The Husband Hunt (18 page)

“S
orry it took so long, my lord,” Smithe said as soon as the greetings were over and Robert had ushered him to a chair.

“That’s all right,” Robert muttered, settling in the chair behind the desk and eyeing Smithe expectantly. “I presume you found Mrs. Morgan?”

“Yes, but it took some fancy footwork. She’d gone to ground. Was lying low and just vacationing. It made it harder to find her than it would have if she’d set up shop right away. We had to talk to countless people, and search all the way to Paris before we found someone who recognized her, and then that was just happenstance. They’d traveled over on the same boat. She’d told them she was heading to Paris, but they saw her get in a carriage heading north.”

“North?” Robert asked with a frown. Paris was south of Calais.

Smithe nodded. “She traveled north along the coast to Amsterdam and then southwest to Dusseldorf, Weisbaden, Stuttgart, and then on to Milano and finally Firenze.”

Robert scowled. It sounded as if she’d been on something of a rushed grand tour, a damned expensive venture. “How the devil did she afford that?”

“The suitor was apparently at the house when they discovered your Miss Madison had escaped,” Smithe said dryly.

Robert’s head went back at this news. He had apparently gotten Lisa out of there just in time. An hour hadn’t passed between his getting her out of the room and returning to Morgan’s brothel, but the woman had already packed and fled. It must have only been moments between his taking her from the room and the suitor’s arrival to claim her.

“He has deep pockets,” Smithe continued. “Told her where to leave from, where to go, and paid her well to keep her from setting up shop again until he sent her the all clear.”

Robert nodded grimly.

“So the old hag wasn’t out in the open to find, and she was traveling under several tales. In Dusseldorf she claimed to be a widow on her way to visit her daughter. In Weisbaden, she was gentry on the way to meet her husband. In Milano she was a lady seeking her son, who was on a grand tour, to give him the sad news that his sister had died.” He shook his head. “And she changed her look with each stop like some master of disguise. It made it damned difficult to track her.”

“I can imagine,” Robert murmured and asked curiously, “How did you manage it?”

“To tell the truth, I don’t think we would have managed it had there not been one thing that stayed the same no matter where she went,” he said dryly.

“What was that?”

“She’s a right old cow,” Smithe said grimly. “Raised a fuss everyplace she stopped, demanding better service and complaining about this and that and whatnot. Made everyone who met her hate her with a passion. In the end, all we had to ask after was a ‘difficult Englishwoman.’ She made enemies everywhere she stopped,” he said dryly.

“Hmm.” Robert sat back, and then asked, “But you did catch up to her?”

Smithe nodded. “Always get my man, or in this case, nasty old harridan,” he said with amusement.

Robert smiled faintly at the words, but asked, “Did she tell you who this suitor was?”

“It took some persuading. For all that she’s a bitch, she was scared of the fellow,” he said solemnly. “But when we shackled her to bring her back, she started singing. Your man is one Lord Charles Findlay.”

L
isa shifted nervously on the carriage seat, trying to prepare in her head for what she would say to the Bow Street runner. She had no desire to tell him everything. How embarrassing would it be to explain about unknowingly taking tea with a brothel owner, and getting herself drugged, locked up, bathed and dressed for a man? Too humiliating. She had no desire to tell the tale. On the other hand she had to give some sort of explanation for her need of a bodyguard or guards to replace Robert.

Perhaps she could just leave out the bit about the brothel and tell him about the attack in her room and on Pembroke’s excursion, she thought. Of course, any Bow Street runner worth his salt would wonder why she had come to see him on her own and why a man of the house wasn’t hiring him.

That consideration brought a scowl to her face and Lisa began to wring her hands fretfully. He would wonder why a supposed lady did not have even a maid with her for this journey too, she realized and thought perhaps she should tell the driver to turn back. Once back at Radnor, she could send him to the door to ask for Bet rather than risk getting caught and cornered by Robert. Or maybe she should call this off altogether and ask Richard to handle it. But that would mean probably waiting until the next day . . . another day and night with Robert there, kissing and caressing her, tempting her to do things she really shouldn’t.

