Sin With a Scoundrel: The Husband Hunters Club (2 page)

Back to work! Richard sighed and turned from the window, putting the lovely Miss Smythe from his mind.

Chapter 2

A
s she entered her home in Mallory Street, Tina breathed a sigh of relief. The subtle scent of lavender and lemon furniture polish hung in the air. Her mother’s longcase clock, with the delightful paintings on its face of the moon, sun, and the stars, was ticking the moments away. A bowl of blooms sat perfectly centered on an oval table. She felt relieved to be home. Safe.

Safe?
she asked herself. Had her visit to Mr. Eversham really been so life-threatening? It had gone well, hadn’t it? Then why did she feel the need to find sanctuary as if she was under threat from some mysterious and unspecified danger?

“Master Charles has a visitor in the drawing room, Miss Tina.”

James, their butler, was hovering about her. As usual he sounded as if any visitor was a personal affront to him. Tina couldn’t help but contrast his manner to Mr. Eversham’s man, with his curly hair and twinkling eyes.

“Thank you, James.”

As she approached the drawing room she could hear two male voices, interspersed with chuckles.

Tina opened the door and peeped inside.

The two men, their faces flushed with laughter, turned toward her.

“Tina, we have a visitor!” Charles cried with his usual exuberance and completely unnecessarily. “Horace is here!”

Horace Gilfoyle shrugged his broad shoulders as Tina came toward him. Her hand was swallowed by his larger hand, and a whispering, treacherous thought told her it was not quite as overwhelming a sensation as it had been this morning when her hand was taken by Richard Eversham.

She dismissed the thought. She had known Horace forever, and they would make the ideal couple. His blond hair was a perfect contrast to her own dark tresses, and his tall, compact body and broad shoulders were just right for her smaller stature and soft curves. The thought of marrying anyone else was unthinkable. Ridiculous. Thank goodness she’d grasped her courage in both hands and approached Mr. Eversham.

And she had no doubt she had chosen the right man to teach her all she needed to know to go husband hunting. Horace was fond of her—in fact she could tell he was by the smile that was in his eyes right now as he gazed down at her—but that wasn’t enough. He had to love her passionately, enough to give up his free-and-easy ways and marry her.

Tina slipped off her gloves. “I must go and freshen up. I’ll be down in a minute. Will you stay for tea, Horace?”

“Of course he will!” said the irrepressible Charles. “Or maybe a whiskey?”

Horace smiled at Tina’s frown. “Tea would be delightful. Although I must be on my way soon. I have an appointment I mustn’t miss.”

“Will you ring then, Charles? I’ll be down shortly.”

Charles pulled the bell rope, and Tina gave Horace a little smile before she turned away.

Horace watched her leave, thinking she was becoming a fine figure of a woman. No longer the little girl he used to tease. He was surprised at her curves, nicely on display in her blue silk gown. Why hadn’t he noticed them before? Probably because she’d always been like a sister to him. If things were different, he might have thought about bedding her. As it was, she’d be saving her virtue for a suitable husband. The Smythes were very right and proper about things like that—something Horace found secretly amusing.

Maybe when she was married he might think of a dalliance with her. She’d be more worldly then and probably bored with her husband, up for some lustful dalliance with an old friend. Horace had always found married women far more grateful for one’s efforts.

“M
aria?”

A maid in her early thirties, the same height as Tina but considerably more buxom, turned from tidying the room. “Yes, miss.”

“Master Charles and Lord Horace are taking tea in the drawing room. Help me with my hair, will you, before I join them?”

She sat at her dressing table and Maria removed her bonnet and began to slip the pins from her long ebony hair.

“Do you know when my parents will be back, Maria?”

Maria hid a smile. “Not for some time, miss,” she answered. “Lady Carol said they would be back for dinner, but cook is to keep it warm if they are late and not to keep you and Master Charles waiting.”

She knew her mistress was hoping they wouldn’t be back too soon. When they were younger, Miss Tina and Master Charles had always found some mischief or other to get into when their mother and father were busy. And Lord Horace had been their companion a good many times in that mischief. Of course, Miss Tina thought herself far too grown-up now for childish mischief although she still enjoyed the company of both her brother and Lord Horace. And lately, Maria had begun to realize that Miss Tina’s interest in Lord Horace was changing. Deepening. Turning toward thoughts of marriage.

And that had Maria worried. Despite his outwardly affable and easygoing nature, Lord Horace reminded her of a man she’d known once, who had a darker side when he was opposed. Miss Tina was a strong-willed young woman with a great zest for life. She needed a companion to complement her rather than go head-to-head with her, as she feared would be the case with Lord Horace.

And then there was the time when Lord Horace had found Maria alone in a corridor and attempted to touch her in places no gentleman should touch. He had been rather drunk, and Maria had escaped without harm, but she’d never forgotten the angry twist to his mouth and the ugly look in his eyes when he’d been thwarted.

