Sin With a Scoundrel: The Husband Hunters Club (10 page)

Chapter 14

R
ichard opened the door of Sir Henry’s office in Whitehall, obeying his instruction to enter. As usual the room was full of cigar smoke, and Sir Henry was frowning over a stack of papers.

“Ah, Richard, here you are. Well, what did you think of our candidates for the Captain?”

“I favor Gilfoyle although Little is an interesting character. Have you found out any more about him?”

Sir Henry was thoughtful. “I have made some inquiries, but he’s a cagey fellow. It’s as if he arrived in the tobacco-importing business fully formed. I can’t find out very much about his early years, but he’s certainly done well for himself since then. Keeps to himself, too. Doesn’t seem to be much in the style of Gilfoyle, so their friendship, if that’s what it is, appears odd.”

Richard sat down, feeling his eyes begin to water from the smoke. He considered throwing open a window, but he knew that Sir Henry was particularly anxious about being overheard, and there were always listening ears in Whitehall.

“What do you think the state of play is with Miss Smythe and Gilfoyle?” Sir Henry asked curiously, glancing up at Richard from under his bushy eyebrows. “Can’t see much sign of an impending marriage. What was all that fuss last night about Miss Smythe’s vanishing into the garden after a tiff?”

“The man is a fool,” Richard said shortly.

Sir Henry grunted.

“You know the Smythes well, sir?”

“I knew the father in the army, but it was a long time ago. We have remained friends, but I wouldn’t say I knew him intimately. The wife was the one with the money—it was a love match. Lady Carol is rather fond of show, and she would be keen for her daughter to marry a man who could set her up in style, and Gilfoyle is that man.”

“I know I asked you to get me an invitation, but I was surprised you managed it.”

Sir Henry grinned wolfishly. “Jolly fun wasn’t it? If they but knew the truth, eh? But, seriously, I hope you receive proper recognition for your work one day, Richard.”

“I don’t need recognition, sir, just let me have Anthony’s killer.”

Sir Henry fiddled with his papers. “There have been whispers—not loud ones mind, Sir Thomas keeps things close to his chest—but there have been whispers that he is in a hole, financially. Lost Lady Carol’s fortune. But that might explain why the girl is so eager to marry Gilfoyle.”

Richard had suspected this was so; it made sense. Now he wondered if Tina was a willing participant or whether this was an example of her being the dutiful daughter. After last night he was beginning to favor the latter.

“Isabelle is keen for a weekend country house party.” While Richard was cogitating, Sir Henry had moved on. “She’s younger than I, gets bored with nothing to do. Got to keep her busy. We’ll be sending you an invitation, Richard. Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty for you to do. I’m asking Gilfoyle and Little, too. And the Smythes and their friends.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Throw the whole lot of them together, eh, and see what happens? I wouldn’t be surprised if something major crops up.”

Richard tried not to shudder at the wasps’ nest his commander was putting together. But Sir Henry’s plans usually did work out, and if it meant they could flush out the Captain, then well and good. He just hoped there weren’t repercussions.

“I still want you to go to Kent and take a reccy,” Sir Henry went on, “but wait until after the weekend party, just in case we learn something more.”

“Very well, sir: a reconnaissance to Kent.”

“Nice girl.”

“Pardon?”

Sir Henry looked up with assumed surprise. “Miss Smythe. Nice girl. Don’t you think? Delightful.”

“Yes.”

Richard left it at that, but he could see his superior smirking to himself. Well, let him! Richard wasn’t about to discuss with Sir Henry his feelings for Tina and the personal doubts that were beginning to afflict him. Once all he’d cared about was finding Anthony’s killer, with no thought of what might happen next.

But Tina Smythe was forcing him to ask himself those questions. Uncomfortable questions. And with the questions came a tentative hope for the future.

I
t was early afternoon and Lady Carol and Sir Thomas had left the house for an appointment at the bank. Tina, who was waiting impatiently to fulfill her own appointment, changed quickly into her favorite blue dress with the matching bonnet. She’d been planning to go to Jasmine Square on her own, but now Maria knew about Mr. Eversham and was seeing Archie, it seemed prudent to take her, too. Then, if questions were asked, she could always say she was shopping with Maria.

