Sexual Hunger (5 page)

And we left her to fend for herself while Mum and Jemma whirl like dervishes
, he thought as the masts and piers of the harbor came into view. At least Rubio was there to help Stoutham control the gathering crowd. Things were bound to get ugly—or very interesting, depending on how their guests speculated about their long wait. And when all was said and done, Jason would have to learn to apologize, wouldn’t he? He owed all of them—his bride, most of all—a major explanation.

As the carriage clattered through the traffic toward the modest two-story building near the pier, however, the air of desolation around the place didn’t bode well. His father peered intently out his window, as though to see through the bordello’s drawn draperies. “Why the hell, on a Saturday afternoon, does Amelia’s place of business look deserted?”

“It’s early yet?” Jude offered, knowing it was the wrong thing to say.

His father nearly knocked the footman backward as he threw open the carriage door and strode toward the whorehouse. Lord Darington grabbed the handle, but the place was locked tight. “Open up, damn it! I know you’re in there!” he called out. He pounded continuously on the door as Jude peeked through a front parlor curtain.

Was that a movement, near the bar? The room looked dim and empty, yet someone stirred…shuffled unevenly toward them without making a reply.

“Amelia, we must talk! And you know why!” his father continued in an ominous voice. Heedless of the curious passersby, the iron-haired man in formal attire banged the heavy door with his fist—

Until the lock clicked and it flew open! His father nearly punched the young woman who stood scowling at them, jaded and unafraid. “And what might this mindless racket be about?” she demanded. “Can’t ya see the place ain’t open?”

“Why the hell not? I must talk to Amelia about—”

“Gone, she is. To Brighton, to work a convention. Not that it’s any of
your
business.”

“Cheeky
chit
! Have you any idea to whom you’re speaking?” he demanded. “When Miss Amelia returns—”

“Father, please! We haven’t time for such confrontations.” Jude grabbed the arm that was poised to slap the young woman, giving the girl an apologetic smile. “If Jason Darington is passed out in one of your rooms, we’d be pleased to relieve you of him, miss.”

She was thick in the middle and rather homely; not one of the madam’s working girls. Her freckled face and prim gray dress bespoke a maid, perhaps—yet she stood fast as the establishment’s gatekeeper. Jude had no doubt she’d back them off the doorstep, if she chose.

“I’m tellin’ ya, nobody’s here.”

“Then who are
you
?” his father cut in. “My son, Jason Darington, was
here
with friends last night, and he’s past due at his wedding! Do
not
waste my valuable time with these silly games of hide-and-seek!”

As she opened the door wider so they could see the deserted premises for themselves, Jude noticed an enlarged foot that pointed off to one side, beneath her skirts. A clubfoot. “As you can see,” she replied in a haughty tone, “no ladies are present, nor is Miss Amelia. But the police shall arrive
moments
after I hit the alarm button, if you don’t leave immediately.”

His father’s eyes widened in a face that grew ruddier. “Call the police, if you
please
,” he jeered. “Since you’re obviously covering for Miss Beddow, the law does indeed need to be notified!”

“So notify them yourself, sir!” The door shut with a loud
whump
.

“Well, of all the—have you ever seen such insolence? When I catch Amelia—”

“We’d best be getting back, Father,” Jude insisted. “Our guests are in a state of pandemonium by now, unless the vicar has uncorked the wine. Can’t expect Rubio to keep the peace as the only sane male on the premises.”

His father’s body vibrated with pent-up wrath. “Yes, well, if I don’t get to the bottom of this—get a confirmation of McCaslin’s story, or the
truth
from the police—who will?”

As Lord Darington pivoted on his heel, Jude wanted to stay behind and investigate on his own: he and Jason might be polar opposites in temperament, but they shared a bond that kept them connected even when one didn’t know the other’s location. He resented the way his father berated him, but resentment wouldn’t get his twin brother to the church to marry Maria. With a sigh, Jude returned to the carriage to find his father inside, engaged in a window conversation with a uniformed officer.

“—weren’t no different hereabouts last night than usual,” the policeman claimed, talking around a fat cigar. “Didn’t hear no reports of foul play, nor bodies bein’ throwed off—”

Jude winced.