Maria had traveled from Spain to England as a very young girl, and yet she had vivid memories of the home she’d left behind. The first position she had held in England was as a scullery maid in a big house in the country. She considered herself very fortunate to have had the opportunity to train as a lady’s maid, but that lady was now long dead, and Maria had been with Tina’s family for over ten years, first looking after Lady Carol, Tina’s mother, and now Tina herself. Maria was comfortable here, protective of her young mistress, and she loved being in London although she did still long for her childhood home.

Perhaps, she mused, if Miss Tina married, she would travel—perhaps even to Spain— and Maria would travel with her. But not to Lord Horace, she decided firmly. No, not him.

“There. All done, miss,” Maria exclaimed.

Tina gave a final glance at her reflection and hurried to the staircase, stopping there to catch her breath before she walked sedately down to the drawing room. The tea had already arrived, and Tina poured for them all. She knew very well how Horace liked his tea and made sure to add one lump of sugar with oodles of milk.

“So where have you been today, Tina?” asked Horace as he sipped his tea with evident enjoyment.

“Just visiting a friend.” Tina gave her prepared answer. “An old school friend,” she added firmly.

She’d decided on the old-school-friend story on her way home. She knew that her brother would not be particularly interested in her activities, but if her parents were at home, they would have asked questions. If they knew where she’d really been . . . well, it was just best if they didn’t. Tina told herself she wasn’t lying, not exactly, just keeping her own counsel. Mr. Eversham was a means to an end, and once she and Horace were wed her parents would be too ecstatic to care about the twists and turns of just how it had all come about.

Now, she watched Horace furtively, trying to imagine them together in their own house. She’d be curled up by the fire with a book, while Horace sat nearby in his armchair, reading aloud to her snippets of daily news from the newspaper. It was a very cozy scene, but for some reason just as she had it fixed in her mind the man in the armchair changed, became more muscular, his hair darker, his eyes with a warm, teasing look that brought a flush to her cheeks.

“Oh!”

It was Mr. Eversham!

“Did you say something, Tina?”

Charles was giving her an odd look, and Tina realized she’d spoken aloud. She really had to stop this living in her head. Time to concentrate on the here and now. On hunting Horace, her future husband.

Chapter 3

R
ichard climbed the narrow staircase to the heavy door at the top and entered the dark, smoky room. There was a large table in the middle of what were somewhat austere surroundings. The windows were opaque with dust, and lit candles threw flickering shadows. The five men who called themselves the Guardians sat, all but one of them puffing on cigars; all but one looked up as he entered. Sir Henry Arlington, the gentleman at the head of the table, shuffled his pile of papers and spoke in a quiet but commanding voice.

“Ah, Richard. Lock the door. We are all now in attendance.”

Richard bolted the door and sat down at the far end of the table, as far from the smoke cloud as he could. For a moment no one spoke, and there was some important throat clearing.

Here in this room were some of the most influential men in the government. They dealt with the shadowy issues, matters the British public were completely unaware of, matters that could undermine society and potentially bring down the Prime Minister and his cabinet. That was the reason they were called the Guardians. They were faceless, nameless, beavering away in secret. And that was how they liked it.

Richard’s father and Sir Henry had been in the same regiment during their army days, but Richard had known nothing of the Guardians until a family tragedy drew him into their shadowy realm. In the aftermath of that tragedy Sir Henry had asked him to join, to take his dead brother’s place.

Now Sir Henry cleared his throat one last time. “Any further unrest in the East End?” he demanded.

“All quiet at the moment,” he was reassured by one man. “I’m keeping an eye on things.”

“Sir Henry, we should discuss the Bossenden Wood riot,” another of the men spoke up, younger than the rest.

“Oh nonsense, Jackson, surely that’s all done with!” butted in an older man, with a large white mustache, lush enough to draw attention from his completely bald head. “They’ve shot the chap—a lunatic—and put the rest of them away. It’s over with.”

But young as he was, Will Jackson was not easily crushed by his more important companions. “I hardly think it’s completely done with, Lord Montague. Eleven men died. The fact that it happened at all is something I think we need to consider. And was Thom really the organ grinder or merely the monkey? Sir Henry?”

Richard watched Sir Henry lean back in his chair and prepared himself for the usual wait while their commander considered the matter. He tended to agree with Lord Montague—the small riot that took place in Kent in May was over and done with. John Thom, a Cornishman, had styled himself as Sir Thomas Courtney and claimed to be the Messiah. He drew people to him with his speeches and even displayed evidence of stigmata. When the authorities began to show an interest in him, he led a rising against them and was shot dead, although not before he’d killed Lieutenant Bennett, who was politely asking him to surrender. Those who didn’t die in the ensuing battle were arrested.

Sir Henry interrupted his musings. “What Lord Montague says makes sense, Will. I think it was more a problem with this particular chap’s brain than any real civil unrest. An aberration. Besides, there’s always discontent among the peasants, what? Surely that can be dealt with at a local level? Richard, you have connections in Kent, what do you think of this Bossenden Wood business?”

All the men turned toward him.

