Reckless Rules (Brambridge Novel 4) (11 page)

At least someone was happy. Bill pushed back his chair and winced as a snare drum fell off the pile of military regalia that adorned the edge of the room. Freddie’s collecting was getting out of hand. He shouldn’t complain. Freddie had been generosity in itself in housing the injured men.

Why hadn’t Bill foreseen that this would happen? He had sent his men out untrained. He knew what they were like, inside and out. Yes he trusted them, but he trusted them in a forge with hot metal. He had had no idea what they were like at spying. He certainly knew that Percy was a complainer, but that was alright so long as one knew that was what he was like. He was notorious in Brambridge and was dismissed with a wink and laugh which he took in good part. Sometimes Percy was right, sometimes he was not, but he didn’t realize that there was a time and a place for it.

Bill covered his eyes with his hands and took a deep breath. He had failed. He was going to fail. He wasn’t going to find Pedro.

“I wasn’t aware that I was that much of a sight that you had to cover your eyes when I entered the room.”

Bill started as the crisp and distinctly female voice assaulted his ear drums. He smiled broadly. It was the first time that
she
had come to
him
. A sign perhaps that the softly, softly approach was working? Victoria, he rolled in his mouth. His savior perhaps—although she didn’t know it.

“That is my name, Mr. Standish, although I would stand you to not be so familiar with it.”

Bedamn, but she was still a prickly one. Bill uncovered his eyes. He hadn’t realized that he had said her name out loud. The stresses of the morning had unraveled his faculties. He coughed. “Lady Colchester.”

Victoria smiled and stood inside the doorway. “Much better, Mr. Standish.”

“So you have come to your senses, have you?” Bill stood and pulled out a chair for Victoria. She made no move towards sitting down.

“I have always had my senses.”

“But you have finally decided…”

“What I have decided is…” Victoria stopped. Bill held his breath. “What I have decided, Mr. Standish, is that I have a proposition for you.”

Bill blinked. A proposition for him? He looked at Victoria more closely. Her normally porcelain complexion was even whiter than usual, covered by a much heavier layer of powder. The usually immaculate curls were pulled more loosely around her face. She wore no gloves. To the unfamiliar eye she would still have looked normal. But he had watched her—he knew all about her. Something was
wrong
. He stood up to escort her to the seat.

“What kind of a proposition?” he asked gently.

She still made no move towards him, instead taking a deep breath that caused her body to ripple inside the dress that she wore. Bill closed his eyes and bit back an oath. Why did she of all women affect him in this way? He only wanted her hand in marriage. Nothing else.

“I want some of your treatment,” Victoria said in a small voice as Bill approached her. She shrank back against the wall. It was as unlike Victoria as Bill had ever seen. This petite woman who normally commanded an enormous presence, with eyes of untapped ice. Now she seemed as fragile as Dresden pottery.

“Treatment?”

“Don’t make me say it again, Bill. Of course
treatment
. Don’t you think I’m embarrassed enough as it is?”

Bill groaned as a small tear collected at the edge of Victoria’s eye. He couldn’t help himself. He took one of Victoria’s limp hands in his and drew her to him, melding her unresisting body to his. He smoothed back the rumpled curls, and with an unhesitating motion, kissed the tear as it threatened to fall. It tasted salty, but yet so sweet.

Victoria gasped, her body still limp beneath his arm.

As if drawn by a magnetic force, Bill swooped on her partially opened mouth and feathered it with small kisses. Victoria’s head fell backwards, exposing the milky white beneath her chin. Bill dropped his head into the turn of her jaw and inhaled.

He brought his head back up, the bridge of his nose brushing her jaw gently. As he breathed out, Victoria shivered. She leaned back on his arm. With his free hand, he brushed lightly at her collarbone, tracing the fine angles that disappeared into her dress. She took a deep breath, the roundness of her breasts appearing momentarily at the dip in her bodice.

As her head fell back, Bill covered her mouth with his, lightly flicking his tongue over her plump lips. It had been worth the wait. Never had he thought that she would allow him such a liberty again. He opened his eyes and drew back to stare into hers, but her eyelids were shut, and an expression of rapture smoothed the lines from her face.

