Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Thomas Parker owned a townhouse on Dean Street near Soho Square. He supplemented his income by gambling and placing ludicrous wagers. "When would Captain Monroe trim his wild moustache?" was one such bet. "Who would be the first debutante to fall foul of the season's most notable rake?" was another. He was a tedious bore, an average card player and suspected cheat.

Although Parker was in bed when they arrived, Aaron refused to let the arrogant butler turn them away. With his temper prowling like a caged animal, the first person to test his patience would pay.

"Summon Parker now," Aaron yelled, barging into the hall and beckoning Miss Lovelace to follow. "We'll wait in the drawing room. Don't force me to mount the stairs and drag the devil from his bed."

The drawing room was in a shambles. They stepped over dirty plates and discarded newspapers. Thick dust coated every surface. Stale smoke and the sharp odour of neglect filled the air.

Miss Lovelace peeled creased clothes off the sofa, holding one dirty stocking aloft. "I think the maid's duties involve more than emptying chamber pots and cleaning the grates."

Aaron glanced around the room in disgust. "Men who abuse their positions should be hanged. Owning a gaming hell is considered scandalous, yet they say this is a gentleman's entitlement."

"The hypocrisy is astounding," she agreed.

"You can wait in the carriage if you prefer."

A grateful smile touched her lips, the sort that might disarm him. "I have a strong constitution and will give you my full support. I owe you my life, Mr Chance. Heaven knows where I would be had you not come to my aid."

The air between them sparked to life, the charged energy heightening his senses. He could smell her perfume and hear the cadence of her breathing. The many ways she might show her gratitude filled his tortured mind.

"I fear you've been used as a pawn in a game to dethrone me." He needed to feel the fire of vengeance in his blood, not these unwanted stirrings of desire. "I'll not rest until this dreaded business is behind you. On my oath, you will reopen your club and return to the life you love."

She stared at him. "Will we go back to bickering?"

"We like bickering."

"Do we? I'm not sure I can berate you now that I consider you a friend. It's an unlikely friendship, I admit, but I have a newfound respect for you, Mr Chance."

Could they be friends?

Could she be his trusted confidante? A person who understood the boundaries and knew a sexual relationship was taboo. A friend who expected nothing but his abiding loyalty?

"We are friends," he agreed. "Friends are allowed to bicker."

She smiled like she'd found gold at the end of a rainbow.

In that moment, he wished he could love her. That he could make her his priority over those he had sworn to protect. Wished he wasn't so cynical, so brutal, so emotionally detached.

Parker burst into the room—snapping Aaron out of his reverie—dressed in a flamboyant green banyan. He had never been more glad of an interruption.

"What the blazes do you—" Parker stopped upon recognising Aaron. Unable to get the next words out, he gaped like a marionette without a puppeteer.

"You know why I'm here." Aaron considered the man's crooked nose and the purple shadows beneath his eyes. "You abused one of Miss Lovelace's guests at her club on Thursday night. You left threatening to sue and have the place closed down."

Parker raised his hand in surrender, revealing the bruise from being struck with a poker. "I drank too much brandy and acted the lark." He jabbed a finger at Miss Lovelace. "I was the one abused. Abused by two of her ladies. They attacked me and chased me out."

Miss Lovelace stepped forward. "You shook Miss Beckett quite violently. And you were not in your cups but quite sober, sir."

"Be quiet, woman. That house of ill-repute you call a club?—"

Aaron was on him in a heartbeat. He grabbed the fellow by the throat and pinned him to the wall. "Speak to her in that derogatory tone again and you'll suffer more than a broken nose. You'll show her some respect."

He released the fool, waiting while Parker caught his breath.

"You left in a temper," Aaron continued.

Parker rubbed his neck. "A lady hit me with a poker."

"A witness said you returned later that evening," Aaron lied. It was easy to convince a reprobate he'd committed a cardinal sin. "You were seen creeping upstairs to seek revenge. A woman claims you attacked her during the soprano's encore. "

Parker pleaded innocence. "She's lying. I left The Burnished Jade and went to my club. A place barred to crazed females."

