A Midsummer Night's Sin (11 page)

Regina nodded. “Like so many of them. Isn’t that strange? He’s quite insane and locked up somewhere. In any event, Aunt Claire has promised to help with my mother should she prove difficult, leaving me even greater freedom to assist you. You didn’t lie to me about that, did you? You’re really going to let me help?”

“Yes, even as I admit that the most overpowering reason for involving you this way is to keep you from involving yourself without me.”

She nodded soberly, agreeing with his reasoning. “What I don’t understand is why my father insisted the Runners be sent north. He made it painfully clear to me that first night that Miranda has been taken by strangers, and now he’s insisting she has eloped. He says it’s to ease my aunt and uncle’s fears, but what is that to the point, if everyone is now looking for Miranda in all the wrong places?”

Puck returned to the couch and sat down once more. He really did need to get to know Reginald Hackett better. “He might believe it would be worse for them if she was found. Or worse for you, in terms of the Marriage Mart.”

“Dead or ruined or both,” Regina said, nodding her head. “What are we going to do?”

For a moment he debated the wisdom of telling her about Jack but then decided against it. Most especially since Jack didn’t know about Regina. Jack didn’t share information easily, and what was good for the goose worked equally for the gander. They would meet if they had need to, if either of them discovered anything, and
that was enough: Jack hunting hard for the head, Puck searching for the tail. Between them, they might just be successful.

“We aren’t the only ones searching for Miranda, or at least they’re on the hunt for the men who took her and the others who’ve disappeared. However, we know when and where Miranda was taken, which gives us more information than may be available to the others. Are you amenable to returning to the scene of the abduction, Regina?”

“Really?
Now?
” She hopped to her feet, clearly more than up to the challenge. “How will we go about it? I mean, will I need to disguise my appearance?”

He stood up, as well. “Unfortunately, London isn’t Venice, and the accepted practice of wearing masks everywhere has fallen somewhat out of fashion even there. That bonnet you had on yesterday and keeping your head bowed or turned as often as possible will have to suffice until I can make other arrangements.”

“Other arrangements? You’ll forgive me if I ask what those are?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask that of my man, Gaston. He’s even now visiting a costumer near Covent Garden.”

She flashed one of her gorgeous smiles, but then it quickly vanished. “No! I will
not
enjoy any of this. Will we be sneaking out your back door?”

“That seems reasonable, yes,” he told her and extended his arm so that she took it as they headed toward
the entrance hall. “Did you remember to bring along the miniature you said you have of your cousin?”

“The locket? Yes, I did. It’s upstairs. Wait for me here.”

“I’d wait for you anywhere,” he drawled smoothly as he bowed to her, earning a quick laugh before he had the pleasure of watching her lift up her skirts and fairly race up the stairs.

Five minutes later, the brim on her bonnet doing an only fair job of concealing her features, they were in an unmarked coach and on their way to the site of Lady Fortesque’s masquerade ball.

R
EGINA PULLED BACK
the curtain, enough to see the large, rather ramshackle building they had just stopped in front of, and frowned. “Oh, goodness. I had no idea it was so…ordinary. It’s rather like a warehouse of some sort? And the neighborhood is not quite the best, is it?”

“Many things look better in the dark,” Puck told her as the footman opened the door and put down the steps. “Remember, keep your head averted or downcast as much as possible. And a handkerchief to your face probably wouldn’t come amiss.”

She did as he said and soon was deposited on the wet cobblestones, her heart pounding with excitement and not a little remembered fear. She removed the handkerchief to say something to him and then quickly replaced it when the smell of what could have been rotting fish assailed her nostrils. “Oh, I don’t remember
that,
either.”

Puck laughed and pointed to a building on the opposite side of the street. There were tables standing on the cobblestones in front of it, piled high with fish. “We were in the gardens, such as they are, on the opposite end of the building. All right,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Here we go.”

“Yes, here we go,” Regina repeated as they headed for the steps leading to the front door of the building. “Where are we going? There won’t be anyone still here since Friday night, will there?”

“The fellows working as servants at the ball are, in actuality, employed by the owner of this building, which I’ve learned serves any number of purposes. Gaming house…other words that end in
house
I won’t bore you with, I believe. One of the servants in particular, one Davy Tripp, was most helpful to me the other evening. I’ve also already taken it upon myself to learn that the employees sleep as well as work within the confines of this lovely establishment. Now tell me again— I’m brilliant, correct?”

“I was thinking you’re smug, actually,” Regina told him as he rapped on the door with the walking stick she hadn’t noticed in his possession until that moment. “Is that a swordstick? I’ve never seen a swordstick, but I have read about them.”

“It is,” he said quietly. “But perhaps you’ll allow me to postpone a demonstration of its finer qualities. I don’t think any of the gentlemen inside would be much amused.”

She shrugged. “Are you adept with it? You can at least tell me that.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t have to find out in the next five minutes.” Then he stepped rather in front of her as the door opened. “Ah, my good man. I am here to speak with one Davy Tripp, if you please.”

