Loving Byrne (2 page)

Boot heels rapped in the hall, and then Stephen filled the doorway, his face white as the starched linens stacked on the shelves.

Victoria pushed upright, her heart skipping. “You look upset, Stephen. What’s wrong?”

“He’s gone. Hammond is gone.”

****

Eyes blue as the ocean and just as wide washed over him. “Gone? What do you mean he’s gone?”

As Victoria bolted off the table, her exposed breasts jounced like fresh stirred cream. Heat rifled through him. Hot, primal heat that took his breath. Stephen stiffened against a rush of desire. As much as he wanted to take her right there on the maid’s table, he couldn’t afford to indulge the pleasure. Later, perhaps. If he wasn’t swinging from the gallows.

He snatched her cloak from the table where he’d tossed it. “We have to go.”

Worry lines furrowed her brow. “Go? Why, what’s happened?”

Everything
. He snapped his teeth down on a curse. He’d fouled up good this time. Royally. “Hammond somehow got out of bed and left his room. He’s not supposed to go out unescorted.”

“Good Heavens. Where could he have gone?”

“With any luck, to the bar in the hotel lobby. That’s where he spent most of the afternoon and evening.” He tossed the wool cloak around her shoulders and cupped her upper arms in a comforting grip. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It looks as if our special night together will have to wait after all.”

Her anxious expression softened. “We have a lifetime of nights ahead of us, my love.”

From her pretty lips to God’s ears. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “My ever-optimistic angel. What would I do without you?”

She gathered the open folds of her blouse and gave him a brazen, sidelong glance, the same one that nearly stopped his heart earlier. “Not so angelic when I’m around you, it appears.”

He chuckled. Schooling her in the delights of the bedroom was going to be pure heaven. Too bad that education had to be put on hold. Damn Hammond’s ornery hide. He scooped his hat off the table and held his arm out to her. “Come. Let’s find Hammond and make sure we’re able to have that lifetime together.”

Her frown returned. “What about the food?”

“Leave it. Hopefully we won’t be gone long. If not, the maids will find a tasty treat.”

“All right, but wait just a...” She turned her attention to the buttons on her blouse. The lush bounty quickly disappeared behind refastened material. Once more presentable, she rested a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. “There. All set. Lead on, my gallant lieutenant.”

Not so gallant with a noose decorating his neck. General Babcock would surely string him up for letting Hammond slip away. He had to find the English bastard. And fast. Before Sergeant Denton arrived at ten tonight for his assigned shift. Bootlicker Denton had Babcock’s ear and wouldn’t hesitate to rat out a fellow soldier.

Stephen returned her smile and led her into the hallway. Much as he wanted to break into a run, he kept his pace even and steady. No sense worrying her needlessly. He would find Hammond and get him safely back to his room. He had to. If anything prevented the Grover bridegroom from attending tomorrow’s ceremony, he and Victoria could kiss their own wedding good-bye.

They descended the broad flight of stairs and entered the lobby. Only a handful of patrons occupied the vaulted room. Two were familiar. Senator Conkling from New York and Admiral David Porter, advisor to the Secretary of the Navy. Both were in town to attend the Grover wedding. Hopefully they were unaware of Hammond’s latest escapade.

He guided Victoria to a padded bench encircling one of the marble pillars studding the lobby. The seat faced the entrance to the bar and would make keeping watch over her easier. “Stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be back shortly.”

She nodded and sank onto the bench. “Good luck, love.”

He’d need more than luck if the Englishman had decided to go elsewhere. Once inside the bar, he made a quick check of the smoke-filled room. Several men stood belly-up to the polished brass and oak bar counter that ran along the far wall. Another group sat at a small table, playing cards and tossing back shots of whiskey. None were Hammond.

He fisted the hilt of his sword. Where the hell was the miserable sot? The Englishman deserved a gutting for all the trouble he’d caused.

Standing near the end of the counter, the burly barkeep looked up and nodded. Big Jim Stossel. He’d passed many a night trading stories with the retired Army sergeant while waiting for his duty shift to begin. The Pennsylvania farmer who’d sold his farm and joined the Army to fight the Johnny Rebs had plenty of tales to tell. Hopefully he’d have some information on Hammond.

