The Sweetest Revenge (29 page)

Archer flushed and turned away.

“Do I know her?” Leo persisted.

“You might have.” Sutherland gazed at the rim of his own tumbler as if fascinated by it. “In the carnal sense, that is.”

“Ah.” Relief washed over Leo. Now he understood their strange behavior. He had once tumbled Archer’s mistress—no great shock there. There weren’t many available women in London he hadn’t tumbled. “An actress?”

“Noooo…” Sutherland said.

“Devil take it.” Archer turned back to Leo, his normally pale cheeks blazing. “Really, Leo, it hardly matters. Leave it alone.”

“Of course.” Leo raised his hands in a soothing gesture. “Mere curiosity is all. If you wish to keep her a secret, that is no concern of mine.”

“We are endeavoring to be discreet,” Archer said, tight-lipped.

Leo was rather impressed. Archer obviously cared a great deal for his new
chère-amie
. Leo had never seen the man exhibit this level of self-possession. He lifted his brandy to his lips. “I daresay a mistress will be good for you, Archer.”

“You know what this means, though, don’t you?” Sutherland said. “There will be no more of our…ah…
weekly gatherings
.”

“Really?” That was odd. Most of the women Leo knew would have willingly and vigorously participated in Archer’s orgies.

“Really,” Sutherland said. “I’ve been informed that they might upset her delicate sensibilities.”

“Is that so?” Leo looked to Archer. “Perhaps you’re wrong about me knowing this woman. I can’t begin to imagine who it might be.”

Archer smiled thinly, showing his teeth. “It doesn’t matter.”

Leo had the impression the man was nearing the end of his patience. A change of topic was in order. He turned to his old friend. “And what about you, Sutherland? What kind of trouble have you been stewing in since I left?”

Sutherland trailed his finger around the rim of his glass. “Well, Leo. You will be impressed.”

“Will I?”

“To be quite honest, I find myself a bit out of sorts. Actually, I am not overly discomposed by the cessation of our weekly entertainments. In fact, I think I ought to call a halt to our little competitions. You see, I seem to have lost the stomach for them.”

Leo narrowed his eyes. He and Sutherland had begun this friendly rivalry back at Cambridge. At any given engagement they attended, they’d locate the most striking lady, then wager who’d be the first to have her under him by the end of the night. The competition had been wearing on Leo for years, but Sutherland was insatiable—and competitive. Leo had thought he’d never give it up.

“Have you indeed?” he said slowly.

“I have, much to my surprise, developed a certain…affection. For a particular woman.”

“Oh, really?” Now this was new. Philip Sutherland actually caring for someone—a woman, no less.

Leo glanced at Archer, who watched Sutherland with a bland expression. Clearly he had already heard all about this “affection.”

“Yes,” Sutherland said. “It’s quite troublesome, really. I fear she does not return the sentiment.”

“Do you?”

“Indeed. It is quite…disconcerting.”

Leo nodded. Sutherland was seldom rebuffed, so a refusal would surely sting, especially if it came from someone he had a fancy for.

“And now she has left Town.” Sutherland sighed.

“What will you do?”

Sutherland shrugged and looked dolefully into his glass. “I don’t know. What can I do? Nothing, I suppose.” He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “She said I could write to her.”

For God’s sakes,
Sutherland
was playing the besotted fool. Sutherland’s and Archer’s woman problems had kept the attention firmly diverted from him. Leo was so relieved he decided to offer his own bit of advice, something he wished he’d learned long ago.

“Pursue her,” Leo said firmly. “Go wherever she is, and make her understand the extent of your affection. You will regret it if you don’t.”

Sutherland looked up at him, one black eyebrow raised. “Do you think so?”

“Absolutely. In any case, she will not hold out much longer.”

“How do you know?”

Leo smiled and clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I have seen you in action, old man. No woman can resist you. Not for long.”

***

Isabelle dipped her quill in the inkwell and held it poised over the stationery.

She didn’t know what to write.

The letter was meant for Susan and Anna, but what could she tell them that would not sound self-pitying and gloomy? The days here were cold and damp. Nobody spoke with her. Nobody laughed.