Regina peeked around Puck’s shoulder to see a
mountain of a man all but filling up the doorway. He had hands the size of hams, wore an enormous leather apron made shiny with fish scales around his middle, and his face appeared to have been used as an anvil, repeatedly. His features were all but
smeared
across his large, round face, and he had no more than three hairs on his shiny, bald head. If she had been the sort to make up imaginary monsters for her children one day, she couldn’t do much better than to recount the man standing in front of her and Puck now.

And then the man spoke. His voice was higher than hers and quite thin.

She almost giggled.

“Davy, you say? Went off out back jist now with some other gentry mort what promised ’im a pot o’ blunt fer doin’ nuthin’ but talkin’ ta ’im. Davy, what don’t know nuthin’. Yer wants ter talk, mate? That there Davy gots all the luck. I kin talk. Say anythin’ yer like ter hear, sing yer a ditty or two iffen yer like. If yer show me some silver.”

Puck grabbed Regina’s hand. “Come on!” he commanded tersely. He’d just thrown a coin down the steps, which was as good as tossing a marrowbone and not having to order the dog to
fetch.
The very large man with the strangely tiny voice bolted past them both in pursuit of the coin, and Puck and Regina were inside the building, running toward the bank of doors she vaguely remembered dancing through with Puck two short nights ago.

“What’s wrong?” she managed as she did her best to keep up with him. “Puck?”

“No time. Just keep running. No, not fast enough. Don’t stop. Follow me!” He let go of her hand and ran ahead, his long legs quickly eating up the distance, even as suddenly he was holding something shining and thin and deadly-looking in his left hand. The dozen or more men milling about in the empty hall or idly standing over their brooms all turned to watch, none of them paying the least attention to the lone female in their midst.

Then, as if at some secret signal, they all turned as one and ran after Puck.

By the time Regina reached the doorway, a hand held to her side, pressed against the stabbing sensation that had overtaken her, she had to fight her way through the throng to reach the gardens.

“Puck!”

He was down on one knee beside someone who was prone on the path and in the process of returning the swordstick to its place of concealment.

“‘Better three hours too soon, than one minute too late,’” he said, rising to his feet as she raced toward him.

She looked down at the young man. He looked up at her, his eyes wide as saucers, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he had been the one to have just run the full length of a very large building and not while wearing his most comfortable shoes. “What?” she asked distractedly. “What did you just say?”

“Only some remembered Shakespeare.
The Merry Wives of Windsor,
in point of fact, not that it matters. Forgive me for running ahead of you, Regina. He’s all right, only a tad flummoxed by all this attention. Aren’t you, Davy? Here, take my hand and stand up now. The bad man is gone.”

“There was a bad man?” Regina clapped her hands to her chest. “Oh, God. There was a bad man?
Really?
Did you—did you stick him?”

“Would you have liked it if I had? That may color my answer.”

She turned her most heated look on him. He seemed happy. How dare he seem happy? “I don’t find any of this to be the slightest bit amusing, Robin Goodfellow.”

“And Davy here probably agrees with you, don’t you, Davy?”

The boy—he really was little more than a boy—nodded his head up and down several times, with some feeling.

“And now, Davy would very much appreciate coming with us. Wouldn’t you, Davy?”

The boy nodded again but then looked at the swordstick that was simply an innocent walking stick once more. He attempted to turn on his heels and bolt, but Puck was too fast for him.

“Ah-ah, you don’t want to do that. Only think, Davy. The bad man. He wasn’t quite finished with you, was he?”

Davy lifted a dirty hand and lightly touched his cheek, which, Regina noticed, was beginning to turn a
very angry purple. “I’m guessin’ I’ll be goin’ with you, guv.”

“He hit you? The bad— I mean, the person hit you? Why?”

“Not here, Regina. I count roughly a dozen interested parties in the vicinity, which is twenty-four ears too many.”

“Oh,” she said, remembering their audience. “We should go somewhere else, shouldn’t we?”

“What a splendid idea,” Puck said brightly, and suddenly she longed to box his two ears.

But she took the arm he offered her as, with Davy following closely behind, they made their way back inside the building, taking their time as they traversed the length of it. Puck had whispered to her that he did not wish them to appear as less than confident, which running for the coach would most certainly do. And he nonchalantly twirled his sword cane once or twice, in case anyone had forgotten its existence.

At some point he’d tucked the sword cane beneath his arm, and now he was using his free hand to flick some imaginary dust from his lapel. Anyone would think he wasn’t paying the least attention to the men following after them, but Regina felt certain that he knew exactly how far away the closest man was, and that the man knew that, as well.

Puck confirmed her suspicion with his next words. “Don’t look back, love. You would make a charming pillar of salt, but I much prefer you the way you are.”

“I understand. We’ll chat, shall we? As if we’re
taking a stroll in the park. I’ll start. How did you know?” she asked him.

“How did I know what?”

