Twice Tempted by a Rogue

For his part, Rhys took a seat on a threadbare divan and propped one boot on the small, square table before him.



Bellamy did not approve. “You’ve been sitting in the carriage all day,” he said. “Do you have to sit down now? You’re supposed to hulk in the corner and look threatening. Menacing, not … cozy.”



Ignoring him, Rhys stretched his arm across the back of the divan and surveyed the meager furnishings and cobwebbed corners. “I thought this was supposed to be a well-heeled dandy we’re chasing. Perhaps all his fortune is sunk into gold embroidery. It’s certainly not poured into the furnishings.”



“He’s in hiding. Why else would any man of means live all the way out here, in such humble accommodations?”



“Perhaps because he enjoys the bracing sea breeze?” An unfamiliar, cultured voice.



Rhys’s gaze jerked to the doorway. There stood Peter Faraday, he presumed. And God, he could see what Cora meant. Faraday truly was the spitting image of Julian Bellamy. Or at least, a strikingly close resemblance. On examination, Faraday’s hair was a dark brown, not jet black. He stood an inch or two shorter than Bellamy. His complexion was notably more pale. But in a darkened alley, the two would be virtually indistinguishable from one another.



“Gentlemen,” Faraday said, leaning against the doorjamb, “to what do I owe this pleasure?” He wore a simple banyan over a shirt and loose-fitting trousers. His dark hair stuck up at odd angles. He looked as though he’d just rolled out of bed to greet them and had no intention of going anywhere, anytime soon.



From the looks of him, Rhys would wager he hadn’t been out of bed in weeks.



“Believe me, there’s no pleasure in it,” Bellamy said. “And if you’ve seen the token, you know exactly why we’re here.”



Faraday’s gaze sharpened. He remained absolutely still. “Do I?”



From his seat on the divan, Rhys shook his head. “If the two of you mean to be coy, we’ll be here all day. Faraday, it’s your house. Have a seat.”



“Thank you, I’ll stand.”



Rhys leaned forward, eyeing the man. “Not for much longer, you won’t.” Faraday looked ready to swoon. So much for any plan of pummeling the truth out of him. Rhys might be a violent brute, but it simply wasn’t in him to beat invalids. Faraday had obviously already taken his share of blows.



He said casually, “Sit down. Does that old fellow rattling his chains around know how to make tea? We’ll all gather round and talk this out.”



Bellamy shot him a look. “In case you’re wondering, that would be a complete and utter failure,” he whispered, “at being menacing.”



“Oh, come along,” Rhys said. “Look at him. The longer he stands there, the more color drains from his face. The man won’t even move, he’s so stiff.” He nodded at Faraday. “How many bones did you break, when you and Leo were attacked?”



The man paused. “My hipbone. Three ribs.”



“That all?”



“My left wrist.” Faraday raised the appendage before his eyes and peered at it. “I think there was a small fracture in one of the bones, but it seems to have knitted well on its own. Lost a few teeth. Other than that … just bruises, but they’ve long faded now.” He cleared his throat self-consciously. “I was the lucky one.”



Surveying the man’s posture and pinched expression, Rhys could tell he wasn’t lying. If anything, he was understating the extent of his wounds. In that moment, Rhys was convinced of the man’s innocence. Of all people, he knew what a trial it was to recover from injuries so severe. There was no way a man would willingly incur them just to mask his own involvement in a crime.



He stood up and crossed the room. Without a word, he slid a hand under Faraday’s arm and lifted, transferring the wounded man’s weight from the doorjamb to his own shoulder. Then he slowly walked him the three paces to a chair and helped him sit.



“Thank you,” Faraday said, giving Rhys an amused look. “That was rather forward of you.”



“If I’d asked, you would have refused the help.”



“True.”



Rhys went back to his own chair. “The mending hurts worse than the breaking, I know. I’ve snapped a bone or ten myself.”



“So I gather.” Faraday tilted his head a fraction. His gaze trained on the scar on Rhys’s temple, then slid to the fresh split in his lip. “You must be Ashworth, the great war hero. Still doing battle, it would seem. Any teeth left?”



“Most of them.”



“Good. Giles makes excellent shortbread.” He called over his shoulder. “Giles!” When the ancient manservant appeared in the doorway, Faraday instructed, “Tea, Giles. And shortbread, and a few sandwiches if you can muster them.”



“I don’t suppose you have chocolate?” Cora asked hopefully from the corner.



“Well, hullo there.” Faraday gave the girl a rakish smile. “I thought Giles mentioned a pretty girl. Was beginning to think he’d gone dotty and mistaken Mr. Bellamy here.”



“Wonderful,” Bellamy muttered. “Tea and shortbread. It’s a regular party.”



Faraday settled in his chair. “I thought you loved nothing more than a party. That was always the word around Town.”



“Your use of the past tense is appropriate. I don’t get around to so many parties of late.”



An ironic smile crooked the wounded man’s lips. “That makes two of us.”



“So what happened that night?” asked Rhys. “Start from the beginning.”



Faraday took a deep breath. “I went out to the East End for the boxing match, just like everyone else. Afterward, I happened to cross paths with Leo in the street. He called me over, and—”



“That’s not the way Miss Dunn tells it.”



