Chapter 43

Forty-Three

RYCLIFFE PLACE, LONDON - JUNE 30, 1816

WILLIAM

"Victoria," Celine answered, tracing a finger over my heart. "She found me at the ball, told me that Gabriel's killer knew we were searching for them. She said they would kill you too. And Kit, and Xander, and Michael, and anyone else who helped me."

Her unease that night made a depressing sense now. My hand, the one not curled around her hip, clenched at my side. I was filled with the impotent desire to hit something, someone.

"I knew you wouldn't accept that…" she continued.

"So you ended things with me."

"Yes. I'm so sorry, Will."

I pressed a kiss to her forehead in lieu of a response.

"She said it had to do with the break-in at your office. I thought… I hoped that if I was seen to… if it was widely known that…"

"You weren't with me?"

"Yes. If that were known, then they would stop. It wasn't worth it, knowing the truth—the identity of Gabriel's killer—it wasn't worth you being hurt."

If there was anything that would ease the sting of her rejection, the knowledge that she cared more for my safety than the answers that had plagued her for years would do it. Her thumb began to tap against my heart in time with the beat beneath.

My free hand found hers on my chest and traced the elegant lines of her fingertips while she tapped. I noticed that her hand found its way there often, her lips too. I was beginning to suspect it was a comfort to her, to check that it was still beating. Silently, I reaffirmed my impossible promise that she could go first. She should never have to feel my heart stop.

Pulling her fingers up to my lips, I pressed the vow to their tips before returning her hand to its home.

"I found the documents. I know Parker was involved."

Just then, we were interrupted by a polite knock. Rising, Celine found Jane on the other side of the door. "My lady? Mr. Wayland, Mr. Ainsley, and Mr. Summers are downstairs hoping to speak to you and Mr. Hart."

"Just left Kit's apartment, he hasn't seen enough of me?"

"Apparently not," Celine answered. Turning back to Jane, she said, "In my sitting room. If you please, Jane. I don't think it wise to move Mr. Hart all the way back downstairs."

"Quite right. Mr. Ainsley brought some of those fairy cakes and tarts from Hudson's. I'll have those brought up as well?"

"Excellent plan. Be sure to let everyone else know they're available before Bouvier eats the rest."

"Already done, just as soon as I saw 'em. Do you want me to send in a footman for Mr. Hart?"

"No!" I protested. "And I'm right here."

"She's already been warned that you're a bear of an invalid and to ignore everything you say, Will," Celine replied pertly.

"I'll let you two manage?" Jane asked.

"Yes," she answered with a sigh. "If he falls on his bottom, the gentlemen can laugh at him while they help him up."

I waited until Jane slipped out the door before making my reply. "You like my bottom."

"I prefer it unbruised," she said, allowing me to stand on my own. She made her presence known, right beside me for support.

I managed the trip to her sitting room without incident, for which I was grateful. When I was barely seated, the door burst open and the three gentlemen entered with Jane and pastries bringing up the rear.

"Will, you look better than I anticipated. Those two had me convinced you were on death's door," Wayland said, pointing at the others while swiping a raspberry tart before the tray hit the table.

"Share," Mr. Ainsley scolded, placing one on a plate and handing it to me. Meanwhile, Jane slipped out, shutting the door in her wake.

"You're not here for tarts and gossip, I presume," Celine said, slightly peevish in tone.

"Well, I did hear from Kate that that horrible woman, what's her name… Lady Charmaine has taken another husband," Wayland added conspiratorially between bites of tart.

"Lady Caroline," Kit corrected.

"Maybe it's Lady Clara?" Wayland supposed.

"It's Lady Charlotte James, you dolts. You and Hugh ruin her ball every year, Michael. I don't know why you cannot recall her name." The burst came from Augie's corner.

"He's distracted by the bosom," Kit said. From beside me, I could sense Celine's hackles rising.

"Don't tell Jules."

"It is quite impressive," Kit added.

"Is this what men discuss when there are no eligible women around? If so, I should like to return to a state of ignorance," Celine snapped. "And really, Will is concussed. Is this the drivel you dragged him from the sickbed for?"

Now sheepish, Wayland replied. "Well, no. But you mentioned gossip. And Kate knows all."

