My Kind of Scoundrel, page 3
“You let me think you enjoyed my company.” As he spoke, she caught a fleeting glimpse of sadness behind his stoic facade. “You let me believe our conversations were the highlight of your day.”
“I am truly sorry.” To say anything else meant admitting she held him in high regard—well, she had before he began his quest for vengeance. “Delphine is my client and my friend. How could I refuse her request?”
He remained silent, though the hum of conversation echoing from the auditorium built to a crescendo. People poured out of the private boxes. Many stared in their direction.
Her blackmailer might be amongst them—a devious dog in a docile pack. She had no clue whether the villain was a man or a woman.
“Come with me, Miss Darrow.” Mr Chance parted the curtains to the earl’s box, spoke to his brother and left abruptly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Aramis was glued to his wife’s lips.”
With a firm grip on Eleanor’s elbow, he led her to the foyer, pushing past those loitering on the grand staircase. All eyes were upon them as he opened the wooden doors and led her outside into the cool summer night’s air.
He inhaled deeply. “I would rather watch libertines lose at the card table than endure the nonsense on stage.”
His remark was a cue to ask an important question.
“Is the club closed tonight?” she said, gauging how and when she might force the lock on the front door. “I’m surprised your eldest brother could spare you.”
Aaron Chance was a hard taskmaster. Fooling him to gain entrance to Fortune’s Den would be no mean feat.
Being astute, he gave a playful wink. “I suppose you’re considering how you might force your way inside. This would be much simpler if you were honest and told me what’s so special about the box.”
Unwilling to take the blame for him being attacked a second time, she politely told him to mind his own business. “My troubles are my own. Might you summon a hackney? There is somewhere else I desperately need to be.”
Mr Chance obliged by whistling to the jarvey parked farther along the narrow street. He retrieved an ornate iron key from his coat pocket, captured her gloved hand and placed it in her palm.
“Don’t lose heart.” His teasing grin made her wonder if the move was a strategic part of his game. “I agreed to oblige you if you made the kiss look authentic. This is your reward, Miss Darrow.” He curled her fingers over the key but did not release her hand.
Something passed between them.
Something other than frustration and annoyance.
Something that made her heart race wildly.
“I presume it’s the key to your club, sir, though I don’t see why you cannot bring the box to my modiste shop.”
He leaned closer, filling her head with his intoxicating scent. “Giving you the box means I lose the wager. If I keep it in my possession until midnight tomorrow, my brother must pay me a hundred pounds.”
“A hundred pounds?” She almost choked on the words. Theodore Chance had caused her untold misery because of a stupid bet?
The hackney cab drew up beside them. Mr Chance opened the door and offered his hand. “Come to Fortune’s Den after midnight tomorrow, and you may reclaim your prized possession.”
Tomorrow was a day too late.
She needed the secret notes tonight.
Keen to leave and put her plan in motion, Eleanor ignored his proffered hand and climbed into the vehicle. “New Bridge Street,” she said to the jarvey before facing Theodore Chance. “Thank you for the key. It makes entry into London’s most dangerous gaming hell a little less impossible.”
He glanced at her lips and smiled. “Approach from the east. Have the hackney park on the corner of Houndsditch. Aaron will be in his study until the lights at The Burnished Jade have dimmed.”
Suspicion flared.
Why had he decided to be helpful?
“I must be better at kissing than I thought,” she said, praying he did not return home until the early hours. Encountering Theodore Chance in his bedchamber would be any woman’s fantasy, but she could not afford any mishaps tonight. “Had I known that was the price for your benevolence, I would have tried harder.”
He laughed, giving her a glimpse of the exuberant man she used to admire. “You could not have done more to please me,” he said.
Annoyed that his praise should cause a soft fluttering in her chest, she huffed. “Good night, sir. I shall try not to wake you when I come for my box.”
“Have no fear. How could I sleep with the prospect of you sneaking into my bedchamber?” He moved to close the hackney cab door. “Until tomorrow, Miss Darrow. I shall await your arrival with bated breath.”