A knock at the door startled him. Victoria’s eyes flew open, and her limp body stiffened in his arms. Where her eyes had been unfocused, now they had returned to their customary ice blue. Bill unwound his arm from her waist and stepped back quietly.

“I heard we had a visitor,” Freddie said, marching into the room still wearing the garish dressing gown, but now bearing a plate of steak and a snifter of rum. He stopped suddenly. “Oh hello, Lady Colchester.”

“Lord Lassiter.”

How did she do it? How could she one minute have been limp in his arms ostensibly enjoying his kisses, and the next greeting Freddie in his awful attire as if she was leaving her house for the opera?

“I’ve brought the steak and I thought some rum might not go amiss, but I see George has already left.” Freddie took a step into the room and swung the tray around uncertainly.

Victoria frowned. “Who’s George?” She wrinkled her nose. “And why is he eating raw steak?”

Bill shook his head at Freddie. He didn’t want Victoria finding out about his failures. “The steak is for Brutus and the rum is for me. George is an... err... associate of ours who has just left.”

“Brutus?” Victoria looked bewildered.

“Bill’s wolfhound. Looks like a large rug which is probably why you didn’t see him in the hallway.”

“But I left Ponzi in the hallway—I didn’t think you had any other dogs here,” Victoria wailed and pushed past with Freddie with little ceremony.

Bill gulped. He hoped there was something left of the little dog.

“Would you look at that?” Freddie stood in the doorway, hands on his hips looking at a jumble of fur in the middle of the hall.

Bill peered of his shoulder and groaned. He was doomed. He tentatively stepped into the hall. Victoria was bent over the furry rug, a frown marring her face.

“Brutus. Come here,” Bill said quietly. The wolfhound’s great head lifted to reveal the tiny body of a small dog beneath. Bill moaned. It was going to be much worse than the rabbit offerings that Brutus brought him.

“Victoria, Lady Colchester, I can explain…”

But Victoria was not listening to him. Her eyes had widened in evident horror. “Ponzi, you little hussy, how could you?”

The tiny body squirmed round to reveal an equally small head that brought forth an unrepentant “Yip.”

“Ponzi, get up at once!” But the small dog lay back down and Brutus lowered his head.       

“You mean…” Freddie started to laugh. Both Bill and Victoria glared at him.

“This is no laughing matter, Lord Lassiter,” Victoria said primly. Freddie threw his hands up in the air and, after glancing at Victoria and Bill, looked at the dogs.

“I give up. If you can’t see it in front of you…” Freddie walked away and mounted the stairs, grumbling. “Bloody idiots…”

“Brutus, come here,” Bill repeated and slapped his leg. He only did it when he was very angry with the dog. Mournfully Brutus got to his feet and with a long tongue gave the small Ponzi a lick on the nose before retreating to his master’s legs.

“Goodness, I… Ponzi. You naughty, naughty animal.” Victoria gathered up the small dog and marched to the front door.

Bill watched silently as she unlatched the bolts herself. Was she going to leave without saying anything? That would have been normal given their previous encounters. But he was surprised.

Victoria pulled the door open and spoke without turning round, her voice muffled against the door. “Your first round of treatment was most… interesting, Mr. Standish. I am not quite sure it has had the effect which I have been advertised. However, I would be most agreeable to taking part in a second treatment.”

Bill gasped. There was nothing that he could say. Victoria slammed the door shut before his mind could catch up with the nuance of what she had said. He stumbled back into the morning room and fell into the chair that he had vacated. Brutus strode in mournfully behind him.

“Treatment.
Treatment
? What bloody treatment?” Bill picked up the snifter of rum and threw the contents of the glass down his throat. He stuck out his tongue as the rum burned. Freddie hadn’t even thought to water it down. It was as strong as when they had rolled the barrels off the docks in Bristol.

She couldn’t have meant their kiss, could she? And she had only found it
interesting
? She had certainly had her eyes closed. Had she been thinking about someone else? And just what kind of an effect had she been advertised?

Bill looked dolefully at the half measure of rum that remained in the snifter. He might as well have it. He gasped again as the raw alcohol seared his gullet. Through watery eyes, he turned to gaze at Brutus whose melting brown eyes had not left him.