"Brooks's." Aaron made it his business to know everything about the men who gambled at Fortune's Den. "How strange no one can vouch for you there."

"I played cards with Walmsley."

"Walmsley was at Fortune's Den until midnight. He lost his racehorse to Sir Albert Compton." Aaron cracked his knuckles. "You've lied to me twice. Don't make it a third time. I'm not a tolerant man."

Parker looked panicked. "I swear I never went back. Why would I? There's not a gently bred lady amongst them. None of them have a hope of finding a husband. Heathens. The lot of them."

"I didn't realise you were in the market for a wife," Aaron snapped. "Perhaps I should warn the good families of the ton that you live in a hovel and your maid warms your bed."

Parker shrugged. "I doubt they'll care."

"Your future in-laws might. Sullying the hired help is hardly a Christian pastime." Aaron drew his watch from his pocket and checked the time. "I'm a busy man. You have a minute to tell me where you were or face the consequences."

Aaron waited.

Parker lowered his head and whispered, "I went to meet a woman. It's a delicate matter. I cannot give you her name."

"You will, or I'll purchase every debt you owe and beat you when you cannot make the payments."

The lily-livered fool paled. "I only know her as Venus." Parker glanced at Miss Lovelace. "I'll not speak of it in front of her. This is for a man's ears only."

Miss Lovelace was not deaf. She raised her chin and confronted the gentleman. "Nothing you could say would have me reaching for a vinaigrette. My ladies have brothers. Many are scoundrels. I'm well aware of the disreputable things your kind do."

Aaron smiled to himself.

Miss Lovelace had courage abound.

In some other life, they would make a formidable couple.

"Who is this woman?" Aaron demanded to know. "Where did you meet her, and why is she using a moniker? Unless you want me to hound you night and day, prove you left The Burnished Jade and did not return."

Parker rubbed his forehead as if it might help him remember. "Truth be told, I don't know who she is. I met her at Mrs Flavell's masquerade."

"A demimonde gathering?" Aaron said.

"Yes. She came as Venus." Parker's eyes glowed at the arousing memory. "She approached me in the garden, said she knew I liked to make silly wagers, kissed me and said if I won the bet, I could—" He stopped speaking, his cheeks reddening as he grimaced.

Miss Lovelace chose to finish the tale. "She invited you to share her bed if you were successful. I imagine it was a pointless wager. To seek you out, she must have wanted you to win."

The comment stroked the man's pride. "She seemed desperate to have me, spent forty minutes playing the coquette and then disappeared when I went for refreshments."

Suspicion formed like a knot in Aaron's chest. Before Parker could describe the woman or explain what she wanted him to do, he knew it was connected to Lord Howard's murder.

"Let me guess," he said, hoping he was wrong and that someone wasn't plotting his downfall. "Venus was young, pretty and spoke with an accent."

Parker straightened. "Yes. I thought Italian or French, but she refused to tell me and said it was part of our guessing game."

"But you did what she asked?" Miss Lovelace said .

The answer was obvious. Few men had Aaron's fortitude to fight lustful cravings. Miss Lovelace was more tempting than Venus and Aphrodite combined.

"Some women know how to pique a man's interest," Aaron said, determined not to look at Miss Lovelace. "I imagine Parker would have panted like a dog and piddled up a tree to spend a night with his Venus."

Parker's temper surfaced. "She wasn't Venus but a manipulative hag. I did what she asked and waited at The Cock Inn until two in the morning. If I need an alibi, the landlord will confirm I sat in the taproom, waiting for a woman who failed to keep our bargain. He's the one who clicked my nose back into place."

One did not need Daventry's acumen to know what bargain they'd struck. "Venus asked you to cause trouble at Miss Lovelace's club."

"I was to make a scene and rouse the ladies' tempers." Parker touched his bruised nose and winced. "How was I to know Miss Beckett had an excellent right hook?"

There was no question Venus was the woman who'd accompanied Lord Howard to the pawnbroker's. But why have Parker make trouble so early in the evening? During the commotion, had the murderer stolen the list of attendees? Amid the chaos, had someone entered the building and hidden upstairs?

