Just This Once (39 page)

H
eads swiveled to
watch as the Earl of Stonecliff bounded up the steps of the Opera
House at Covent Garden three stairs at a time. It was intermission,
and the lights were up, the lobby filled with people. He nearly
collided with several clusters of men and women in his
single-minded haste to reach the private boxes.

“Good Lord, it’s Stonecliff! What the devil
has got into him?” Lord Cavenleigh muttered nervously to Lord
Willowton as the black-haired earl, looking to be in an even
blacker temper, lunged past.

“Perhaps he is looking for Lady Stonecliff?”
the young woman on Lord Willowton’s arm suggested with a sly quirk
of her lips. “If what Miss Crenshaw told me is true, his lordship
will have a time of it trying to keep tabs on
that
lady
.”

The way she sniffed and emphasized the final
words made the two gentlemen smile, albeit nervously, but neither
of them, knowing Lord Stonecliff to be in the vicinity, dared speak
a word against the Earl’s bride.

Ethan hadn’t known such fear since the night
Molly died, the night he’d heard of her accident, when he’d torn
across town only to find her on her deathbed on that grim, cold
hospital cot.

Nothing like that had befallen Josie, he’d
told himself over and over on the drive to the Opera House, but the
icy knot at the pit of his stomach said otherwise.

He’d returned from lengthy meetings with a
group of reform-minded lords only to find his household in a tizzy.
Lady Stonecliff had arrived home, yes. She had been given his
letter; she had gone up to change for dinner.

And no one had seen her since.

Her room—both of their rooms—had been
discovered to be in disarray. When Ethan had thundered up the steps
and looked for himself, he’d seen at once that the jewels he’d
given her to wear, which she normally kept in a velvet-lined ivory
jewel box, were missing—and that the lid of the box had been left
open.

Also missing were several items of his
own—jeweled stickpins, a gold-handled walking stick, a snuffbox
that had belonged to his great-grandfather.

He’d stood frozen in the center of the floor
until the housemaid, Brina, had tiptoed forward.

“I found this in the hall, my lord. It was
lying on the carpet. I thought... it seemed to me... her ladyship
may have dropped it there.”

It was his letter—the letter stating that
tomorrow they were to meet with Grismore.

That’s when the rain had started, a faint
but solid drumming that quite quickly began slamming against the
windowpanes like coal-pellets as he’d stared silently at the
letter. Had Josie panicked? Had she fled, leaving him, taking all
the jewels and valuables she could get her hands on in her mad dash
to get away?

Had it all been a scheme, right from the
start?

Ethan remembered the way she’d felt in his
arms last night, the way she’d kissed him, moved her body with his,
opened herself to him in every way.

“It was no scheme,” he whispered.

“I beg your pardon, my lord?” Brina had
twisted her hands together. “Were you speaking to me?”

“I’m going out,” he told her as he turned on
his heel. “If her ladyship returns while I’m gone...”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He knew in
his heart Josie would not be back—not until he found her. She
hadn’t merely gone out to dine without saying a word to anyone—and
she hadn’t run away. There was something sinister at work here.

His first thought was of Oliver
Winthrop.

His second, of Ham.

* * *

“Lord Stonecliff!” Miss Perry exclaimed when
he stormed into the box where she sat with Miss Crenshaw, Mr.
Winthrop, and Colonel Hamring. But her delighted smile faded as she
saw the dark rage on the Earl’s face.

“Whatever is wrong?” Miss Crenshaw fairly
screeched.

Winthrop took one look and began backing
away, nearly tripping over a gilt chair behind him, but Ethan
grabbed him by the lapels of his tailcoat and wrenched him
forward.

“At your lodgings they told me you were
here. So where is she? What have you done with her?”

“Wh-who? I don’t know what you’re—”

Ethan’s hands closed around his cousin’s
throat, but instantly Colonel Hamring was beside him, trying to pry
them away. And on his other side, Miss Perry spoke in a low,
breathless tone.

“My lord, this is unseemly. Only think of
what you’re doing, I beg of you—the scandal... it will do Lady
Stonecliff no good. In fact, she may suffer great harm...
irreparable harm.”