"Out, all of you!" she insisted. I didn't have the heart to tell her I was rather enjoying myself.

"But they found something! That's why they dragged me over here after I just got rid of him," Kit added.

"Go on," she answered, terse.

Ainsley pulled a stack of documents out of a satchel I hadn't noticed before. "Bates. He's Wesley Parker's half-brother. And the other one, Lloyd Dickens, was a half-brother on his mother's side."

"Was there another brother?" Celine asked, more sedate.

Ainsley flipped through another page. "Samuel Dickens, two years younger. Why?"

"Lloyd attacked us a few weeks ago. With another man. I thought it was random—I was in a disreputable part of town. But I stabbed the man with an umbrella tip. Lloyd said something when we were struggling… that I had killed him." There was a numbness to her speech, delivered to the carpeting. I wanted desperately to gather her in my arms.

"I do not know whether to scold or applaud you, Cee," Wayland replied.

"Neither will do nicely."

"You have all this information on your patrons?" I asked, reaching a hand out for the file. Ainsley passed it and I flipped through it, all astonishment. Bank records, family history, collateral, favored ladies at White's, everything a person could want to know about a man's financial and personal situation was contained in the pages.

"It's astounding what people will eagerly share in exchange for the prestige of being seen at Wayland's. And the chance of riches and glory, of course," Ainsley explained.

"And we do our own… research. On occasion," Wayland added with more significance than I desired as his solicitor.

The majority of the file was devoted to Parker. Associates, properties, banking details, favored bits of muslin, the result of every wager he had ever made at Wayland's and with Wayland himself before the club opened. It was all there.

Then I reached the section devoted to Bates. He was a less frequent visitor to the club. His financial situation clearly didn't allow for it. But there was information about his start with our office, his wife, his children. There was more in this file than I had gleaned in the years he worked for me. My gaze caught on the start date for a second.

"December 1810…"

"What?" Augie asked.

"His start date with us… That was a few weeks after Wayland's opened. You were my first major client." A sickening feeling bubbled up. All that time…

"Must have been using the position for intelligence. Hand me Parker?" Wayland asked and I passed him the top several pages.

He perused it with interest before handing it over to Ainsley. "His wagers improved substantially a few weeks after his brother started with you. Must have been using the intelligence. Clever…"

I hadn't considered Bates a friend, but friendly certainly. To know that his betrayal wasn't a recent development, that he had been using me all those years, it was slightly sickening.

"Why do you suppose he got sloppy all of a sudden?" Kit asked.

"My subtle and well-conducted investigation obviously spooked him," Celine jested, easing some of the tension.

"Oh yes, you were very subtle. Damn near blended into the walls with how unnoticeable you were," I replied.

"Well governesses don't offer instruction on the best methods to conduct a murder investigation."

"I never would have guessed."

"I feel like I've missed something," Wayland said.

"That should be a familiar sensation," Ainsley added, grabbing another tart, ignoring his friend's glare.

"What about the horse race? Is there anything in there about that?" Celine asked.

"The file you found. It survived the fire." Kit mumbled between bites of tart. "There were banknotes from Parker and Bates in there, Will."

"So Parker wrote the original note calling for Gabriel to meet him at dawn. I would know that handwriting from the bank draft anywhere. Perhaps to get Gabriel out of the house before anyone else was about. He probably never even went to the park. One of the men was probably waiting for him at the house when he returned."

"He was late," Celine murmured.

"What?"

"He was late. He stopped to buy me flowers. If they had found him when they intended, I wouldn't have had time to say goodbye. He would have died on the steps before anyone found him."

My heart ached for her. Even knowing how difficult the goodbye was, how much it hurt her, the idea that she might never have had it… That would be devastating.

"Well, Bates and Dickens aren't talking. Perhaps evidence will make them a bit more loquacious," Wayland said. "No one can locate Parker. I've got one of my best men on it though. We'll find him before too long."

"Please keep me informed?" Celine asked.

"Of course."

"We should be going," Kit added. "Will needs to rest." As soon as he said it, a heavy yawn escaped me.

"We'll be going then. And we'll leave the tarts," Ainsley said pointedly. Wayland and Kit both backed away from the tray slowly. "Will, I wish you a speedy recovery."

"Right, yes," Wayland added, snagging a tart from behind Ainsley's back as they filed out.

