Mistress at Midnight (11 page)

‘He’s left the papers, then.’ Stephen’s words were tinged with the accent of the same slums.

‘I need the words first. The ones you’d know to say.’

‘Angliae notitia.’

A lamp flared and the corners of the modest room were bathed in light. A woman sat to one side on a small stool with a baby asleep on her lap.

‘Not a peep, mind, to anyone. If you talk, me wife and I
,
we’re as good as gone.’

‘I understand.’ Hawk brought the coins from his pocket, the profile of the Queen etched in bronze. ‘There’s more where this came from if you have anything else.’ A flash of greed told him that the red-haired man probably did. Settling back, he crossed his legs in front of him. Experience had taught him patience in any negotiation and the art of biding his time. Information gathering had its own set of intricate rules, after all, and the first of them was to feign indifference.

‘The one they call Delsarte and his cronies have been hanging around the warehouse. I ain’t seen the woman do nothing with them, though. She just goes late back to that fancy home of hers up in Mayfair when she has finished and returns in the morning. As early as sin, I should say.’

‘Have you ever seen her talking with them?’

‘No.’

Stephen’s glance went to the girl sitting to one side, but her eyes were cast downwards.

‘There is something that I heard Delsarte say…’ Stopping, he waited for a timely reminder and Hawk handed him another handful
of coins. ‘He said that he was going to Paris and that there was more money in it than this business could provide him with. Then the rain came down heavy so’s that I couldn’t listen no more. The woman he was talking to was from Mother Spence’s place down Katherine Lane. A big dark-haired girl with patches, rouge and a long scar down her forearm. She might know more if ye asked her, though ye’d have to be careful as she was hanging on to him like he was a gift or something.’

‘Did you get into the warehouse to look over the files?’

‘No, not a chance to. The dog stops you when there’s no one in. A big monster of a hound that lets everyone know he’s there. I heard them mention a boat, though, last week, when I was following them home from the Black Boar. The
Meridian
. I checked and she’s in at St Katherine’s Dock.’

‘You’ve done well.’ Standing, Stephen placed a silver shilling on the table before him. ‘For the babe,’ he said as he collected his hat and left.

Nathaniel Lindsay was waiting for him in his library when he returned after eleven
o’clock, and he had already finished a large amount of his best bottle of whisky.

‘You are still at the game, then?’ His eyes passed over the homespun as Stephen took off the woollen overcoat and hat.

‘If you come uninvited, you have to take what is here without comment, Nat.’ Finding a glass, Hawk poured himself a generous drink, pausing to enjoy the smooth taste of the golden liquid.

‘Cassie sent me.’

‘Why?’

‘She thinks you need a talking to over your choice of women.’

‘I thought your wife approved of Elizabeth Berkeley?’

Laughter echoed around the room. ‘You would devour everything about that poor chit within a year, Stephen, and curse yourself for doing so.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Women are like this whisky, my friend. Find a full-bodied and complicated brew and it will suit you for ever. It worked for both Luc and me.’

The words fell into the silent warmth of the library, soft harbingers of persuasion.
‘You are saying that the basis for a good marriage is a complicated woman?’

Nathaniel’s hands flailed in the air. ‘I am saying that I am worried about you, Stephen. All this…disguise and deception. It is making you sadder than you need to be.’ He paused for a second before carrying on. ‘Remember when your parents died and we were at school? How old were we then? You and Luc and I?’

‘Thirteen.’

‘Thirteen. And we said that we would always be family from then on. We made a promise cut into the skin at our wrists.’ Pulling up the sleeve on his arm, he traced one finger over a thin white line. ‘I pressed too hard and ended up in the clinic and you slept on the floor beside me for a week. I think if you had not been there holding my hand in the cold of the night I wouldn’t have survived. Now it is my turn to make certain that you survive.’

With a frown Stephen looked down at his own hands, the nails filled with dirt from where he had scraped them along the earth on the driveway before his foray into the dark alleys off St Katherine’s Row. Placing
his drink down, he stood, walking to the window to look out into the darkness.

‘I have already told Shavvon I am leaving.’

‘When?’

‘After this…case.’

