Four
The crisp morning sunlight did little to improve the dingy theater. Standing on the trash-littered street, Cassie felt her heart sink another notch. This was the fifth theater she had visited in the past three days, each one more disreputable than the last. Clearly, the sudden rush of theaters that had opened in the past few years had not improved the standards of the stage. Indeed, it was clear that most owners were more concerned with greed than art.
Of course, she told herself with a grimace, she had already managed to discern that few of the women who called themselves actresses actually made their livelihood in the theater. Instead, they used their time upon the stage in the hope of attracting a wealthy benefactor. A shocking notion for a gently bred lady. Although, after the past weeks, Cassie was becoming less easily shocked.
After putting aside her natural prejudice, she had discovered that the women she met on the streets each day were not the horrid, grasping doxies she had presumed would inhabit such a location in London, but women like herself, attempting to make their way through the world with no one to depend upon except themselves. That thought had disturbed her more over the past few days than what occurred within their rented homes.
With an effort, Cassie forced her thoughts back to the narrow street. This was no neighborhood in which to be lost in daydreams. Even by London standards, it was dangerous.
Squaring her shoulders, Cassie marched toward the half-opened door, only to jump hastily backward as it was flung open and a servant stomped out to empty a bucket of filthy water onto the street. Cassie discovered herself hesitating at the notion of approaching the stranger. Even with her foolish amount of courage, she felt uneasy.
The man was uncommonly large, with a thick chest and arms usually only seen on a blacksmith. His clothing was rough, and the stale smell of gin overshadowed even the rotting trash. Hardly the sort of man she wished to attract the attention of, but Cassie was becoming desperate. With every passing day, the hopes of retrieving her home and inheritance grew a bit dimmer. Now she forced herself to nervously clear her throat.
“Pardon me.”
“Stand aside, luv. Stand aside.” The servant never bothered to turn about as he emptied his second bucket.
“But—”
“If yer be looking fer work, we ain’t hiring.”
“No. I am searching for a ... friend,” Cassie protested, wondering how many poor women would actually seek employment in such an establishment.
“Every lady down here be lookin’ fer a friend. I ain’t got the quid today. Now move along.”
Cassie shuddered. “No. I mean my friend is an actress here. Her name is Nell.”
“Nell Maggert?” The dark-haired man abruptly turned about, his bloodshot eyes widening in appreciation at the sight of Cassie. “Well, well, mayhap I do have a quid after all.”
Expecting the same suspicious glare and denial that any Nell had been employed at the theater, Cassie forced herself to ignore the leering gaze that drifted over the thick cloak she had possessed the good sense to wear.
Nell Maggert. Could it be the one she was searching for?
“Is Nell here?”
“Naw. She found herself a cove to keep her. Lit out of here without so much as a farewell.”
Cassie felt her heart leap. “You must mean Herbie?”
“That’s the bloke. Short, red-headed fella with a nasty temper.”
“I need to speak with Nell. Could you give me her new address?”
A furrow of puzzlement drew the heavy brows together. The man might not possess a keen intelligence, but he could obviously detect that her educated voice and expensive clothing were distinctly out of place.
“Yer say yer a friend of Nell’s?”
“Yes.”
Without warning, the door to the theater was once again shoved open.
“A friend of Nell’s?” a second male voice demanded. “Then why didn’t yer know where she be?”
Cassie turned to discover a young man with a thin face and narrow blue eyes regarding her with unnerving intensity. Oddly, there was something in his sharp features that made her even more uneasy than his brutish companion did.
“I ... have been out of town,” she swiftly lied.
“I think yer be lying.”
“Mind yer tongue, Toby,” the large man growled.
A humorless smile twisted Toby’s thin lips. “Seems a mite peculiar to me. She don’t look like any friend of Nell’s.”
“Perhaps not, but she can be a friend of mine,” the large man argued, dropping his buckets to slowly move toward Cassie. “What do yer say?”
Barely preventing herself from bolting in panic, Cassie backed away.
“Unfortunately, I have to be leaving. My groom has a carriage waiting for me around the corner.”
The desperate lie halted the older man, but Toby was clearly more astute. His smile widened as he noted her trembling lips.
“You can’t be leaving so soon. Not before you tell us your interest in Nell.”
“Perhaps I can return tomorrow,” Cassie managed to stammer, her heart slamming against her chest as the thin man suddenly lunged to catch her arm in a violent grip.
“I want to be knowin’ today,” he insisted, his expression chilling Cassie to the bone.
