Her Wanton Wager (36 page)

The Hartefords stood side by side: Nicholas large and unyielding, Helena petite and concerned. And Percy knew any further argument would prove futile. When it came to unraveling the secrets of Gavin's past, she would have no further help from this corner; she would have to venture forth on her own.

"Nick, if I agree to this, will you promise me one thing?" she asked.

"What is it?"

"Please don't hurt Gavin," she said.

"If Mr. Hunt attacks, my husband has no choice but to defend himself," Helena said, an edge to her tone. "Surely you don't want to see Harteford hurt."

"Of course not." Percy bit her lip. "But I don't want to see
anyone
hurt."

"I have no desire to harm Hunt. I've done him enough wrong already," Nicholas said quietly. "My hope is to find some way to make amends—if he will accept."

That was something, at least.

"Thank you." Hearing the summons of Lisbett's supper bell, Percy sighed. "We best go in before she comes after us with the rolling pin."

She headed back to the house. At the edge of the garden, she paused; the other two had not followed. They were still standing there, surrounded by roses and sunshine. As she watched, Nicholas pulled his lady close, and a moment later buried his face in her hair. Helena appeared to be murmuring to him, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Percy swallowed, feeling a pang of guilt for Nicholas' pain. Yet she knew Gavin was suffering, too, and she longed to be a comfort to him the way Helena was to Nick. So much was at stake—the lives of everyone she loved. She had to find a way to put an end to this. She had to ... but how?

THIRTY-FIVE

"Bloody Christ!" Gavin choked out curses as an icy wave towed him into wakefulness. He bolted upright, frigid water dripping down his face; his mind struggled to surface from a sea of spirits. He was sitting on a settee in his office. Two small faces peered down at him. Davey, Alfie … and the latter had an empty bucket in hand.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Gavin growled, swiping water off his face.

"We 'ad to talk to you, and there weren't no other way to get you up," Alfie said. "You've been drunker than a sailor on 'is first leave."

Snatching the towel Davey held out, Gavin mopped irritably at his face. "I said I wasn't to be disturbed." Memories returned, and his gut clenched in pain.

Stewart's ... gone. Percy, too.

"Trust me, you'll want to 'ear this. But you'll need this first." Alfie passed him a cup. "'Tis my ma's old recipe—made it e'vry mornin' for 'er 'til the day she cocked 'er toes up."

Gavin eyed the greenish sludge. What did he have to lose? He gulped it down, and the most potent hair of the dog he'd ever had blasted through him.

He coughed. "What news do you have, Alfie?"

"First off, they fished Finian O'Brien from the Thames this mornin'. Soon thereafter, 'is brother went runnin' for the hills."  

Christ.
The news was as sobering as Alfie's concoction. "Do they know who did it?"

Alfie gave him a wry look. "There ain't many culprits left, I reckon."

The urchin reckoned right. "Kingsley," Gavin said grimly.

Alfie looked at Davey. For some reason, the latter shook his head, his face pulling taut with fear. Alfie nudged him none too gently with an elbow. "Go on, Davey. Tell 'im what you told me." When Davey continued to stand there mutely, Alfie snarled, "Tell the man or I will."

A tremor passed over the boy's narrow shoulders. "I ... I'm sorry, Mr. Hunt," he blurted. "I han't been straight with you. And you've been good to me."

"What is it, Davey?" Gavin said.

"I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was afraid. After what 'appened to Mr. Stewart ..." As Gavin's insides twisted, the boy lowered his unruly head, his voice emerging as a whisper. "I can't 'ide any longer. 'Tis my fault. I was sent 'ere to spy on you."

A chill gripped Gavin's nape. "By who?"

Fear dilated Davey's pupils. "The gent 'as information on my brother, Mr. Hunt. 'E said 'e'd 'ave Eddie tossed in Newgate if I didn't do what 'e said."

"Who, Davey?" Gavin rose.

The boy let out a shuddery breath. "Mr. Magnus."

Magnus.
With a fresh stab of grief, Gavin recalled Stewart's distrust of the old man. "What have you reported to Magnus thus far?"

Davey's face flamed, and even his oversized ears turned scarlet. "I've told 'im bits an' pieces that I overheard. I—I figured out your secret corridor, an' I've been usin' it ..."

