A Lady's Guide to Kiss A Rake: Misadventures of the heart (12 page)

Damien snorted. “Now there’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.

“I would have thought, after your incessant meddling, you would understand me by now.”

Damien leaned closer, causing her breath to hitch. “I understand you all too well and would like to believe you are sincere, but you’re friends with the Shaw brothers.”

“James?” Jo asked at a loss.

“Don’t be obtuse. Their reputations are as black as the night. While I may bear in mind your lack of connection, I do not have the same faith in James Shaw.”

“Well then, you shall have to take it up with him.”

“I am taking it up with you.”

Jo regarded Damien with guarded consideration. He appeared to be even more suspicious of them than she first imagined, but she wasn’t overly worried. What bothered her, however, was if someone like Damien pieced together the possibility of their actions, it only stood to reason a more determined individual, one such as Cartwright, would not be far behind.

James was a big man. If Cartwright learned his identity, it would only be a matter of time before he learned of the other disappearances. And he would learn of their friendship. If Damien could unearth pieces with some enquiries, imagine what someone like Cartwright, who would use force and violence, would unearth.

“Josephine? Was Shaw involved?”

Jo’s attention snapped back to Damien, her heart constricting at the concern she saw there. Dark circles lined his eyes.

“Of course not, it must have been the duke. It is a family matter.”

She watched him mull over her statement, testing it between the walls of his mind. It made sense that the duke would take care of his own family affairs. Jo tried not to shift under his intent gaze. She also tried not to notice how lovely his eyes sparkled when he happened to be in one of his moods. Her eyes drifted to his lips again. Flaws. Focus on his flaws.

“Why do you look as if you haven’t slept for days?” Jo asked.

He appeared taken aback by her question and shook his head. “Bad batch of brandy, passed right out after a few. Are you trying to distract me from the matter at hand?” he asked, his tone taking on a more sensual note.

Jo inwardly cursed at the sensation that rippled down her spine. “No, I’m just taking note of all your flaws.” And not informing him that James was behind his bad batch.

“Flaws?”  He blinked at that unexpected answer.

“You have an abundance of them.”

“Let us hear them then.”

“Oh, the list is too long, perhaps another time.”

“Now,” he demanded.

“Jo!” Evelyn interrupted, drawing their attention away from each other. “We must to take our seats.”

Jo breathed in a sigh of relief, but managed a wicked smile. “It would seem now you’ll never know the flaws I see.”

“This conversation isn’t over,” Damien whispered in her ear before she strolled way, leaving him to stand alone.

Indeed, he would now hound her until she listed every one of his flaws. She may even enjoy every moment of it. Perhaps she would make him earn her answers. Trouble was, his flaws weren’t flaws at all. To Jo, they formed part of the parcel that made up the man.

She shook her head as she followed Evelyn to their seats. Damien had become an obsession in her traitorous mind. She took her seat, her eyes roaming the faces in the opposite boxes until they found the person she’d ventured out for.

Cartwright.

He sat in a box opposite to her, his eyes not once leaving the stage where the play had yet to begin. It gave her the opportunity to study his features. By no means could he be considered an ugly man, but cruelty carved into his face like an iron mask.

Jo’s body visibly shuddered.

It was how she would imagine death to look like if death had a face. She’d never noticed it before now, but then, she’d never given it much thought. Her gaze drifted to his companion as she could not bear to gaze upon that merciless face a moment longer.

Her blood turned to ice.

Beside Cartwright, sat the last woman she ever expected to see—the Countess of Ardmore. The same woman Josephine and Belle had attended to in the shop.

Jo diverted her gaze to the stage, away from the couple. She did not dare reveal her shock. A sense of foreboding crept up her spine and settled in her heart. The play began, and with the one man who possessed the power to make her feel safe nowhere in sight, she sighed and resigned herself to her fate.

Chapter 12

Lady Josephine came to a halt in front of the steps of Derek Shaw’s residence, not to drag her feet, but to take in the splendor of the brick building. Bricks held an odd fascination for Jo. Small in size, when put together in an expert and artful manner, they created fortifiable constructions. Yes, Jo admired bricks. She found them to be much simpler than the brick seated behind his desk, no doubt, waiting for her arrival. Not that she was afraid of Derek Shaw. She, in fact, welcomed a fight. The only problem was Derek Shaw never fought. He lectured. And then in such a condescending manner it drove both Jo and James up the walls.

Like they were errant children.

With a determined set of her shoulders, Jo ascended the stairs. Before she reached the top the door swung open to reveal the butler. Of course, Derek’s servants would be as competent as he, so competent, it seemed as if they possessed the power of foresight. That or the butler hid by the window surveying the entrance all day.

“Lady Josephine, how good of you to visit,” the butler said, unfailingly polite as he appeared gruff.

Jo regarded him with a small smile. “I’ve been summoned Magnus, as you’re well aware. You sent the summons.”

“Of course, my lady, his lordship will be glad to see you.”