Quite certain that a scream in this neighborhood would be a useless waste of breath, Cassie prepared to defend herself as fiercely as she could. She couldn’t possibly win, but she was not about to concede defeat without a fight.
Lifting her foot to provide a sharp kick to the scoundrel’s knee, she was abruptly halted by the sound of a familiar voice that nearly made her faint in relief.
“Troubles, Lady Greer?” Luke drawled from behind.
“Lord Mumford,” she breathed as the fox-faced man reluctantly loosened his grip and backed away. She didn’t even protest when the vexing lord stepped next to her and wrapped an intimate arm about her shoulders. Her only feeling was overwhelming happiness that she had been rescued from her own stupidity.
“Are you acquainted with these gentlemen?” he inquired in dangerously soft tones.
The larger man gave an awkward bow even as his evil leer was replaced with a grating smile.
“My lord, such an honor. A real honor, it be.”
With a graceful motion, Lord Mumford lifted his quizzing glance to peer at the two men.
“I presume that you have work to attend to?”
“Oh . . . yes, yes indeed.” The large servant bowed again, reaching out to cuff his obviously less impressed companion with his ham-shaped fist. “Come along, Toby.”
Just for a moment the thin-faced man continued to glare at Cassie; then with a small shrug he slowly turned to follow his partner. As the door to the theater closed, Cassie released a shaky breath.
She had been saved. Even if it was by the gentleman that only the previous evening she had declared the last man in London she wished to encounter. Lifting her head, she formed the reluctant words to thank him. But, predictably, she didn’t manage to utter a word before he was smiling in mocking amusement.
“What a delightful surprise, Lady Greer,” he drawled. “I had no notion you were a theater lover.”
Her warm flare of gratitude died a swift death, to be replaced by her more familiar suspicion. What the devil was this man doing here? It was decidedly unlikely for him to have chosen this particular street on this particular morning to travel.
Unless, of course, he had once again followed her.
Why the blazes could he not leave her be? she wondered with a flare of annoyance. As relieved as she might be at his timely arrival, she remained thoroughly aware that he posed a danger of his own. Pulling away from his lingering gasp, she regarded him with a narrowed gaze.
“Nor I you, sir,” she retorted in tart tones.
“It appears that we have a vast deal in common. A favorable sign, I think,” he said smoothly, then held out his arm. “But come, let us leave this distasteful place. I will drive you home.”
Her chin instinctively tilted. His request was far too close to a command.
“Thank you, but that is not necessary.”
His expression became one of long suffering. “Lady Greer, you have already discovered just how dangerous this neighborhood can be to a woman on her own. Unless you enjoy the attentions of such men?”
“Do not be absurd.”
He held out an arm. “Then, shall we go?”
Ridiculously, Cassie hesitated. She had no desire to spend more time with Lord Mumford. Not when they would be virtually alone in the closed carriage she had spotted waiting down the street. Then sanity at last prevailed.
She had been a thorough ninny to come down to this place alone. She would be even more of a ninny to remain.
Still, she could muster little grace as she conceded defeat.
“Very well.”
With a smile, Luke took her arm and led her to the glossy black carriage. Waving aside the uniformed groom, he carefully lifted her into the shadowed interior. Anxious to rid herself of his disturbing touch, Cassie hastily scrambled to a padded corner. Of course, the vexing man planted himself shockingly close to her side. He did not even pretend it was accidental that his hard body was pressed next to her own.
A tiny shiver wracked her form as the heat and scent of him surrounded her. For goodness sakes, she thought in exasperation, what right did this gentleman have to unsettle her in such a manner? It was positively disgraceful.
Seemingly unaffected by the same tingle of excitement that raced through her own blood, Luke stretched out his Hessian-clad legs and tugged down his dove gray coat.
“I must say, my opinion of your benefactor is becoming increasingly low,” he murmured as the carriage rolled down the cobbled street. “What sort of gentleman allows a woman to endanger herself by frequenting such a disreputable place?”
With an effort, Cassie gathered her scattered wits. She could not afford to be distracted. Not when this man could easily destroy her reputation.
“He does not dictate where I may or may not go,” she said in stiff tones.
“Ah, a woman of spirit.”
She unwisely turned to meet his glittering gaze. “I suppose you prefer those women who are properly demure and always bow to the superior whims of gentlemen?”
His gaze deliberately lowered to the fullness of her mouth. “I thought I had made it very clear that what I prefer is ... you, Lady Greer.”
