Chapter 13
Phillip Davenport, standing in the same room where he had been summoned once before, quickly recognized the meat and bones of this meeting with Lady Howard had a very different flavor from that first encounter. Her ladyship, not bothering to trifle with polite niceties, cut straight to the heart of the matter.
“Mr. Davenport, what are you prepared to do to guarantee the return of your cousin?” Isabel asked him.
Still playing the role of a concerned relative, Phillip portrayed an anxious expression while his voice took on a simpering tone. “Is it possible? Have you found—”
“Do you want her back or not?” The question was abrupt and the tone enough to make Phillip stop and stare at her. Something wasn’t right. Hands on her hips, Isabel tapped her foot as she looked at him. “For God’s sake, man, it really isn’t a difficult question,” she snapped irritably.
“Your ladyship is too kind—” he started, still unsure what he was really being asked.
Isabel threw her hands up in disgust. “Do not try my patience! This act of concern you insist on portraying is nothing but a tiresome pretense.” She took a deep breath, reminding herself that it was she who had sent for him. Calming herself, Isabel graced him with one of her many practiced smiles. “It is of no interest to me what manner of debauchery you intend to visit upon the girl. My interest is in knowing if you truly want your dear Catherine back.”
“Of course I do, but I must protest your ladyship’s suggestion that my interest is anything other than—”
“Mr. Davenport, do you suppose I would not know exactly with whom I am dealing? Your reputation precedes you, sir, and besides”—her smile became predatory—“I have seen for myself the evidence of your handiwork.” Stunned by her accusation, Phillip was quick to realize his lack of protest only confirmed what had surely been, up to that moment, nothing more than unproven suspicion. Now he could no longer deny any involvement in Catherine’s disappearance. As she faced him, one hunter to another, Isabel’s voice became silky when she repeated her earlier question. “What are you prepared to do in order to get her back?”
Continuing with his charade was futile. “Whatever it takes,” Phillip Davenport told her.
No more simpering or playing games. If Isabel wanted to deal with the real Phillip Davenport, then so be it. He doubted she would like this version any more than she had the earlier one. But he cared little about placating her ladyship’s sensibilities. Instead he listened as Isabel told him how she was going to help him get his precious Catherine back, and what she expected from him in return.
Observing Isabel through half-lidded eyes, Phillip carefully reviewed the plan she put before him. Looking for any flaw that might hinder the chance of success. Unable to find one, he grudgingly admitted she had been most thorough in anticipating every possible scenario. He watched her pace before the large picture window, her movements more thoughtful than impatient. She gave the appearance of a woman who cared little for either his approval or opinion of her scheme. They both knew he would agree to her plan. He’d be a fool not to. Brilliant in its simplicity, it would give him exactly what he wanted.
Phillip allowed himself a ghost of a smile. At their last meeting Isabel had preached caution, the necessity of waiting until the right moment presented itself before striking. No matter how long that might take. But now, it was as if she had decided she no longer had the patience to play the waiting game. He wondered what had caused the change of heart. He glanced across the room and found himself caught in John Fletcher’s unwavering stare. The ability to read people had always served him well, particularly at the gaming tables, but this man was different. It unnerved Phillip to not know what Isabel’s man was thinking. Particularly when Fletcher’s gaze was so fixed on himself.
“Are you satisfied?” Isabel’s impatient tone cut through his thoughts.
“Your ladyship seems to have considered every possible eventuality,” Phillip told her. “I can find no defect or weakness in your plan, except perhaps…” He stared at John and raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Except for what?” Isabel kept her tone conversational.
“I do not know your man. Does he understand the use of discretion, and can he be trusted?” Though it was Isabel’s question he was answering, Phillip kept his stare on John.
“Ordinarily I would break your neck for such an utterance,” John told him, his words clipped and precise, “but to do so would compromise her ladyship’s well thought out design. Just make sure you are at the rendezvous point at the agreed upon hour.”
“I will be there,” Phillip said, almost rubbing his hands together with glee at the thought of being so close to achieving his desire.
Isabel took up the conversation once more. “Despite my careful planning, I do need to make you aware of a potential obstacle that has arisen. A wild card if you will.” She searched Phillip’s face, looking for any sign he was reconsidering, but there was nothing to make her doubt the decision to include him in her plans.
“What kind of obstacle?” he asked.
“It seems that in the time she managed to escape from you, your cousin has been quite busy. She has found herself a husband.”
Phillip remained very still. The only outward sign he gave of his rage was the vein that stood out near his temple and the small muscle in his jaw that jumped as he clenched his teeth. He was absolutely livid! A husband not only meant that Catherine was no longer pure, for no man could look at her and not want her for himself, but it was a complication he did not need. Forcing himself to relax and unclench his jaw, Phillip stared at Isabel’s back. It took some effort, but he managed to keep his voice free of any emotion as he asked, “Whom has she married?”
“Rian Connor.”
Now it all made sense. Phillip had been wondering what Catherine could have done to earn Isabel’s contempt, and why she would go to such lengths to help him secure her person. Realizing that it was the result of something as mundane as feminine vanity almost had him laughing out loud, but he knew that would be most unwise. Isabel was not the only one aware of whom she was dealing with. Phillip also knew about her. About her dalliance with Rian Connor. The same man who had foolishly taken another as his bride, and who would now have to deal with the consequences of Isabel’s wrath.
Putting his hand to his face, he covered his mouth as if he was deep in serious contemplation, when in fact he was hiding a smile. Women really were such foolish creatures he thought, even those with hearts as black as the one beating in the chest of the woman he was dealing with now. “Will he prove troublesome?” Phillip asked.
“Not at all. I am confident he will not interfere with our plans,” Isabel answered. She went to turn away from him, and then changed her mind, facing him again with a soft swoosh of silk. “Tell me, Mr. Davenport, what do you intend to do with your cousin once you have her back?”
Phillip’s expression changed suddenly, turning hard and cruel. Why should she care? Across the room John Fletcher silently rose from his seat. The change of expression had not gone unnoticed by Isabel’s man, who now glared at Phillip menacingly. Not wishing to provoke the man to violence, Phillip stretched his thin lips into a smile that was more reptilian than human. “Do with her?” he asked, feigning confusion.
John Fletcher’s hands became clenched fists.
Arching a brow and keeping her voice as sweet and syrupy as the finest honey, Isabel clarified her question. “Yes, how do you intend to dispose of your dear Catherine once your appetites have been satisfied?”
The sweetness disappeared so quickly, Phillip wasn’t sure if it had been there to begin with, and now he found himself staring at pure wickedness. The veneer of Isabel’s civility had slipped away, revealing the essence of the woman within. She was a vessel filled with malicious cruelty and vindictiveness. It was something he could understand. He smiled; perhaps he and Lady Howard had more in common than he’d realized.
“Oh, there are places where my sweet cousin will never see the light of day. Places where those not so fussy will be more than willing to part with a few coppers for the use of her.” He did not need to add that those who ran such places regarded the gentry with suspicion, and Rian Connor’s wealth would not gain him entry.
“And it is your intent to put her in one of these places?”
“Once I am finished with her of course.”
The lascivious undertone in Phillip Davenport’s voice sent a shiver of disgust down John’s spine. Isabel however, seemed unaffected.
“Good,” she said, turning back to the window. “I do so despise loose ends.”