A Lady's Guide to Kiss A Rake: Misadventures of the heart (13 page)

Damien shot Westfield a glare. “I thought you were interested in their doings as well.”

“Perhaps, but I daresay you are not.”

“Do you not find it suspicious that on the day of a fire, Lady Constance disappeared and a couple of days after that, Derek Shaw arrived back in town?”

“You suspect they were behind the events?” Westfield asked with a furrowed brow.

“I know they are.”

“You asked her then?”

“She denied all knowledge.”

“You did not believe her?”

Damien had and therein lay his problem. He’d believed her even when his gut roared he shouldn’t. In the broader sense of things, a helpless victim and an abusive husband held all the appeal for a modern day vigilante. Perhaps if there had not been a fire, followed by a mysterious disappearance, Damien might have let it go, but he did not believe in coincidences.

“I believed her,” Damien murmured. “Against my better judgment.”

“What do your instincts say?”

“She was somehow involved. I just cannot fathom how a man would allow a woman to take part in such dangerous activities. A building burned to ashes, for saints’ sake.” He glanced over to Westfield. “But even if she’d been involved, it shouldn’t matter. I have no right to meddle in her endeavors. It should not be my concern.” 

“But you are concerned?”

“Yes.”

“The curse of the gentleman, I call it. It is badgered into us from birth we must protect the female species at all times because they are delicate and vulnerable. To allow a lady to participate in dangerous events remains inconceivable to us. Lady Belle insists the Shaws are not so barbaric.”

“It’s true.”

“Is it?” Westfield asked. “You know their reputations. I wouldn’t put it passed the likes of them.”

“No,” Damien corrected, his eyes narrowing on the front door. “I would not put it passed the women. They do not follow the dictations of men or society. And some may even call this curse, as you call it, obsession. It’s unnatural.”

“It’s not and you are not obsessed.”

“Fine, mad then. What is your excuse? I thought your interest lies only in saving damsels.”

Westfield remained silent for a long moment before answered in a soft voice, “She called me a bore without any passion.”

Damien lifted a brow at that. “She said that to your face?”

“No, she told my sister. I only overheard, but my temper got the better of me.”

Damien’s mouth curved into a smile. “Now you want to show her you’re not a complete bore.”

Westfield nodded.

“A dangerous game. One which may end in your ruin.”

“Not as dangerous as the one you are playing.”

“On the contrary, old friend, I have no need to worry on that score. The little lady has no inclination toward marriage and I have no intention of asking. What?” Damien asked as he caught sight of Westfield’s expression.

His friend lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve no doubt in my mind that if you compromise Lady Josephine you would do right by her.”

“You have a wistful mind, Westfield.”

“Perhaps, but you are not the man you believe you are. You’re one of the most honorable men I’ve met and you feel more for the chit than you will admit.”

Did he? Damien would not deny the claim, but neither would he admit to it. He recalled the tragic end of his mother’s life. Was Westfield right? Was he a better man than his father?

“Perhaps I also feel more than I care to admit. Ever since my sister married Grey, I’ve noticed the absence of...something. A void of sorts.”

“Then perhaps you should marry. Lady Belle would make for the perfect wife.”

“Saints no!” Westfield exclaimed. “I prefer a wife with a calming influence, but able to bring forth a raging passion. The only influence Lady Belle has is sparking my temper and the only passion she ignites is fury.”

Damien’s rich laughter filled the air, but sobered almost instantly. “The door is opening,” he said straightening and pushing Westfield further behind the carriage as he too moved out of sight. They both watched as Lady Josephine and James Shaw emerged from the house, descending the stairs before they paused at the side of the road.

“That went well,” they heard James Shaw mutter. They leaned forward to eaves drop on what was being said. They heard Lady Josephine sigh and watched as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Damien’s lips tightened when she said, “Do you think Cartwright has figured it out yet? That we aided his wife?”