They set off on foot. Lady Carol and Sir Thomas had taken the coach, but it was such a lovely day Tina was happy to walk. She noticed that Maria had taken some pains with her appearance and smiled to herself. She could not remember Maria’s ever having a gentleman caller. Was that through choice, or was there some secret in Maria’s past that stopped her from trusting men? Whatever the reason, Tina decided she would encourage this romance. At Maria’s age this might be her last chance for happiness.

The door of Number Five opened so quickly, Tina was sure Archie had been lurking about inside, awaiting their arrival. “Miss Smythe,” he said formally, and then his smile broadened. “And Miss Baez.”

“Good morning, Archie,” said Tina pleasantly. “Would you mind keeping Maria company while I have my chat with Mr. Eversham?”

“Mr. Jones must be busy,” interrupted an agitated Maria. “I’m quite able to occupy myself, miss.”

“Actually, Miss Baez, I was about to go on a message for Mr. Eversham. It shouldn’t take long, and we could walk. Would you care to join me?”

Maria glanced uncertainly at Tina. “Miss? Should I wait for you here?”

“Not at all, Maria. I am perfectly safe with Mr. Eversham. Go and enjoy your walk.”

Archie stepped forward. “I’ll just see you up first, Miss—”

“Nonsense,” Tina interrupted Archie. “I’m quite capable of walking up a few steps on my own. Mr. Eversham is expecting me, is he not?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Then you may go.”

“Thank you, miss.” He smiled at Maria, his eyes twinkling more than ever, and Tina couldn’t help but smile herself at their obvious attraction to each other.

When they’d gone, Tina made her way up the narrow staircase. She felt curiously agitated and told herself it was because she knew that her mother would be horrified at her behavior. But that wasn’t the real truth. She’d slept badly. Nothing seemed to be going as she’d expected and planned. And she found herself thinking more and more about Richard Eversham and less and less about Horace.

Richard opened the door to her gentle knock. “Tina,” he said, holding out his hand.

Her heart gave a bump. She took his hand, as always aware of his hard body radiating warmth close to her, and he drew her into the cozy room. The shades were drawn against the afternoon sunshine, making the light muted, and yet it felt bright and welcoming.

Was that because he was here?

Shaking off her abstraction, Tina accepted his offer of a seat on the sofa, removing her gloves and bonnet and setting them beside her. Tina’s head had begun to ache, and she told herself it was from too much thinking. She had her plan, she must follow it. Horace was her target. Anything else was completely unacceptable.

But the words sounded like she was repeating them as a child repeats times tables, and they no longer held any meaning.

“You didn’t tell me how you came to be there last night,” she said, with a crease of her forehead.

“Didn’t I?” His smile was bland, his expression unreadable. “I am a friend of Sir Henry. He knew my father. They were in the army together.”

More army friends. That explained it then. Although not completely. It occurred to her that despite his charm and warmth, Richard was a man of secrets. She had placed her future and her reputation in the hands of a man she barely knew.

Aware of the silence, she looked up and found him watching her, that seductive, charming smile curving the corners of his lips. She wanted to trust him, she really did.

“I didn’t do a very good job, did I?” she blurted out. “With Horace, I mean.”

“These things take time, Tina. You mustn’t give up yet.”

“Is that what you tell your other clients? How many actually succeed in marrying the person of their choice?”

“I’ve had one . . . no,
two
failures, and they were for reasons beyond my control. So you are in safe hands.”

Instinctively, her gaze dropped to his hands. She remembered the heat of them against her bare skin, his confident, smooth touch, and the sound he’d made when she kissed him, as if he wasn’t quite in control of himself after all.

Her mind was drifting again.

To pull herself back, she spoke briskly of the first thing that came to her head. “Maria, my maid, is walking out with Archie. Did you know that?”

“I did. Archie told me.”

“It is strange that they should come together like this. Maria seems to think it was coincidence.”

“An accident of fate.”

“He won’t hurt her, will he?” she said quickly. “She has been on her own for years—as long as she’s been our maid.”

“Archie isn’t the sort of man to hurt a woman, and certainly not one he cares about. Even so, I’ll have a word with him.”