"To eavesdrop," Gavin said brusquely. "I get it. Now tell me exactly what you've told Magnus."

"I told 'im about Mr. Kingsley's visit and 'ow you turned 'im down. And once I 'eard you and Mr. Stewart ..." The boy trailed off, his lip wobbling.

"Go on," Gavin said.

"I 'eard you and 'im talkin' 'bout your past. 'Bout the hulks and the flash house owned by some fellow named Grimes. And 'ow you planned to get your revenge on Nicholas Morgan ..."

Gavin's head throbbed as the boy continued to mumble out details. Bloody hell, Davey's ears were clearly more than just for show. The question was why Magnus wanted all this information ... and how the bastard planned to use it against Gavin.

" ...  and I also told 'im about Miss Fines," Davey said, his eyes filled with misery.

Gavin pulse thudded faster. "What did you say about her?"

"Magnus asked me all sorts o' questions. And I answered 'em." Tears spilled down the boy's cheeks, and he dashed them away with his knuckles. "I didn't want to. She was nice to me, but he said my brother would swing from the gallows if I didn't tell 'im everything."

"
What did you say about her?
" Before he realized what he was doing, he had Davey by the arms; the boy's frail muscles trembled in his grasp.

"I told him ..." The boy shut his eyes. "I said you was in love with 'er. I said you'd do anything for 'er, only you tried to 'ide it."

The boy's words held a mirror up to Gavin's soul. The reflection dazzled him. Of course he loved her. Loved her more than anything. Her soft pleas rang in his head.
We can be happy, I know we can ... Prove that you love me as much as I love you.
Even with the truth of his revenge revealed, she'd been willing to give him a chance.

And like a fool, he'd run her off. He'd been so torn up that night ... so confused ... he'd hadn't been able to sort past from present. To act as he should have.

Another realization assailed Gavin. Something Fines had said about the assailants.
Said you'd been keeping company with a pretty miss who could be my twin ... said her name was Persephone.
Had Magnus been behind that attack?
If Magnus had identified Percy as the weak link in Gavin's armor, then the old whoreson would not hesitate to strike out again—at
her
.

"Please sir, don't 'urt me."

Davey's whimper reached through Gavin's panic. He released his grip, shoving the boy aside. He ran for the door.

"Where are you off to, Hunt?" Alfie called. "What should I do wif Davey?"

He didn't stop to look back. "Keep him here. We'll figure out the business with his brother later. Right now, I've got to find Percy."

*****

Percy studied Mr. Kent from across the carriage. Dressed in dark, well-worn garments that hung from his rangy frame, the investigator looked a bit like a scarecrow. Yet his pale eyes had an intelligent gleam, and his thin features an air of sadness that made her wonder about his life's journey. At any rate, she couldn't blame Mr. Kent for following her around like a terrier; he was merely doing his job.

"I am sorry to inconvenience you for naught, sir," she said.

Somber eyes studied her. She was certain she'd never seen Ambrose Kent crack a smile. "'Tis no inconvenience, Miss Fines," he said.

"You must have better things to do. Criminals to apprehend, ships to search, that sort of thing." She wrinkled her nose. "I can't imagine that the Thames River Police typically concerns itself with the errands of a middling class miss."

"The Thames River Police owes much to the patronage of the Marquess of Harteford," Kent said simply.

Ergo, Nick's orders were to be followed. Which meant she had better get used to having an escort. Sighing, she brushed her fingers against the brooch Gavin had given her; she'd pinned it next to her heart, wanting to keep him close as she fought for their future. She cast the policeman a considering glance; perhaps she could turn the situation to her advantage.

"Mr. Kent, might I solicit your advice on a matter?"  

Though he looked surprised at her request, the policeman nodded.

"I'm wondering how one might locate the whereabouts of a criminal," she said.

Mr. Kent's brows climbed. "Are you indeed?"

"It's for my novel," she improvised. "One of the characters is, um, a detective. And he needs to search out a villain from the past."

"Ah," Mr. Kent said.

"Now the detective doesn't know the villain's name, and he is working from a single clue." Percy paused. "The man he is looking for has a missing eye."

"Physical characteristics are helpful in a search. How long ago was the suspect last seen?"