Big Jim’s face crinkled into a smile as Stephen drew up to the bar. “Lieutenant Byrne. You here for a drink?”

Much as he could use one, he’d best keep his head clear of spirits. “Not right now.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. The fewer people who knew about his predicament, the better. Big Jim would keep their conversation to himself. “Have you seen the Englishman Hammond in the last half-hour or so?”

Jim wagged his head. “Not since you helped him out earlier this evening.”

Damn. Just as he’d feared. “Did you hear him talk of going anywhere else tonight?”

“Not that I recollect. But then he wasn’t so easy to understand to begin with. Bloody this and bloody that. And all those peculiar words. Makes you wonder if he was speaking English.”

He’d experienced the same communication hurdle. Who the hell called having a chat a chinwag? He rapped on the counter. “Thanks, Jim. If all goes well, I’ll stop by later for that drink.”

As he left the bar, his stomach reeled like a whiskey-soused private. What the devil did he do now? If Hammond had left the hotel to seek other entertainment, it was going to be a long, hellish night.

Victoria’s anxious gaze drilled into him, and the knot in his gut tightened. He should never have sent a hack to collect her. Should never have agreed to let her visit him at the hotel. Though it had been ten lonely days since they’d seen each other, he could’ve lasted one more night. But he hadn’t. And now they would both suffer the consequences.

“By the sour look on your face, I gather Hammond wasn’t in the bar.”

He held out a hand and helped her rise. “No, he wasn’t.”

“What now?”

The clock perched on the wall gonged the half-hour. Eight-thirty. One and a half hours to find Hammond and get him back to his room. Not nearly enough time in a city as big and crowded as Washington.

He ran a hand through sweat-dampened hair and tugged on his hat. “If Hammond left the hotel, the doorman will have seen him. He might know where the fool went.”

Victoria nodded in agreement and fell into step beside him, her soft-soled shoes whispering over the marble floor. If it wasn’t for Hammond, he’d have her naked flesh whispering over him instead. Damn English horehounds.

“Evening, Lieutenant. Ma’am,” the doorman greeted them. “Shall I signal a hack for you? There’s one still at the cabbie stand.”

“Yes, but first...” Stephen motioned for the man to move out onto the portico with him. Though he didn’t know Fred Hayes that well, he’d spoken to the doorman on several occasions. He seemed to be a decent enough fellow.

“Have you seen the British Envoy Hammond this evening, Fred?”

“I certainly did. Not more than a half hour ago. Hailed a hack for him.”

Good that Fred had seen the man. Bad that his suspicions were confirmed. “Did you happen to overhear where he was going?”

The doorman shook his head. “’Fraid not. Another guest arrived about the same time and needed help with his baggage.”

Damn. If it wasn’t for bad luck, he and Victoria would have none. Stephen fished in his pocket for a coin. A folded slip of paper came out with the money. He fingered the note and smiled. Maybe their good fortune hadn’t run out after all.

He pressed the coin into the doorman’s palm. “Thanks, Fred. We’ll take that hack, now.”

As Fred clattered down the steps, Stephen waved for Victoria. “I think I know where Hammond might have gone,” he said when she joined him.

“You do? Where?”

He held up the wad of paper. “Earlier today he slipped me this note along with a ten-spot. Wanted me to go against orders and accompany him into the city.”

Her eyes widened. “He tried to bribe you?”

“He did. I refused and gave back the money. But I forgot to dispose of his note.” He crumpled the paper in his fist. “He could be on his way to this place.”

“Well, at least you have an idea of where to search.”

He slid a hand to her elbow. “As there’s only one hack on hand, you’ll have to come, too. Once we’ve found Hammond, I’ll send you home.” The thought of involving Victoria in this mess rolled in his gut, heavy and indigestible as old boot leather. Yet, he had no choice but to stomach it.

“That’s fine. I told Howard and Annabelle not to wait up.” She lowered her eyelids and her voice. “I think they assumed I’d be with you all night.”

Anger and frustration coiled inside him. If only they could be together in the way her sister imagined…and not on some damn wild goose chase.