Cassie felt her face flame at the suggestive hint of huskiness in his tone.
“I wish you would stop saying such things.”
“Very well.” He smiled with wicked amusement, his gaze trailing over her pale features framed by the cloud of red hair. “I will instead say that you appear remarkably charming this morning. Even swathed from head to toe like the most prim of spinsters you manage to provoke a man’s passion. I wish to brush aside that cloak and discover what delights lie beneath.”
“Lord Mumford, that is enough,” Cassie snapped in outraged tones. Really, the man was beyond the pale. It was bad enough that they were alone in the carriage and that he was practically seated in her lap. To speak in such intimate terms was positively decadent. Her temper was not soothed by his sudden chuckle. “What do you find so amusing, sir?”
“You, my lady.”
“I fail to see why,” she retorted icily.
Shifting to gain a better view of her flushed countenance, Luke tilted his head to one side.
“You dress and attempt to act like a courtesan, but you blush like a schoolgirl with every compliment.”
“That is ridiculous.”
A raven brow arched. “Even more intriguing is the fact you are obviously determined to rebuff my very generous advances.”
“I have told you . . . my affections are engaged.”
“Ah yes, the elusive gentleman who has first claim on your emotions,” he mocked.
Her blush deepened. “Precisely.”
“Really, Lady Greer, you do not strike me as a fool.” He regarded her in shrewd disbelief. “A woman in your position does not lightly toss aside a business proposition that might very well secure your future for years to come. Particularly when your current situation leaves much to be desired.”
Cassie swallowed a nervous lump. His accusation defied any rational argument. He was perfectly correct. A woman in her supposed position would not dismiss his attentions. She would, in fact, do whatever necessary to secure his promise of a greater financial reward.
Still, she could hardly admit that she had no need of his generous offer. She could only hope that he tired of this ridiculous game before he discovered the truth.
“I am quite comfortable in my current position,” she lamely protested, unsurprised when he rewarded her lie with a scathing glance.
“You are comfortable with a man who leaves you in a tawdry home with less than a handful of servants and proceeds to treat you with such obvious indifference?” he demanded.
“It is really none of your concern.”
“I should never treat you in such a shabby fashion.”
Cassie once again experienced that delicious shiver. She had no doubt that this man would be a most passionate lover. There was an undeniable hint of sensuality in the generous curve of his mouth and the possessiveness in his manner. He would never be casual in his relationships. He would demand and give total devotion.
With a sense of relief, she felt the carriage slow to a halt. She needed to be away from Lord Mumford and his disturbing presence to clear her rattled wits.
“Thank you for bringing me home, my lord,” she muttered, not bothering to wait for the groom as she shoved the carriage door open.
In an awkward motion she crawled through the door and onto the street. Turning about, she gave a small jump as she realized Luke had followed her.
“Am I not to be invited in for tea?” he drawled.
She had no doubt he was attempting to taunt her, and she barely resisted the urge to box his ears.
“I fear I am occupied this morning.”
“How unfortunate.” He gave a mocking bow. “Then I suppose I shall have to call later in the day.”
“I ...” Meeting the glittering blue gaze, Cassie realized that arguments would be futile. Instead, she resolved to make very clear to her butler that she was not receiving visitors. Especially visitors by the name of Lord Mumford and Lord Bidwell. “Good day, my lord.”
Hoping she appeared more dignified than she felt, Cassie swept up the narrow walk and through the door that was hastily pulled open by a footman.
All in all, it had proven to be yet another disastrous day in London.
* * *
Watching Cassie regally stalk away, Luke allowed a smile of pleasure to curve his mouth.
What a delightful creature, he silently mused. Spirited, beautiful and with a hint of mystery that he found irresistible.
With every meeting, he discovered himself more and more determined to unravel the web of secrecy she wrapped about herself. To discover the truth of Lady Greer.
He would stake his life that she was no common courtesan.
Then his smile was suddenly replaced by a frown.
For the past three mornings he had followed her through the streets of London at a discreet distance. He had carefully watched her enter one theater after another. But this morning his heart had nearly stopped at the sight of the two ruffians attempting to manhandle her.
What if he hadn’t been there? What if he had overslept? Or decided she wasn’t worth the bother?
Even now she could be lying on that filthy street. Or worse, in that hovel of a theater at the mercy of those brutes.
It did not bear thinking of.