No, she wanted a guard now. She wanted Robert gone now. Lisa wasn’t even sure Richard would be willing to hire a guard for her that would remove the necessity of Robert’s staying at Radnor. Richard might not agree that he should leave. After all, he knew she’d slept with Robert.

Her eyes widened. Richard knew she’d slept with Robert. They all did. Why the devil was no one insisting that they had to marry? Every single one of them should be screaming for that, but especially Richard. She was an unmarried young woman, a member of nobility and his sister-in-law, and had been ruined in his care under his own roof. He should be squawking and roaring and demanding Robert make things right.

The fact that he wasn’t was rather shocking now that she thought on it. It also made her suspect that there was something afoot here that she didn’t understand. Was he in cahoots with Robert? And hoping the man would talk her into marriage so he didn’t have to demand it?

Lisa‘s thoughts died as the carriage slowed to a halt. She sat forward in her seat and peered out the window, grimacing when she saw the dilapidated area they were in. She hadn’t recognized the address for the runner when Tibald had mentioned it during one of the afternoon teas. He’d hired the fellow to track down a thief who had stolen some jewels from his country estate. Fascinated, Lisa had asked several questions about the runner, and, eager to entertain her, Tibald had told her everything there was to tell, including the man’s address. He had also mentioned what a run-down area it was in, but she’d got the sense of just a poorer section of town, not this distressing, dingy street with buildings that looked ready to fall down and groups of men standing in shadows and on corners looking menacing and dangerous.

Lisa bit her lip, suddenly thinking that returning home might be for the best. But then her worries about what Richard might be up to made her rethink. It was not as if she would be on the street long. She just had to walk from the carriage to the building they had stopped in front of, Lisa encouraged herself and then wondered why the driver wasn’t getting down to open the door.

Probably afraid to leave his seat and risk someone jumping into it and taking off with his hack, she thought on a sigh and opened the door herself. Really, Bet was right, she did have a tendency to get herself into some sticky situations, Lisa thought as she descended to the ground. Once there, she pushed the door closed, glanced nervously about and then hurried forward to the door ahead of her. She had nearly reached the building when the sound of the carriage hurrying off made her halt and whirl round in time to see the hack reach the corner and start around it.

Lisa gaped after it with amazement, hardly believing the man had just left her there. She hadn’t even paid him yet, she thought and then wondered if the stable master had. If so, she would send him to get the money back. But—

Lisa drew her thoughts to a halt as she became aware that she was beginning to draw the attention of the groups of men on the street. Noting the looks she was getting, she whirled back to the door a bit desperately. Surely, the runner would find her a hack to take her back home after they’d finished their transaction, she assured herself. And he’d send a guard with her too. That was what she was here for.

Lisa reached the door and then hesitated, unsure whether she was expected to just walk in or knock. If it were a store she would have just walked in, but perhaps its being an office meant knocking. Biting her lip, she shifted from one foot to the other and then tapped at the door before glancing nervously over her shoulder. The moment she did, she wished she hadn’t. Three men were now walking in her direction, eyes fixed on her like she was a mince pie and they were hungry.

She turned quickly back to the door, beginning a prayer under her breath. It was the hallowed old “Please hurry, please hurry” mantra. But when the door didn’t open after repeating that three times, she knocked again, more firmly.

Lisa kept her gaze locked firmly on the panel of wood before her as she waited, almost terrified to look around, half afraid that if she did she would find the men on top of her. But the door wasn’t opening and there wasn’t a sound coming from inside.

Swallowing, she reached desperately for the doorknob, but paused at the sound of a carriage approaching. Her hired hack was returning, she thought hopefully. Or perhaps it was the runner returning home and that was why he wasn’t answering. She risked a glance over her shoulder.

While they weren’t on top of her, the three approaching men were much closer now and two other of the small groups of men were now moving in her direction as well. She felt like a small defenseless hare with a pack of wolves circling, and then her gaze slid to the carriage coming to a halt on the road.

