Chapter Ten

Miranda looked around Melanie Linford’s drawing room Tuesday evening at the well-dressed men and women in attendance, including the Duke of Dansworth and Duchess. Caroline Nash would no doubt be in a dither, like she always was when her ex was present, but too bad. She resented the fact that Caroline was friends with Alex. And that she seemed to befriend that Irish woman who had somehow wormed her way into his home. She was fairly sure Inis O’Brien would never fit in with this crowd, especially not with the duke and his cronies, no matter what Alex thought.

“I do wish Lord Ashley had come,” she said after the gentlemen had vanished down the hall to escape the horrible warbling by some debutante playing the pianoforte. “Charles is still a bit miffed at him, and I was hoping differences could be smoothed over this evening.”

Jeannette Compton snorted. “That is quite humorous considering you are the cause of those differences, Miranda.”

“Oh, piddle. My husband does not even know for sure I had a man in my room,” Miranda replied. “By the time I opened the door, Lord Ashley had already slipped out the window.”

“I am surprised Alexander would be so bold,” Amelia said, “but then, he has always been brazen.”

You should talk, Caroline thought but bit back the words. Amelia certainly hadn’t hesitated about digging her claws into George and keeping her talons clenched tightly around him until the marriage vows had been said. “Perhaps we should not gossip about someone who is not here to defend himself.”

Jeannette was not about to be deterred by such an idea and looked at Miranda. “What did your husband say when the silk negligee arrived?”

Miranda waved a hand indifferently. “I simply said I had ordered it.”

“That is what I told my husband, too.” Melanie nodded.

Caroline stifled a smile. Trust Melanie not to let the opportunity pass to get her own reminder in.

“I told my husband the same thing,” Vanessa Caldwell, the Earl of Lockwood’s wife, said and then giggled. “So thoughtful of Lord Ashley to send such a nice, and naughty, parting present.”

“Parting present?” Miranda gave a trilling laugh. “I fully intend to wear mine when Lord Ashley pays his next call to me.”

“But you know he does not come back,” Vanessa said. “He pretty much tells us that.”

“He might tell you that,” Miranda replied smugly. “I know he will come back to me.”

Amelia raised one delicate eyebrow. “Am I to understand that Alexander has put each of you in a precarious situation?”

Jeannette snorted again. “Precarious, my foot. Accommodating is a better word.”

Vanessa giggled again. “I should say.”

“He does accommodate quite well, does he not?” Melanie asked.

Miranda gave them all daggered looks, but Amelia seemed amused. “And…afterward, Alexander sends each of you a negligee?”

“Yes,” Jeannette answered before anyone else could. “Ivory silk. It is their admission into the R Club.”

Amelia’s eyebrow lifted again. “The R Club?”

“The Ravaged Revelers. There are other members, too,” Jeannette said drily. “Of course, I would refuse to join such a club.”

Caroline managed to contain another grin. Jeannette was like a horse chomping at the bit to get home, or in this case, into Alex’s bed, which probably would never happen.

“I see,” Amelia said. “I wonder if George has any inkling this is going on.”

Chattering abruptly ceased amongst their group. Four ashen faces turned toward Amelia while Jeannette’s was crimson red. She had committed an unacceptable gaffe by bringing up the conversation in front of Amelia in the first place. Caroline suspected the ladies in question had all just realized their husbands were friends of George. The implications of the husbands all finding out they’d been cuckolded would have dire effects on their wives’ pin money, not to mention accounts at all the prestigious shops.

Amelia smiled. “But perhaps I could be persuaded not to say anything.”

The women looked relieved and started talking at once, assuring Amelia how they would forever be in her debt. Caroline wondered if they had any idea what they were committing to. She would have to let Alex know what had transpired tonight. He’d have to stop pursuing the wives of George’s friends, at least for a while. Meanwhile, the conversation had planted a seed of another sort in Caroline’s mind.

…

“Good God Almighty.” He stared at Caroline, seated in his library the next morning, and wished he hadn’t consumed so much whiskey last night at the gaming hell. “How could Jeannette Compton be such an idiot?”

“Miranda started it by saying she was hoping you could smooth Charles’s ruffled feathers, but I suspect Jeanette was jealous.”

Alex took a good swallow of strong, black coffee. He preferred coffee to tea, especially in the morning. This morning, it had a particularly restorative benefit, given he hadn’t gotten in until quite late. “Apart from the fact that the woman brays like a donkey and has about the same amount of appeal, her husband is not one of George’s close friends.”

