Velvet Embrace (16 page)

Dominic grimaced. He was allowing Brie's memory to affect him far more than was wise. She was naught but a country wench he had known for a short time. Still, he would have to conquer his growing obsession before it got out of hand.

Forcibly, Dominic turned his thoughts aside. When he reached his townhouse in Berkeley Square, he let himself in quietly. Of the skeleton staff he employed to maintain the residence, only Farley, his
manservant
,generally
stayed awake till the wee hours to await his return. It was still early and Dominic was not expected, but Farley appeared in the foyer as if by magic. Dominic relinquished his outer garments and turned to mount the stairs.

"My lord?"

Dominic paused, glancing impatiently over his shoulder. Farley cleared his throat. "Pardon
m'lord
, but a . . .
er
. . . lady called a short time ago. She insisted that she be allowed to await your return. I informed her you would not be home till late."

Dominic's lips twitched at the accusation in his servant's tone, but his curiosity was piqued. In spite of his rakish habits, women seldom appeared on his doorstep uninvited.

"Well, who is it, man?" he asked when Farley hesitated.

"A Miss Crowell, my lord. I have put her in the small parlor."

Surprised and a little puzzled, Dominic bounded up the stairs. Cassandra Crowell was a well-known figure among London Cyprians. A beautiful woman with raven hair and a voluptuous figure, she possessed an allure—as well as a reputation for having a charming bedside manner—that had attracted half the men in town to her side at one time or another. Dominic had escorted her to the theater earlier in the week, but nothing more. Even though Cassandra had pouted and become angry, he had not been interested enough to take what she so willingly offered.

He entered the parlor without knocking and let his gaze sweep the small room. It was quite empty.

Farley, who had followed, exclaimed in bewilderment. "But she was here but a moment ago! I brought her a tray. See, the tea is still warm."

"Perhaps she grew tired of waiting and left."

"Oh no, my lord.
I would have heard her."

"Then," Dominic said slowly, "she must still be in the house. Search the ground floor, Farley, while I take this one. And go quietly. If she has a weapon, it would not do to startle her."

Farley swallowed. "A weapon, did you say?"

"Never mind.
Just stay out of range and call out if you find her. Now move, man," he ordered as Farley continued to stand there staring.

Dominic began his search along the upper hall, his footsteps making no sound on the carpet as he carefully opened each door.

He wasn't sure what to expect from Cassandra when he found her. His first thought, when he had realized she was in his house, had been that she was still anxious to ply her trade. But her disappearance had fostered a suspicion that
Germain
had hired her as an assassin of sorts. It would not be the first time Charles had used a female to further his own ends.

Dominic found Cassandra in his bedroom. She was making no attempt to cover the sounds of her movements as she rummaged through his personal belongings, so it was easy for him to quietly enter the room and observe her hurried search. He could tell she was unarmed. The gown she was wearing was designed to expose as much flesh as possible and could not possibly have concealed a weapon.

Dominic was puzzled. His jewel case containing some diamond stickpins and such was lying open, the items in plain view, but he saw enough to convince him it was no treasure hunt Cassandra had in mind.

"Had I known you were so hungry for me,
chérie
, I would not have kept you waiting."

A pistol shot could not have startled her more than Dominic's sardonic drawl did. Giving a gasp, Cassandra whirled to face him, hastily crossing one hand over her breasts while hiding the other behind her skirts. "My . . . my lord," she croaked. "I was not expecting you so soon."

Dominic's eyes glittered like cool diamonds.
His gaze flicked around the room, then returned to her pale face and heaving breasts.
"I can see you weren't," he remarked acidly, closing the door with his heel. He moved toward her unhurriedly, a panther stalking his prey. Cassandra retreated, shrinking from his tall, menacing form, but Dominic prevented her from moving by clamping his hands over her shoulders.

Reaching down, he wrenched her hands from behind her back. An object dropped from her grasp, making a dull thud on the thick carpet. Dominic recognized it immediately—a heavy gold seal ring that had once belonged to his father.

His eyes narrowed to mere slits. "I think that you will tell me why you are here,
chérie
," he said, his tone deadly.

Cassandra whimpered,
then
began to plead as his hand tightened around her wrist in warning, but Dominic only increased the pressure on her wrist, twisting slowly.

"All right!" she cried.

"Well?"

"I . . .
I was looking for the deed to your property in France."

"Why?"

"I don't know why! I only was supposed to find it."