Lisa recognized the crest on it just as the door opened and Lord Findlay stepped down. Spotting her, he paused abruptly, one hand still on the open door and his eyebrows flying up. “Lisa?”

With the first group of men perhaps six feet away now, Lisa gave up on the runner’s door and rushed to Charles.

“Lisa, what ever are you doing here?” he asked, catching her arms and frowning as he peered past her to the men around them.

“I was going to hire a runner, but he’s not in,” she mumbled, her gaze slipping past him to his carriage, and then over her shoulder to see that the men had stopped and were now waiting and watching. Turning back to Charles, she asked, “Do you think you could take me home, my lord? My hack left without me and I—”

“Of course.” Stepping aside, he helped her in, then moved to speak to his driver before climbing in to join her.

The carriage set off at once then, and they peered out the window at the men they were leaving behind. Each and every one of them was staring after the carriage with narrowed eyes and hungry looks and she suspected Charles had just saved her from a most unpleasant experience. Sitting back in her seat, she smiled at him with gratitude. “I am very glad you arrived when you did, I was growing a bit nervous.”

“A bit?” he asked dryly. “Lisa, those men would have . . .” He paused and shook his head. “It is fortunate I happened to choose today to try to see Tibald’s runner.”

“You were there to see him as well?” she asked with surprise, and then wondered why she even asked. What else would he have been there for?

“Yes, I’ve had a little problem with theft myself recently. A new maid, I suspect, and since Tibald spoke so highly of this fellow I thought I’d see what he could do for me.” He peered at her curiously. “What were you hiring him for?”

“Oh. Well, I just . . . something similar,” she finished vaguely, not wishing to open that kettle of fish at the moment.

“Hmm.” Charles eyed her solemnly and then said, “I cannot believe that Radnor allowed you to come down here by yourself.”

“Yes, well, Richard did not know I was coming,” she admitted unhappily.

Charles nodded, but added, “Still, I cannot believe Langley allowed you out of his sight long enough for you to come down here by yourself either. The man seems ever to be shadowing you.”

“Yes, he does,” Lisa agreed with vexation. “The man is—” She cut herself off abruptly and glanced toward the window, irritation wiggling its way through her. Finally she simply said, “Robert did not know I was coming either. In fact, he had no idea I was leaving or surely would have followed.”

Findlay hesitated and then leaned forward in his seat to clasp her hands in his. When she raised her head to peer at him, he said, “Lisa, is Langley the reason you wanted time to think about my proposal?”

Lisa avoided his eyes uncomfortably and tried to tug her hands free, but he held them tightly and said gently, “It has become obvious to me that there is something more than family friendship between the two of you. Your feelings, at least, are deeper than that, though I don’t know about Langley. He’s a cold bastard and hard to read at times.”

Lisa lowered her eyes and shook her head helplessly. Wondering if all of London could tell she had feelings for Robert.

“Do you love him?”

Lisa swallowed, fighting not to speak, but then it just came pouring out. “I have loved him my whole life. No one but him. And I think he cares for me too, but he is afraid I would be unfaithful like his mother and grandmother and refuses to marry. Or did,” she added with a frown. “Now he wants to marry me, but only because—” She cut herself off abruptly, flushing as she realized what she’d almost revealed and rushed on, “But I will not be married to a man who thinks I would be unfaithful to him.”

“Ah.” Charles said quietly and squeezed her hands. “Then might I suggest you accept my proposal instead?”

A sharp bark of laughter slipped from her lips, and then she waved one hand wearily and said, “My lord, you do not want me.”

“On the contrary. I want you very much,” he said wryly.

“You wouldn’t if you knew—” Lisa cut herself off again abruptly, but Charles finished it for her.

“That Langley has bedded you?”

Chapter Fifteen

R
obert stared at Smithe blankly. “Findlay?”