“Of course my mother will be horrified when she discovers he’s your servant. I just hope she doesn’t put a stop to it before it’s had a chance to begin.”

Richard raised a dark eyebrow. “My apologies for my scandalous reputation, but I can assure you Archie is entirely his own man. He’s never come to me for advice where his love life is concerned.”

She wondered if she’d hurt his feelings. He wasn’t showing any emotion, but she sensed something beneath his urbane manner. And yet he had no reason to feel hurt; she’d only spoken the truth. His reputation
was
bad, and Lady Carol might well interfere if she thought her maid was in moral peril.

“Speaking of reputations, I’m surprised that Gilfoyle has never tried anything with you,” Richard interrupted her thoughts. His gray eyes were watchful, almost brooding.

“What sort of anything?” she asked warily. “You mean has he attempted to seduce me?”

“Yes.”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Have you wondered why?”

“Perhaps because he has no interest in me. That
is
why I’ve come to you.”

“So he has never tried to touch you? Never?”

Tina hesitated. She could change the subject now—that is what she should do—but Tina knew it wasn’t what she wanted to do. There was a wicked creature stirring inside her, a temptress, and suddenly she gave in to it.

“Touch me?” she asked, being deliberately obtuse. “Touch me in what way, Mr. Eversham?”

But he was too cautious to be drawn on that.

“Your mother must have told you what liberties you should permit a gentleman?”

Tina waved a hand. “She mentioned something about it. Actually we discussed it recently. She said that although I must not let a gentleman touch me, I can let him look. Because, she says, a gentleman will not buy what he can have for free.”

He chuckled.

“Surely that is a contradiction in terms?” she added in a puzzled voice. “A
gentleman
should be beyond reproach in such matters.”

“Tina, if you believe that, you have a lot to learn.”

“That is what she said,” Tina replied glumly.

Richard steepled his hands under his chin, as if, she thought, in amusement, he was about to impart to her the wisdom of the ages.

“In essence I agree with Lady Carol, particularly in Gilfoyle’s case. Although a little touching can be good, too. Men like Gilfoyle, who are used to getting their own way, can be driven mad by a little touching if they’re then refused the ultimate prize.”

Tina wondered where he was going with this. She was beginning to feel very warm.
The ultimate prize.
She was tempted to ask him more about that but bailed out at the last moment.

“So what is acceptable?” she asked instead, wondering at her daring. “I am at a loss here, Mr. Eversham. I believed any contact, apart from a clasp of the hand, was unacceptable. But here you are telling me I can go further.”

“I am indeed.” His gaze was fixed on her with an intensity that set her skin prickling.

“I think you should demonstrate.”

He went still, as if he, too, was making some inner decisions. Was he beginning to wonder, as she was, whether their meetings were no longer about business? Whether there was something much deeper happening between them?

“If you will permit me?”

At her abrupt nod, he rose and sat close beside her on the sofa. Reaching out, he gently stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “This is quite acceptable. And here.” He traced the delicate curve of her ear. “And here.” He caressed her neck.

Tina felt herself becoming languid. She wanted to lean into him and kiss his mouth. She wanted him to touch her in other places, places she knew very well were unacceptable. She heard herself saying the words, shocked at her own forwardness.

“And where
shouldn’t
he touch me?”

His eyes met hers, a strange glitter in them, and then he reached out and touched the pale skin directly above her décolletage. For a moment, he hesitated, as if waiting for her to tell him to stop, and then his hand slipped inside her dress and stroked the swell of her breast.

“This is a definite no-no,” he rasped. His fingers lingered, brushing her soft skin, delving inside her chemise, until the tip of one finger actually came into contact with her nipple.

A river of heat ran through her, making her gasp. Reluctantly it seemed he removed his hand from her breast.

“I can see why,” she managed in a curiously prim voice for one indulging in such wicked behavior. “Is there . . . is there anywhere else I must not let a gentleman touch me, Mr. Eversham?”

“Oh yes,” he said with enthusiasm. “Most definitely.”

“Then I think you had better show me.”

“All of them?”

“It is important I know, don’t you think? To protect myself?”