Regency: Rakes & Reputations: A Rake by Midnight / The Rake's Final Conquest

“Because I know Henley. Far too well.”

Gina almost panicked when she noted James on the sidelines, watching her. Had he come to dance with her? Or had someone alerted him?

“I cannot let him get away with what he’s done to my family.”

“And to you, Miss O’Rourke?”

Her cheeks burned. “You were there…that night?”

“To my shame.”

She tried to pull away and caused him to stumble, but he held tight and resumed the step. “You must believe me, Miss O’Rourke. That was the first night I attended one of Daschel and Henley’s ‘passion plays.’ I was appalled when I realized what was going to happen. But…there were so many there that I could not expose myself by going against them.”

“Yet you were willing to allow them to defile and murder me?”

“Murder? I did not know about the murders until the following day, when the news spread like wildfire through the clubs and hells of town.”

Oh, how she dreaded the answer, but she could not stop herself from asking. “How many? How many ‘postulants’ knew who I was? “

“Perhaps a handful. Perhaps less. I was not certain until I saw you here tonight. Most of them were so far gone in their cups and with the hashish Daschel had burning in the incense bowls that they wouldn’t have known their own mothers. Henley laced the wine with opium, you know.”

Opium—enough of it—would explain her drugged state and her inability to remember what had happened to her in the hours before the ritual began. That, at least, could be the answer to one of her questions.

“Still, I cannot let him get away with it,” she murmured more to herself than to Mr. Metcalfe.

“Believe me, I understand. But you must leave this for others. Others more ruthless.”

“I can be as ruthless as I must, Mr. Metcalfe.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You are not a match for a man of Henley’s ilk. You have no idea—”

“Then, pray, enlighten me so that I will not go into battle unprepared.”

There was a long hesitation while Mr. Metcalfe evidently struggled with his conscience, then continued in a lowered voice. “Henley is a patient man. He has been waiting. Waiting for an opportunity to finish off his enemies. I am one of his loose ends. I know too much. I know who—” He stopped as if afraid he’d said too much. But when he continued, his words surprised her.

“And you, Miss O’Rourke, are top of his list. London is not safe for either of us unless, or until, Henley has been dealt with.”

“By whom? Who is left to deal with him, Mr. Metcalfe?

The Home Office has failed twice. If not me, if not you, then who?”

He shook his head as if to deny her words. “I am merely trying to stay alive until he has been caught. I’d advise you to do the same.”

She squeezed his arm to make her point. “I need your help, Mr. Metcalfe. Tell me what you know that makes you fear for your life. Tell me anything you know that could bring him down. Tell me what lock your little key fits and what I will find there.”

“I’ve already said too much.”

The dance ended and Mr. Metcalfe released her, glancing over his shoulder with a harried look. Before she could form a protest, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd almost instantly.

At least she finally had an answer to one of her questions. Now she knew why she couldn’t remember the events of that night. But there was still so much more she needed to know. If she could not remember herself, surely there was someone, somewhere, who could fill in those lost hours.

Her head whirled with the implications of Mr. Metcalfe’s warnings. She needed a moment to think, to gather her composure and plan what she should do next. As the next dance began, she crossed the dance floor to the wide terrace doors and slipped through, ignoring the couples gathered there and others strolling along the paths. She needed to find just a single moment in a quiet place.

She stopped at an ivy-covered arbor and gripped the latticework until her knuckles were white. Gradually she became aware that she’d punctured her thumb on a hidden thorn. She shook her hand. “Ouch!”

Mr. Metcalfe appeared out of the shadows and came to her side. Had he decided to tell her about the key?

He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth. He licked the little droplet of blood. Shocked, she pulled her hand away. “Sir!”

He produced a handkerchief from the folds of his black robe and she accepted it reluctantly.

“Delicious,” he said.

A chill spiraled up her spine. That was not Mr. Metcalfe’s voice! Instinctively, she spun around to make a dash for the terrace doors, but the leper’s hand clamped over her mouth and she was yanked back against a hard chest.

“How nice to see you again, my dear. You look just like a pretty little canary. I wonder if your neck will be as easy to break.”

Henley! Dear God!

He began dragging her backward. “But you and I are like the phoenix, m’dear. We have both risen from the ashes, eh? Though I shall rise and soar whilst you shall burn again. Poor little bird.”

A sound, half moan, half muted scream, rose from her throat and he clamped his hand tighter, mashing her lips against her teeth and closing her nostrils.

Henley’s breath was hot and foul against her cheek. “Ah, and here comes your erstwhile savior. How fortunate for me. Now, if I only had a pistol. My, my. Yes, a knife will have to do again.”

James was looking for her, turning in every direction, but he could not see them in the shadows of the arbor. Henley could slash him when he walked past! “Eugenia? Miss O’Rourke?”

Henley chortled. “So proper? Are you not his whore yet?” he asked in a raspy voice.

She brought her heel down sharply on his instep and pulled away at the same time. “Jamie!” she screamed.

He turned toward her voice and came running at full speed. Henley uttered a foul curse and ran in the opposite direction.

Jamie reached her and gripped both her arms as he looked into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

She forced her tears back as she nodded and pointed in the opposite direction, her throat raw. “Henley!”

“Run to the house. Do not stop until you are there. Find Charlie and tell him what’s happened.” He took off in pursuit and she thought she heard him utter an equally foul curse.

Chapter Nine

The gardens were empty near the back mews. No sign of Henley, damn it all! The man could not have doubled back or Jamie would have seen him. He arrived at a scene of confusion at the stables.

“… just took his lordship’s stallion and rode off,” one groom was saying to another.

Jamie could still hear the hoofbeats in the distance. “Who?” he shouted.

The stable hands turned to him. “A leper, sir. Dressed like a leper. I was just saddling Lord Grenleigh’s stallion when the man ran up, knocked me on my arse, took the reins and rode away. What’ll I tell his lordship, sir?”