A Rake by Midnight

“Jealous?”

Was he? Perhaps just a touch. Suzette was skilled and had taught him much about pleasing a woman. And he was beginning to feel the effects of prolonged celibacy. The fleeting thought that perhaps he needed a woman to take the edge off his lust for Eugenia made him shake his head in disgust. He downed his whiskey in a single gulp.

This eschewing of mistresses was what came of being around his older brothers. They’d become domesticated so quickly that he could scarce believe it. Lockwood had taken to marriage like a duck to water. Andrew, a libertine to rival the worst, was now a happy house cat, curling by his fire with his favorite new toy—Bella.

Ah, yes, and here came the latest in a long line of newly domesticated tomcats. Devlin Farrell. A man whose slightest twitch had roused terror in seasoned criminals was now a well-contented newlywed who literally worshipped his wife.

“Gents,” he greeted them. “I see you started without me.”

Charlie laughed. “I have no doubt you’ll catch up, Farrell.”

Devlin signaled the barkeeper and a tankard of ale magically appeared. “I have no intention of catching up. Lilly is waiting at home. Wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

Jamie snorted. He very much doubted Lilly would be disappointed tonight, or any other night if he was any judge at all. If there was no saint like a reformed sinner, Devlin Farrell would soon have his own niche at St. Paul’s.

After a long drink, Devlin answered their unasked question. “No sign of them, but I’ve confirmed they are still in the vicinity. Tell the secretary his information is wrong.”

“We suspected as much.” Charlie sat a bit straighter, as if he had suddenly shaken off the effects of the whiskey. “And is there, indeed, a price on Jamie’s head?”

“A rather large one.”

Jamie grinned. “How much am I worth?”

“Ten thousand pounds.”

Charlie whistled and rolled his eyes. “There should be at least a dozen takers at that price.”

“At least,” Devlin agreed. “But common cutthroats do not have the finesse to take our Jamie by surprise.”

Ten thousand pounds was, nevertheless, a daunting sum. Jamie shifted uneasily in his chair, taking the threat seriously for the first time. Who would come after him first? He held Devlin’s gaze. “Will it be the Gibbons brothers?”

The corners of Devlin’s mouth quirked. “They’re mean as snakes and will turn on you in a trice, but blast if they aren’t sometimes useful. They’ll do anything for money, though I don’t know what they do with it once it’s in their hands.”

“Wish they’d get a bath,” Charlie muttered. “Or buy some manners.”

“It’s a mystery.” Devlin shrugged. “They live in a hovel, never invest in a bar of soap, pick their clothes out of rag piles, eat garbage and even share their whores so they only have to pay for one. They must have a fortune amassed somewhere.”

“Two more pathetic creatures I’ve never seen.”

“Oh, I don’t know….” Devlin’s right eyebrow shot up as he glanced between Jamie and Charlie.

Jamie and Charlie burst out laughing and toasted each other as if to confirm Devlin’s analysis.

Devlin sat back in his chair and his expression sobered. “In view of the risk to you, Jamie, I’d like you to accept a bodyguard or two. I know just the men, and—”

“They’d get in the way. Make me conspicuous. And do not think to set them on me without my knowledge. I’d mistake them for bounty hunters and have to kill them.”

Devlin did not look happy. “I might have a lead for you. If you handle it with your usual skill, you could end this thing quickly.”

Jamie sat forward and lowered his voice. “What do you have up your sleeve, Devlin?”

“That night, at the ritual, when the charleys arrived and the brotherhood scattered down the tunnels, I recognized a few men. Some, you already know about. But I haven’t mentioned that I saw Stanley Metcalfe and Adam Booth. They looked confused and frightened and, unless I miss my guess, that was their first time at a ritual, and is the reason I did not pursue them. They’ve kept their noses clean since, though.”

How like Devlin to keep that information to himself until it was needed. Until Metcalfe or Booth could prove useful. “And?”

“As the last men on the periphery of the brotherhood still free, they might be useful to you. Might have some information. One of them could be in touch with Henley. They might know his family and have knowledge of… Well, you can imagine how helpful they might be.”

If they could be trusted. And if they were still alive.

Jamie dropped some coins on the table and stood. “Get home to Lilly. And thanks for the tip. I’ll be looking for them tomorrow.”

Massive crystal chandeliers glittered multicolored shards of light across the room, laughter was shrill and the wine was free-flowing. The evening promised to be a huge success. Alas, Lord Auberville hadn’t been able to tell him who, precisely, had been invited to the ball, so Jamie concluded he’d just have to see for himself. Charlie left him at the door to find the card room and a game of whist, leaving Jamie free to wander the perimeter of the dance floor. With a nod here and a smile there, he acknowledged a few friends and acquaintances, but nary a sign of Stanley Metcalfe or Adam Booth. Had someone tipped them off?

He was thinking he’d take any Metcalfe at this point, and there, in answer to his prayer, was Stanley Metcalfe’s sister, Missy. Dressed in deceptive white, she was holding court in a circle of men. He wondered if she realized her popularity was attributable to the poorly kept secret that she granted certain…liberties, if one could get her alone in a garden.

He advanced on the group, knowing that most of the men would depart when the music stopped. The rest…well, he would just have to be quicker. He greeted the men, took Missy’s hand and bowed over it.

“Miss Metcalfe, you are looking especially lovely tonight.”

She twinkled at him and giggled. “How kind of you to say, Mr. Hunter.”

“Just giving you your due, Miss Metcalfe.”

The orchestra finished the set and one young man stepped forward. “I say, Miss Metcalfe, would you do me the honor—”

Jamie smiled apologetically at the young man. “Taken. I shall return her to you directly after.” He took Missy’s hand and led her away as she muffled yet another giggle.

“How naughty of you, Mr. Hunter,” she said as the next dance, a sedate reel, began. “I have no recollection of granting you a dance.”

“Then I must thank you for not giving me away.” There would be an unavoidable risk in carrying on their conversation as they met between steps, so he led her into the dance, waited until they met for a turn, and then tugged her toward the terrace doors.

“Oh!” She pressed one dainty hand against her chest when they were outside and the terrace door closed behind them. Her eyes widened in feigned innocence. “We really shouldn’t…”

He really wouldn’t. But Missy needn’t know that. “You break a man’s heart, my dear.”

She gave him a pretty pout. “What else am I to do? You dance with a girl now and then, and ignore her the rest of the time. Is that fair?”

“Fair? Oh, my dear, more fair than you can know. If I were to subject myself to your charms too often, why there is no telling what I might do. Perhaps I ought to take my pleas to your brother.”

“No need for that, Mr. Hunter. He would likely just refuse you.”

“Or he could give me his blessing to call upon you. Is he here?”

“No. He…he is keeping to himself these days.”

“Do you know where I might find him? His club, perhaps?”

“You’d do better to petition my father, sir, but he is ill at the moment, and not receiving.”