“Hmm. Never heard much of the man myself. Know he’s a respected Baron and such, or supposed to be. But it turns out he’s one dissolute bastard for all that,” Smithe said and consulted a small notebook. “Too fond of drink and gambling. Likes prostitutes, but they don’t like him so much ’cause he apparently only finds his pleasure by inflicting pain on others. Has a violent temper and wants what he wants.” He flipped the notebook closed and glanced to Robert. “Seems he’s wanted Miss Madison for a while. Apparently had some plan to get her a couple years ago with the help of her brother-in-law.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “That would be Lord Radnor.”

“His brother,” Robert assured him grimly. “Not Lord Radnor, but his brother George.”

“Hmm.” Smithe looked dubious, but let it go and continued, “It seems those plans he had apparently ran amuck and he’s been awaiting his chance to get at her again. It was just happenstance that Mrs. Morgan got involved. He was at the brothel the night before the incident that led to her being locked up there. Morgan happened to mention she was expecting the girl to tea the next day. I gather Findlay immediately pounced on that, then paid her scads of money to drug the girl, prepare her for him and present her for his pleasure. Said he was going to marry her . . . after.” He shrugged. “Mrs. Morgan swears that’s the only reason she agreed to it. The girl would be married all good and proper to a fine, respected lord and no harm done,” he finished dryly.

Robert sat back with a curse. He’d suspected one of the men currying favor with Lisa might be the suitor, but he’d suspected Pembroke, not Findlay. It was Pembroke’s pastries that had made her ill and forced her to stay home the night she was attacked. And it was at Pembroke’s outing where the second attack had occurred. Of course, that had helped to push the suspicion Pembroke’s way and he supposed a smart man would want the suspicion elsewhere. It had left Findlay free to court Lisa without interference. It had also knocked out his only strong competition when Robert had suggested Lisa stay away from Pembroke.

“Damn,” he muttered.

Smithe nodded and pointed out, “There’s little that can be done about Lord Findlay legally without tarnishing Miss Madison’s reputation.” He allowed a moment to pass and then added, “And even if you were willing to risk that, without Mrs. Morgan here as a witness to his involvement, it would be difficult to prove anything. But you did say to let the woman go if she gave us the name and so that’s what we did.”

Robert grunted at these words. He’d already realized all of that before he’d even known who the suitor was. He had no intention of going through legal channels to handle the man. He intended on hunting the bastard down and personally beating the hell out of him for putting Lisa through all of this, and for what he would have put her through had she not escaped Mrs. Morgan’s that day.

“Of course, there are other, less legal ways to deal with a man like that,” Smithe continued as if reading Robert’s mind. “I don’t usually encourage that sort of thing, but in this case it does seem the only way to keep the young lady safe . . . short of her marrying someone else and being removed as temptation. Is there any chance she will marry soon?”

“A very good chance indeed,” Robert assured him grimly. His talk with Richard the night before had cleared his mind on certain issues and he had been trying to tell Lisa that when Smithe arrived. The minute the man was gone he would return to the parlor and tell her of the epiphany he’d had. How he’d realized that what he’d thought was true about his childhood and his mother wasn’t true at all. That he’d come to see that his father was a bitter old woman hater who had infected him with his poison, but she was the antidote. He would tell her that he realized now how irrational and stupid his thoughts on marriage and wives had become, and that he did trust her, with all his heart.

Of course, Robert acknowledged that he would have the occasional habitual doubt enter his mind that he would have to fight off and deal with, but he would do his damnedest to ensure he did not take them out on Lisa. He would not drive her away as his father had done with his mother. He would cherish her and keep her close all the days they had together.

“Well, that ensures her safety at least. Findlay can hardly marry a married woman,” Smithe said with satisfaction. “As for the other, there is a risk he might still try to get her alone to have his way with her, but I suspect a stern talking to and a fist or two to the man’s face would be enough to discourage him from taking that tack.”

“Undoubtedly,” Robert agreed dryly.

“Just let me know if you want a couple of my boys to give him that talk and I’ll see to it,” Smithe said, standing up.