“—but for
you
, Lord Darington,” he offered in a more gracious tone, “I’ll dig deeper. See if anybody reported anything amiss last night, or recalls seein’ your Jason.”

His father didn’t look any happier, but at least he accepted the lawman’s story. “Be quick about it, too, while I go back to this fiasco of a wedding. Even if I have nothing to tell our friends—not to mention my wife—you can be sure the illustrious Miss Crimson will get wind of this scandal and publish her own ludicrous version of it!”

“Yes, milord, she keeps the
Inquirer
in print—not that I condone such gossip, you understand!” The officer, a stubby man with short, thick fingers, flicked the ash of his cigar. “If I learn anything, where might I find you, milord?”

“Saint Paul’s Knightsbridge. You’ll be handsomely rewarded if you show up with my son.”

The ride back to the church did nothing to settle Jude’s nerves. His father sat across from him, legs outstretched and twitching, arms crossed so tightly he appeared to be squeezing the air from his lungs. Even so, it wasn’t love or concern etching themselves into Lord Darington’s commanding countenance: he appeared more angry and inconvenienced than worried.

“Christ Almighty, if Jason doesn’t show up, there’ll be no living with your mother. The two of you nearly killed her during your birthing, but
this
!” he muttered. “She’s poured every ounce of her energy into making today’s wedding the year’s social high point! You’ve no idea how much pride it’s cost her, because her firstborn has chosen to marry beneath him when so many of our friends have lovely, eligible daughters
throwing
themselves at him!”

Jude smiled wryly. His father’s remarks only added to his dismay at how horrible—how betrayed—Maria must be feeling by now. What would happen to
her
, if his twin had found trouble he couldn’t get out of? And if everyone knew the Darington heir was missing, there’d be no more rendezvous about town with Maria—no more passing himself off as his brother.

But it was too soon to assume his brother was in dire straits. No doubt Jason would awaken from his drunken stupor to find he’d wandered onto a ship moored at the pier, or that he’d slept off his brandy while curled up in a doorway—or in some willing woman’s bed.

The thought made Jude smile. Most likely,
this
was his brother’s fate rather than the more odious ideas that came to mind. Jason was deeply, madly in love with Maria, but the whole point of a bachelor party was to have one last fling with the boys, wasn’t it? And those
boys
were paying dearly today for all they’d imbibed…. So his brother was, too. Had to be.

“And what are
you
so happy about?” his father snapped. “Already setting yourself up as the Darington heir? And your brother not gone but a few hours?”

Jude stood up before the carriage came to a complete halt at the church. “That remark doesn’t even deserve an answer, Father! And why do you believe he’s
gone
, in that way?” he demanded. “Lord knows you’ve always applauded—encouraged!—his escapades, so who can say what sort of fix he’s in? Or, for all we know, Jason has appeared and the ceremony is being delayed because
we
are not present.”

As he stepped into the vestibule, however, the strident tone of the organ and the chatter of the congregation told him nothing had improved in their absence. Jude slipped into the parlor and wished he hadn’t: his mother and sister were weeping, carrying on as though their lives had been ruined, while Maria sat glumly in the corner. Her ivory skirts billowed over the arms of her chair. Her hands lay tightly clasped in her lap, and her expression told him she was trying to believe the best—trying to be brave despite the horrible scenarios Mum and Jemma conjured up.

“Those worthless friends of his were the last to see him!” Jemma twittered between sniffles. “We should be holding
them
responsible for—”

“My God, what shall I tell the cook? We’ve prepared for three hundred people—”

“—the fact that my reputation is now
ruined
!” the younger blonde wailed. She was holding her ferret against her shoulder as though Willie were the last friend she had. “Who will want
me
, now that Jason has disgraced the entire family? I cannot believe he’d be so cruel as to—what did I ever do to
him
to deserve—”

Jude smiled apologetically at Maria and then stepped from the room. “Nothing’s to be accomplished in
there
,” he murmured to his father. “I’ll find Clive and Daniel. Quiz them more closely about last night’s activities.”

“As though they’ll recall anything. Or admit to it.” Lord Darington followed him down the narrow hallway, muttering. “Already four o’clock. If Jason doesn’t show in the next twenty minutes, we must make the only logical decision.”

