The Accidental Courtesan (38 page)

The chill of Newgate had left Gavin cold to his bones in a way that no expensive brandy could wash away. Once business was concluded, he intended to soak in a very hot bath.

“I cannot thank you enough, Crawford, for what you did for the women, for me.” Gavin lifted his glass. “If I can ever return the favor, you need only ask.”

Crawford nodded. “The duchess has always been kind to me. I couldn't see her sister harmed.” He shot a quick glance toward Charles and leaned forward in his chair to take Gavin into his confidence. “And Bliss is too lovely and sweet-natured to suffer at the hands of those animals. I am pleased they're dead.”

Clearly, Crawford was smitten with the courtesan. Though he was nearly fifteen years her senior and walked with a limp, Gavin suspected some women would find him easy to look at. Still, putting Crawford and Bliss together as a pair of lovers was absurd. It was like linking a parrot with a sparrow.

Gavin let the comment lie and turned his attention to business. They had to catch the rest of the thugs, and the mysterious woman, before they caused further harm.

The leader of the thieves was clearly without a conscience. Today had proved his theory. Gavin opened his mouth to begin the discussion when he noticed Charles peering down at the desk, his body tense.

“What is it, Cousin?” he asked, and watched Charles lift the sketch and stare at the mysterious woman. His face was tight, and his jaw clenched and released beneath his skin.

Charles turned the sketch toward Gavin, his eyes dark and puzzled. “Why do you have a sketch of my wife?”

In the chair, Gavin went still. Crawford made a funny sound. Only the clock on the mantel broke the silence with soft
ticktocks
.

“Hortense?” Gavin stared at the sketch in disbelief. Though he'd never met the woman, he'd heard tales of both her exceptional beauty and her spiteful nature. Never once had he considered she might be behind the plot. Yet somehow, it all made sense now, in a very strange way. If anyone wanted to hurt Charles, she topped the list. “Are you certain?”

“Down to the small mole beneath her right eye.”

The cousins locked stares. How did he break the news that Charles was married to a woman who set in motion events that almost killed Noelle?

There was nothing he could do but be direct.

“She is the woman behind the plot,” Gavin said regretfully. He hated to break such awful news, but it had to be done. His own thoughts would have to wait until later.

Charles sat on the edge of the desk and rubbed his free hand over his face. The strain had etched lines on his face. In that moment, he aged ten years.

“I always knew she was troublesome. Her father paid me well to marry her, and she has often tried my patience. Still, she is a loving mother.” He looked at Gavin, and there was pain in his eyes. “How could she do this? How could she cause so much hurt? Hell, Lady Noelle was almost killed by the footpad. And Newgate? The women were about to be brutalized.” His voice trailed off as if he couldn't finish his painful thought.

Rage burned through Gavin. Hortense needed her neck wrung. She was a Lady. How had she sunk to such low depths to do . . . what? Ruin Charles to get revenge for his unfaithfulness?

“I certainly would like to know her reasons,” Gavin said. If there was neck wringing to be done, he planned to do it himself.

He leaned to speak a few whispered words to Crawford. The investigator nodded and left. The matter was now to be left to family. Any action taken from this moment forward was between himself, Charles, and the despicable Lady Hortense.

“I need to get to Bath.” Charles pushed off the desk. He folded the sketch and put it in his coat pocket. There was dark determination in his clipped movements and tight face. “I shall change and leave immediately. My wife must be confronted before she hurts anyone else.”

“I shall go with you.” Gavin knew the woman couldn't fill his cousin's head with lies with him there to keep Charles focused on her crimes. What Charles would decide to be her punishment was another question. She was a Lady and the mother of his children. No matter the depths of her villainy, those facts would be considered when passing judgment.

“Be ready in an hour.” Charles walked to the door, his narrow shoulders bowed. He shifted his eyes to Gavin. “My dear wife is about to face the full measure of my wrath.”

I
'm going with you.” Noelle pulled on her gloves and reached for her velvet cape. “I have the right.”

Gavin's scowl didn't deter her. If he wanted her to stay at the town house, he never should have mentioned Lady Hortense. To know the wife of a peer was behind the plot to destroy Bliss and, by a twist of fate, Noelle herself left a bitter taste in her mouth.

And she'd not be swayed from her determination to confront the dreadful woman. The countess should face the depth of her anger. So she stared down Gavin, her jaw stubbornly clenched.

“I suppose arguing will accomplish nothing?” Gavin eyed her carefully, as if checking one last time for any lingering effects of Newgate, her head injury, anything he could use to keep her from the trip. He'd hovered for the last hour as the maid finished giving Noelle a bath and quickly dressed her. If the maid found it scandalous for an unmarried gentleman to be in the presence of a Lady during Noelle's bath, and after, her face revealed nothing. She accomplished her work with quiet efficiency and then left the two of them alone.

Noelle's scowl melted into a smile. “You know me well. And if you intend to spend time with me in the future, you have to accept that I am stubborn to a fault.”

Crossing the room, she slipped into his arms. Though he frowned, his eyes lit up as he slid his hands around her body. He desired her. Risking his life, and possible arrest, to save her from Newgate had proved to Noelle she wasn't just a casual bed partner to him. He hadn't dropped to one knee and begged for her hand, but knowing of his affection was enough.

She'd give him her love, and hope that eventually he'd love her in return. But not now. They had business to finish.

“So I've discovered, My Lady-pirate-courtesan.” He leaned to press a kiss on the side of her neck. It tickled, and she twitched. “Mixed with beautiful and seductive and all of those headache-inducing traits you have, which I've grown to recognize and tolerate. Perhaps we should leave Lady Hortense to her husband and test the sturdiness of yonder mattress.”