‘Your brother would be pleased were he still here.’

‘Considering he died for the same cause that I am quitting, I highly doubt it.’ The ferocity of the words surprised Hawk.

‘Which is the sole reason that you have stayed in for so long. Daniel was killed because he didn’t listen to reason just as you are not doing now.’

‘No. He died because I didn’t protect him.’

‘You took a bullet in the thigh and spent a good portion of that summer in a coma and have limped ever since, for God’s sake. Your brother died because neither he nor you could outrun bullets fired by a crazy Frenchman with little in the way of integrity. You did your best to save him, Hawk, and you have paid the price in pain ever since. It’s time to let it go, let it all go and find the life Daniel was never able to live. It would not be a betrayal.’

Betrayal?

Life in the British Service had in effect once saved him, giving purpose and family to two young boys left without either. With their parents gone, Daniel and he had been rudderless until the steady sure hand of responsibility and duty had guided them on to a path which was significant and worthy. Such initial fealty now caused Hawk’s conscience to burn, yet beneath, another need blazed brighter.

Aye, betrayal came in many forms.

That thought made Stephen look up. If he didn’t change, he would die. Soon. Like his brother, disappearing into the hazy and shadowed world of espionage.

Today in the company of Aurelia St Harlow he had been honest, a chance taken without thought of recompense or reprisals. He had told her exactly what he thought lay between them and he had seen the answering flicker in her eyes—an unconstrained candour budding like green leaves from a bare and frozen branch in the first days of spring. New life. New hope in the peace of truth.

Outside, a shooting star fell from the heavens and for the first time since Stephen was a child he took a moment to wish upon it.

When he called upon Nat and Cassie two days later Aurelia St Harlow and her sister Leonora Beauchamp were ensconced in the small blue downstairs salon with Cassandra and her oldest sister, Maureen. Lady Delamont, the St Auburns’ London neighbour, was also in attendance, a surprising fact given that Aurelia’s reputation was hardly salubrious.

‘Stephen.’ Cassie crossed the room and drew him in before he could escape. ‘Nathaniel said you might drop by and he instructed me to keep you here until he returned. Something about “a full and bodied brew”, he said, though goodness only knows what that might mean. You know Lady Delamont, of course, and you remember Mrs St Harlow and her sister Leonora Beauchamp from your ball the other evening. Maureen is up for a week to stay with me, too.’

‘Good afternoon, ladies.’

Leonora smiled at him and moved over, giving Stephen no choice but to find a seat in the middle of the sisters. Aurelia did not look at him.

‘I’m glad you have returned early from
your journey north, Hawk,’ Cassie said, with the vestige of a question.

Lady Delamont laughed and joined in the conversation. ‘Lady Berkeley will be pleased, Hawk. The youngest Berkeley daughter is hoping to snare a husband before too long, I hear, and your name is amongst the mooted candidates for a dinner she has planned. A nice gal, Elizabeth, with good manners and a pleasing conversation. She will make someone a loyal and malleable wife.’

Somehow the words did not sound like praise and, chancing a quick look at Aurelia, Stephen saw how her hands had tightened on the velvet reticule in her lap.

‘Oh, Hawk’s name is on all the lists, Deborah.’ Cassandra swatted away the gossip easily and began to speak instead of the gowns she had particularly noticed at his ball. In the ensuing chatter Stephen was able to turn and speak privately to Aurelia for the first time. Today her hair had been tightly plaited so that the redness looked darker. A small pin embellished with a ceramic flower sat above her ear.

‘For a woman on society’s blacklist, you
seem to be garnering a good number of invitations.’

Deliberation laced a small anger. ‘As soon as my sisters are paired off I am certain I shan’t get another one, my lord.’

‘If you throw off the black shroud you might be surprised, Mrs St Harlow. The swatch of scarlet I saw you holding the other day, for example, would suit you admirably.’

The look on her face was dubious. ‘Red against red, my lord?’

‘Too tempting?’ Stephen enjoyed the glint of confusion in her unusual eyes and, stretching out, he allowed his thigh to touch hers. She moved back as though she had been burned, leaving as much space between them as was possible, her left side plastered tightly against the armrest.