"Monsieur Xavier taught my ladies to throw a punch." Miss Lovelace made a perfect fist, correct thumb placement, straight wrist, knuckles aligned. "We've had three classes on the art of defending ourselves. You'd do well to remember that in future."

The creak of the upstairs boards drew Parker's gaze.

"Look, I've told you everything I know." The gentleman stepped aside and tried to usher them out. "The doctor advised rest. If you have anything more to say, call tomorrow."

With Aaron's suspicions roused, he decided to search the upper floor. "If there is someone else upstairs, speak now. "

Parker shook his head. "No one but Nancy. Check if you must."

"I will go." Miss Lovelace was already at the door. "I doubt Nancy would want a strange man finding her naked in bed."

Aaron reluctantly waited as Miss Lovelace mounted the stairs. The need to protect her grew fiercer by the day. But the lady valued her independence and would not take kindly to him treating her like a child.

He held his breath until she reappeared in the hall. "Well?"

"The maid ducked under the sheets when I entered. There's no one else upstairs. I checked every room, beneath the beds and in both armoires."

"I don't know which harpy made an accusation against me," Parker said, referring to the lie that he'd attacked a woman during the soprano's encore, "but when you check my alibi, you'll know I've told you the truth."

"I pray you're right." Aaron nudged Parker's shoulder as he stepped past the sluggard. "Your life depends on it."

Aaron escorted Miss Lovelace to his carriage, bracing himself as he gripped her hand and assisted her ascent.

During the journey to visit the Fitzpatricks, he aired his frustration. "I can't invent the same lie to trick Fitzpatrick. I can't tell him Howard is dead and accuse him of murder, either. He'll deny being in the club, and his terrified sister will be his alibi."

Howard's only relative lived in Northumberland. It would take days before his obituary appeared in The Times . Hence they had a week's grace to find the murderer. But keeping Howard's death a secret caused other issues.

Miss Lovelace agreed. "Perhaps we should focus our efforts on finding Venus. She may not have killed Lord Howard, but she is the mastermind behind the plot to incriminate us."

How did one find a nameless woman in London?

Aaron groaned when the answer came to him. "It would mean venturing into the world of the demimonde." Howard was known to attend the odd event. Did he meet Venus at a party, too?

"We could question Mrs Flavell. She must know the identity of those who attend her wild parties."

"Very well, but I'll go alone." Mrs Flavell was always on the hunt for fresh blood. Who better than the beautiful daughter of a wastrel? "The demimonde is not the place for you."

Miss Lovelace sharpened her gaze. "Allow me to judge what is suitable. I warned you, sir, you will only play the domineering patriarch with me once."

Damnation!

"Have you ever been to a party at Mrs Flavell's lavish abode?"

"Of course not. Have you?"

"Many years ago. A man leaves his conscience on the doorstep and rarely departs with his soul intact."

Miss Lovelace sat forward, her brow furrowed. "What did you do there? You're not the sort to indulge in fanciful pleasures."

Aaron snorted. Did he detect a hint of jealousy?

"A young man needs to know where he belongs. It was reassuring to know I did not belong there." His conscience had followed him through the candlelit corridors, past an orgy of people wearing animal masks, past the naked dancers urging him to smoke in the opium den. "Make no mistake, I have the same urges as other men." Urges that were hard to control in her presence. "I choose to abstain because I cannot keep my vow to my family if my mind is engaged elsewhere."

"Your vow to protect them always?"

He held her gaze, his throat tightening, his heart heavy with regret. "No one can ever be more important to me than them." Keen to put paid to any notion they might be more than friends, he added, "That is why I will never marry."

"That's quite a sacrifice." She swallowed deeply, a shadow of sadness settling over her. "Are you not lonely? Do you not long to be a father or fall in love?"

He gave a mocking snigger but didn't admit that he locked himself in his study to feel close to her. By watching her house, he felt as if he were protecting her, as though she were part of his family, too.

"What sort of role model would I be?"

Her eyes grew watery. "A remarkable one."

