Sins of a Virgin (8 page)

Madeline caught Gabriel’s arm. “It’s nice to know the future of England is in such responsible hands.” They dodged a spinning slice of beef as he led her out a side door. As they exited, a footman carrying a tray of almond biscuits entered. Without pausing, Madeline snatched three of the sugary treats with him none the wiser.

“Were you ever a pickpocket?”

Only once or twice; that had been Clayton’s area of expertise. “At least we know these biscuits haven’t been worn. Let’s find a less crowded place to eat. Through here, I think.” Except that she didn’t think, she knew. She’d scouted the location dressed as a scullery maid earlier this afternoon. She’d gotten lax about such things the past weeks, but she could no longer afford that. She hurried through a set of doors at the far side of the corridor and down a narrow, dimly lit passage.

He glanced up and down the narrow space. “Servants’ corridor?”

“One of them. This one leads to the laundry and cellar.” The space smelled of coal dust and lye, perhaps not the most appetizing aromas, but she’d eaten in far worse. Madeline handed Huntford a biscuit and lowered herself onto the top step.

After a moment, Huntford followed suit. “I didn’t picture you as the type to sit in a stairway.”

She paused with the pastry halfway to her mouth. “I’m surprised you pictured me at all.”

He shrugged, ignoring her bait. “You don’t seem the type to tolerate dingy wooden steps.”

She feigned a delicate sniff. “Indeed, this exquisite derriere only condescends to grace the finest furniture.” She bit into the treat. “Unless I’m hungry, then I’ll sit anywhere.”

Gabriel’s lips twitched, then he lost the battle and grinned.

Her pulse skipped in her veins. His smile wasn’t one that transformed a striking man into a heartrendingly handsome one. No, the change was far more wickedly subtle.

It made him approachable. The pale green of his eyes softened and the tension that normally narrowed his lips disappeared.

She choked on the powdery sugar coating the biscuit.

He eyed her warily. “Are you well?”

She nodded and focused on eating. The confection was one of her favorites so she prolonged her enjoyment with small dainty bites, allowing herself full immersion in the rich, nutty flavor and the occasional pleased moan.

Huntford hadn’t touched his.

Perhaps she could ask him if she might have his—but no, she’d already eaten two to his one.

With a sigh, she raised her fingers to her mouth and began to lick each finger clean.

His sharp curse echoed in the narrow space.

With a swift movement, he placed the biscuit on his knee and caught her hand, pulling it toward him. His palm was warm and callused under hers. “I can help with that.”

His thumb rubbed small circles on the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, spiraling throbbing sensations to the sensitive places between her legs.

What did the man think he was doing? And why was she letting him? “Huntford—”

“Gabriel is better, don’t you think?”

She knew Gabriel’s type. There was no place for a woman in his life except as an occasional bedmate. And that she couldn’t be.

As much as she might be tempted to—

A handkerchief plopped into her hand.

“That should take care of the mess.” Gabriel released her hand with a satisfied smirk.

The beast!

But as her sexual frustration ebbed, an answering smile formed on her lips. She supposed she
had
deserved that. “Well done.”

He picked up his biscuit. “I thought so.”

That didn’t mean she was going to let him get away with smugness, however. “Have you enjoyed the evening?”

“Which part? The mobs or the food fight?” He dusted the sugar off his knee. It was her turn to watch the muscles bunch along the hard line of his jaw as he chewed. “I think you coerced me here under false pretenses. Other than seeing you eat stolen biscuits on the servants’ stair, I haven’t seen anything that shocks me.”

When would the man learn she couldn’t resist a challenge?

Madeline reached out and flicked a crumb from his lip, letting her finger drag over his smooth, firm skin. “That’s because you’ve hardly left the ballroom.”

Chapter Six

W
hy in the blazes did he allow her to goad him so easily? Gabriel followed Madeline around a half-nude couple fornicating in an open doorway. The man’s trousers hung down around his ankles revealing hairy, spindly legs. The woman under him emitted high-pitched sounds reminiscent of a screeching violin. Gabriel grimaced. They couldn’t make it another two feet into the room and shut the door behind them?

Gabriel hurried Madeline around the corner to escape the couple’s increasingly loud grunts. “That couple classified as more revolting than shocking.”