Dominic studied her face, ignoring the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. His left hand slid upwards, his long fingers winding around her throat. "You have a lovely neck, ma belle," he murmured, "but I doubt it would retain its perfect form when stretched by a rope. Who sent you?"

Cassandra clawed at his hand as his fingers tightened their grip on her throat. "Please, you are killing me!"

"Who sent you?" Dominic
repeated,
his voice low and savage. "Was it
Germain
?" When Cassandra nodded, Dominic abruptly released his hold. He watched without pity as she sank limply to the floor. "Where can I find him?"

Cassandra shook her head, sobbing brokenly as she cradled her arm. When Dominic took a step closer, she cringed. "I swear I don't know! He . . . he came to my rooms two days ago. I don't know where he is now."

"How much did he pay you?"

"Two hundred guineas.
He was to meet me again on Friday."

A muscle in Dominic's jaw clenched.
"Where?"

"My . . . my rooms."

"You will not be there." He walked across the room and gave the
bellpull
a vicious tug. Turning, he cast a contemptuous glance at Cassandra. "You will leave London tonight, I don't care how.
Don't count
on
Germain
for protection if you disobey me, for no power on earth could stop me from killing you if I so much as set eyes on you again." When Farley burst into the room a moment later, Dominic indicated Cassandra with an impatient wave of his hand. "Get her out of my sight."

Familiar with his employer's black moods, Farley quickly bundled up the sobbing woman and half carried her over the threshold, closing the door behind him.

When they were gone, Dominic spun around and sent his balled fist crashing into the nearest wall. Since that brought no satisfaction, he threw himself in the chair beside the bed and sat perfectly still, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists until he felt able to control his rage.

A deep frown curled his mouth as he brooded on the puzzle. For the life of him, he couldn't guess what
Germain
was planning. He could think of no possible reason why the man would be interested in papers showing his ownership of the land in France, or even why Charles would probe into his personal life. Dominic ran his fingers through his dark hair, swearing savagely.

Before the Revolution the property had belonged to his father, but at the
comte's
death, the land had been confiscated by the French government. Part of it had been divided among the serfs of the estate; and later, sections had been given as rewards to supporters of Napoleon.

The fall of Napoleon's empire had changed matters, though, and when the war had ended, Dominic had gone to Paris and commissioned an agent to purchase back the estate that was his rightful heritage. It had taken years and had cost a princely sum in bribes and inflated prices to secure the lands and old chateau. Dominic hadn't even visited the estate yet, for only recently had the agent succeeded in converting the parcels to a whole and arranged for a deed to be drawn up. The agent had also reported that while the chateau still stood, it had suffered heavy damages, and that neglect and lack of management had rendered the vineyards and farmlands completely unproductive. So why
would Charles
be interested in the deed? Dominic asked himself again.

Feeling hatred and anger knotting his stomach, he pulled himself out of the chair and began to pace the room like a wild animal whose cage was far too confining.

Cassandra was no problem, Dominic decided. She was merely
Germain's
tool. Her connection would be useful, however, since Charles had already arranged to meet her. And of course Cassandra wouldn't be attending the meeting. It would be Dominic himself who made the scheduled appointment.

As it turned out, Dominic never went to Cassandra's rooms to find Charles
Germain
.
Germain
came to him.

Early the next morning Dominic was wakened by Farley with the news that a gentleman waited below. Dominic shrugged into a crimson dressing gown and went downstairs to attend his visitor.

The morning caller was definitely Charles
Germain
. A tall, fair-haired man with hooded eyes and a light complexion,
Germain
had a slender build and a vapid expression that made him appear harmless. Dominic had long ago learned not to underestimate the man, however.
Germain's
slight frame enabled him to move with a dancer's grace, and his expert agility was backed by a cunning brain. A formidable opponent by any standards, Dominic reflected as he met his enemy's gaze for the first time in almost four years.

Charles was about forty now, Dominic guessed, but the years under the hot Indian sun had not been kind to him. His complexion was flushed a deep red, indicating permanent skin damage, and there were new lines about his eyes and mouth.

Dominic paused in the doorway of the salon and raised a dark eyebrow.
"Such a surprise, Charles.
Where have you been hiding all these years?"

Germain's
mouth tightened. "Don't play the fool with me, Dominic. Unless Manning's spies have bungled it, you have known for some time of my return."

A dark gleam appeared in Dominic's gray eyes. "I have. But I expected you much sooner—and certainly not in broad daylight. What kept you? I made it easy enough for you to find me."