Worst of all, she hadn’t received one letter from London.

Setting the pen on the table, she rose and went to the window. Once again, rain emerged from the dark sky to spatter across the windowpanes.

I love you. I’ll find you. I won’t let you go.

But Leo had not come. She had been in Scotland for nearly a month.

She leaned against the window, closed her eyes, and allowed her thoughts to drag her into a cavern of solitude. Slowly, her bitter body warmed from the inside out. In there, the words of love he had spoken were true. In there, he came for her, brought her out of the darkness. In there, she did not need to protect her heart. In there, she could love him.

***

Several days after making his appearance at White’s, Leo received a letter from Northumberland from the man he’d hired, stating that Belle’s family was uncooperative and tight-lipped about her whereabouts. Leo had crumpled the letter and thrown it into the fire—this was information he already knew.

Frustrated with his inability to find any of the women involved in his kidnapping, he ventured out to the theater with a group of acquaintances. He stood in the back corner of the box, leisurely scanning the crowd through his opera glasses.

Leo caught a glimpse of Archer sitting in a crowded box across the theater. Beside him, standing out from the crowd, sat a beautiful woman in silver net talking in animated tones. Leo studied her for a long moment—this must be Archer’s new mistress.

And then it struck him, like an anvil in the chest. Her dark hair was up, but he remembered that particular mahogany shade spread over a pillow when he’d left her in Peterborough.

“Fuck!” Leo dropped the glasses as if they had caught on fire and reeled backward until he slammed into the wall.

The political discussion surrounding him ceased, and all the men turned to him. He had spoken loudly enough for the ladies and gentlemen in the adjacent boxes to hear. They stared at him in surprise, slack-jawed. One gentleman clapped his hands over a young lady’s ears.

Leo glared witheringly at all of them, retrieved the glasses, and looked through them again.

There was no doubt about it. He remembered that woman from Peterborough. He remembered her from the cellar.

Archer’s mistress was Anna Newton.

***

Now Leo knew how he would find Belle.

He hired a man to keep a watch on Archer, day and night, to track Anna’s movements. He learned that her surname wasn’t Newton anymore—evidently, she had been reborn as Anna Tomkins. No wonder he hadn’t been able to find her.

He had to catch her alone. That proved a difficult prospect, however, because the man informed him that when she was not with Archer, she stayed at the house of a respectable widow.

The chances of that widow being Lady M were decent, and yet the investigator made no mention of the presence of a third woman. Where was Belle?

Three days later, he received a cryptic note: “A.N. in house alone,” followed by the address near Berkeley Square.

He clutched the edge of his desk, feeling the blood drain from his face.

Oh yes, he knew that house. He had bedded its mistress five or six times, in five or six different rooms.

He gathered his coat, cane, and hat, but instead of waiting for his coachman or for his horse to be saddled, he set off for Berkeley Square at a run.

The investigator, a square-faced man of heavy build, met him outside the property gate. Leo nodded curtly as he approached. “When did the lady leave?”

“About an hour ago, my lord.”

“Has anyone else gone inside?”

“No, sir.”

Dabbing sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief, Leo gazed through the gate at the house he had been imprisoned in for eleven days, a pretty, compact mansion made from red brick.

Belle might be in there.

He had known the house’s original owner, Henry, Viscount DeLinn, who had died four years ago, giving Leo access to his very petite, very pretty, sharp-tongued bluestocking of a widow.

Lady DeLinn was Lady M, the mastermind behind his kidnapping. He should have realized it from the beginning. He should have known it earlier from her take-charge demeanor, from her husky voice, from the book she had made him read.

Susan DeLinn was perhaps the most well-read woman he had ever known. They had spent hours discussing the most reviled works ever written in the English and French languages. She owned the most extensive collection of rare and banned novels he’d ever had the pleasure of reading. The antics portrayed in some of these books shocked even him, but she had merely laughed.

After he came to her a few times, he began to have misgivings. She was still in mourning for her husband, and he could see she anticipated his visits. He saw how her eyes lit up when she spotted him walking into a room.