James shook his head. “But it won’t be long now.”

Damien stood motionless as he watched them walk with a brisk pace down the street, until they disappeared from his view. It felt as though his chest had taken a beating. She’d lied to him. She had looked him in the eye and lied. Thunder roared in his ears as his fists clenched at his side, tension riding him hard. They had put their lives in danger and Shaw had allowed it. Unacceptable.

“Dead men,” Westfield muttered darkly, fury evident in the lines of his face. “Perhaps it’s time to pay the women a visit, one they will not likely forget in a very long time.”

Damien smiled at the ominous note in Westfield’s voice. He’d just thought the same thing, a dark smile curving on his face. It was time this nonsense came to an end.

Chapter 13

Dinner was a silent affair in the Tremont residence that night, but not for any reason pertaining to recent events. A certain lord and his fervent kisses occupied Josephine’s mind tonight. In the case of her brother, well, his brooding mood resolved around more duty bound matters. Lady Josephine took a sip of her soup, not tasting anything except watery peas.

Since her meeting earlier, she’d dwelled on little else and she contributed her reflections to the threat of death. It resulted in musings, such as: if she could do but one last thing before she died, what would she do? The answer always remained the same. Kiss Damien. So her thoughts had settled into a nice routine of recounting their last kiss.

In her defense, her daydreaming only started after she’d gone to inform Belle of her meeting with Derek Shaw. Her friend had seemed rather put out that she’d not been invited and demanded Jo related the meeting in detail. Her unhappiness, however, had been soon forgotten when Jo told of Derek Shaw’s suspicions and she needed to inform Westfield. Belle had flatly refused to tell the Earl anything. Her friend’s only concern resided over her cousins and Jo suggested they be sent home.

Josephine glanced at her brother, wondering at his dour mood. She dearly hoped he never learned of her latest endeavor. Perhaps after this nightmare was over she would refocus her efforts to find him a wife. A wife and child would do him good.

Her thoughts drifted toward Damien again. He too, would make an excellent father. A good husband? Well, she supposed that remained to be seen. First, she would warn him of the potential danger or perhaps she should kiss him before she imparted the truth. The chance of an unpleasant reaction may be slimmer.

In truth, Jo was less worried about his reaction to her involvement than what he would do when he learned Craven had participated in their project. Would there be another brawl? Saints, she hoped not.

Would he still kiss her? Maybe, but perhaps, it made more sense to kiss him first, and then part with the distressing news.

“Why does it look like someone stole your pastry?” Brahm interrupted her musings. He regarded her with mild interest.

“I’m not partial to pastries,” Jo murmured.

“Fine, your favorite ribbon then.”

Jo smiled at his disgruntled tone. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh? What have you been up to that’s so tiring?”

“Why shopping to replace my wayward ribbon, of course. A most daunting task.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

He seemed to want to say more but thought better of it.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been more absent at events. Are you out of sorts, brother?”

“Those damn chits haunt my every step.”

Jo hid her smile behind a spoon filled with watery pea soup.

“I heard Derek Shaw is back in town.”

Jo’s spoon froze half way to her parted lips and her eyes flew to his. So the reason for his dour mood revealed itself. His casual tone did not fool her.

“Oh?”

“Yes, he arrived this morning.”

“Well, good for him, I suppose.”

“Josephine.”

She set her spoon down. “What do you want me to say, Brahm? Yes, we’ve worked on charity cases together but beyond that we don’t care to meet for tea.”

“Stay away from him and his brother. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

“James Shaw is my friend.”

“Friend?” Her brother lifted an infuriating brow. “Men are incapable of being friends with women.”

“Your views are rather archaic, are they not?”

“Stay away from them.”

“Shaw—”

“There is no
just
Shaw. Has everyone in this bloody kingdom forgotten that?” Brahm snapped.

Jo shot her brother a glare. “I suppose as much as you have forgotten they are good men.”