The full moon joined the gas-lamps in lighting the darkness. A clump of leaves churned out of the shadows and into the street, pushed along by a stiff breeze. Hell, the way his luck was running, he half expected a blinding snowstorm to blow up.

As the hackney clattered to a stop at the curb, Stephen shook off his ugly thoughts and guided Victoria down the stairs. A head clouded with doubts would do him little good.

“Where to, mate?” the cabbie asked from his perch.

“Maynard House,” he answered as he handed Victoria into the cab. “And make haste.”

Stephen ignored the cabbie’s raised eyebrow and followed Victoria inside. He didn’t favor taking his future wife to such a place either. But there was no other option. Finding Hammond trumped propriety. At least the Maynard House was located on the better side of town. Yet, somehow that fact did little to appease the bayonet spearing his conscience.

As the hack lurched forward, he settled on the narrow bench. Mashed together in the small confines of the cab, his shoulder and thigh pressed pleasantly against the soft female body next to him. His loin quickened at the memory of what they should be doing instead of roving about the city. He bit down on a nasty-tasting curse.

Victoria’s hand found his in the darkness. “I’m sorry I got you into this horrible situation, love.”

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to glove-encased knuckles. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But if I hadn’t insisted on seeing you, none of this would have happened.”

“I have a feeling Hammond would’ve escaped confinement eventually. He’s a damned determined brute. It was just my ill luck it happened on my watch.”

“What will happen if you don’t find him?”

Bleakness tainted her usual cheery tone. From uncertainty or fear? Probably a bit of both. It nearly killed him to know his poor judgment caused her such torment.

He trapped the lie rolling on his tongue. The truth would be best. Victoria was going to be his wife after all. He hoped. “I won’t honey-coat the situation. Between the suspicion cast by Hammond’s bribe and me abandoning my post, I could face a court-martial, possibly lose my commission.”

She sucked in a breath. “A court-martial? Oh, Stephen, that sounds so harsh.”

“That’s the way of the military. My commanding officer is a stickler for rules.”

“And that prized position at Fort Leavenworth he promised you?”

“Quashed.” Ground like a cockroach under a spit-shined boot heel. He squeezed her hand, now trembling in his. “I’m sorry if this upsets you, darling. But I felt you should know. “

“I’m glad you told me.” She squared herself, pulling on that cloak of strength and determination he so admired. “We’re going to work this out together. Nothing is going to stand in the way of our future. Nothing.”

He grimaced, thankful the dark concealed his expression. Once she discovered their destination, would her outlook remain so sunny? In his experience, no matter what the reason, most wives or wives-to-be didn’t think highly of their men entering a whorehouse.

Chapter Two

Victoria watched from inside the hackney as Stephen climbed the stairs to the three-story brick building set off from the rest of the stately houses lining the cobbled street. From what she could see in the limited light, it appeared to be a well-kempt dwelling, the lawn and shrubbery precisely manicured, the house clean and bright. Most of the mullioned windows glowed golden with lamplight, except for a handful on the top floor that had their curtains pulled shut. The faint tinkle of piano music and an occasional laugh rode the night air. Had Hammond been invited to some sort of party?

The ornate red door swung open, spewing light and a swell of festive noise onto the stoop. A tall, somberly-dressed man stepped through the opening and began talking with Stephen. The butler perhaps? She tossed a prayer skyward that Hammond was inside. He had to be. The thought of Stephen losing his commission, losing his future in the Army, ate at her like a maggot on rotted food. All because of her childish impatience. She fisted her hand around the door handle. One way or another, she’d make certain her beloved didn’t lose any of the things he cherished.

As the two men talked, several figures darkened the hallway behind them. A woman’s throaty laugh rang out. A hearty male chuckle joined in. The butler stepped to the side, providing a clearer view. The woman wore an evening gown of red satin overlaid by a lacy black overskirt. Blonde ringlets cascaded from a bun fashioned atop her head. She could be any well-dressed lady out on the town. Except for the large male paws fondling the creamy breasts spilling from the top of her garment. Victoria’s stomach lurched.
Satan’s toenails
. This was no upscale home. It was a house of ill repute.