Chapter Three
Theo left the Olympic Theatre twenty minutes after Miss Darrow and returned to Fortune’s Den. The club was still open. Gas lamps cast a warm glow over the mahogany card tables, where fifteen elegant men sat engrossed in games of chance. Cigar smoke hung spectre-like in the air, obscuring the men’s vision and blinding them to the risks.
Their avarice knew no bounds. The thrill of outwitting one’s rival proved more intoxicating than the pursuit of wealth. Losers left with mounting debts and no semblance of pride. Winners paid homage to the green baize until their luck ran out. Some players wore masks of concentration, while others had the same conflicting look Theo had seen in Miss Darrow’s magnificent eyes—a curious blend of determination and fear.
What was the lady’s secret?
He knew one thing with absolute certainty. Miss Darrow would not wait until tomorrow to enter Fortune’s Den. The flash of fire in her eyes said she wanted her sewing box tonight. All he had to do was warn Aaron, dim the lights, climb into bed and await her arrival.
He saw Aaron speaking to the glum Lord Deacon. The peer stood on shaky legs and almost swooned when Aaron gestured to the study across the hall—a formidable place where men signed away their souls to settle their debts.
Aaron caught Theo’s gaze and gave a nod of recognition. He warned Lord Deacon not to move a muscle before crossing the room. “Back so soon? I trust the evening went as planned.”
“Wrotham arrived with Mrs Dunwoody. Wiping the smug grin off his face brought immense satisfaction.” Not wishing to dredge up the ghosts of the past, Theo made no mention of Lucille Bowman. “I assume Deacon’s debts are mounting and you’re about to give him an ultimatum.”
Aaron glanced at the lord and muttered a curse. “Until Deacon’s affairs are in order, he’s barred from the club. Had I not intervened tonight, the fool would have staked his Mayfair abode on one game of whist.”
A sudden cheer at the Hazard table stole their attention. The Marquess of Rothley—a devilish gentleman in his own right—wrapped his arms around the mountain of coins and vowels on the table and gathered it to his chest like a beloved child.
Aaron called a footman to fetch a bottle of their best Burgundy and deliver it to the marquess’ table, then faced Theo. “Watch the croupiers while I have a private word with Deacon. I’ll not have these devils accuse us of cheating.”
“Is Christian not here?”
Their brother lived with his wife in Ludgate Hill and usually remained at the club until the last patron staggered over the threshold.
“He left half an hour ago. I can manage these profligates on my own. Most deserted the tables when Rothley announced he would empty everyone’s purse.”
“No doubt the marquess needs the funds. They say he keeps a harem at the aptly named Studland Park.” If anyone needed advice on how to embrace bachelorhood, they should ask the Marquess of Rothley. “Perhaps that’s how he gained the fresh scratch on his cheek.”
Suspicion lurked in Aaron’s dark eyes. “Rothley is hiding something at Studland Park, but I doubt it’s a harem.”
Theo pulled his watch from his fob pocket and checked the time. By his estimation, he had an hour at most until his nemesis arrived. “Do you have any objection if I close the club? I’ll persuade the players they have a better chance of recouping their losses if they return tomorrow.”
Aaron narrowed his gaze. “As few men will sit down with Rothley tonight, your suggestion has merit, though the shifty look in your eyes says you have an ulterior motive.”
He gave Aaron a brief account of the night’s events, omitting the part where he had traded information for a lingering kiss and lied about being betrothed to Miss Darrow.
“I expect Miss Darrow will come tonight,” he said, dismissing the pang of excitement as simple anticipation. “Like Rothley, the lady has something to hide. I’m determined to discover what.”
“Why do you care?” came Aaron’s direct reply.
The question stumped Theo.
The wager had nothing to do with the contents of the box.
Besides, how interesting could the modiste’s secret be?
“Delphine credits Miss Darrow with helping her find happiness,” he said, struggling to think of another answer. “Though I have a personal gripe with the woman”—which had vanished into the ether when they’d kissed—“I respect their friendship. I would hate to think Miss Darrow is in trouble.” Particularly since he had been treating their verbal spars like a game.