Caroline tilted her head to study Alex. “Maybe you should send Jeannette a negligee, then she will feel as though she fits in. I doubt she would admit to not being in your bed.”

“Actually, the baron is a decent sort.” Alex took another sip of coffee. “I would rather leave the man his dignity.”

Caroline nodded. “Joshua Compton would prefer traipsing about his country estate discussing crop yields with his steward than to be in Town.”

“One of the few men who has any sense,” Alex said.

“What about Charles Locke? He is a different matter.”

Alex shrugged. “He has no proof that I was the man in his wife’s room. I’m sure I’m not the first she’s invited to her chamber.”

Caroline picked up the cup of hot chocolate Evans had left for her. “If Charles gets wind of the negligees being gifts, he could trace Miranda’s back to you.”

“That would be hard to do. I pick them up from Madame Dubois myself and have my own runner deliver them. They are both paid extremely well to know nothing.”

“Still, it might be wise for you to lay low for a while,” Caroline said. “If Amelia decides to tell George—”

“She will not. At least, not right now. She acquired ammunition last night, which means she can control those four ladies.” Alex felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. “And Amelia likes to control.”

“So does Miranda. She is dead set on luring you back to her bed.”

Alex shook his head and then wished he hadn’t. The gaming hells didn’t serve a high class of whiskey. He poured more coffee. “Miranda is wrong. One visit is all she gets. I do not need entanglements.”

“You might need to tell her that, then. I just stopped by at this ungodly hour to warn you that Amelia is aware of what you have been doing.” Caroline set her cup down and rose to leave. “We both know how manipulative she can be.”

The thought remained in Alex’s semi-revived brain as he escorted Caroline to the door and made sure her carriage was waiting. He returned to the library and sank down in a wing chair by the unlit hearth.

The room might be cold, but his capers had certainly ignited the wrong fires. Alex was sure Amelia would hold on to the information she’d gleaned to use to her benefit if the case arose, and he didn’t want to be called out. He was an excellent shot—and had quick reflexes when his brain wasn’t afloat in liquor—but there was no sense in wounding a man physically.

He finished his coffee, wishing his head didn’t feel as though a hammer were banging on it from the inside. He shouldn’t have gotten so sotted, but he wanted to forget about the deal he’d made with Inis to send her to America once his charade was over.

He didn’t want her to leave. He lusted for her more than any of the willing women he took to bed. He wanted to run his hands across every inch of her naked skin and then let his mouth do the same. At the same time, he felt oddly protective of her, and not as an employer. For the first time that he could remember, the idea of having a permanent mistress was appealing. He’d told Caroline he wanted no entanglements. As far as his trysts were concerned, one episode was definitely enough.

But Inis was different. He wanted to provide for her. To set her up in a small house with her own allowance and visiting privileges. Ninety-nine percent of women in her circumstances—poor, uneducated, with no connections—would leap at the chance to be settled in style.

Instinctively, he knew Inis was the one percent who wouldn’t.

Damnation.

He was feeling better when he met Brice at John Adler’s stables in Covent Garden later that afternoon. He wasn’t especially interested in purchasing additional horses, but it had dawned on him that perhaps he could get some additional information from the man who’d lost Inis to him in the card game.

John recognized him immediately, and a wary look crossed his face. “Is the lad not working out for you?”

“Ah…yes.” Alex managed at the last second to remember John thought Inis was a boy. “I mean, he is doing quite well. He did not happen to mention if he had any brothers? I could use a few more like him.”

John shook his head. “Not that I recall.”

“We actually came to look at the horses you have out in the paddock,” Brice said. “The sign by the door says you are a horse trader as well.”

“Aye, that I am.” The guarded look left John’s eyes, and he gestured toward the back end of the stable. “Right through those doors, if you please.”

Alex was surprised to see that two of the mares appeared to be thoroughbreds with slim-barreled bodies and long legs built for speed, broad chests for greater lung power, and slightly dished faces that spoke of Arabian ancestry.

Brice pointed to them. “Where did you get those two?”

John appeared affronted. “Are you asking if I got them legal?”

Brice gave him the affable smile he used to gain a buyer’s trust when he was about to sell questionable property. In this case, it almost looked conspiratorial. “Of course not. What I meant was, are the mares registered?”

“Aye. I won them from an Irishman in a card game, fair and square.” John looked at Alex. “I don’t always lose.”

If compulsive gamblers always lost, they’d eventually quit. It was the winning—even occasionally—that kept them going, but Alex was more interested in the fact that an Irishman had been mentioned.