Jo strolled passed Magnus, not waiting to be directed toward the study Derek awaited her in. She did not, however, expect to also find James, seated in front of his brother’s desk, an implacable mask on his face.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” he said as she entered the room.

The edges of her mouth curled.

“James,” she greeted with mock wariness. “I see I’m just in time.”

“You’re late,” Derek countered in a flat voice, but Jo paid him no heed as she took a seat beside James, who had shifted his attention back to his surly brother.

“Brother dearest, oh how I’ve missed your charming countenance.” 

Jo stifled a laugh.

“I trust you are aware why I’ve summoned you,” Derek began.

Summoned
. Jo did not answer. Neither did James. Of course they knew why they’d been summoned. They’d proceeded on a project without the king’s consent.

Jo arched a delicate brow. She might be small, but she never backed down from a fight. Their silence only seemed to spark Derek’s temper, for his stare narrowed and turned glacial.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

James shrugged and flicked his eyes to her. She scrunched her face up in a thoughtful manner, pretending to consider Derek’s question before shaking her head with an innocent no.

“I see.”

“I doubt that, brother,” James murmured.

“You acted without my consent.”

“I was not aware we required your consent.”

Silence greeted James’s statement, and the tension in the room intensified.

“We sent a note,” Jo said, her chin lifting.

“Ah yes, the note. I do recall receiving one,” Derek replied, his angular jaw clenched hard.

“At least we took the time to send you one,” James said, his tone defensive.

Jo agreed. They could have left him out altogether.

“An opportunity presented itself and we seized it,” she murmured.

Those steely eyes rested on her. “Your opportunity, as you put it, was nothing but a devil’s trap.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“He means,” James cut in before his brother could answer, “we are idiots who screwed up and will, no doubt, be caught.”

“It was the best we could do under the circumstances,” Jo snapped. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed James’s eyes widen when his brother inhaled sharply, his chest expanding. The veins in his neck bulged as he rose, furious eyes pinned on her. His voice like steel when he whispered, “Under the circumstances, Josephine? What, if I may dare to ask, comprised these circumstances? Did they include imminent death? Or include you involving half of London in your plan? Were these circumstances so dire that it necessitated the attempt to burn down the city? And who came up with the plan to parade as shop assistants where scores of hungry urchins may identify you later for a few coins?”

“I wore a wig,” Jo muttered.

“A wig? And how will a wig help you if by some chance Cartwright commissions an artist to draw a sketch of your face? Which is beyond doubt what Cartwright shall do?”

“You cannot know that, brother,” James defended.

Derek’s big shoulders shrugged. “It is what I would have done.”

Jo stared into the calculating eyes of Derek Shaw and saw the truth of his words.
It is what I would have done
. A simple statement, but the weight of it slammed down on her like waves hitting the shore. A glance in James’ direction revealed he too, saw the truth of it. Yet, Jo wanted to believe their plan had been a solid one. Even if anyone sketched her face, it would be distorted by the lapse of time, would it not? And what of their wigs and drab attire, not even the Countess of Ardmore had recognized her.

Perhaps they should have waited for Derek’s return, but it remained pointless to dwell on it now. Their plan hadn’t failed yet.

“Well, forgive us for not taking into account that someone might sketch us, but our plan worked,” James replied.

“That remains to be seen. Your harebrained idea has yet to run its full course, James,” Derek bit out.

“It happened to be my idea,” Jo muttered.

“Irrelevant. My brother should have known better, Josephine. And you should never have included your friends.”

“Oh?” Jo said, somewhat surprised by his coldness. “I suppose James should have done everything all by himself?”

Frosty eyes narrowed on her. “He should not have done anything. And now Craven is aware of our activities as well.”

“He approached us.”

Derek actually looked surprised by her words. “How did he even know—wait, do not answer that.” His hand rose to rub the bridge of his nose. “I want the names of every person who assisted you.”

“Well, Belle—”

A sound akin to a growl of a beast stopped her mid-sentence.

“Of course it wasn’t enough that you already involved a man like Craven, you had to include some foolish chit,” Derek snapped, the first sign his hold on his temper was slipping.

James sat up straighter. “You forget yourself brother. What’s done is done.”

“And burning down a building?”

“Necessary to distract Cartwright’s men,” James muttered darkly.

“Oh? And who plotted that spectacular event?”

“Belle’s cousins,” Jo answered, cringing at the sarcasm dripping from Derek’s tone.

“Ah.”

“I thought it to be quite splendid,” James said.

“Yes,” Derek agreed. “So splendid, it was labeled a chain of unfortunate events.  But Cartwright does not strike me as a man to pay heed to the garbage written in the papers. Not when it coincides with the same day as the disappearance of his wife. What happens when those girls are recognized? Whose door will Cartwright knock on first?”

James cursed. “Bloody hell.”

Derek’s smile lacked humor. “Like I said, a harebrained plan.”