Aaron did not dismiss the notion as folly. “Although Miss Darrow expressed regret over the shooting outside her shop, I found it odd she abandoned her work to nurse you. When she comes for the box, I suggest you ask her directly.”
He had every intention of doing just that. “I’ve given Miss Darrow a key. She should arrive within the hour. All I ask is that you remain in the study and allow her to reach my chamber unchallenged.”
Witnessing Lord Deacon edging covertly towards the door, Aaron said, “I need to deal with that reprobate. I’ll ensure Sigmund knows not to wrestle Miss Darrow to the ground. Come to my study once she’s left. I expect a full explanation.”
Theo nodded, though he doubted Miss Darrow would tell him her darkest secret. They had forged their bond in the fires of distrust. Every wary glance and guarded word was a testament to their fragile relationship.
Besides, there was nothing sinister in the box. Perhaps the threads concealed small gems, the simple cotton wrapped around her life’s savings. Perhaps she was toying with him, keen to rouse his concern and teach him a lesson.
After ushering the last gambler out of the club and securing the door, Theo could not shake the suspicion that he was a mere pawn in her intricate game.
Should that be the case, his next move would be seduction.
At the very least, he would claim another kiss tonight.
That thought kept him warm as he stripped off his clothes, washed and climbed into bed. He looked inside the box and studied the wooden appliqués on the sides and lid but found nothing of interest.
Then he waited in the gloom.
Miss Darrow was right.
When a boy was forced to sleep on the streets, he used the shadows to hide from predators. At night, it was easier to evade detection. In the darkness, he was the same as everyone else, not the weakest of the pack.
He must have told her that while mumbling in his sleep. Lord knows what he’d said while dosed with opium. Miss Darrow undoubtedly had more weapons in her arsenal. It was just a matter of time before she used them.
Theo cupped his hands behind his head and relaxed against the mound of pillows. Midnight came and went. Every creak and groan drew his attention to the bedchamber door. The anticipation roused a host of erotic thoughts.
Miss Darrow had a body made for sin.
She had luscious lips and bountiful breasts.
All made sweeter by the fact she had no need to marry.
Those thoughts occupied him for a few minutes. He made no excuse for the subject of his fantasies. Tonight’s game with Miss Darrow had sparked a fire in his blood.
Long minutes passed.
He climbed out of bed, strode to the window and peered through a gap in the curtains. Across the road, candlelight shone in an upper window of The Burnished Jade. Perhaps that was the reason for Miss Darrow’s hesitance. Was she waiting for the lights to dim, knowing that’s when Aaron would drag himself from the study and fall into bed?
More time ticked by as Theo studied the deserted street.
Miss Darrow wasn’t coming. Having honed his instincts over the years, he felt it with absolute certainty. It made no sense. The desperation in her eyes and voice was undeniable.
My troubles are my own.
An icy chill shivered down his spine.
Had those troubles caught up with her tonight?
He would not rest until he knew.
Dressing quickly, he snatched the box off the bed and descended the stairs to the study. He found Aaron lounging in his throne-like chair in the dark, cradling a large glass of brandy, watching Miss Lovelace’s club.
Theo didn’t dare question his eldest brother’s actions. Aaron’s preoccupation with the beautiful owner of The Burnished Jade was his own business. Only a man with a death wish would demand to know why.
“I have a strange suspicion Miss Darrow isn’t coming,” Theo said. His breathlessness came as no surprise. His heart raced, the sound beating in his ears like a drumroll. A sudden sense of foreboding gripped him, refusing to let go. “I’ve decided to return the box to her tonight. I’ll not bother rousing Godby.” He could not wait for their coachman to ready the carriage. “It’s a thirty-minute walk to Miss Darrow’s shop, and I could do with the air.”
If he quickened his pace, he could cover the distance in fifteen minutes. Yet a persistent voice in his head told him to run.
Aaron stood and returned his glass to the drinks tray. “To win the wager, you must keep the box until midnight tomorrow. That’s what you told Miss Darrow. Perhaps you were mistaken and housebreaking isn’t on her agenda tonight.”