Those words hung between them.

He didn't ask her to elaborate. She was supposed to despise him, think him cold and arrogant. He couldn't bear to hear her praise.

"I'm fighting next week. I shall save you a front-row seat." She would see the animal—the ruthless beast who could tear a man to shreds. "Then I'm confident you will have a different impression."

"Perhaps."

He thumped the carriage roof and asked Godby to pull over, then faced the woman who haunted his dreams. "We'll find a way to question Miss Fitzpatrick alone. I'll speak to Daventry tomorrow about visiting Mrs Flavell. Today, I want to meet Miss Stowe's maid and see if she resembles Venus."

Miss Lovelace gasped in horror. "Lucia isn't Venus. She remained in Miss Stowe's hired carriage between performances, hiding from the amorous vultures who thought her mistress material."

"She may have seen something important."

The maid confessed to seeing nothing important. Despite her mobcap and drab dress, the young woman had an exotic appeal anyone would find enchanting.

"Who asked for the encore?" Aaron said as they stood in Miss Stowe's drawing room, the worn upholstery hinting at the family's dwindling fortunes.

Lucia shrugged, admitting in a mild, Italian accent, "I do not know. I waited in the carriage until Miss Stowe asked me to sing again."

"The request came from someone in the crowd," Miss Stowe replied. "Then people began calling for Madame Rossellini, and the initial voice was lost amid the chorus."

"Did anyone enter the club while you waited in the carriage?" Aaron knew it was a pointless question. A maid could not identify the lords of the ton .

Lucia looked at Miss Stowe. "I took a nap. My working days are long, singing is tiring, and I am usually asleep by ten o'clock."

Miss Lovelace found it necessary to prove she was not exploiting the servant. "Lucia is saving to return home to Naples. She has a cousin there but wants to earn enough money to support herself until she finds work. She hopes to sail in the spring."

"I offered to pay for her passage," Miss Stowe said, "but Lucia insists on earning every penny."

"How commendable." Aaron might have a use for her after all. Someone who could enter a house and gossip with the staff might prove invaluable. "I'll pay you five sovereigns if you accompany Miss Stowe on a visit to Miss Fitzpatrick. I'll double the fee if you discover anything about her brother hiring someone to ruin her."

Miss Lovelace had some reservations. "What if Miss Fitzpatrick recognises Lucia? On what pretext would they visit?"

"Maids are practically invisible," he said, inclining his head, for he meant no offence. "And Miss Stowe is intelligent enough to think of something."

Leaving Miss Stowe glowing from his praise, and with Fortune's Den being a few minutes' drive, they returned home to take refreshments and plan their next visit.

"We're running out of options." Aaron withdrew his key and opened the front door. "There's nothing left to do but search Howard's abode."

He could not question Two-Teeth O'Toole or Mrs Flavell without something to trade. He could not accuse men of murder when few people knew Howard was dead. There would be calls for their arrest once the truth came to light. Gossip would spread through the ton like wildfire.

But fate had other plans.

The smell of an unusual cologne assaulted Aaron in the hallway. The aroma roused a vision of spice markets in Marrakesh. It was the scent of a man who enjoyed many vices.

"Rothley is here," he growled.

"Gabriel?" Miss Lovelace said.

Aaron hated that she used Rothley's given name.

Sigmund hurried into the hall, quick to explain. "I wasn't expecting you back for an hour or more." He gestured to Aaron's study. "I told the marquess to call tomorrow, but he insisted on waiting. Eloise is fetching coffee and a newspaper."

Aaron did not ask the purpose of Rothley's visit but glanced at Miss Lovelace. "He wants to know why The Burnished Jade is closed. He'll insist you return with him to Studland Park."

"Then he's had a wasted journey."

The thought ignited a fire in Aaron's blood. He barged into his study and found Rothley relaxing in the leather fireside chair. "No one enters my house without an appointment."

Rothley stood, his gaze moving past Aaron to the beautiful woman in the doorway. "Get your things, Joanna. We're leaving." He had something of a wolf about him: dark, penetrating eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a stare that could make weak men tremble.