“They are dangerous, that is enough for me.”

Jo seethed inside, but she triumphed over the desire to lash out. In her heart she knew her brother only meant to protect her from harm, but he could be so bull headed at times. That he remained determined to suspect the worst of James mattered little; it was his lack of trust in her that needled her. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised at his demand. Only that it took so long for him to make it.

In one swift motion she rose and threw her napkin on the table. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it’s time I take a husband. The first fool I come across will do just fine, if it means I get to leave this damn house.”

Brahm’s eyes narrowed on her, his chair scraping as he stood. “Then go marry some bloody dandy if you wish. I’ll be glad to pass the baggage over to someone else,” he exploded, his voice bellowing through the room.

“You flatter me, brother!” Jo shouted back, stomping from the room.

Baggage was she? She’d show him baggage! In fact, she would pack hers this instant. She would not stay a moment longer under his wretched roof.

Reaching her room she slammed the door shut, and then opened it again to slam it once more for dramatic effect. Not dramatic enough, she decided and did so two times more before she slumped against it, furious. Josephine pushed away from the door and strode over to her armoire and started removing dresses and depositing them on her bed, then proceeded to drag her suitcase from under the bed.

Hah! She would like to see the look on his face once he realized she was gone. Though it may take him days to notice she’d left. He could stomp and bellow to his heart’s content then.

Damien stared up Lady Josephine’s bedroom, thinking it a devil’s task to climb up to her window and sneak inside. But he was determined to do it, even if he got himself killed in the process. He planned to take her over his knee and give her the spanking she deserved. Then he would demand answers, if her tempting lips did not distract him from his task.

An image of Josephine in nothing but her nightgown flashed through his mind. For months he’d been attempting to rid his mind of these wicked thoughts to no avail. He bit back a growl of annoyance. Damn it, why her? A virgin for Christ’s sake. Beautiful yes, but that had never been a requirement. He distrusted beautiful women, yet Jo’s unusual beauty was oddly comfortable. He supposed that was why she had been able to hold his attention for so long—and it seemed bloody long, the longest he’d ever been interested in any woman he hadn’t bedded.

She was not even his usual type with that dark brown hair she always tied back into a lose knot, as though she put little effort into the creation. Even her lopsided smile, made complete by her catlike eyes, was a far cry from his usual sort. He preferred blondes. The color of their eyes never mattered, but Josephine’s eyes reminded him of the tropical rain forest, so dark and expressive that his gut clenched every time she looked at him. They always seemed to sparkle with mischief and secrets. He’d yet to see the warmth leave them, even when she gazed upon someone she did not much care for—like him. If anything they became more heated, but never cold.

With the shake of his head, he started to climb the ranked vines leading up to her balcony, just like Romeo for his Juliet. The irony did not escape him. With a scowl, he continued his way up the vines.

“What the hell are you doing?” An amused voice sounded behind him, causing Damien to falter. He turned his head to glare at the man who appeared on the ground below him, arms crossed over his chest. Matthew Langdon, the esteemed Earl of Grey, stood with an amused expression on his face as he regarded Damien’s efforts.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, let me see,” Grey’s amused drawl drifted up to Damien. “I happened to be on my way to call on you when I spied you leaving and decided to follow. See what you are up to, if you will.”

“I’m not up to anything.”

“So I see.”

Grey’s craned head said otherwise. It occurred to Damien how he must look, plastered to the side of the house. “Mind your own business.”

“I’m not certain I should, as you are attempting to break into a lady’s bedchambers.”

Damien’s eyes narrowed on the man standing beneath him. “How do you know it’s a lady’s chambers?”

“I don’t. I only assumed as much since you are attempting to climb into it.”

“Why do you believe me up to something in the first place?”

“I would like to think myself smarter than that, since you and Westfield have been up to something ever since I met my wife, and you’ve avoided me for weeks.”

“You and your wife have been occupied of late.”

“I’m not now.”