“I think I would prefer to handle that myself,” Robert said silkily, getting to his feet as well.

“I thought you might,” Smithe said with a grin as Robert walked him to the office door. “It’s what I would do.”

Robert didn’t comment, but ushered him out into the hall and toward the front door. His fists were itching to plant themselves in Findlay’s face.

“I shall send you my bill, my lord,” Smithe said, pausing at the front door. Glancing back he raised one eyebrow. “To your proper address and not here, I imagine?”

“Yes. Please,” Robert said, opening the door for him.

“Very good.” Smithe nodded and then turned to step outside. Robert watched him go to his carriage, then closed the door and turned to head up the hall.

The parlor door was still closed, and he paused to take a breath and sort out what he would say before opening it. He had a distinct sense of déjà vu when he finally pulled the door open and found himself staring in at an empty parlor.

“Handers!” he bellowed, wheeling toward the kitchens.

L
isa stared at Charles with shock and horror as his words played through her head.
“That Langley has bedded you?”

“Forgive me for being so blunt,” Charles said gently. “But it is rather obvious that’s what has happened.”

“How?” she asked with dismay.

Charles hesitated and then sighed. “Well, the way he looks at you has never been anything like filial. At first he watched you with a hunger only another man would recognize. But today, and the last time I saw you . . .” He paused briefly and said, “The day we had our picnic you were studiously ignoring him, but he could not take his eyes off you. His gaze roamed over you with the knowledge of a lover. And then, of course, I suspected something had happened the night you asked me to kiss you punishingly. You said he had kissed you as punishment, but it was more than a kiss, was it not?”

“Yes, but not—it was the next night that he—we—I—” She grimaced, and shook her head. “You may retract your proposal, my lord. I understand completely that you couldn’t possibly want me now that you know.”

“And yet I do,” he said wryly, and smiled at her startled expression. “Lisa, you are a very attractive woman. I had heard of you before I met you, but once I met you . . .” He shrugged. “I have wanted you ever since first seeing you that night at the Landons’ ball two seasons ago.”

When she shook her head and tried to sit back, he kept hold of her hands and said, “It’s true. I simply could not get you out of my head. All other women were faded pastels next to the vibrant crimson of your image in my memory. And I have spent a good portion of these last two years wishing I had snatched you up and run off to Gretna Green with you right there and then.”

When her eyes widened incredulously, he shrugged. “I wish it even more now that I know that Langley took advantage of you. At least I could have saved you from that.”

Lisa frowned. Robert hadn’t taken advantage of her. She’d gone to his room fully intending to seduce and trap him into marriage. Of course, she hadn’t had to try very hard, but he hadn’t taken advantage of her at all.

“I do want you,” Charles said firmly. “But, unlike Langley, my intentions are honorable and I would marry you first.” He leaned closer, his expression gentle. “Say yes and I will have the driver head for Gretna Green right now. You can put Langley and everything that has happened firmly behind you and be Lady Findlay. We can live quietly in the country, reading our books, paddling on the water and exploring each other’s bodies at night.”

Charles brushed a hand down her cheek as he said the last, and Lisa was hard-pressed to keep from flinching. Her reaction was as much at the thought of their exploring each other’s bodies as anything else. The idea held no appeal for her at all. She couldn’t find it in her to want to explore him. She couldn’t even imagine anyone’s body but Robert’s beside her in bed, Lisa acknowledged, and that is when she realized just how stupid she had been to think she could marry anyone else.

This was not like switching one dress for another. This was a husband. A man who would expect her to do with him all those intimate things she’d done with Robert. Who would have the right to strip her, and touch her in places and ways that were . . . She shuddered at the very thought of marrying this man or anyone who was not Robert and letting him caress or suckle her, or bury his body in hers. If Robert could not see his way clear to believing she could be faithful, she would just rather be an old maid and single for the rest of her life.

“Lisa?”