“Well, Brutus,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “We’ll soon find out. It seems that she’s coming back for a second round, and this time I’ll show her the meaning of interesting.”

CHAPTER 9

Victoria pulled the heavy book from the library shelf and laid it on the ornate desk in her study. Flipping open the secret drawer in the desk, she pulled a box from it and placed it next to the book.

Without opening either, she sat back in the chair behind the desk and drummed her fingers on the table. One-two-three-four-five, her digits hit the inlaid leather. As she hesitated between four and five, her little finger hit the desk for the seventh time. She made up her mind.

Fifth rule of investigation,
analyse what you have learned.
Leaning forward, Victoria cracked open the box and selected a cigar from the neat pile that were stacked within it. With practiced ease, she snipped off the end, and lit the other from a guttering candle.

She held the cigar within her forefinger and her thumb for a minute, savoring the smoke that spiraled into the air. It was almost the best moment about smoking cigars. With a gentle puff, she sucked gently on the cigar and leaned back against her chair.

She had meant to review what she had learned about the missing girls from Mile End, but as the cigar smoke tickled her chin she could not help shivering as she was reminded of the sensation of Bill’s nose as it had brushed against her chin, and then his breath as it had tickled her neck. Goodness, he was well practiced. No wonder all the ladies raved about his prowess. Well, at least she thought he was. She didn’t have anything to compare him against. Victoria frowned. She didn’t think much of Cecile’s recommendation, however. Victoria certainly had
not
felt more together as she had left Lord Lassiter’s. If anything she felt like the only thing that was keeping her together was her outrage at Ponzi’s hussy-like activities. If that hadn’t happened, then she was sure that she would have melted into a puddle on the floor.

When Bill had touched her, she had felt like the only woman in the world. Victoria took another gentle puff at the cigar. Goodness, as his hands had stroked along her collarbone her blood had hummed like a violin. The only way she could stop herself purring was by closing her eyes. She could not—would not—bring herself to look at him. He would have known how much he was affecting her. He had to believe that she was only there for
treatment
. Nothing more.
Of course I wasn’t there for anything more, was I?
This way she held control and knew exactly what she wanted. Anything more and… well, that was the unknown, out of her control, and sure way to induce an
episode.
Perhaps. It was one of the main reasons she had refused to see him the end of the summer.

What was she meant to be doing again? Fifth rule of investigation. Oh dear. Perhaps it would be a relief to her senses to think about the missing girls rather than Mr. Standish. So what had she learned?

Mmmm. She particularly enjoyed it when Bill kissed underneath her chin. Gods, she had known it would be dangerous if she let him come too close. It was why she had spent a year trying to keep him away.

Shaking her head, Victoria stood up from the desk and stubbed out her cigar in the freestanding tray that stood in the center of the room. It reminded her of when her brother had come to tell Agatha that the rumors about her had started again. He had opened her secret drawer and pulled out one of the cigars as if he owned Colchester Mansions. She still didn’t know how he had found out where they were kept. She hadn’t ever bothered to change their hiding place. There was no point—
the more people think they know about you, the more you can hide
. That wasn’t one of Colchester’s rules. That was Victoria’s—another one
she
had added.

“Number twelve,” she said to the silent room, and laughed. Now she was talking to people who weren’t there.

Like those girls. Where had they gone? She pulled the bell rope and sat down in a low chair.

Carruthers was at her side instantly. She didn’t wait for him to speak. “Tell me, Simon, do young women really switch from being streetwalkers to paupers and back again so easily?”

Carruthers stared at her, and pulled at his sleeves. “How did you find out?”

“I beg your pardon? I don’t believe I’ve told you about the girls…”

“The girls?” Carruthers glared at her. “My mother was not one of the girls. She was a respectable girl from Buckingham. Went to London to earn her fortune she did, but was nabbed as soon as she left the coach. Some flash cove forced her into streetwalking. And that was it for her. In and out of the house at Mile End. Onto the streets when it became too much. She earned an alright living but she didn’t enjoy it. Although she didn’t stay long enough with me for me to know.” Carruthers collapsed into a chair opposite Victoria. “She was straight back out onto those streets.”