The Scoundrel Takes a Bride: A Regency Rogues Novel (37 page)

It had been inconceivable to Nicholas that any man would think it a sound idea to
put his entire future in the hands of a woman.

“I see,” Nicholas had replied dryly, then slowed the bay with a tug on the reins.
“Well, as for me, I’m looking forward to a second, third, and perhaps even fourth
chance at
life
with Lady Whitcomb. Widows are rather generous, I find.”

Carrington had arched an eyebrow sardonically. “You’ll never change, will you, Bourne?”

Nicholas had by then brought his horse to a stop and jumped down. “Did you honestly
think I would?”

The memory faded now as Nicholas considered Dash’s words in a different light—one
that involved Sophia.

“Goddammit all to hell,” he muttered with vague disbelief. Dash had been right—about
everything.

Somehow Sophia had expanded his horizons beyond drink and eventual death. She’d given
him a future, just as Elena had for Dash.

Nicholas lost track of the number of townhomes yet again, but this time around he
did not mind so much. It felt good to admit he’d been wrong. Not that he had any plans
to inform Dash. Still, the revelation was satisfying all the same—unexpected, slightly
intimidating, and more than he had ever allowed himself to believe could be true.

The hackney rolled to a stop in front of the Albany. Nicholas opened the door and
stepped out, paying the driver his wage and a tip. Just as he turned toward the steps,
Singh burst through the building’s front door.

“Sahib, you must come at once,” Singh cried out,
clearly very upset. “It is young Mouse. We cannot find him.”

Nicholas took the stairs two at a time and met Singh at the door. “What do you mean?”

“Just that, sahib. I went to check on him at midnight as I normally do and he was
not in his room.”

“He has a tendency to hole up in the most unusual spots,” Nicholas answered, stalking
down the hall toward his apartment. “Did you look in my dressing room? He often sleeps
on the servant’s cot there.”

Singh trotted beside him. “Yes, sahib, I looked in all of the usual places that young
Mouse prefers.”

Nicholas reached his front door and shoved it open with enough force to send the oak
panels bouncing back off the wall. “It is possible that he is simply playing a game
with you,” Nicholas suggested, scanning the front room before continuing down the
main hall. “He is a boy, after all.”

“Mr. Singh, is that you? Have you found him, then?” The cook’s voice carried clearly
up the servants’ stairs, followed shortly by the woman herself. “Oh, beg your pardon,
Mr. Bourne. I thought perhaps Mr. Singh had some news of Mouse.”

Nicholas did not want to believe that the boy was actually missing. A game of hide-and-seek
was far less threatening, and did not twist at his gut the way—

God, if the Bishop had him … That would mean Nicholas had tipped his hand at the benefit.
It would be his fault if anything happened to Mouse. And if the Bishop knew that the
boy was connected to him, then he surely had figured out Sophia’s involvement as well.

It was time to call in assistance.

“Mrs. Clark, gather Molly and Edwin, please, and meet me in the front drawing room
in five minutes.” His words were grim, clipped with command.

Mrs. Clark nodded her head quickly and disappeared back down the stairs.

“And what would you have me do, sahib?” Singh asked.

Nicholas rummaged in his vest pocket and pulled out a number of bills, handing them
to his friend. “I want you to go and collect Lady Sophia and her companion. Tell them
they must return with you to the Albany at once—and do not take no for an answer,
Singh. Tell the driver to take you to Number Five Balfour Place, in Mayfair.”

Singh embraced Nicholas, hugging him tightly. “I will not disappoint you, sahib.”

Before Nicholas could respond, Singh turned on his heels and ran down the hall, the
thud of the door opening loud in the still apartment.

Nicholas stared at the wall, wondering if they’d failed Mouse. He felt sure there
was nothing they could have done differently, short of imprisoning the boy, which
would have made no sense.

There was nothing they could have done differently
.

They
. Nicholas had included himself in the pardon.

“Goddammit, Singh,” he said out loud, fighting a surprising and unwelcome swell of
emotion. “You’ve managed to teach me to be kind—and to myself, of all people.”

Nicholas leaned against the wall, his legs suddenly weak. He was scared for Mouse.
Thankful for Singh’s presence. And humbled by Sophia’s love. All of his life, he’d
run from emotional entanglements, certain such things would lead to his undoing. And
at that very moment, he proved himself right. He was undone. Anxious and angry, in
love and loved.

And he was still alive. Nicholas beat his fist against the wall and bowed his head.
He was more than still alive. He’d been reborn.

Footfalls on the stairs signaled the servants coming up for the meeting.

Nicholas pushed off from the wall and ran both hands through his hair, the tingling
of his scalp clearing his mind.

“We’ll find the dear boy,” Mrs. Clark said to Nicholas as she passed him on the way
to the drawing room. “Don’t you worry one bit.”

“You are absolutely right, Mrs. Clark,” Nicholas replied, following behind her. “We
will find Mouse and bring him home.”

“Oh yes, we will,” a voice chimed in behind Nicholas. “And the bloke responsible for
this will pay harshly!”

Nicholas had formed a family of sorts. “Goddammit, Singh,” he said out loud, “you
bloody, blessed man.”

28

June 18

Sophia stood on the threshold of the front parlor in Nicholas’s apartment. Singh gestured
for her to enter. She hesitated, the gathering of men and the push and pull of their
serious conversation foreboding.

“Mr. Singh,” Sophia began, stepping tentatively into the room, “are you at liberty
to explain yourself now?”