A strange, wholly unexpected flare of frustration rushed through his heart. It was ludicrous. This woman was a complete stranger. She could not even claim a passing acquaintanceship, but he couldn’t deny an overwhelming urge to protect her from her own foolishness.
She shouldn’t be in this house, and certainly not in this neighborhood, he thought with an unexplainable obstinacy. And she most certainly should not be trailing through streets even the Watch avoided. But she was clearly determined to risk her lovely neck, and he could do nothing to halt her absurd behavior. Not without locking her in his wine cellar, which was a surprisingly tempting thought.
Just as vexing was the knowledge he could not possibly be constantly on hand to sweep her out of danger.
He would simply have to uncover the truth. Perhaps then he would know how to bring the stubborn chit to her senses.
Luke turned back toward the carriage, intending to seek his long overdue breakfast. But as he stepped forward, a slight movement at the far side of the hedge captured his attention.
“What the devil?”
Not even hesitating Luke darted up the path next to the house, cautiously edging his way to the corner. With the same caution, he peered around the edge, his body stiffening in surprise at the sight of the thin, ragged man sticking his head through an open widow. It was apparent even from a distance that he was up to no good. What sort of man peered through a lady’s window?
Luke shifted his weight as he prepared to leap forward and catch the lurker, but a stray branch snapped beneath his boots, alerting the stranger to his presence.
With a gasp, the man turned around, the thin face twisting into a furious scowl as he realized he had been spotted.
A surge of disbelief raced through Luke as he recognized the narrow features and murderous eyes. Damn. The man from the theater. He had obviously followed them as they had crawled through the tedious London traffic, and now he knew precisely where to find Lady Greer.
Luke charged forward, determined to capture the scoundrel and force him to confess his interest in Lady Greer, but he underestimated the wily man’s speed. With a muffled curse, the stranger bolted toward the back of the house, using his small size to easily slip through a hole in the hedge. Luke skidded to a halt, in enough possession of his faculties to realize that his broad frame would never squeeze through such a tiny space. It was equally obvious that he would never have time to round the hedge and catch the blackguard. The rat would have swiftly vanished among the mews by now.
Luke clenched his fists in frustration. What the blazes was happening? There was more intrigue stirring about this establishment than in all of Europe. And without knowing what bubblebath the mysterious Lady Greer had tumbled into, he had no means of protecting her.
“May I help you, my lord?”
Turning toward the house, Luke saw the granite-faced butler standing in the tradesman door. A sudden notion flickered through his mind.
“I was searching for the man I spotted peering into Lady Greer’s window.”
“A man, my lord?”
“A short man with a dark gray coat.”
“How very peculiar.”
“Peculiar indeed.” Luke reached into his coat to withdraw a small embossed card. “This is my address. If this . . . gentleman or any other gentleman returns, I wish to know as soon as possible.”
“Of course.”
Luke again reached into his coat, this time to withdraw several pound notes.
“And I would appreciate having someone within the household keeping a close guard on Lady Greer. She possesses the most absurd belief that she is impervious to danger.”
With swift efficiency the butler pocketed the offered money and performed a stiff bow.
“I understand completely, my lord. You can depend upon me.”
“Thank you.”
Luke was not precisely reassured as he strode back to the carriage. The butler had accepted his bribe far too readily and was clearly for hire to the highest bidder. Luke’s only hope was that whoever wished to harm Lady Greer did not possess his own vast resources.
Absently allowing his groom to help him into the carriage, Luke gave the order to head for Lord Bidwell’s home. His breakfast was momentarily forgotten. This was decidedly a muddle that could use the unique skills of the devious little man, he decided.
Settling back in the leather squabs, Luke brooded on the tangle as he traveled through the city toward the more respectable streets of London. He barely noted the cries of the vendors or shouts from the drivers as they attempted to negotiate the crowded streets. Instead, he attempted to rationally consider the situation and how best to approach a solution.
After a considerable drive, they at last pulled to a halt in front of Biddle’s lavish establishment. Luke hurriedly descended from the carriage and swept his way up the long steps. Not surprisingly, the butler favored him with a curious glance as he opened the door and led him into the wide foyer.
“I fear His Lordship is not yet down this morning,” he apologized as he accepted Luke’s coat and hat.
“Never fear, Thomas, I shall beard the lion in his den. Would you have breakfast sent up? Eggs and kidneys would do nicely. Oh, and a pot of coffee. I have a feeling we shall need it.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Accustomed to Luke’s familiar manner within the household, the butler merely bowed and retreated toward the back of the town house.