The red fury ebbed from his eyes as her
quiet, desperate words penetrated. He became aware of the countless
faces turned to him from all over the theatre, the hushed silence,
the shocked expressions, and he eased the pressure from Winthrop’s
throat.

“Outside, then,” he snarled, and released
his cousin, stepping back. But the ferocious expression in his eyes
left Winthrop no hope of more than a temporary reprieve.

“Outside, you worthless piece of vermin,”
Ethan said so softly, only those in the box could hear, forcing a
smile onto his face as he gestured toward the door. “Before I drag
you out on your worthless knees.”

When they had left the openness of the
private box, he dragged Winthrop into a velvet-curtained alcove
where it was dark save for one hissing gas jet.

“Now tell me what you’ve done with her
before I end your stinking miserable life once and for all.”

“If you mean Lady Stonecliff...”

“Who else?” Ethan shook him till his teeth
rattled.

“I haven’t seen her. Nor done anything—”

“Latherby told me you’ve been asking
questions about her. That’s right,” Ethan sneered. “He came
straight to me after you tried to bribe him into carrying tales of
her to Grismore. You might be interested to know I gave him double
the amount you offered him because he had the good sense and
loyalty to toss you out on your ear. But you wouldn’t know anything
about loyalty, would you, Winthrop? You’re loyal only to
yourself.”

“It’s all a lie. I never—”

“And you’ve been spreading rumors about
her—ugly rumors. Think you’re going to turn London against her,
don’t you? And Grismore as well. But the way I’m figuring it, you
weren’t satisfied with that. You wanted to get rid of her—just in
case she survives your nasty little whispering campaign.”

“I will ask you one more time, Cousin, to
unhand me or—”

Ethan slugged him and watched Winthrop slam
against the wall.

“Or what?”

“You’re mad!”

“I’m giving you until the count of five to
tell me what you’ve done with her. And if she’s been hurt...”

He advanced on Winthrop again, fists raised.
Blanching, Winthrop cowered against the wall. “Nothing, I tell you.
I haven’t seen her. Or done anything.”

“Hired someone?”

“No, by God, no! I was planning to meet with
Grismore, that’s all, and tell him what I know—and I know plenty,”
he added in a high, peevish tone, his temper getting away from him
for a moment. “Enough to send that little tart packing. But I
haven’t done away with her, if that’s what you mean. If she’s
missing, she’s probably run off with the gardener or some groom,
or—”

This time the blow sank him to his knees.
Blood spurted from his mouth as, gasping, he fumbled for a
handkerchief. “My t-tooth!” he sputtered. “You’ve knocked out my
t-tooth!”

But Ethan Savage was already gone.

Colonel Hamring and Miss Perry were hovering
by the stairway when he stalked in that direction.

“My lord, I don’t know what the trouble is,
but if there is any way I can help...” Miss Perry eyed him
worriedly.

Beside her the Colonel spoke gravely. “I’m
at your service, Stonecliff.”

“You’ve both already been of help. You kept
me from murdering that son of a bitch in front of hundreds of
witnesses.”

He wheeled away from them and started down
the stairs without another word.

Miss Perry raised anxious eyes to the
Colonel’s face. He smiled down at her. “I’m certain everything will
turn out for the best, my dear. At least I hope so. I like
Stonecliff—and Lady Stonecliff, too.”

“She is the dearest friend I’ve ever had,”
Miss Perry said quietly. “I wonder what has happened—and if there
is some way I can help.”

“You heard him. And it’s quite true—you’ve
already helped. If not for you, the situation might have become far
worse. How brave you were to step up and speak to him when you did,
Clara. Not many ladies I know would have dared approach a man in
such a rage.”

“I only wished to avoid a scandal. That
wouldn’t help either of them.”

“Very quick thinking, my dear.”

She blushed under his admiring scrutiny.

“I admire a woman who stands by her friends.
Who is not afraid to act in their behalf. In the army, we learned
the infinite value of loyalty, and how greatly it is to be
cherished.”

The intermission was drawing to a close. All
around them people in glittering finery were hurrying back to their
boxes, and they could hear the expectant rustle and hush of the
crowd.