Richard’s life was currently in London, but his family was originally from Kent, where Eversham Manor had been home to generations of Evershams. The house belonged to him now but he rarely visited. He had made a solemn promise to himself when his brother died that he would not live in the family home, he would not claim his rightful place, until his brother’s death was avenged. He meant to honor it.

“Richard?”

Richard roused himself. These men expected him to know what was happening in Kent, and he took his position at this table seriously.

“It’s true Thom was considered an imposter and a lunatic, but there must be a considerable amount of dissatisfaction for him to have gained such a following. These were men who were willing to die for him. Was there someone else behind him, pulling the strings? I don’t know. But I can find out if that is what you want me to do.”

Sir Henry nodded with sudden decision. “Yes, we need to be sure. Remember the Captain?”

A shudder went around the table. Richard felt a pain deep in his chest.

The Captain had been a mysterious figure who had set about causing dissension among the laboring classes in Suffolk and worked his way up to the minor gentry. By the time Sir Henry and his men made the connection between the numerous riots and bouts of lawbreaking, the mysterious Captain had slipped through their net and disappeared. But not before one of their own had died. They’d been made to look like incompetent fools, and they still didn’t understand the Captain’s motive for what he did, or even if he had a motive. It was a very sore point with Sir Henry Arlington and his men.

“Richard, I think any answers you could find to our questions would be helpful. For now we will treat Bossenden Wood as possibly linked to the Suffolk riots. Yes, yes, Montague, I know it’s tenuous, but we can’t be too careful. All agreed? Can we have a show of hands?”

All of the Guardians but Lord Montague raised their hands and agreed with the motion.

“Anything else to discuss, gentlemen?”

Richard shifted in his chair. “I have some information of sorts on Lord Horace Gilfoyle. You are all aware of my . . . more public occupation.” Several men guffawed. “Yes, I see that you are. Well, a young lady has asked for my assistance in gaining the attention of Gilfoyle.”

It had been purely accidental that Richard fell into the game of teaching seduction. A friend had asked for his help with a difficult lady, and soon afterward he was swamped with requests. When he explained the situation to the Guardians, Sir Henry had decided it was as good a cover as any for a spy, and besides, what better way to hear all the latest gossip about town?

“An introduction, do you mean?” asked Sir Henry now. “Surely you’re not that well acquainted with Gilfoyle?”

“No, no, not an introduction. In fact the young lady is well acquainted with Gilfoyle herself. It’s more that she wishes to attract his attention in a romantic way. In fact she imagines she wishes to marry him.” He ended with a serious note in his voice.

There was a moment’s silence as they all considered the possibilities. Horace Gilfoyle had been a man of interest to the Guardians for some time, for although he was from a respectable and wealthy family himself, he had a penchant for living on the edge of society and rubbing shoulders with rascals. They had been following his exploits and noting his friends and contacts. And of particular interest was the news that he’d been in Suffolk during one of the Captain riots.

“I take it this young lady is an unattractive piece?” Sir Henry’s eyes narrowed through the smoke, but there was a twinkle in them that made Richard uncomfortable. The other man had always been adept at reading his mind.

“No, she’s far from unattractive, but that isn’t the point, is it?” He hesitated but decided to keep his indecision to himself—it was none of their business that after a long night wrestling with his conscience, he wasn’t sure whether he could abet Miss Smythe in her plan to marry a man who might be a murderer. “I’ve accepted her commission. It will give me a chance to discover more about Gilfoyle. The lady’s brother is a longtime close friend of Gilfoyle’s, apparently, so she sees quite a bit of him.”

“So the brother may be of interest as well?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Good. You may have some things to tell us the next time we meet, Richard. Gentlemen!” He looked about the table. “I think we are done.”

They began to leave, but catching a meaningful glance from Sir Henry, Richard lingered until they were alone.

“How long since you’ve been back to your home in Kent, Richard?” his superior asked in an even tone. “Your brother has been dead for years. The house is yours, is it not?”

“Yes, it is. My sister-in-law lives there.”

“And yet you stay away?”

“There’s nothing for me to go back for.”

“I understand how keenly you feel the need to find your brother’s killer, whether or not it was this Captain. But surely you don’t still blame yourself? Anthony knew what sort of work he was involved in. Just as we all do. You cannot blame yourself for what happened to him.”

“I have always believed I could have prevented his death. If I hadn’t fallen out with him. If I’d been there for him. He might have spoken to me—come to me for help.”

“Romantic nonsense. You were not your brother’s keeper!”

When Richard didn’t say any more, Sir Henry shrugged his burly shoulders. “Well, keep your secrets if you must. As long as you do your job. You must remember that the work we do here is far more important than any personal considerations, Richard. It is vital. Sometimes we are all that stands between order and anarchy. We are the guardians at the gates.”

“I will do my job, sir,” Richard said quietly. “I always do.”

Sir Henry nodded and finally released him. Outside, Richard took several deep breaths. He hadn’t planned to return to Kent. Not yet. Sir Henry was right; Richard had a promise to keep before he resumed his life as a country gentleman. He had to find Anthony’s murderer. He had to put the restless spirit of his brother to rest.