“Miss Dunn?” Faraday folded his hands with a careful air of indifference. “Who is Miss Dunn?”



Bellamy gestured toward Cora. “Miss Cora Dunn, the prostitute who found you after the attack. The one you directed to transport Leo to my address.”



“Oh.” Faraday blinked at the girl with new interest. “So sorry, dear. I didn’t recognize you. It was dark that night.”



“She says you were the one who called out to Leo.”



“Really?” He worried the edge of his fingernail and shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps I did. Honestly, I don’t remember. I don’t see how it’s important.”



“If you’re lying to us,” Bellamy said, his voice a low threat, “that is important.”



“What did you and Leo discuss?” Rhys asked. “Cora says she heard arguing, shouting.”



“Oh, yes. Leo was vexed with me. You recall, I’d lost my Stud Club token to the Duke of Morland a few days earlier. Leo was angry with me for wagering it. He knew Morland was out to collect all ten and disband the Club, and he’d warned me not to play with him.”



“But you did.”



“I did. As I told Leo, I’d grown weary of his silly Club. With the likes of you two for members, it wasn’t fun anymore. And I don’t even breed horses.”



“What do you do with your time?” Bellamy asked contemptuously.



“Much the same as you, my friend. Spend money, when I have it. Perfect the art of leisure. Work at being very good at being good-for-nothing.”



“So,” said Rhys, “if that’s your life’s ambition, why have you come all the way out here to the edge of England?”



“I needed a place to convalesce. I’m my uncle’s heir, but for now I have no property of my own. This place came to mind. I once brought a sweet little blond here for a very pleasant summer holiday.” He swept Cora with a gaze that Rhys did not appreciate. “The rent’s cheap, and the servants are discreet.”



Giles entered the drawing room, carrying a tea service that rattled precariously on its tray. Cora accepted the duty of pouring and began to distribute cups of the steaming brew to each gentleman.



“Why the need for discretion?” Rhys asked him. “You were injured in a violent attack, and yet you fled the scene, leaving Leo in the care of a stranger. You left Town in secret, squirreled yourself away in this remote cottage, and never once attempted to have your attackers identified or brought to justice. Why?”



Bellamy snorted. “Because he’s hiding something, obviously.”



“Thank you, love.” After taking his cup from Cora, Faraday cautiously sipped his tea. “What would I be hiding?”



“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” said Bellamy, growing agitated.



“Tell us about the attack,” Rhys interrupted. “What exactly happened in that alley?”



“As I told you, Leo and I were having words about the tokens while Miss Dunn over there waited just round the bend. From the other end of the alley came two ruffians. We were taken unawares. Before we knew what was happening, they were upon us, slinging fists. We made our stab at defense, but the men were … large. And determined.”



“What else can you tell us about them?” Rhys asked.



“Cora said one was bald,” Bellamy said. “And the other …”



“Was Scottish, from the sounds of him,” the girl put in. “I’m almost certain of it.”



Rhys leaned to the edge of his chair. “Would you know them again, be able to identify them if they were caught?”



Faraday put his hands to his temples. “Honestly, once the beating started, I remember little. Bald or ginger, Irish or Scot, pug-nosed or six-fingered … I’ve no recollection. If I didn’t even recognize Miss Dunn, how would I know those brutes again? There was no time to get a proper look. They didn’t even go for our money before they started in on us.”



“Well, if they weren’t cut-purses, what were they after?”



A strange look crossed Faraday’s face. “Don’t you know?”



Rhys and Bellamy looked to one another, nonplussed.



“I’ll be damned. You truly don’t know.” Faraday rubbed his eyes for a long moment. Then he gave a throaty chuckle as he reached for a piece of shortbread. “You, Mr. Bellamy. They were after you.”



Chapter Twenty-five



Bellamy paled. “What the hell are you saying?” “I meant just what I said,” Faraday replied. “That attack was meant for you.”



Bellamy leapt from his chair. A teacup crashed to the floor, and Cora flinched.



“Easy, there.” Faraday quirked a brow at Rhys. “Your friend’s hotheaded, isn’t he?”



Raking both hands through his dark hair, Bellamy paced the room with agitation. Every few seconds, he punctuated his steps with a muttered oath.



Faraday watched him with a dispassionate gaze, leaning back in his chair. “You have to admit, it only makes sense. Everyone expected Leo to be with you that night, and the two of us share a strong resemblance. In the dark, we could easily be confused. The brutes weren’t after money, just blood.”



Rhys frowned. “Even from that, you can’t be sure—”



“Leo was sure.”



“What?” Bellamy stopped pacing.



“He said, ‘Tell Julian,’” Faraday said. He blinked a few times, cleared his throat. “Those were his last words to me. He said them twice, as a matter of fact. Clear as day. ‘Tell Julian.’ Why do you think I gave Miss Dunn your address?”



“Oh, Jesus.” Sinking his weight onto the windowsill, Bellamy put a hand to his eyes. “I knew it. I knew his death was my fault.” His voice broke. “How will I ever look Lily in the face again?”



Faraday said, “If you value her safety, you’d best stay clear of her entirely. Evidently, you’re a dangerous man to be around. Leo never did know how to choose his company. This is what happens when you start a club and open membership to just anyone.”