He simply could not give her what she needed. She needed true affection.

So he had called it off, rather rudely, for he believed a woman who despised him vastly preferable to a woman who pined for him. He had never imagined she’d be the type of woman to shed tears over the likes of him, but she had, and—he swallowed, remembering how callous he had been—he’d laughed and accused her of suffering from weak female affectations.

His strategy had worked, apparently too well. He understood now that to accuse someone of Lady M’s ilk of suffering from weak female affectations was the worst possible insult.

He looked away from the house. As far as he knew, all her servants would recognize him as the man in the cellar. They would never give him access to their mistress or to Belle.

He turned to the burly man beside him, rattled off his instructions, and forced himself to walk away.

***

Leo’s chance came the following day when Lady DeLinn and Anna Tomkins went shopping on New Bond Street. He followed them, watching them stroll along the street and finally enter a milliner’s establishment. The day was fair for autumn, with a brisk wind. But a merest hint of rain hung in the air, and clouds hovered in the distance.

He hovered at the doorway of the shop, pretending to gaze into the windows, waiting for them to emerge.

Eventually they did, laughing gaily. It gave Leo a sort of grim satisfaction to see the laughter slide from their faces when they laid eyes upon him.

Lady DeLinn stood very still, staring at him with black, glittering eyes. Anna gave him a blank look, her lips parted. He remembered her torturous charm in the cellar and gave her a bright smile, hoping to disarm her even further.

He bowed. “Good afternoon, ladies. I do hope you wouldn’t object to me walking with you for a short while?”

Lady DeLinn turned on her heel and marched away. Anna stared at him a moment longer, then scurried after her friend, clutching her reticule to her chest as if protecting it from a thief.

He had known they would try to cut him. Stifling a sigh, he took a few long strides to reach Lady DeLinn’s side.

“You won’t rid yourselves of me so easily,” he said softly. “But do not worry. I mean you no harm. In fact, I am quite sorry to bother you. Trust me when I say I’d rather have used different means.”

They marched down the street, dodging the crowds. Lady DeLinn did not acknowledge his presence, nor slow down. They were already halfway down the block. He continued in a quiet voice. “I want one piece of information from you, and then I will leave you alone. I need to find Belle. Tell me where she is.”

Lady DeLinn reeled to a halt and looked up at him. Her surprise had faded, or she had forced herself to disguise it, and now she gazed at him with speculative eyes. “Why, Lord Leothaid. What a pleasant surprise to see you again.”

“Didn’t expect to see me so soon, eh?”

“Soon? Whatever do you mean?”

“It has been less than a month since you released me from your cellar.”

She sighed heavily. “Why are you hounding us, Lord Leothaid? Haven’t you had enough?”

Busy shoppers bustled by. Traffic rumbled. The noise of the street masked their voices, giving them some semblance of privacy in such a public location. They stood in their own circle on the pavement, virtually isolated within the crowd.

Leo jerked a nod. “Quite. However, I seem to be out of options.”

“How did you find us?” Lady DeLinn asked.

“I knew about Miss Tomkins when I was still enjoying your hospitality,” he said blandly. “Though I remembered her as Miss Newton of Peterborough. It was only a matter of finding her, which was easy enough given that her paramour is part of my social circle. Once I found her, your identity was easy enough to deduce,
Lady M
.”

Anna Tomkins’s jaw dropped. “You knew? And you did not say anything?”

“How could I? Look what you did when I discovered Belle—you took her away from me. You might have done something drastic if I revealed what I knew.”

“But how did you…?”

“I have an excellent memory, Miss Tomkins. And what I said was the truth.” He raised his head to scan the near vicinity. The busy shoppers paid them no heed. He dipped his head and lowered his voice. “I do not make a habit of debauching virgins. What I would like to know is, if you were so reduced by my actions of that night so long ago, why are you here?”

Anna’s expression turned ashen. She flicked a glance at Lady DeLinn. “Susan…”

Lady DeLinn glanced at her friend. “Perhaps we should find a place to sit down.”

“No. He should know.” Anna flicked desperate eyes to Lady DeLinn. “You tell him, Susie.”