Suzi Love (29 page)

After four hours, they’d trolled three establishments with no hint of any men who’d come into sudden inheritances or who were looking for investors. Becca was horrified by the number of men, and women, risking their estate’s fortunes on the throw of a dice and had to exert considerable effort to keep from speaking out to several men she knew.

Cayle was more inured to the self-indulgence of the gamblers and simply shrugged when she told him of her outrage.

“The faintest murmur of empty pockets causes a run of bill collectors knocking at men’s doors, yet even that doesn’t discourage them.”

“In a society that runs on vouchers and debt, discovering who has the money they wager with is difficult. Almost impossible,” Becca said in despair. “I’ve realised now what a difficult position this puts you in. No wonder you’ve avoided speaking to people you’re acquainted with. It’s Julia, isn’t it?”

He leaned a shoulder against a wall covered in faded red velvet and reeking of stale tobacco and shrugged.

“According to our agreement, Julia is not to frequent high-stake gaming rooms such as these. She knows I won’t be responsible for her debts if she breaks our agreement.”

“So, she’ll be even angrier when she hears, and she undoubtedly will.”

“Correct on both counts,” he agreed with an air of indifference.

“Oh no, Cayle. This is a disaster. I should have realised sooner.”

He shrugged again, then smiled faintly and patted her hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find another way to appease Julia as soon as this is finished and you’re safe. My stepmother is governed by greed. Another gown, or a piece of jewellery, and she’ll be satisfied.”

“I’m sorry, Cayle, for causing you so much trouble. When I approached you, I was too desperate to save my own family to consider how it may affect yours.”

“It’s true that if Julia knows that I am visiting hells every night and losing the family’s fortunes, she can decry me as not avoiding any hint of scandal. But I don’t care anymore. I’ve done enough to appease her. Right now, the most important thing to me is to remove the consortium’s hold over your family.”

“I wish I could do something to help you in return.”

“Don’t fret, my love. Very shortly, five of our ships will be in port and unloading very lucrative cargos. I’ll then pay Julia an annual stipend for the remainder of her life, or until she remarries, and be rid of her.”

“And after the terms of your agreement are met?”

His dark eyes penetrated to the bottom of her soul as he said with the first sign of emotion he’d shown all night,

“Then, little one, we discuss the future.”

Becca laid her hand on the dark blue sleeve of his evening coat. The exquisite cut of his clothing told of a very expensive tailor, probably French, and set him apart even more from the dissolute state of many of the men present at the tables.

Cayle didn’t belong here, shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have asked it of him. How could she have been so careless as to forget his binding agreement with his stepmother? His loyalty to his promise to her had caused him to compromise his vow to the St. Martin name and family.

Becca felt sick at heart. Cayle shrugged it off as unimportant, yet it may affect the rest of his life. And she knew without doubt that she wasn’t worth that sort of sacrifice.

• • •

Preparing themselves for another disappointment, an hour later they entered The Red Satan, the worst they’d seen so far. It was filled with men sporting identical faces of gloom, so without doubt the house was winning that night. Many men were betting large sums and none of them looked to be prospering. She and Cayle separated to their appointed tasks and spent a frustrating hour pretending to be immersed in their card games.

Wandering back to a table where Becca had just finished play, Cayle enquired as any concerned suitor would, “Did you win, my love?”

Feigning an indifference to money she never felt, Becca replied, “Only a small loss, Your Grace. And you?”

“Enough of a loss that I feel it wise to retire for the night, my dear,” he remarked casually.

Hiding their frustration, they wandered outside to hail a coachman. Standing on the footpath, they dropped their voices to a low murmur to discuss the evening more fully.

“So, did you discover anything?”

“Talk is that several titled gentlemen have been letting it known they recently came into sizeable windfalls. Nobody seems to know how many men are involved or where they acquired their good luck. But gossip has it that these men are preparing to outlay money into an even grander proposal, one that is expected to pay immense dividends. They’re seeking investors.”

“Damn it, Cayle. We’ve already wasted days and we’re no further advanced with their names.”