“Don’t be obtuse,” she said, but quietly, as the building that had been so overcrowded with palm trees and couches and screens was now home only to echoes of everyone’s footsteps. “How did you know that Davy was in trouble?”

Puck tipped his hat to the very large man with the very tiny voice as they regained the street, and he helped her back into the coach. “I didn’t. But as there were only two options open to me, one inevitable at some point, the other perhaps much more unpleasant for our new friend here, I decided that thinking the worst might be in Davy’s best interest. Oh no. No, no, no, Davy. Delighted as I am to renew our acquaintance of the other evening, I believe you and your unique fragrance might best be served by sitting up on the box with my coachman. There’s a good fellow. Anders here will assist you, won’t you, Anders.”

The young man pulled at his rather greasy forelock and allowed himself to be led away by the footman.

Regina then waited until Puck had settled himself beside her and the coach was once more set in motion before she asked her next question. “You said you had two options open to you. One inevitable, the other much more unpleasant for Davy.”

“I did? No, I’m sorry. I think you’re mistaken.”

She put a hand on his forearm and squeezed her fingers. “Puck, by all that is reasonable, I should be
collapsed in strong hysterics right now, and I am still considering
my
options in the matter, so don’t try to fob me off as if I didn’t hear what I heard.”

He looked down at her hand and then straight into her eyes. “I only thought we’d speak with our friend Davy, and that he could take a look at that miniature you brought with you. But I shouldn’t have brought you. I should have delivered you to Grosvenor Square to keep you safe from yourself, yes, but then I should have tied you to the bedpost with a stout rope and not let you out of the house until your cousin was recovered.”

“Because of what happened back there?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “No. Because the weather remains rather damp, and I wouldn’t wish for you to take a chill.”

She let go of his hand and turned to face forward on the seat once more. “If you don’t wish to answer my perfectly reasonable question, then don’t. There’s no need to be snide.”

“Snide? Me? Or are you going to tell me that you enjoyed yourself back there?”

Her bottom lip began to tremble, and she hated herself for such weakness. “I was frightened straight down to my shoe tops. I didn’t know what was happening. I still don’t!”

He lifted his left arm and placed it around her shoulders, pulling her closer against him. “Very well, then. The truth. It is odd enough for one
gentry cove
to come looking for someone like Davy Tripp and even more
odd for the boy to have two visitors in the same day. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Regina said, enjoying the way Puck was idly stroking her upper arm as he spoke. He’d held the swordstick in his left hand. He was left-handed. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever met another left-handed person. He touched her as if he’d been touching her forever, as if touching her was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing. She certainly felt
natural,
being touched by him. And only two days ago she hadn’t even met him. Life was so strange.

“Good. Ergo, as we had come looking for information, it would be reasonable to believe that the other visitor had come on the same mission.”

“And again, agreed,” she said, snuggling a little closer.

“Ah, just the way I like my females. Agreeable. Ouch! Has anyone ever told you that you have very sharp elbows?”

“I also have my hat pin. You could move along a little faster, Puck. I think I can keep up.”

“You’re probably already leagues ahead of me. All right. About those options of mine. The first could have been that someone not quite as congenial as ourselves had come to speak with Davy, or even to assure himself that friend Davy never spoke again to anyone.”

“I saw the bruise on his cheek. Someone hit him.”

“
Someone
had been in the act of sticking a knife into our new friend’s middle when I joined the party, as it were. My blade diverted his.”

“Oh,” Regina said, suddenly not quite so comfortable as she’d been a moment earlier. “Yes,
oh.
Unfortunately, our Mr. Tripp, grateful in the extreme for my timely intervention, immediately clapped his arms about my legs, and the bad man made good his escape. The bruise you noticed on Davy’s cheek is a result of me, attempting to kick free of him. It wasn’t poetry, none of it, and I’m rather glad you weren’t there to witness my supposed heroics.”

“You rescued him, and then you
kicked
him?” Regina’s bottom lip trembled again, this time not with the effort to keep back tears, but laughter. “Oh, Puck.”

“Not my finest hour, I know. Now, before you ask again, my other option as I ran to the rescue was that I would be rescuing Davy from my brother. Jack.”

Regina shook her head. “No. I don’t understand.”

“Don’t let it vex you. Nobody understands Jack,” Puck said as the coach stopped in the mews behind the mansion. “Handkerchief to your face again, if you please, as we dash in through the kitchens.”

She did as he said, running ahead of him as he lingered to give orders to someone concerning Davy Tripp.

He rejoined her in the drawing room within minutes and went immediately to the drinks table to pour himself a glass of wine. “Wadsworth is seeing to lemonade for you. And some cakes or cookies of some sort.”

Regina looked longingly at the wineglass now in Puck’s hand. She’d had a fright. A most terrible fright. Having survived it, she did not believe lemonade was
quite up to soothing her still raw nerves. But then she remembered the sweet, honeyed brew she’d so enjoyed the other evening at the masquerade, and decided that strong drink might be her mother’s
companion,
but she did not wish to make it hers. “Thank you.”