“If you hope to distract me from my mission by insults, or by loving me until I'm too weak to stand, you're wasting your time.” She pressed forward. “Though it will give me great pleasure to spend another night with you, I will have my justice.” She brushed a tiny piece of lint off his coat and smoothed his lapels. “I'll follow you all the way to Bath on the back of a horse if I must.”

Gavin shrugged and kissed her deeply. He teased her tongue with his and groaned when he broke the kiss. He locked on to her gaze and cupped her chin. “We need to have a lengthy talk when we return. There is much I have to say to you.”

Her heart fluttered and her face tightened. “Can you give me a hint of the topic?” Her worst fear was that Gavin would see this caper concluded, then tell her he no longer desired her company. No more shared intimacies, no more laughter. No chance at all for any sort of future. He was as against marriage as she was. Or had been. She was no longer sure what she wanted.

After twenty-five years of vowing never to love a man, Noelle had allowed her heart to be compromised, breached by this imposing and dangerous American. She might soon suffer from a shattered heart.

“Why so grim, love?” Gavin smiled. He tucked a curl behind her ear. “You have no reason to worry. Certain topics require privacy, and we have no time to waste. Charles is waiting downstairs with the coach. We must be off before he leaves both of us behind.”

The trip to Bath was the longest of her life. Charles and Gavin had little to say to each other, or to her, and a borrowed middle-aged maid slept through most of the journey, awakening only when they stopped for food or rest, or when her particularly loud snores snapped her from slumber.

The earl faced a grim reality and was too troubled to converse on mundane topics like the weather. His wife was responsible for several dangerous misdeeds that could have cost lives. He had to feel the weight of this bearing down on him. He'd married this woman, had children with her, and vowed to care for her for the rest of her days. Now he had to decide her fate. A monumental task.

Throughout his heartfelt apology, Noelle felt his pain and held him largely blameless, though she suspected his misbehavior had led his wife to desperate measures. Still, he seemed to be a decent sort. Perhaps once they cleared up this matter, she could consider him a friend.

The trip seemed to take an eternity with horse changes and stops, and Noelle was fatigued to her bones when they finally arrived at Kirkwood Manor, just outside Bath. The house was immense and reminded Noelle of a medieval monastery, complete with perfectly manicured flower beds and a lawn that seemed to stretch forever. She almost expected to be greeted by monks as she stepped down from the coach and was ushered across the gravel drive toward the house.

From somewhere in the expanse, Noelle heard children laughing. She knew the earl had four children, knowledge that left her with a heavy heart. She hoped their mother's sins would not affect them too greatly.

“Where is my wife?” His Lordship brushed past the butler standing in the open doorway while shucking off his overcoat and tossing it in the general direction of the man. The butler caught the coat and hung it on a peg by the door without blinking an eye.

“She is visiting Mrs. Shaw, My Lord.” The butler collected Noelle's cape and Gavin's coat. He asked a passing maid to bring tea, and she hurried off toward what Noelle assumed to be the kitchen. “She is expected back shortly.”

Charles grimaced, clearly put off by the delay. “Tell her she has visitors in the yellow parlor, but do not tell her I'm here. I'd like to surprise my darling wife.”

The man bowed his gray head. “Yes, My Lord.”

Charles led them through the entryway to a narrow hallway that passed under a wide stone staircase. Noelle saw hints in the unusual stonework of her earlier assumption that at least parts of the manor could have originated as a monastery or a medieval keep. They walked by several rooms until they arrived at what was obviously the yellow parlor.

With the exception of the colorful carpet, the room was decorated entirely in various shades of sunshine. From its dark yellow drapes to the pale yellow stripes on the settee and matching chairs, it was a bit overwhelming.

“I would have kept my hat had I known we would be in the sunshine,” Gavin whispered. Noelle appreciated his attempt at levity but nudged him with her elbow.

“Behave,” she whispered, and Gavin refrained from further comment.

The earl walked to the window, and Noelle and Gavin settled side by side on the settee. Tension twisted her belly sour, and every sound outside the parlor seemed magnified as Noelle waited to confront the horrid woman.

She supposed tearing out Lady Hortense's hair and gouging out her eyes wasn't proper behavior. Still, it should be acceptable to tear and gouge if a situation warranted such actions. And at the moment, Noelle wasn't beyond rolling up her sleeves and giving the woman the pummeling she much deserved.

Click-clicks
from rapid footsteps in the hallway brought Noelle's attention to the door. It didn't take introductions to know the woman who stepped into the parlor. The sketch had been surprisingly accurate. Though diminutive in size, she carried herself with a queenly bearing, as if all of England was meant to bow at her tiny feet.

Noelle knew she was not yet thirty, yet lines of disapproval and scorn had etched grooves around her mouth and between her brows. Had she lived her life with happiness and laughter, she could have been a rare beauty. Instead, she'd been spoiled and pampered and never made to suffer for her misbehavior, to the point of becoming a shrew.

“Surprise, Wife,” Charles said and turned away from the window. His posture gave the appearance of casual indifference, but his face showed he was anything but calm. A visible undercurrent of anger simmered in him. “Did you miss me?”

Lady Hortense's dark eyes darted from one face to another, and all the color fled her cheeks. Clearly she possessed the intelligence to know that finding Gavin and a strange woman in her parlor did not bode well for her. Obviously, her evil henchmen had kept her abreast of the goings-on in London. Whether she knew Noelle's true identity, and how her plot had entangled the highly placed Lady Seymour, remained to be seen.