Blinking his eyes against a wave of regret, Jude rounded the corner to find Rubio Palladino standing before Jason’s three motley-looking friends, whose backs were to the wall. “What are you not telling us?” the medium demanded in a low voice. “You may either volunteer what you know, or I can simply lay my hands on you and listen to your innermost secrets.”

Jude’s eyes widened. Did Maria’s brother truly have such powers? Had they consulted this medium first, perhaps he and his father wouldn’t have wasted time driving to Miss Amelia’s.

“I’m telling you, Jason was
fine
when Amelia took him to her room!” Clive rasped. His skin still resembled that of a dead fish, but he seemed sincerely concerned for Jason’s welfare.

“And the rest of us, we each had our own—diversions!” Daniel Hackett sputtered. “And the fact that I can’t even recall her face, much less what she did to me, should tell you how drunk we were!”

“All I remember is McCaslin beating on the door, telling us to go down the back stairs because there were stevedores awaiting their turn in the parlor.” Nicholas Northwood had apparently overslept, but he looked no more recovered than his two friends. As he brushed his hair from his haggard face, his hand shook. “I have no idea how I ended up at home in my own bed, but before we left, someone assured us Miss Beddow’s driver had taken Jason home. We would
never
have left him behind!” he insisted. “What sort of louts do you take us for?”

Rubio’s gaze didn’t waver. His disdain filled the narrow hallway. “My opinions don’t matter,” he replied in an ominous tone. “What you recall about last night not only determines what happens here in the next few minutes, but it may well set my sister’s future.
Details
, man! At what time did you last see Jason?”

The three hungover friends glanced helplessly at each other. “Was it midnight? Or closer to—”

“Two, it was!” Nicholas piped up. “The bell tolled the hour when we got to the door and Jason tried to beg off. Remember?”

Rubio crossed his arms. “So it might have been, what? Three, or half past, when you staggered out of those rooms? Why do I suspect this impressive pack of Romeos paid to
sleep
in those ladies’ beds?”

As their stricken faces betrayed this very possibility, Jude listened closely. If Jason had arrived at the whorehouse in the wee hours, how likely was it that Miss Amelia had
planned
to go to Brighton today? His father’s expression said he, too, had heard this glaring discrepancy—and that he was fed up with the entire situation.

“This yammering gets us nowhere,” Lord Darington snapped. “We have waited half an hour and still have no idea where the groom is. Meanwhile our friends are making up their own stories in the sanctuary. If the organist plays that song one more time I’ll bloody well knock her off the bench!”

Jude grabbed his father’s arm. “We must first inform Maria and Mum! Consider
their
wishes—”

“All the wishing in the world won’t get Jason to the altar! If something has happened to my son, this church is the
last
place we need to be, damn it!” His face grew mottled as he took one last look down the corridor in either direction. “I shall inform our friends of this unfortunate situation and ask them to assist in our manhunt!
You
may tell your mother and sister. And Maria, of course.”

Jude’s insides constricted. But when his father strode toward the sanctuary, there was nothing else to do but carry out his orders…and bear the brunt of three females’ dismay. He prayed for the right words, damn glad Rubio Palladino walked with him. Maria’s younger brother believed Jason’s fate had gone beyond the revelry of a bachelor party and that Maria would be the one who suffered most, even if she wasn’t showing it.

When Jude stepped into the overheated parlor, the room seemed to hold its breath: two shrill voices stilled and three sets of eyes drilled him. “Father is in the sanctuary announcing that we must cancel—”

“No! He
cannot
do this to—
no
, I say!” Jemma screamed. When she rushed forward as though to strangle him, Willie jumped to the floor. The ferret raced between him and Rubio and out the parlor door. “Father has no right to—”

“Intolerable!” his mother snapped. “Once again that insufferable man has taken it upon himself to wreak havoc! It’s
my
place to—”

Despite the increase of their volume and pitch—and the way Maria’s face crumpled—Jude smiled to himself. It
was
his mother’s mission to create a stir wherever she went. As Jemma chased after Willie and Mum followed her, vengeance against Father on her mind, he stepped over to take Maria’s hands. “I’m so sorry this is all whirling like a hurricane—”