She hazarded a guess. "Fifteen years, perhaps twenty?"

"Hmm. Then I'd suggest ..."

"Yes?" She bent forward.

"That your character leave the job to the professionals." Mr. Kent aimed a stern look at her. "His lordship is having the matter of Jack Spades investigated, and the last thing he needs is your interference."

Percy heaved a sigh. "If you knew all along, why did you let me go on?"

For the first time, she saw the policeman smile. The crooked grin transformed his worn features, giving him a raffish charm. "Because your tale was quite entertaining. You really should write a novel, you know."

Soon thereafter, they arrived at Hatchard's. Mr. Kent entered the premises first, signaling a pair of his men to flank the door. He surveyed the bookstore with the same vigilance he might use at the docks or in the stews.

"I am going to browse around, and there's no use following me through the stacks as they're quite narrow," Percy said. "Perhaps you'd care to wait for me at an assigned place?"

His alert gaze scanned the environs. Finally, he nodded to the fireplace, the central point of the store. "I'll be here if you need me, Miss Fines."

Feeling like a bird freed from its cage, Percy escaped into the shelves. She perused her way though sections of history and poetry before winding her way to the back of the store where the novels were housed. She caught Mr. Kent glancing her way and waved at him before wandering off the main aisle into a row of shelves. Selecting a new volume by one of her favorite authors, she was flipping through the pages when she felt a tug on her arm.

Looking down, she saw an urchin, no more than five or six, peering up at her.

"Are you Miss Fines?"

Her pulse sped up. "Yes, I am."

"I've somethin' for you, then." He shoved a note at her; before she could ask him a question or even hand him a coin, he scampered off down the row.

She broke the wax seal.

My dearest love, I must see you again. There is much I need to say to you and know that I will do whatever is required to make things right. I am waiting for you outside the back entrance—please don't make me wait in vain, my darling.

-H

Her heart flip-flopped in her chest.
Whatever is required to make things right.
Could Gavin be saying that he meant to give up his revenge for her? Was he capable of changing after all? More to the point: after all she'd been through, was she willing to risk her pride and heart again for a man like Gavin Hunt?

A thousand times, yes.

Peering down the main aisle, she saw that Mr. Kent remained in position. He nodded at her, and she fluttered her fingers back before returning behind the shelves. She looked to the opposite end of her row: the back door, less than a dozen yards away. She could see Gavin in moments, possibly without Mr. Kent finding out. And if Gavin was proposing what she hoped, they wouldn't need to meet in secret any longer.

Giddy with excitement, she made her decision and walked steadily toward the door. She brushed by another patron who gave her an annoyed look, but she continued on. She saw that the door had a lock on it, but the knob turned easily in her hand. She opened it and slipped through.

Despite the early time of day, the alleyway wavered with shadows from the tall abutting buildings. Her heart leapt as she saw the dark-clothed figure standing a few feet away. His broad shoulders were turned away from her, his head obscured by his hat.

Softly, she said, "Gavin?"

He turned.

"Oh, I—I'm sorry," she stammered. "I thought you were someone else."

Though the stranger was handsome, his smile raised the hairs on her nape. "You're prettier than I thought you'd be, Miss Fines. No wonder Hunt's been in a constant state of rut. You'll come in handy, I'm sure."

She backed away, only to bump against a solid, burly form. A cloth covered her mouth, muffling her scream. A sweet, pungent smell filled her nostrils, and she knew no more.   

THIRTY-SIX

Gavin kicked the door open. "Where the hell is she, Morgan?"

The group of men sitting around the long table stared at him. Behind him, the bespectacled idiot who'd tried to bar his way into Morgan's office yapped like an irate dog. "My apologies, my lord. I tried to stop this person, but he would not listen. Shall I have him removed from the premises?"

"I'd like to see you try," Gavin said, baring his teeth.

"Never mind, Jibotts." Morgan rose to his feet. Turning to the group at the table, he said curtly, "The meeting is adjourned for now. I'll expect the shipping reports on my desk tomorrow morning."

After a chorus of
Yes, m'lord
, the toadying fools took off.

Old four-eyes, however, hovered protectively at the doorway. "My lord, I can have the magistrate summoned—"