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

“He, too, wore a leper’s costume. Miss O’Rourke danced with him. When Henley approached her in the garden, she thought it was Metcalfe.”

“But what has that to do with anything?”

“I chased Henley to the stables where he stole Grenleigh’s stallion and got away.”

“Grenleigh? Hell and damnation! He’ll have my hide.”

Charlie gave a grim laugh. “He is not too pleased, but I lent him mine. I warrant the horse will turn up in a day or two. Henley will not keep anything that would give his identity or location away.”

Morris drank the entire contents of his glass in a single gulp. “So this is it, then? Henley assaulted a girl who is safely home and took Grenleigh’s prize stallion which will turn up in a day or two?”

“Alas, there’s more to it than that. When I came back through the garden after chasing Henley, I stumbled across Mr. Metcalfe. He’d been stabbed in the chest and hidden in the bushes behind the arbor.”

“Is he all right?”

“Afraid not, Morris. He’s dead. The question is, how shall we handle this unfortunate event?”

Morris’s mouth moved but did not form any intelligible words.

Wycliffe finished his brandy and slammed his glass down on the sideboard with a resounding thud. “Metcalfe. Damnation! Another lead silenced.”

“So my question is this,” Jamie continued, determined to get to the bottom of the matter. “Where did you send Henley’s invitation, and when did you last talk to him?”

“I…I…He came to me. Here. He’d heard about the masquerade and wanted to attend. ‘Twas he who asked me to put Stanley Metcalfe on the guest list. I did not see him tonight.”

So Henley had devised this plan to get at Metcalfe. Poor bastard. He’d never had a chance. But there was still another question. “Why would you oblige a man like Henley? Surely you’ve heard the rumors.”

If Morris had looked uncomfortable before, he now looked as if he were about to flee. “He was blackmailing me. I…I was present at Daschel’s passion play. Or that’s what I thought it was. It was actually a—”

“We know what it was,” Wycliffe interrupted. “So he was threatening to expose you if you did not do as he asked?”

Morris acknowledged with a curt nod.

“There’s more,” Jamie guessed.

“I’ve been paying him. Large sums of money.”

“How?”

“He waits outside my club. Demands cash.”

Cash. Large sums of it. Why would Henley need large sums of money when he was living in Whitefriars? And was Morris the only one from whom he was extorting funds?

Morris was a member of Brooks’s, an elegant establishment in St. James Street. Henley would have to lurk in the shadows to avoid being recognized, but it could be useful to set a watch on the place. A glance at Wycliffe and Charlie told him that they were thinking the same thing.

“Are you going to arrest me?” Morris asked Wycliffe.

“If you were no more involved with the Brotherhood than you say, Morris, you needn’t worry. If you were…we’ll be back. At the moment we need to deal with the damage done tonight.

“The guests are beginning to leave. We will keep this quiet until tomorrow. Charlie, go to the arbor and make certain no one stumbles across Metcalfe meanwhile. Morris, encourage the guests not to linger. Remove the punch bowl and cork the wine bottles.”

“They will think I am penurious!” Morris blustered.

“Would you rather they panic when they learn there’s a dead body in your garden or sneer when they learn that you’ve been paying blackmail, and why? “

The man sank heavily into his chair.

“We have use for you, Morris. Keep your mouth shut and your head down and you may yet get out of this untainted.”

Chapter Ten

Gina stood still, rooted to the little stool while Madame Marie pinned the hem of her new gown. But it was not the hem with its little train that concerned her. It was the provocative décolletage. True to her word, Madame Marie had crafted a gown that was sure to draw attention. Styles were changing, but Gina had not yet worn a gown with a neckline that curved over her breasts and dipped to a point midway between them.

She traced the curve of the blue French silk with one finger, studying her reflection in the looking glass. “Are…are you certain I will not cause a scandal?”

“Mais non! The style is perfection for your figure, chéri. Smaller bosoms and there would be no point. Larger, and it would make you look like a demirep, eh? Ah, but this much will tease the senses and disarm your suitors. The men—they will appreciate the titillation, yes? They will tell you anything you ask.”

“You…you’re certain I will not be banished from polite society?”

Marie, a lovely woman, gave a full-throated laugh. “You must tell me when you plan to wear this gown, chéri. The ladies of the ton will be crowding at my door the next morning, demanding a gown of the same cut.”

“If you are certain,” she conceded, not at all certain herself. She was glad that Nancy, waiting in the outer room for her, could not see the gown. If the maid told Mama, that would be the end of it.

Madame Marie called entry at a soft knock on the private door and Mr. Renquist entered, then halted in his tracks, blinking several times. Madame had been correct. His eyes went directly to her décolletage. Oddly, after a moment of embarrassment, Gina felt empowered, as if she were in control of the situation.

“Have I interrupted?”

“Mais non, m’amour. What do you think of our little Gina now?”

“That it is a good thing she has the protection of the Hunter family.”

“Ah, you appreciate the nuance?” Madame asked, tongue in cheek.

“Perhaps a bit too much nuance?” he ventured.

“Oh, la! You are such a proper one, François. Little Gina will ‘ave the ton eating from ‘er ‘and.”

Gina smiled, suspecting the modiste had been quite experienced before her marriage to Mr. Renquist.

“The male half,” Mr. Renquist muttered as he sat on a small chair in one corner while Madame continued to pin her hem.

“Have you discovered anything, sir?” she asked.

“Progress is slow, Miss O’Rourke. I’ve learned that, until recently, Mr. Henley occupied rooms above a public house in Whitefriars. But for sleeping, he was rarely there. Following the raid two weeks ago, he disappeared, taking most of his belongings with him.

“Since then, he has been spotted from time to time at various establishments in Whitefriars, never staying one place very long. I gather that is the reason for his success in evading capture. Speculation has it that he has found quarters in more desirable environs but that he still frequents the pubs of Whitefriars.

“My sources were less forthcoming when I inquired as to Mr. Henley’s companions. Apart from various prosti—soiled doves, he has occasionally been seen with the worst scum Whitefriars has to offer, the Gibbons brothers among them. On rare occasions, he has been seen with gents, and rarer still, genteel ladies.