Nicholas rose from the sofa, where he had been deep in conversation with a young man
whom Sophia vaguely recognized. “Sophia, Mrs. Kirk, thank you for coming. I apologize
for the early hour.”

“Please, will you tell me what this is all about?” Sophia asked as she hurried toward
Nicholas. “Mr. Singh gave us very little information.”

Nicholas took her arm. “Come with me.”

“Of course,” she replied, her nerves hardly soothed by his serious demeanor.

Lettie moved to follow her. “No, I will speak with Mr. Bourne—alone,” Sophia told
her.

Lettie nodded soberly and looked about the roomful of men. “I’ll make tea, then.”

“None for me, thank you,” Sophia replied, smiling assuredly at her dear friend. “I
will come and find you in the kitchen when Mr. Bourne and I have finished.”

She allowed Nicholas to steer her through the gathering. “I am growing impatient.”

“I understand, Sophia,” Nicholas said, heading for the back of the house.

Yet another man, his identity unknown to Sophia, blocked the closed study door.

“I really must demand an explanation now,” Sophia whispered, her fingers tightening
on Nicholas’s arm as they stopped in front of the stranger.

“Lady Sophia,” Nicholas told him.

The other man remained silent; the only discernible sign he’d heard Nicholas was a
slight nod.

Nicholas released Sophia’s arm as the man reached behind him, opened the study door,
and stepped aside.

“Sophia.” Langdon looked up from his seat behind Nicholas’s desk, his voice as stern
as the look in his eyes. “Please come in. You too, Nicholas.”

Langdon gestured for her to take one of two leather chairs situated in front of the
desk.

“Langdon?” Surprised and confused, Sophia braced herself momentarily against the supple
leather before sitting. “What is going on?”

Nicholas dropped into the chair next to her, his face as grim as his brother’s. “Mouse
has disappeared and we believe he’s been taken by the Bishop. I thought it best for
you to be brought here—for your own safety.”

Sophia’s heart missed a beat. She was terrified for Mouse and startled by Nicholas’s
decision to tell his brother about the case—so much so that when she opened her mouth
to reply, nothing came out.

“Langdon knows, Sophia,” Nicholas added. “I’ve told him all that we know about the
Bishop. When we discovered Mouse was gone, I knew that even with all of my connections,
I could not fight the Bishop on my own. I needed the Young Corinthians
—we
needed them.”

“You told the Corinthians, without consulting me?” Sophia whispered, angered and hurt.

Langdon thumped his fist upon the desktop. “And you went after your mother’s killer
without consulting me, Sophia. It seems you are both at fault.”

Sophia started at Langdon’s unexpected show of emotion. “I am sorry. I truly am. But
if I had told you what Dash and Nicholas had discovered when they caught Mr. Smeade,
would you have allowed me to be involved in the search?”

“Of course not!” Langdon shouted, slamming his fist against the desk a second time.
“And do you know why? Because of where we are now. One boy missing, your life in danger,
my brother’s life in danger …”

Sophia watched Langdon pause and take a deep breath. She had never heard him raise
his voice. “I never meant for it to turn out this way, Langdon. You must believe me.”

“Whether I do or do not is hardly the concern now. You’ve embroiled yourself in a
deadly game. And the Bishop is an expert chess player, Sophia. Some might even say
the best.”

Sophia looked at him for an explanation.

“The Corinthians have known of the Bishop and his involvement in the Kingsmen gang
for years.” Langdon picked up a document from one of the piles spread out before him.
“It was only recently that his identity as a magistrate was brought to light. Corruption
is widespread within the magistrates, and we’ve not managed to find one who would
give up the rest. We’d hoped to convince the Bishop to cooperate by threatening his
gang.

“There are many channels of business that a gang such as the Kingsmen must rely on
to keep turning a profit, including syndicates on the Continent. If the Bishop did
not agree to help us, we were going to reduce the channels available to him until
he saw the error of his ways.”

“You were going to blackmail him?” Sophia asked, beginning to understand the ramifications.

Langdon nodded. “That was the plan. Your Mr. Bean was told to stand down. We had an
agent in place, prepared to approach the Bishop. And then I heard from Nicholas.”

“Do not be angry. We were only doing what you would have done in the same situation,”
Nicholas told his brother.

Langdon stared hard at Nicholas, his thinly veiled frustration obvious. “You’ve endangered
Sophia, brother. I believe that gives me the right to be angry.”

“Her safekeeping was always my top priority,” Nicholas replied. “Surely you must know
this.”

“Frankly, I believe I don’t know anything about you.”

“Enough,” Sophia said. “There will be time to discuss such matters after Mouse is
found. Langdon, has our investigation ruined all hope of you apprehending the Bishop?
Or is there something that can be done?”

Langdon looked at the papers he still held in his hand. “As for Mouse, yes, I believe
there is something yet that we can do for the boy.”

“And capturing the Bishop?”

“You will not be involved in his apprehension,” Langdon said, his voice hard. “Do
you understand? I will have your word.”

Sophia looked at Nicholas. “Don’t let him do this. Tell him he is wrong,” she begged.

“He’s not wrong, Sophia,” Nicholas answered. “We are not spies, you and I. Hell, he’ll
most likely regret allowing
me
to accompany the Corinthians.”

She wanted to argue; wanted to tell both men that they could not do such a thing.

But it was a lie. The two loved her. And Sophia could not argue with love.

“Can she at least see him when he’s brought in?” Nicholas asked on her behalf.