Next to me, Celine sighed heavily. She stood and helped me up with gentle hands before allowing me to walk back to the bedroom, unaided.

I settled back into the bed, propped against the headboard. Celine curled herself at my side once again.

"How are you feeling, love?"

"I… I don't know. It's just— It's so senseless."

"An'… about the younger brother? Samuel?"

"Well, apparently your umbrella is deadlier than we first thought." I winced slightly at the memory. That hadn't been a pleasant death. Though, it was not a dissimilar injury to the one Gabriel had received. I could appreciate the poetic justice in that.

Weighing my next words carefully, I asked, "How do you feel about that, love?"

"I haven't had much time to think on it. If he was responsible… I suppose I'm glad he's gone. I wish I hadn't been the one to do it. It's… less satisfying than I had anticipated. And it feels somewhat unreal. I have no evidence, just the word of a criminal."

"'S a lot, taking a life. Your feelings might change on it, and that's all right."

"I'm not entirely certain how I feel about any of it. I do know I made a very poor showing the other night. At least I remembered to get my knife out before I came for them—well the bird reminded me."

I risked the pain of a chuckle."You did just fine, love. We're both here, right?"

"I merely yelled about the fire."

"Good. You shouldn't have run into danger in the first place."

"But—"

"Remember how you felt at the idea that I would be hurt?" I cut her off sharply.

A guilt-ridden expression crossed her face. "I understand, but I couldn't leave you."

"How did you know to find me anyway?"

"Please don't laugh…"

"Tell me."

She buried her face into my chest before her muffled answer escaped. "The bird."

A burst of laughter escaped me, which was immediately followed by shooting pain in my ribs. Her answering laugh made the pain worth it. She was so damn beautiful when she laughed, bright eyes and sparkling smile and glittering hair in the evening sunlight streaming through the window.

"Serves you right," she teased.

"Where is the bird anyway? Damn thing warned me, too."

She directed a pleased smile to her lap at the thought of our collective savior. "Downstairs. Bouvier is most displeased with him, but Jane has already purchased an extravagant perch. I told her he needs to be released when he's well again, but it may be a fight."

She propped her head up on my chest, careful to avoid my ribs as she balanced her chin on her hand. Inexplicably, she let out a giggle. And another. And another until she was in a full peal of laughter.

"Care to explain?"

Between more giggles, ones she made a slight effort to stifle, she lifted her hand to drag a finger across my newly scarred, swollen brow. " Mon arc-en-ciel, " she whispered. Her rainbow…

"Charming."

"I'm a delight."

"That you are, love."

I leaned down to kiss her, making a valiant attempt at ignoring the protest in my ribs. Her sweet smile brushed against my lips.

Slipping a hand to my favorite place tangled in her honey-gold curls, I kissed her with the pent-up desperation I wouldn't be able to follow through with. My lips pulled a desperate moan from her chest and that was worth all the aches.

She moved to pull away slightly, and I made to chase after her. She must have caught the wince I tried to hide because she pulled away completely. If I whined after her, who could blame me?

"Will, we cannot."

"We can…"

"You're hurt."

I caught her hand and pressed it to the newer, more urgent and infinitely more pleasant ache that was forming.

"I am, but I'm sure you can help with that."

"Will…"

"You are too," I whispered against the rainbow bruising decorating her neck. I slipped a persuasive hand under her skirts. My cruel ribs protested the effort. Did they not understand the urgency of the situation? Celine had agreed to marry me, and she had been curled against my side, soft and sweet-scented for days. We were alive.

"But…"

"Celine," I pouted as my hand trailed upward. I was man enough to admit to pouting if it got me what I wanted.

"I don't want to hurt you…"

"I'll let you do all the work. I'll just lie here…"

"Well, we both know that is a lie." I choked out a laugh as I finally reached my destination under her skirts.

With a resigned, pleased sigh, she gently pressed a hand on my chest, pinning me to the bed.

"You're going to lie very, very still."

"Of course, love. Say, if smiles mean a dance, what does it mean when a lady presses you to a bed and tells you to lie very, very still?"

"When your fiancée does it, it means she loves you."

"Yes?"

"Yes. Enough to brave anything." Her lips met mine and we were brave together.