Her nose wrinkled. “You do have a point—” She froze placing her hand on his chest. “Listen.”

“I’d prefer not to.” But her sharp look silenced the rest of his snide comment. He struggled and failed to hear anything besides the overexuberant couple. Madeline, however, took off in a silent lope down the hall.

What the devil? No mysterious footmen were in sight this time.

She stopped abruptly. He collided against her. Only his arm wrapping around her ribs saved her from tumbling face-first into the carpet. The heavy weight of her breast pressed against his arm. If he turned his hand he’d be cupping—

A woman’s cry of pain aborted his lustful thought.

Madeline jerked her head in the direction of a door to their right. A man’s laughter spilled from the room.

She shoved at the arm encircling her, and Gabriel released his hold.

She strode toward the occupied room, her voice loud and shrewish. “I swear if you don’t find something to remove this gravy from the hem of my gown I’ll scream. I give you two minutes to locate a maid with laundry powder. I’ll wait here.” She flung open the door.

A woman stumbled out, clutching her ripped bodice to her chest. A line of crimson dribbled from her mouth down her chin. Grotesque swelling around one of her eyes sealed it tightly shut.

“Get back here, whore!” a gravelly voice bellowed from inside the room.

With a terrified glance from her one good eye, the woman fled, revealing bloody stripes harrowed across her bony shoulder blades.

Rage built until each heartbeat thudded in Gabriel’s ears with deafening percussion. “Stay here.” He set Madeline to the side and strode into the room. Dealing with brutes like this was familiar territory.

A balding, heavy-jowled man stood inside. Dr. Horace Webster. “I thought we had discussed your problem before, Webster.”

Gabriel had investigated him seven years ago, not because he thought his sister would have fallen for the corpulent mass, but because his reputation for violence had made it impossible for Gabriel to ignore him. Unfortunately, the doctor had been in Bath at the time of Susan’s death. Four separate sources had confirmed it.

Webster stood in his shirtsleeves, no doubt to allow him a better range of movement to swing the riding crop in his hand. “Just enjoying a bit of sport, Huntford.”

“I don’t think the lady would agree.”

“That woman is a whore who I intended to pay. Now you’ve robbed us both of our satisfaction.”

“Then why isn’t she here complaining?”

Webster cracked his knuckles. “Probably embarrassed she enjoyed it so much. Perhaps I should finish up with that pretty thing you brought.”

Gabriel slammed Webster against the wall, his forearm pressed into the spongy column of his throat. Fury corded the muscles of his arm but he forced himself to stop an inch before he crushed the man’s windpipe. “You’re the only one who receives any enjoyment. But that’s what gets you off, isn’t it? The pain? Their terror?”

Webster’s throat twitched under Gabriel’s arm as he struggled to breathe. His words emerged in a hoarse rasp. “It ain’t a crime for a man to show his woman a little discipline.”

“She’s not your woman unless you have marriage lines to show me. Your discipline’s a felony.”

“To have a felony, you need to have a crime.” Webster wrenched Gabriel’s arm from his neck and shoved him back. Gabriel crouched, preparing for the doctor to charge. Waiting for it. Anticipating it. The doctor outweighed him by a good five stone and was no stranger to violence, but he wasn’t accustomed to a target that could fight back. And Gabriel intended to fight back hard.

The doctor’s chapped fists balled at his sides, but then unfolded to rub his neck. A mocking smile stretched his face. “It wasn’t a crime. Ask her. I bet she won’t say a thing against me.”

Webster was right. His victims were always too afraid to stand against him, and without the victim to prosecute the crime, Gabriel was powerless.

“Without her complaint you can’t charge me with anything.”

Gabriel’s brows lowered, revulsion warring with his anger. “Except being a purulent cyst of a man.”

Webster growled.

“Or having the breeding of horse manure.” Gabriel tensed, hoping the man would take a swing at him. He couldn’t arrest him, but at least he could flatten the man’s ugly nose.

Unfortunately, Webster stormed to the door, spitting at Gabriel’s feet as he passed. “Bastard.”

“Indeed. Now leave.”

Gabriel followed the doctor into the corridor. If the man even looked in Madeline’s direction, Gabriel would shoot him in the back.

But Madeline was nowhere to be seen as Webster lumbered away.