He put a finger over her lips and stopped her tirade. “One more interesting piece of news. Gentlemen with large windfalls usually frequent their clubs boasting about their triumphs. By contrast, several well known gentlemen have been conspicuously absent from their clubs for several weeks. They’re avoiding their other acquaintances, avoiding the wilder entertainments, and have been seen repeatedly attending the most staid events in society.”

He looked at her with significance and more than a little anger, but she pretended she didn’t grasp his meaning.

“Hmmm.” She tapped her mouth with a finger as she pondered their next direction.

He gave her an exasperated glare. “The word is they’re all wife hunting as they’ve been seen taking a keen interest in the doings of young ladies.”

He paused for effect. “The three Jamison sisters to be precise.”

“So, we’re correct in our assumptions. The baron is a mere pawn while the real man, or woman, of intelligence remains inconspicuous.”

“Woman?” Cayle raised his eyebrows in query.

“A woman is quite capable of perpetrating this sham.”

“Agreed. But blackmailers are more usually men.”

“So, while Michael keeps delaying handing over our journals, the ones in which we detail our latest research, their hands remain tied. We need to keep them at bay until we’ve secured documents giving us proof of the ringleader.”

“Becca,” Cayle snapped, glaring at her. “You’re missing the vital point here. The crux of the matter. Did you not understand? These men are particularly targeting you and your sisters.”

She shrugged in dismissal. “We knew that.”

“What do you mean? What did you know?”

“Well, we always keep a record of which men are following us and when.”

Cayle’s mouth dropped open and he gazed at her in horror. “Are you just now telling me you’ve so many men following you, the three of you make lists?”

“Oh, not just the three of us,” Becca answered breezily. “Aunt Agatha, Michael, and Jonathon, also keep lists. We’ve tried to match them up but it seems different men are assigned to following each of us.

We know that several men have been assigned to ingratiate themselves to us. To get as close as they can.”

“Bloody hell. I don’t know if I’m more angry or more terrified. Why didn’t you tell me all this?”

“I thought it’d only make you more demanding, and more controlling, if I told you everything. I know you. You’d immediately expect me to remain at home, probably locked in my bedroom and lashed to a bed post.”

“You’re quite correct,” he told her, in a threatening tone. “Chaining you to a bed is exactly what I’d have done before, had I known. And that’s what’ll happen. From tonight onwards … ”

Cayle broke off from what he’d been about to say and looked around them. He sensed danger.

Repositioning his fingers over Becca’s lips, he whispered, “Shush.”

• • •

They were alone on the dark street. The coach they’d instructed to wait was nowhere in sight. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He pulled out the thin knife he wore in his boot, ignoring Becca’s gasp of surprise. He wasn’t frightened for himself. Cutthroats abounded in every major city across Europe, and he’d not only done business with people of all walks of life, but had been involved in some unsavoury deals. Few knew, well, he amended that after revelations in the Jamison’s drawing room. Few outsiders knew that he and his three friends had formed an unorthodox group who shipped government documents to London under the guise of their other exports.

Many European ruling houses were in turmoil, riots abounded, and it behoved the British monarchy to keep a close eye of their dealings with each other. Alliances or pacts needed to be investigated quickly to ensure the balance of power was maintained. And what better way to achieve that than to utilize the social and business contacts of four seemingly harmless British exiles.

Four young men who for differing reasons had escaped family troubles in England and landed in the same sort of enterprises. Now, Cayle was grateful for the skills they’d honed because quick thinking and fast acting had become instinctive for him.

“Something’s wrong.”

Grabbing her around her waist, Cayle threw them both sideways away from the road so they landed in a heap on the side of the building. Becca gasped as his heavier weight pinned her to the wall.

Cayle’s whole concentration focused on the horses hoof beats careening down the road. Over his shoulder, he saw the driver hunched in the high seat, his body shape totally hidden under an old greatcoat. As the vehicle thundered past, the driver’s face was framed in a shaft of moonlight and Cayle recognised the anger, frustration and pure evil in the look he fixed on them.