Damien shifted his position up against the wall, uncomfortable.  “Were you aware of their latest project?”

Grey stiffened at the news. “No.”

“Cartwright did not take lightly the disappearance of his wife.”

“Cartwright’s wife was their project?” Grey asked incredulous. “What were they thinking?”

Pleased to see the glint of fury enter Grey’s eyes he shrugged. “They weren’t.”

“Was my wife involved?”

“Do not know, old chap, only know Lady Josephine and her band of dead men were behind it. Hardly matters if Cartwright figures it out.”

Grey gave a curt nod in understanding, his complexion white and hard as granite.

“Does Westfield know?”

Damien’s brow lifted in amazement. The man hid behind pillars and shrubberies.

“And none of you thought to inform me?” Grey snapped, his voice steel.

“Tread carefully, my friend. I’m not your errand boy and if your wife had been involved I suggest you take it up with her and not out on me,” Damien said, his voice every bit as steely as Grey’s.

“My apologies, I shall leave you to your...” Grey hesitated, “doings. My wife and I have some matters to discuss.”

Damien watched Grey disappear before he turned his attention back to his task of climbing his way up the vines to the balcony.

Jo sat on her bed waiting for all the sounds in the house to fade into the darkness of the night—just as she was about to do. She still hadn’t thought much of where she would go. Belle seemed like the obvious choice. She wished she had another option, one where she did not put the lives around her in danger. Hence the reason she could never stay with Evelyn and Grey. To retire to the country remained a possibility but leaving now may cause suspicion to rise. No, she would go to Belle and together they would figure out what to do.

A sudden noise on the balcony compelled Jo to sit up straighter, her ears straining to hear. A thief? Or Cartwright’s men? She rose to her feet with caution, careful to remain silent while she glanced around the room for something to protect herself with. She snatched up a letter opener from her writing desk and tip toed to the balcony doors. She had an advantage over the intruder, but only for precious moments. She cursed the unlocked doors. But never had there been any cause to lock them. If she could just reach them before whoever it was entered she could alert her brother.

She reached for the lock at the same time the doors flew open, a gush of wind entering along with a man. Jo’s blood turned cold. She was spared no time before he snatched the letter opener from her hand, at once predicting her intentions before she even thought to react.

“Expecting someone else?”

Jo stared up at the dark face of Damien and blinked, certain he would disappear once she opened her eyes. When he still stood before her, Jo scowled. Why had he broken into her bedroom? His question, however, set off alarm bells. “Well, it would seem that way, wouldn’t it?”

“Cartwright, I suppose?”

His statement brought her up short. “You know? How did you find out?”

“I happened to pass by Derek Shaw’s residence and may have overheard your conversation with your good friend, James Shaw. You really should be more careful.”

He shut the balcony doors, the chill leaving the room with the shut of the door.

“Were you spying on me?”

He ignored her question and countered, “Is it true?”

His close proximity to her made it difficult to breathe and her voice sounded hoarse when she croaked, “Yes.”

“No explanation?”

“It matters little now. I planned to tell you everything anyway.”

“Why, what’s happened?”

Jo shivered at the concern in his voice. Then his eyes drifted to her traveling cloak before it flicked to her suitcase beside the bed. “What happened, Josephine? Why are you leaving?”

Was it her imagination or did he sound panicked? She glanced at the suitcase on the floor and heaved a heavy sigh. “Our mistakes were brought to our attention today. It’s only a matter of time before Cartwright figures it out, if he hasn’t already.”

“So you’re leaving.”

Her head snapped back. “No, of course not,” she motioned to the suitcase, “my brother and I had a fight and I refuse to stay under his roof any longer.”

“How does your brother feel about that?”

Jo shrugged. “He will be informed if we cannot come up with a plan to manage Cartwright.” She slumped down onto the bed, her head lowering to rest in her hands. “We had the perfect plan. How did it come to this?”