If He's Sinful (14 page)

“Yet you do not.”

“There is no proof.” He frowned and forced himself to be honest. “I will admit that Septimus appeared to calm Penelope when the doctor was stitching up her wound, and did so simply by putting his hands on her. I could see the look of pain on her face fade away the moment he touched her.”

“And that is not proof? Mayhap all that is said about that clan is not just rumor,” said Cornell. “Think on how long the rumors have persisted. Generations, Ashton. There have been the same whispers about those people for generations. Why should that not be because there is some truth sprinkled in all that talk.”

“You cannot believe that someone can see or speak to ghosts,” said Ashton.

“Why not? Not to say I do, but why should it not be so? And how is one to prove most of it? She claims she can see and speak to spirits but you cannot, thus she must be wrong in her belief? Seems most unfair a judgment to me. From all that is said concerning the secretive, reclusive nature of that family, I am surprised she mentioned it at all.”

“It was at Mrs. Cratchitt’s.” He sighed when they all looked at him with keen interest and reluctantly told them all he had overheard, keeping only the name of the spirit a secret. “The older boys are busy trying to find out what the spirit meant. Their plan appears to be to lurk about the brothel dressed as beggar boys and spy on everyone.”

“The young fools will get their throats cut.”

“That is what I fear,” agreed Ashton. “I had thought to go round to Cratchitt’s just to see if they were being too bold, risking too much, but I must attend a soiree at Lady Stenton’s this evening.”

“Lady Stenton has a true skill for devising the most tedious entertainments,” said Victor. “You can offer no excuse to save yourself from such pain?”

“None.” Ashton idly drummed his fingers on the table. “Artemis believes Charles was behind Penelope’s kidnapping, that he meant to enjoy himself with her for a while and then be rid of her. Greed and lust, Artemis said. I decided it might be best if I acted the dutiful fiancé for a while. Mayhap I will learn something that will either cause me to believe the boy’s suspicions or try to make him look elsewhere for the villain behind the kidnapping. However, I am taking my mother with me and not only because it allows me to send Clarissa ahead with her brother. I intend to use Mother as a reason to leave early enough so that I might slip away and spy upon those foolish boys.”

“Shall we watch over them whilst you dance attendance upon your fiancée?”

Ashton hesitated only a moment before accepting that offer. “I think they are canny lads, and if they do possess some strange skills, they may well learn what they seek to know without endangering themselves too much. But I am too much a man of reason, and all I see are boys risking getting their throats cut.”

“Do not fear. We shall protect their tender young throats until you arrive.”

Three long hours of bad food, bad music, and bad company and Ashton believed he had suffered enough to rightfully call himself a martyr to the cause. Clarissa looked breathtakingly beautiful in her green velvet gown, fashionably bundled up in the back and adorned with just the right amount of lace and trimmings. Her hair was done up in elaborate rolls of curls and tumbling softly down her back, the pearls and feathers decorating the curls highlighting the perfection of them. He was no longer impressed by that beauty, however, for he could now see the hardness in her eyes and hear the spite and cruelty behind her every word. Three hours in her company were two too many and Ashton began to look for his mother, who had kindly agreed to claim a sick headache the moment he required an excuse to flee.

“Had enough?” asked a young voice as Ashton stood in the doorway of the ladies’ card room and searched the crowd of older women for his mother.

A glance to his left revealed that Hector had silently joined him, and Ashton smiled. “More than enough. Are you wearied of spying yet?”

“Near to.” Hector stretched his neck so that he could scratch an itch without ruining the falls of cream-colored lace at his throat. “Are you ever going to let her know that you know she has a stepsister she has been hiding?”

“Oh, most certainly. Tonight, with my mother joining me, was not the time. I do not wish any distractions when I confront her for I do not wish to miss her reaction.”

“She looks to the left when she lies.”

Ashton looked at the boy in surprise. “Clever lad.”