Miss Perry smiled into his eyes. “Shouldn’t
we be going back?”

“Yes... no.” Colonel Hamring found himself
stammering for the first time since he was a very green young man,
flustered at being summoned before his commander for a minor
infraction.
This is not the time
, he told himself, but as he
regarded Miss Perry in the now deserted lobby of the Opera House,
he found himself oddly compelled by the questioning sweetness in
her eyes, the very light way she rested her hand upon his arm.

His dear wife had died nearly fifteen years
ago, and he had thought never to remarry. But Clara Perry was such
a sweet, comfortable woman—and mightily becoming as well. And she
had unexpected backbone for one who appeared so dainty. Odd that he
had never noticed her before in these many years—they attended many
of the same balls and dinner parties, though she was always
compelled to stand in the shadow of that whiny Miss Crenshaw.

She deserved a better life than having to be
at the beck and call of that selfish miss, he thought, his chest
puffing out a bit with indignation on her behalf as he recalled the
condescending way Miss Crenshaw had treated Miss Perry throughout
the first half of tonight’s performance.

He hesitated fractionally, regarding her as
she waited for him to explain the delay. By God, she was a
comfortable woman. Her image had popped into his mind countless
times in the past few days—actually, ever since she had
administered such anxious attention to him at Lady Tattersall’s
home.

“We’ll go in if you wish,” he said, his
voice trembling a bit with excitement at what he was about to do.
“But first, my dear Miss Perry, there is something I wish to ask
you.”

* * *

A downpour slickened the streets of Mayfair
as Ethan slammed back into the house. It was nearly eleven o’clock.
He waved away the footmen who hurried to help him with his sodden
coat and hat, and stalked into his library. The news that Josie
hadn’t returned held no surprise for him.

He splashed brandy into a glass and
drank.

Where could she be? Was she hurt—frightened?
What could have made her leave him?

The thought that she had wanted to leave,
that this was part of some cruel plan presented itself to him once
more. He finished the brandy and swung toward the window, staring
past the heavy plum velvet draperies into the black, wet night.

For ten years he hadn’t believed in anyone
or anything. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel, to care, to reach
out—not to anyone, not since Molly. Not until now.

A tremendous weight seemed to press in upon
him. He imagined Josie gathering up his mother’s jewels, hurrying
into his room, scooping up his stickpins, the snuffbox, sneaking
off like some thief into the night....

She isn’t a thief. She didn’t run off.

Ethan closed his eyes and searched for her
with every particle of his being. If she was dead, he’d feel it. If
she had run away, he’d know it. Wouldn’t he?

Sweating, he downed another brandy. He’d
always relied on his instincts, and his instincts told him now that
Josie was in trouble.

Bad trouble.

He slammed the glass down on the desk. He
didn’t know where to look for her, but he couldn’t stay here
another moment, warm and dry in this house while she was out there
somewhere needing help.

He’d take the carriage and drive through
every street in London if he had to. He’d start in Mayfair and
branch out in gradually widening circles: the Strand, Trafalgar
Square, Hyde Park, the Embankment. He’d search each area until—

The sound of crashing glass stopped him when
he was halfway to the door.

He paused only an instant, and then sprinted
forward.

“It came from upstairs,” he shouted as the
servants came running, their faces shocked and pale. He was already
gaining the top of the split marble staircase and racing down the
hall, every sense alert.

“A rock! Gracious me, my lord...”

“There’s a note inside this pouch.” Ethan
tore it open. Latherby’s gold ring tumbled out of the folded paper
and landed on a shard of glass embedded in the carpet.

We’ve got her. You never should have offered
that reward against us because now she’s going to die. Unless you
bring 25,000 pounds to Blackfriars Bridge at midnight tomorrow.
Don’t be late or she’ll pay the price.

There was no signature. Ethan’s hands
clenched on the paper. Those bastards. He forced himself to keep
the fury at bay, to concentrate on what he had to do to free
Josie.

The letter had to be from Pirate Pete.
Except that Ethan doubted either Pirate Pete or Tiny could read or
write worth a damn—and the language of the note didn’t reflect the
cockney speech either of them used.