Sighing, she raised her head and offered an apologetic smile. “I am sorry, my lord. I am touched, but I could not.” When he released her hands and sat back in his seat, she bit her lip and tried to soften her rejection by pointing out, “I might be carrying his child, my lord. Surely you wouldn’t want to raise his child as your own. You’d resent it, and me.” She shook her head. “I like you too much to saddle you with another man’s child. Besides, I would probably make you miserable. I really have loved Robert my whole life. I can’t imagine that would ever change. I would be married to you and forever pining after him. I—”

“It is unfortunate you are such a romantic, my dear,” Charles interrupted coldly. “A little practicality in that addlepated head of yours would have gone a long way toward making this easier.”

Lisa gasped at the insult, shocked by the sudden change in his behavior. It seemed that since she was going to refuse him, he was taking off the kid gloves and showing his true thoughts of her. Addlepated? Because she loved another?

“Of course, it is not entirely your fault,” Charles said. “Had Mrs. Morgan not allowed you to escape, we would have married the day after you arrived in London and Langley never would have got the chance to deflower you. He would already be nothing more than a faded memory next to the exquisite sensation I made you feel.”

Lisa blinked at him several times as her mind struggled to make sense of what she’d heard.
Mrs. Morgan?

“You are the suitor,” she said slowly, wondering that she wasn’t more shocked by the realization.

“Yes, I am. And you will marry me,” he said calmly. “It has been the plan for years now and I am not losing out on that delicious body of yours because you have some romantic notion that you love Robert Langley, a man who doesn’t even want you,” he added dryly.

Lisa stared at him silently as very old puzzle pieces began fitting together with new ones in her head.

“You were the second man in cahoots with Dicky, I mean George,” she murmured faintly as the past crashed with the present in her head. Two years ago she and Suzette had come to London to chase down their father and find out why he had not returned to the country estate and why he was not replying to any of their letters. They’d arrived to find him in his cups, bemoaning the fact that he’d gambled them to the edge of ruin.

In a panic, they had gone to Christiana, hoping that she could help them with a mad plan to find Suzette a husband who would be willing to pay off their father’s debt in exchange for marrying Suzette and gaining the rather exorbitant dower their grandfather had left her. One he’d left to each of the girls.

However, they’d arrived at Christiana’s home to find that all was not well with her marriage. The man who had wooed her with such vigor and charm a year earlier had become a cruel, controlling tyrant. That being the case, it had been more than a relief when the man had accommodatingly cocked up his toes and died the day of their arrival. At least it had been until they’d realized that his death would mean going into mourning and losing the chance to find Suzette a husband.

In the end, the three sisters had done the only thing they could do; they’d hidden the death of Christiana’s husband and set out to attend balls and such to find Suzette a husband who met their requirements. Imagine their amazement when Christiana’s dead husband had come sauntering into the Landons’ ball on the first night of the season.

It had turned out that the man Christiana had married wasn’t Richard Fairgrave, the Earl of Radnor at all, but his twin brother, George, who had hired men to kill Richard so that he might take his place. However, George’s hired assassins had reneged on their end of the deal, leaving Richard alive and well in America. And it was he who showed up at the ball that night, seeking justice and his life back, and scaring the three sisters silly.

They soon found out that fratricide and fraud weren’t George’s only sins. The man had found out about the large dowers the girls had been left by their maternal grandfather. That was the reason he’d married Christiana. And he’d been in cahoots with two other men to marry all three of the sisters and then see them dead in one grand accident that would have left the men rich widowers. The identity of Suzette’s would-be husband and murderer had been discovered during the unraveling of who had killed George. But they had never sorted out who was supposed to marry Lisa. Until now.

“Yes, I was the third man in the plot to marry and kill off you and your sisters,” Charles admitted, unabashed. “In truth, I wasn’t all that interested when George suggested his plot to me. I like to gamble, but not as much as he does, and I have a very healthy estate that furnishes me with all the money I need to fund my play.” He shrugged. “However, after seeing you at the Landons’ ball . . .” He smiled wryly. “All that pale, perfect, lily-white skin and that golden glory crowning your head.”