Hector shrugged. “I know a lie when I hear it, m’lord. I can feel it. Do not really need to guess the twitch of it to know someone is lying to me but I still like to find out what the twitches are. She lies a lot. Lies, yells, curses, and slanders. But thought that, since you have to wed up with her, it would be a good thing for you to know.”

“Yes, a very good thing.”

Ashton caught his mother’s eye and idly straightened the lace ruffles at his wrists. It was the signal they had agreed upon before leaving home. She gave him an absent smile and he hoped that was her way of agreeing. He looked back at Hector.

“Clarissa is not in the card room. Should you not be at her side?” he asked.

“Told her I had to go to the necessary as I was feeling ill.” He grinned. “She always shoos me away when I say such things.” He tugged at his red-and-gold-striped waistcoat. “I will be done with this soon, though. I cannot abide all this, this frippery. And she keeps me as busy as a body louse day and night. ’Tis clear that she thinks I need little sleep.”

“Have you learned anything to justify enduring this torture?”

“Aye. You have matched yourself to a nasty piece of goods and her brother is one who would gut his own mother for a guinea. I wish Pen never had to go back to that house.”

“Why does she?” Ashton idly wondered why he was having such a serious discussion with a boy of nine and decided it was because all of Penelope’s boys held a maturity and wit far beyond their years.

“’Tis
her
house. She says she has to stay there to hold her claim to it, that it might be all that is left of her inheritance.”

His mother’s arrival halted Ashton’s questions, even though a dozen more lingered on his tongue. He would have to find out later what the boy had discovered. Tucking his mother’s hand in the crook of his arm, he properly introduced her to Hector this time. Ashton was astonished and somewhat amused by how thoroughly the boy charmed his mother. He then took full advantage of Hector’s presence to save himself from a scene enacted by his angry fiancée. He sent the boy back to Clarissa with word that he had needed to take his mother home and would call on Clarissa soon.

“A lovely child despite those absurd clothes,” said Lady Mary once they were seated in the carriage and headed home. “How could a mother give up such a clever, charming boy?”

“I am not sure why any of the boys were given up,” Ashton said and then frowned. “Ah, that is not quite true. Lady Penelope’s brothers were cast aside by her mother to please her new husband. I am uncertain of the fate of their own mothers, but odds are, they cast them aside as the others were cast aside.”

“I recall that now. I can understand her, in some ways. Her husband was unfaithful. It must have been hard to see the proof of that.”

“Possibly.” Ashton wondered if his father had bred any children outside of his marriage but it was not something he could ask his mother. “I think she said the same was done with one of the other boys. It is not something I question for I suspect it is a painful subject.”

“I think I should like to meet your Lady Penelope.”

“She is not mine, Mother.” He ignored the sharp pang of regret that struck him at admitting that.

“I meant only that she is your friend. Mayhap you could bring her to tea one day.”

Ashton murmured an agreement, but doubted it would happen. It would be unkind in one way, offering Penelope a silent promise he could not keep. A man introduced a lady to his mother only if they met at some social occasion or if he had the intention of seriously courting her. He was already stepping far over the bounds of propriety and good sense by visiting Penelope so often and giving in to the need to kiss her, to hold her in his arms.

The moment he saw his mother safely home, Ashton traveled to Mrs. Cratchitt’s. He was just descending from his coach and wondering what sort of reception he would face when he saw the boys. They rushed forward to tend to the horses, arguing with his coachman over who had the right to hold the team while their owner went into the brothel. Ashton stepped up to Artemis and loudly cleared his throat.

“Oh.” Artemis stepped back from the coach, Stefan and Darius quickly moving to flank him. “’Tis you. Your friends have already had a word with us and gone inside. We do not need watching.”