Taking the steps two at a time, Luke moved down the hall to Biddles’s private dressing room. He shoved open the door without so much as a knock to discover the rat-faced man seated on a padded chair as his valet carefully knotted his cravat.
“Good God, Luke,” Lord Bidwell drawled in mild reproach. “Do you know the time?”
“I have need of your talents,” Luke announced without preamble, lowering his large form onto a delicate chaise longue.
“I have been telling you that for years, old chap.” Biddles carefully turned to run a critical gaze over Luke’s elegant coat. “Only a gentleman in his dotage would choose such a drab attire. I shall ensure that by the end of the month you acquire the most talked of wardrobe in London.”
Luke gave a visible shudder. “I was not referring to your ghastly preference in fashion, thank goodness. I wish for you to make a few discreet inquiries.”
“Ah, how dreary.” Lifting a thin hand, Biddles waved aside the hovering valet. “That will be all, Emerson.”
“Very well, my lord.”
With a small bow, the silver-haired man who had been at Biddles’s side since he left Oxford silently withdrew from the chamber. Biddles leaned forward to peer in the oval mirror. With a grimace, he reached up to give a few expert tugs on the starched linen.
“A pity I cannot discover a valet who can be discreet as well as tie a decent cravat. As it is, I must suffer this sadly predictable knot for the promise of privacy.” Biddles gave another tug; then, reluctantly satisfied, he leaned back to regard Luke with a shrewd gaze. “Now, what inquiries do you require?”
“I wish you to discover the whereabouts of an actress named Nell Maggert. She might be connected with a gentleman who goes by the endearment of Herbie.”
“Egad, still dangling after Lady Greer, are we?”
“I am not . . . dangling.”
“Certainly not,” Biddles mocked. “You always trail after unknown women, force your way into their homes and then waste both of our time seeking actresses named Nell.”
Luke allowed the merest smile to curve his lips. “Perhaps I am dangling a bit.”
“A very dangerous habit, old boy. Still, you are clearly determined to behave like the veriest moonling over this chit.”
Luke refused to rise to the bait. For now, his concern for Lady Greer’s safety was too great to ponder his own odd behavior.
“Will you help me, Biddles?”
There was a pause; then Biddles gave a shrug of defeat. “But of course. Where shall we begin? With Herbie? A man of society or a cit?”
A rush of relief eased the tension in Luke’s body. He possessed full confidence in this man’s abilities. Locating a mere actress and her benefactor should prove little challenge to his skills.
“Difficult to say,” he responded. “Wealthy enough at least to maintain a separate household for his mistress.”
“La. Prinny maintains any number of households without a farthing to his name.”
“I doubt that Herbie possesses such royal privilege,” Luke pointed out in dry tones.
“Perhaps not.” Biddles narrowed his gaze. “Tell me, Luke, what do you intend to do while I am gadding about London in search of this mysterious Nell?”
A glint of anticipation flickered to life in the depths of the deep blue eyes.
“I shall be enjoying tea with the lovely Lady Greer.”
“Indeed?” Biddles arched a brow. “Were you invited?”
“Let us say that I invited myself.”
Biddles favored him with a long, considering survey before slowly leaning forward.
“You do realize that this seeming reluctance might very well be a cunning lure?”
“A lure?”
“How better to catch the attention of the Irresistible Earl than by pretending complete indifference?” he demanded. “There are few things more enticing than attaining the unattainable.”
Luke could not deny the truth in his friend’s warning. It had occurred to him on more than one occasion that Lady Greer’s seeming reluctance might be an elaborate ploy. Even the impression that she was in some mysterious peril might be a hoax.
Still, he found himself shying from the unpleasant thought. No woman could conjure the innocence he had detected in the depths of her silver eyes. No matter how great an actress.
“Not all of us possess your devious nature, Biddles,” he protested in a light tone.
Biddles smiled in a cynical fashion. “Most gentlemen and all ladies possess devious natures, my friend. Do not allow yourself to be led on a fool’s journey. It might cost you more than a few quid.”
Luke swallowed his instinctive protest. His friend was reading far too much into his interest in Lady Greer. Certainly he was concerned for her safety. And perhaps he was somewhat fascinated by her elusive charms. But to imply that he was in danger of losing his heart. Why, it was ludicrous. Absurd.
“You have no need to worry on my account, Biddles,” he promised. Then oddly discomfited by the course of the conversation, he glanced toward the door. “My only danger at the moment is to my sadly neglected stomach. Where the devil is my breakfast?”