A strong blast of wind whistled past and rocked them, as the body of the coach swayed dangerously close. Pressing harder, Cayle shielded Becca’s body from the buffeting rush of air that followed the bulky conveyance. The corner edge of the carriage banged into his side as it slid dangerously on two wheels.

Stiffening his muscles against the impact, he held on tighter to Becca. She felt so small, so fragile, that her body didn’t seem strong enough to cope with these sorts of crises. The coach rolled sideways once more before righting itself enough to slither around the corner and disappear from sight.

Still, he held Becca clasped against his body, unable to bring himself to release her.

By design, he slowed his breathing and tried to calm the racing of his heartbeat. If he’d been twenty seconds later, the coach would have run them over, although from the direction it was steering, Becca was the main target.

“Sweetheart, are you all right?”

He moved back a space to study her face. She shook uncontrollably. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her face from scraping it on the brick wall. Using his handkerchief, he dabbed at the blood and then pressed the linen against her temple. Her nonreply worried him and he peered closer through the gloom to check her colour. Her complexion was ghostly pale but her eyes were wide and alert.

She looked up at him and gave a tremulous smile. “A little shaken but otherwise unharmed. But, oh good heavens, you took the brunt of the force from the carriage. Let me see your side.”

She tugged on his shirt but was unable to pull it out of the waistband of his tight trousers. She pulled again, determined to uncover his wound. He covered her trembling hands with his to still her.

“My love, once we’re safe in my house at Mayfair you may remove as much of my clothing as you wish. But right now, we need to get off the public road.”

She gave a little gasp and glanced around. Despite the gathering crowd, if he hadn’t stopped her Becca would have lifted his shirt in the middle of a busy thoroughfare. Vigilant Becca, who never relaxed her guard. Brave Becca, who faced all her problems with fortitude. It frightened him to realise how badly shaken she was.

On the carriage ride home she remained silent, which was so out of keeping for her he worried more. She huddled into the corner of the seat and took care not to touch him.

• • •

At the house, the footman lowered the tread and Cayle bounded out and turned to assist Becca down but she retreated even further into the confines of the carriage. The night’s upheavals had shattered even her stoic nature.

Finally, she opened her mouth to speak but Cayle pre-empted her by taking her arm and firmly drawing her out of the carriage and to the ground. He knew what she wanted to say and he wouldn’t allow it, especially not in the street in front of his residence.

“I prefer to discuss this inside, my lady.”

“Cayle, I need — ”

“Inside, please.”

Giving her no choice, Cayle maintained his inflexible grip on her arm and steered her through the door and to the drawing room.

“Jenner, could you please bring refreshments. Lady Rebecca has suffered a shock.”

When Jenner departed, she opened her mouth to speak for the second time. And for the second time, Cayle pre-empted her.

“Don’t even bother saying it. I know what you’re planning and it’s not going to happen. You will not use this as a reason to get rid of me. You still need my help.”

“We’ll manage without you from now on, Cayle. I’ll not have your safety on my conscience.”

“So, if you can dismiss my assistance so lightly, can you also dismiss my body and the pleasure I can bring to you with the same nonchalance.”

Becca bit her lip and squirmed under his gaze. He could read her mind too well. She was searching for a feasible excuse to dispatch him from her life. Their relationship so far had been an endless sea of highs and lows. Advancements and withdrawals. And he’d reached the end of his tether. It needed to be settled before he went mad.

After a long silence, she spoke, but there was a catch to her voice that told of threatening tears. “That carriage was primarily aimed at me yet, it was you who got hurt. It’s better to make a clean break, now, before it becomes obvious that we’ve formed a lasting connection.”

He felt elated over this one small victory. “Ah, a lasting connection. So, you do admit to the relationship we have.”

She shuffled her feet. “Obviously, we’re friends.”

He stepped closer and was gratified to note that his proximity had robbed her of breath. It was only fair after the numerous times she’d rendered him speechless, either through anger or desire. He touched her face, keeping his caress gentle.