“I will confess that this guise of yours is quite clever and convincing.” Ashton struggled to be diplomatic for he could see that he had stung the pride of Penelope’s youthful protectors. They were too clever not to realize why he had come to this place. “But why do you think places such as this are always in need of boys to do this work or run errands? Throat cutting is naught but a sport in this part of the city. So is the snatching up of young, fair-faced boys. You would not like where you would be taken should that happen, nor what you would be forced to endure.” All three boys grew a little pale, revealing that they had some idea, and he had to wonder where they were getting such worldly knowledge. “How much longer will you play this dangerous game?”

“It will end soon. We have heard enough already to know that it was Cratchitt who tried to run down Penelope. No hard proof of that, of course, but one should always know who one’s enemies are.”

“Quite true.” Ashton wondered if he should have told the boys the description of the man his friends had gained but decided the boys were putting themselves in enough danger as it was. “And the other matter?”

“That has been more difficult to learn about.”

“Artemis is close to getting an answer, m’lord,” said Darius. “One of the ladies here has a liking for him.”

Ashton grinned when Artemis blushed. “You mean to coax the truth from one of Mrs. Cratchitt’s fillies, do you?”

“What say you?” Brant strode up to them and, grinning widely, looked Artemis up and down. “Ready to spread your wings, are you?”

“Nay, I but seek the truth.” Artemis crossed his arms over his chest. “Pen said someone died in that bed and we mean to find out who, how, and why. Faith, that is the spirit’s name, told Pen that she had been murdered.”

Ignoring how Brant stiffened at the name “Faith,” Ashton asked, “You are willing to risk your lives in this sty because Penelope claims a ghost spoke to her?”

“We are accustomed to people not believing us, but we know the truth. And what if Pen really can speak to the dead? The restless dead. What if this place has done more than ruined innocents? Is it not our responsibility to find out? You may close this place, but you know as well as I do that that witch will just open another brothel. If she has blood on her hands, she needs to be stopped, not just moved away.”

Ashton rubbed his forehead, not sure how to deal with this belief in speaking to spirits. “Let us say, for the moment, that I believe Penelope sees and speaks to spirits. From what I overheard you speak of that night, the spirit said little that was helpful.”

“We think the most important thing Faith said was that she is covered in sin,” said Stefan.

“Aye,” agreed Artemis. “And is this place not filled with sin? We are trying to find out if there is some room or cellar under this building and a way into it.”

It made sense, Ashton thought, if one believed Penelope talked to ghosts. He was about to ask a few more questions when Victor, Cornell, and Whitney exited the brothel at a fast pace. Mrs. Cratchitt and two of her brutish footmen were close on their heels. The boys quickly retreated to the other side of the carriage team.

“What are you doing with those lads?” demanded Mrs. Cratchitt. “’Tis hard enough to keep boys about to do work without you lot cozening them.”

“I was but discussing their fee for caring for my horses,” said Ashton.

“Liar! Ye have been trying to ruin me! I know who is at the root of the slander being spread about me and my business. Well, begone! None of you are welcome here! Go and plague someone else, you bastards! If ye ever come back here, I will make ye sorry for it!”

Since his friends had already climbed into the coach, Ashton sketched a bow to Mrs. Cratchitt and joined them. He hated to leave the boys but knew he would put them in even more danger if the woman suspected he knew them. Confronting Mrs. Cratchitt now would serve no purpose, could even lose him the chance to make her pay for her crimes. He was just not sure those crimes included murder.

“You never said the ghost’s name was Faith,” Brant said as the carriage began to move.

“Faith is a common name,” Ashton said. “I did not wish to scratch at an old wound, especially not on the word of someone who claims a ghost spoke to her.”

“The boys believe it.”

“They also believe that Paul has the ability to see what
will
happen and that Hector can
feel
a lie.”

“So you have no intention of helping the lads see if there is something under that hellhole? Not even just to prove them wrong so that they will cease this dangerous game?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Victor.

“Recall what I told you about all I overheard Artemis and Penelope say that night at the brothel.” When Victor nodded, Ashton told him what the boys had said. “They are now lurking about that place trying to find out if there is something beneath the brothel and how to get down there if there is.”