Jo rose to her feet, unable to sit any longer and be regarded as a wayward child. “So our plan possessed some flaws. We can work from there.”

“And what do you propose we do?” Derek asked curiously. “Short of killing Cartwright, there’s not much else except leave town.”

“We can direct him on another path,” Jo suggested.

“Perhaps, my lady, if you had not sent Lady Constance to your family estate. But Cartwright’s eyes and ears are everywhere. It will be a miracle if she arrived without being recognized along the way. We need to be prepared for the worst.”

Jo did not miss the “we” in his words. He may be furious but he would not abandon them to their folly.

“What a mess.” She shot James an unhappy look. “I told you something did not feel right.”

James had the sense to look contrite. “Richmond will take care of Cartwright.”

Derek snorted. “You do not know? He tried, word has it. But the man he sent after Cartwright was found drifting head down in the Thames.”

Jo gasped at that news.

“Hell,” James muttered.

“We must get Belle’s cousins to safety,” Jo said, her voice reflecting the horror on her face. “There are too many lives at stake.”

“First, were there any more people involved?” He gave Jo a pointed glance.

She shook her head. “We have given you all the names. We maintained a small circle.”

“Small?” Derek said in disbelief. “You could start a circus act with the amount of clowns that participated. I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what you set in motion.” Derek stared at her hard before he continued. “If Cartwright learns the truth, everyone you’ve come in contact with these last months will be put under his scrutiny and he alone will decide who assisted his wife to disappear.”

Jo paled, but he refused to spare her. “That includes your and your friend’s lovelorn beaus. Cartwright may very well believe them part of this whole project. They must be informed and as much as I hate to say this, your brother should as well.”

A silent protest welled up in Jo’s throat. St. Aldwyn she could manage, but her brother would never listen to reason. She’d be lucky if she did not end up in the Thames too.

Sensing her inner battle, Derek sighed. “Your life is in danger and your brother has the right to protect you.”

“He will send me away and make it his life’s mission to destroy you. It won’t matter whether he’s wrong, or if you weren’t even here, he will have an axe out for you for the rest of your life.”

“I agree with her on this, brother,” James murmured.

“Then what do you propose we do?”

“We do what we can without informing her brother until there is no other option than to include him. Perhaps, if we are lucky, there will be no need. If he learns the truth there’s no telling what he will do. He’s all emotion, you know that.”

“Fine, but if things get too out of hand he will be informed.”

“Thank you,” Jo whispered.

“I’ve agreed not to tell him Josephine, but that doesn’t mean your pup following you about won’t when you inform him of the danger.”

Jo stilled at that news. “I must do it?”

“I’m certainly not about to do it,” Derek said with a dry voice.

Jo inwardly groaned. Now that they agreed not to tell her brother the concept of that particular conversation with St. Aldwyn spanned before her like the endless sea. For the most part because she’d lied to him at the theatre. But she understood why it needed to be done, just as she hoped he wouldn’t take it too disagreeably. But none of that mattered; the only thing that mattered was that Cartwright never learned the truth. Maybe Richmond would deal with his in-law before it ever came to that.

Damien leaned against his carriage and glared at the Shaw residence, which Josephine had entered more than two hours ago. Shortly after James Shaw, which meant his brother had arrived back in town. Not certain what to make of this, he decided it must be some kind of monthly gathering of troublemakers. It set his nerves on edge, however, not knowing the extent of their relationship with Josephine.

So how did he get to the point of lurking, once again, in the shadows? Fate? Divine intervention? Or just luck?

He’d decided to drive by Josephine’s residence—a more expeditious route home—and saw her emerge from the side of her house wearing a bright red cloak. In fact, he might have missed her all together if it had not been for her cloak. Of course, suspicions arose and instead of stopping to confront her, he followed the little wench, straight to the front door of Derek Shaw’s residence.

Damien had tried to ignore the jealousy threatening to consume him each moment Jo did not appear, but failed miserably. The knowledge of her in a house with two unattached men, unescorted and without a chaperone, drove him up the side of his carriage’s walls. A red hazy hue accompanied the knowledge. Another five minutes, that was all he would give her, then he’d break down the front door. To hell with caution.

Footsteps to his left drew his attention away from the building and Damien almost slumped to the ground when he caught sight of his friend approaching. About bloody time.

“I received your missive. What’s happened?”

“Josephine is in there,” Damien nodded in disgust toward the house.

Westfield arched a brow. “Alone?”

“Yes.” Damien bit out. “Both brothers are there as well.”

“Lady Belle?”

“No.”

Damien heard the breath escape Westfield but said nothing. All his focus was trained on the door, willing Josephine to step through it.

“It seems I’ve arrived in the nick of time,” Westfield noted, no doubt recognizing the expression on Damien’s face. He heaved a heavy sigh. Yes, his friend had arrived in time to stop Damien from doing something he would regret.

“It’s not unusual for them to meet,” Westfield murmured. “But unusual does not begin to describe your behavior here, lurking outside the Shaw residence.”