Her reaction was ridiculous. She knew that it was, but it was as though her body almost sizzled when he touched her. Please God that he might not have perceived her response, that he might not have noticed.

‘Your father is looking well, Mrs St Harlow.’ Lady Delamont leant across and spoke loudly. ‘I always thought it a great pity when your mother left him. Sylvienne was very
like you to look at, my dear, with her red hair and that quiet air of caution. I hear she lives in Paris now?’

‘She does.’

‘Surrounded by luxury and various beaus, no doubt? She had every eligible suitor in London after her in the Season, an original with a brain to match. Do give her my regards next time you see her.’

‘I shall indeed, my lady.’

Aurelia’s smile felt as artificial as her words. the last time she had visited Mama, Sylvienne had clung to her like a child needing comfort, the high price of her numerous lovers scrawled in heavy payment across her face. Abandoned by society. When she had asked after Papa the undercurrents of regret could be clearly heard in her question.

Perhaps she and her mother were more alike than she thought. Her mama had chosen to leave the right man and she had chosen to stay with the wrong one.

Unlucky in love
.

The tiny phrase clung in her mind and Aurelia took in breath. She could not afford to let her guard down and Stephen Hawkhurst wasn’t a man to be played with. He was dangerous and powerful and menacing. Even
here, sitting still amongst a group of women she was aware of a thrumming authority, a man who had fought in wars and lived.

Aye, survival had a certain note of guilt that isolated one and made mockery of small concerns. It also brought a sadness that was palpable and haunting, the vestige of dark things that were never spoken of again.

Leonora’s laughter dragged her from her thoughts.

‘I should love to come, Lady Delamont, and I am certain my sister would, too.’ Aurelia’s heart sank. ‘A masked ball, Lia. What could be more exciting?’

‘The more, the merrier, Mrs St Harlow,’ the old lady continued, ‘and I have a roomful of masks collected over the years. If you should like to choose one with your sister I would be very pleased, for my late husband was a man who had a bent towards the absurd.’

‘I have already chosen Nat’s mask, Hawk.’

Aurelia heard the humour in Cassandra Lindsay’s voice even as Hawk shifted in his seat. He did not look like a man who would enjoy a masked ball at all.

‘Your husband used to favour these sorts of occasions, Mrs St Harlow.’ Cassandra’s
sister spoke for the first time, her smile so sweet Aurelia knew she could not have meant insult.

‘Indeed, it seems that Charles enjoyed anything that was underpinned with joviality.’ At least Hawkhurst did not make the words sound like a compliment, which gave Aurelia a certain satisfaction.

Joviality
. Her world spun for a moment as she was thrust back into her past, clinging to the hope that the man she had married might disappear into the air like a wisp of smoke.

Foolish, foolish choice.

The wedding band on her finger seemed to tighten of its own accord, like a noose, an uncompromising punishment that would always be with her.

She wished she was home, in her bedroom and away from the prying eyes of others, the talk of masked balls and happy times so very far away from all that she had known.

And endured.

‘I hope none of your other sisters have caught your father’s illness?’ Cassandra Lindsay commented and Aurelia shook her head. To say more under the circumstances would be more than deceitful given Hawk’s knowledge of the whole conundrum. Even
Leonora looked a little abashed and there was an awkward silence that was filled as Lady Delamont sought advice about a certain plant for her garden which she had been unable to find.

The conversation gave Aurelia a little time to regather her wits and squash down a rising panic. The tension emanating from Lord Hawkhurst next to her was almost palpable and she was pleased when Cassandra’s husband appeared at the door.

Hawkhurst stood immediately, giving Aurelia the impression that his desire to be gone was almost as great as her own, and when he gave his farewells he did not look in her direction once.

With Stephen Hawkhurst departed, however, that particular sense of excitement disappeared with him and, looking at the clock in the corner of the room, Aurelia wondered just how many minutes would need to pass before she could leave, as well.

Chapter Nine

A
urelia took a letter to the hospital the next morning, the missive concealed in her reticule under other papers and a wide silk scarf. ‘The last time,’ she said to herself. This would be the last time she took such chances.