“Then why come to the theatre?” No, she was desperate to see her treasured item returned. Why else would she kiss a man she despised? And in a public corridor, to boot?
Aaron perched on his desk, where he had a clear view of The Burnished Jade. “Why spend days at your bedside mopping your brow? She is using the box as an excuse to see you. The woman turns doe-eyed whenever you enter the room.”
Yet nagging doubts took root in his mind. Miss Darrow had melted into the kiss, though it said more about his skill and her intentions than any genuine desire.
“Since I took her box, she cannot abide me.”
“Can you blame her?”
Guilt stabbed at Theo’s conscience. The knock to his pride had left him eager to prove a point, though it was time to do the gentlemanly thing and make amends.
“When Aramis suggested the wager, I was in a dark place,” he confessed. The camaraderie had helped him forget how perilously close he had come to dying. He would be cold in the grave had the thug aimed an inch lower.
Aaron stood and gripped Theo’s shoulder. “There’s a reason I gave you the King of Hearts moniker. When someone hurts you, you feel it deeper than most. Remember, Miss Darrow isn’t blameless. But you’re right. You need to return her box tonight.”
A pang of remorse twisted in his gut.
Oddly, it had nothing to do with losing the wager.
He would miss playing this game with Miss Darrow.
Aaron heaved a long sigh when Miss Lovelace extinguished the light in the upper window of The Burnished Jade. “I shall accompany you to Holborn. Since there are bets at White’s on which one of us will die first, we must expect an attack from at least one debt-ridden wastrel.”
“I can defend myself.” He’d been shot because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The blackguard had caught him by surprise. It wouldn’t happen again.
“You fight like a warrior, but a boy brought down Goliath. A woman defeated Samson.” Aaron’s gaze shifted to the window as if Delilah lived across the street. “Besides, the night air will do me good, too. For once, I might fall asleep before the cock’s crow.”
They left Fortune’s Den, blades tucked into sheaths strapped to their shins, the box hidden in a leather satchel draped across Theo’s chest, and traversed the gloomy streets to Holborn.
A drunken fool called to them from a shop doorway, begging for a spare shilling. Aaron flicked him a sovereign. A constable disappeared into a grim alley, preferring an illicit encounter to patrolling the pavements. Not that it mattered. Theo would rather police this problem himself.
Anger ignited beneath his calm facade as he strode along New Bridge Street. He had not visited Miss Darrow’s shop since the day of the shooting. Every approaching step brought an influx of memories; Miss Darrow’s lies, the thug’s vicious threat, a whiff of sulphur tainting the air, the pain searing through his shoulder seconds before he hit the ground.
“It seems Miss Darrow had no intention of committing burglary tonight,” Aaron said, stopping outside the prestigious dressmaker’s shop and studying the facade.
“It’s not burglary if she has a key and owns the object.” Theo glanced above the swinging sign sporting an image of a gold needle and thread—a symbol of Miss Darrow’s artistry. Darkness shrouded the upper windows of the four-storey townhouse.
A sinking feeling settled in Theo’s gut.
Something was wrong.
Aaron tried the front door and found it locked. He knocked three times. No one answered. “Perhaps she has a lover, and they met after she left the theatre.”
Theo kicked the thought from his mind. “She told the jarvey to take her to New Bridge Street.”
“People often change their minds en route.” Aaron glanced over his shoulder at the row of shops across the street. “She may have struck up a convenient friendship with the silversmith or cobbler. A woman living on her own must crave company. Miss Darrow works long hours. Like every woman, she has needs.”
Theo’s fingers tightened into fists. Was Aaron trying to provoke him? Though why Miss Darrow’s private affairs bothered him remained a mystery.
“I wonder if Miss Lovelace does a similar thing when The Burnished Jade is closed on Sundays.” Theo noted the instant flicker of annoyance in his brother’s eyes. “Such an intriguing woman cannot be short of offers. The Marquess of Rothley asked about her tonight. Perhaps he wants to invite her to join his harem.”