“Did you win the horses while Inis—the lad—was still here?”

“The lad had been here a few days, I think,” John said. “Why do you ask?”

Alex shrugged nonchalantly. “Just wondering. The boy’s brogue is so strong, I thought he might have enjoyed meeting another Irishman.”

John frowned and then shook his head. “The lad offered to take one of the other horses to the smith for me the day they arrived.”

Alex felt the hair at his nape prickle. Had Inis avoided the Irishman deliberately? He’d never completely lost the feeling that she was hiding something from him. “You would think the boy would want to see one of his countrymen, given that he was orphaned here.”

John gave him a quizzical look. “I don’t know about that. The lad kept to himself, but when I found him in my carriage, he was wearing sailor’s garb and a brig from Dublin had just docked not far from the brothel.”

Only the years spent keeping his face impassive in the gaming halls saved Alex from showing his surprise. Inis had told him her parents had come over looking for work and been killed in a carriage accident. It seemed too coincidental that she’d stowed away in John’s carriage the same day the ship from Dublin had docked nearby.

Had she lied?

…

Inis walked up the several flights of stairs to her chamber late Wednesday afternoon, feeling unsettled. She felt like a yo-yo being wielded by an experienced hand. Her emotions plummeted one minute as she thought about leaving, only to rebound quickly when she thought about actually escaping to America.

She didn’t question whether Alex would go through with the deal. She had a strong sense that once he gave his word, he would keep it.

Could she keep hers? She’d originally had no intention of attending any Society function. But now it seemed she might make an actual appearance at some event, most likely at the Duke of Dansworth’s Mayfair mansion. There was the chance that no one would recognize her—she didn’t think the duke had actually ever seen her—but red hair was hard to hide. She couldn’t afford to linger longer than a week or two after the event took place in case word found its way back to her uncle. And that was her dilemma. She wanted to stay, but she couldn’t risk the chance of being found out.

She waited in anticipation for the footmen to bring the hot water for her bath. Maybe a good, long soak would help her think better. A few minutes later, they arrived, followed by Elsie. Inis admired the efficiency of Alex’s household staff. Even though she wasn’t a guest, the footmen never failed to bring water for her every day.

Elsie laid fresh underclothing on the bed after the tub had been filled. “These just came from the laundry.”

“Thank ye,” Inis said, “but I doona expect ye to run and fetch for me.”

“I don’t mind,” Elsie said. “The clothes were already stacked in a pile, and it looked like the laundry maid folded the pantaloons special, so the lace trim would be protected and not catch on anything. I thought best not to get it wrinkled.”

Inis smiled. “No one is going to find out if my pantaloons are wrinkled, but thank ye just the same.”

Elsie nodded and left, closing the door behind her. Inis looked at the folded garments. She’d never seen smallclothes arranged so carefully. She’d have to remember to thank the laundry maid as well. Taking her bar of scented soap from its tin on her dresser, she picked up a washcloth, stepped into the tub, and sank down onto the small bench. Warm water cascaded over her shoulders, relaxing tight muscles. Inis leaned her head against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes.

She hadn’t seen Alex since Monday morning when they’d gone for their ride and he’d reiterated his business proposal. That still smarted. She’d carried a tray up to her room Monday evening to avoid the possibility of running into him. Tuesday, he’d left early for the office and hadn’t returned home before she’d gone to bed. She supposed he was out carousing somewhere. This morning, she’d seen Caroline’s carriage leave. Inis didn’t know why she’d been there, but she was in no hurry to resume lessons. The longer she could drag them out, the better. She hadn’t seen Alex, either, since Jameson kept her busy working with the colts.

Her mind certainly hadn’t calmed down, even though her body felt more relaxed. She couldn’t keep hiding from Alex forever. She’d just wanted a little time to make sure she could handle her emotions around him. She hoped she could. She was his business partner. Business. He wanted nothing more. Neither should she.

She stood from the bath and gave herself a brisk rubbing with the drying cloth, then reached for the freshly laundered clothing. She reached for the pantaloons, shook them out from their square-wrapped arrangement, and pulled the drawstrings open. A moment later, she yelped in pain from a stinging sensation in the palm of her hand. Dropping the pantaloons, she opened her hand and stared down at an oddly-shaped brown spider.

Inis shook her hand quickly, sending the spider flying. Her hand was already beginning to swell, and she suddenly felt nauseous. The room spun around her and the last thing she remembered was falling to the floor.