to get married. To you or anyone else. You don’t even like me.’ Dash it, why had she given voice to that little bit of resentment?

‘I don’t dislike you.’ His voice was arctic.

‘In truth? When you think I planned to trap you into marrying me?’

He winced. ‘I beg your pardon. I am as much to blame as you for what happened.’

She gasped theatrically. ‘Are you actually apologising?’

‘Now who is being sarcastic?’

She laughed. ‘Touché, Your Grace.’

He smiled, albeit a little unwillingly and fleetingly. Still, it made her heart feel a little lighter to see his expression ease. He looked much younger, more approachable. Perhaps... But no. She was right. When this was over they would part company. Because when this was over, even his honour wouldn’t be enough to make him want her as his wife.

A pang twisted in her chest. ‘Let us see how we feel about it once Moreau is caught.’

He looked unconvinced but resigned, and that was the best she could hope for.


Chapter Five (#ulink_e10c96fe-6870-5095-acbc-023d87670db6)

The next three days were a whirl of activity for Minette. First Madame Vitesse had involved her and Nicky in the selection of a site for her new shop. Nicky had been more than willing to help the woman after Minette had told her that their countrywoman had provided her with assistance, though she did not correct Nicky’s misunderstanding that the help had come while Minette had been alone and struggling to survive in France.

If guilt was a pain in her chest, she consoled herself with the knowledge that the seamstress was helping them both, or she would be, once she retrieved her property from Moreau.

Then there had been the fittings—first the promised carriage dress then this evening gown. Not the one for the engagement ball—that would come later in the week. This one was for a rout they’d been invited to at the last moment. She smoothed her hands down her skirts as she sat at the dressing table while her maid put the final touches to her toilette. Madame Vitesse was undoubtedly talented. The gown was extraordinarily beautiful with a floor-length slip of white satin and a white gauze overdress draped in the style of the ancients. Fastened at the side, the overskirt fell to an inch below the knee and was edged with Greek keys. White satin sandals and gloves finished the ensemble.

No one would doubt it was an original or very French.

Tonight would be her and Freddy’s first appearance in public since the betrothal announcement. The ton would be watching, waiting to see how he reacted to her. Waiting to condemn if he gave the slightest hint he wasn’t pleased with the match. After all, he was a duke and she was nothing but an upstart émigrée, even if her sister was married to a nobleman who had the support of the royal family.

More importantly, tonight would give her an opportunity to speak to him alone. Madame Vitesse had been none too happy when she’d arrived with this gown. And with good reason.

Christine settled a tiara of carnations, in a colour Madame Vitesse had called maiden’s first blush, low on her brow, careful not to disturb the ringlets framing her face and clustered on her crown. She slipped her hands into the elbow-length gloves her maid held out and stood before the pier glass to judge the effect.

Christine sighed. ‘Perfect, mademoiselle.’

Yes, Madame Vitesse knew her business. It would not be her appearance that put the Duke of Falconwood to shame this evening. She turned away from her reflection at the same moment Nicky entered.

‘Oh, my,’ Nicky said, her eyes alight with joy and admiration. ‘You will outshine them all.’ Her hands went to her stomach.

A self-conscious laugh left her lips when she realised Minette’s gaze had followed the movement. ‘The baby has quickened,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘Little flutters deep inside. The doctor said it is quite normal, but honestly they are quite startling.’

An ache pierced Minette’s chest. By falling for the wrong man she had given away the chance to know such joy herself. She shook off the feeling of loss. She would revel in her sister’s happiness and be the best aunt any child could have. She crossed the room and hugged Nicky. For several years she had thought she might never see her sister again. The joy of their reunion had been tempered by the knowledge that she had thrown away all that her sister had sacrificed. But she would make amends.

They broke their embrace. ‘Turn around,’ Nicky said. ‘Let me look at you.’

Minette spun around and her skirt gently swayed with her movement.

Christine discreetly withdrew.

‘Freddy will be dazzled,’ Nicky said. ‘I can’t believe you two...’ Her words trailed off and she cast Minette an enquiring look. A look of concern as well as love.

‘I know,’ Minette said, putting all the joy and lightness in her words and expression she did not feel deep inside. ‘It came as quite a shock to us, too. Who would have guessed that what we thought was dislike was something else entirely?’





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