Gabriel peered around with a frown. Had she returned to the ball? After a brief search, he found her sitting on a chair in the corridor a few passageways down. Her arms were tightly folded across her chest and her head was bowed.

“Madeline, I’m sorry if he frightened you. He’s gone now.”

Her head jerked up. “Frightened? No. If I had stayed I would have cut off his ballocks. And I didn’t want to stain my dress.”

Gabriel would have snorted in agreement but her eyes held no humor.

“Did you at least hit him a few times?”

The bloodthirsty wench. “No. He wouldn’t take the bait. I did call him a purulent cyst.”

“Purulent?” A glimmer of a smile tilted the corners of her mouth.

“It seemed apt.”

“Perfectly. Well, we’d best return swiftly to the ballroom.”

Gabriel couldn’t suppress a grimace.

“As your reward for being a white knight, I’ll say my good-byes and we can go home.”

They worked their way past the amorous couples littering the house toward the ballroom.

“There you are!” Lenton hurried forward. “It is my dance now.”

Madeline smiled. “I was just coming to look for you.” With an apologetic grimace at Gabriel, she allowed Lenton to lead her onto the floor.

Curse it all, another dance meant at least fifteen more minutes. But as much as he might wish to escape, the additional dance meant more time to study Lenton. Gabriel watched the man twirl Madeline about. The man was a fop and not overly bright. Gabriel doubted his guilt, but until he had solid proof of his innocence, he’d remain a suspect.

Gabriel stepped around a pillar to keep them in sight. He might not have told her of his murder investigation, but he refused to endanger her.

Lenton and Madeline edged toward the terrace doors.

“Huntford?”

Gabriel turned toward the vaguely familiar voice.

A large, solidly built man strode toward him. “I thought it was you.”

Gabriel tipped his head in greeting. “Danbury.” Finding a friend in this mess, even one he hadn’t seen in years, came as a surprise. Yet despite his satisfaction, Gabriel’s attention returned to Madeline.

She said something to her escort and they drifted back toward the other dancers.

“I see you avoided the food fight,” Danbury said.

Gabriel spared a glance for his friend. “You appear unscathed as well. And quite brown. How are your family’s plantations?”

“Quite well. They are flourishing under my leadership. Where have you been keeping yourself? I haven’t seen you since Oxford.” A crease marked Danbury’s broad forehead. “Wait, I think I heard mention that you’d become a Runner?”

“Indeed.”

Danbury gave a low whistle. “I envy you that. Saving the fine men of this town from criminals and ne’er-do-wells. Far more noble than any of this lot.”

If nobility meant wading through filth, violence, and death. But he said, “We try our best.” After all, Danbury had always held grandiose opinions on justice. There was no reason to disillusion him. “How long are you in London?”

“I had planned to return but there were some repairs needed on my father’s ship. Stalled me here. And then I became fascinated by this auction.” Danbury gave him a conspiratorial look. “Why did you and the delectable Miss Valdan disappear together for half an hour?”

“Our relationship is professional.”

Danbury peered intently at him. “Her profession or yours?”

Nothing would ensure Madeline turning him out quicker than rumors of that sort. “I’m assigned to protect her. I’m not wealthy enough for anything else.”

“If she’s not yours, Huntford, then do you mind if I bid?”

He did mind, actually.

Because he didn’t want Madeline to cozen his friend, of course.

Gabriel forced his shoulders to lower. “You’re welcome to do as you wish.”

The final chord of music faded and Madeline’s court converged around her. Gabriel ignored his spurt of satisfaction as Lenton was pushed to the perimeter.

Danbury followed his gaze and grimaced. “Perhaps I’ll let my bid speak for me rather than brave that insanity.” He frowned as he noticed a couple behind Madeline. “I wonder if Tenet knows that woman’s last protector had the pox. I suppose I’ll go warn him. See, Huntford? I can do my part to save the men of society, too.” He grinned and strode off in the direction of the pair.

“Ready?” Madeline’s voice spoke next to him. She stood at his side, eyebrow raised. She laughed at his scowl. “Let’s go then.”

A footman handed Gabriel his hat and greatcoat as they left, and they walked down the steps at the front of the building.

Fingers of fog twined through the streets, shying away from the torches burning outside Chatham House.