Aaron clenched his jaw. "As an independent woman, she can make her own decisions. I would never force her to do anything against her will."

Rothley prowled closer, his voice low and gravelly when he warned, "If you've laid a hand on her, you'll meet me at dawn."

"Only a libertine would make that assumption. Miss Lovelace is here as my guest."

Rothley bared his teeth and thumped the desk. "She's here because you killed a man in her house and need her to take the blame."

What the devil?

"That's not true." Miss Lovelace came to stand beside Aaron.

Aaron used anger to disguise his panic. He refused to let Rothley take her. "You'd better tell me what you know and who the bloody hell told you."

Rothley reached into his coat pocket, retrieved a letter and slapped it on the desk. "Someone who knew I would rescue Joanna from this iniquitous den and keep her from the scaffold."

Snatching the letter, Aaron read it quickly, shocked the sender had identified Howard as the victim. "How do I know you didn't write this?" He handed it to Miss Lovelace. "How do I know you didn't kill Howard to force Miss Lovelace to marry you?"

"Despite what the ton believes, I'm not a murderer. The letter was delivered to my home this morning. I visited Howard, but he has not been seen for days. Then I hear The Burnished Jade has been closed since Thursday."

"I called here when I found the body," Miss Lovelace said. "With the magistrate's support, Mr Chance is doing everything he can to help me find the culprit."

"Of course he is," came Rothley's cynical reply. "Has it occurred to you that he has a motive for murder? That this is all part of a carefully constructed plan?"

" I have a motive for murder," she confessed.

"What motive could you have for killing a family friend?"

"You don't need to explain," Aaron said.

Miss Lovelace remained defiant. "No. It's time Gabriel heard the truth." She gathered herself. "Lord Howard ruined me ten years ago. The night he returned to London to say they had called off the search for Justin." She looked at Aaron, her gratitude evident. "Mr Chance is the only person who knows. I told him after I found Lord Howard dead."

Rothley paled. "Ruined you how? What the blazes did he do?"

Tears filled her eyes. "He took my virtue. Ignored my protests. I'm sure you're able to picture the scene."

The need to hold her in a tight embrace had Aaron flexing his fingers. This woman always made him feel so helpless.

Rothley turned away, his muttered curses conveying a desire to murder Howard himself. The thought of failing to protect his friend's sister would hound him to the grave.

It was why he swung around and said, "Fetch your things, Joanna. I'm the only person who can save you. I'll have a special license by the morning, and we'll marry tomorrow night."

Like hell they would.

Fury twisted inside Aaron. He'd always known he would lose her, but not like this. Few women refused a man of Rothley's notoriety. Fewer refused to marry a marquess.

"She doesn't want to marry you," he said darkly.

"She has no choice," Rothley barked. "I couldn't save Justin, but I will give Joanna the life she deserves."

Stop using her damned name!

"You're too late," Miss Lovelace said, clutching at the last vestiges of hope. "Should we fail to find the culprit, I've agreed to marry Mr Chance. In my opinion, there's no finer gentleman. "

He was no gentleman. And though she had invented the marriage tale to buy herself time, he could never make her his.

Rothley's mirthless laugh echoed through the room. "You'd marry a gaming hell owner over a marquess? Don't be absurd."

"Mr Chance's blood is as blue as yours. He values my opinion and doesn't treat me like a hapless female."

"We've been friends for twelve years," Rothley countered. "You've barely known him twelve minutes."

"As you know me so well, Gabriel, name my most attractive quality."

"What?" The marquess found the question confusing. "You have many. Why does it matter? What bearing does it have on our current situation?"

"It matters to me. Name one."

Rothley shrugged. "You're a beautiful woman, Joanna. Is that what you want to hear? I imagine you turn heads wherever you go."

"But not yours."

"Of course not. We're friends."

"What about my character?"

Rothley gave a nonchalant reply. "You're good-natured."

Aaron snorted, grateful for Rothley's apathy. "Neither of those things set her apart from other women."

Miss Lovelace turned to him. "What does set me apart, Mr Chance? I'm keen to hear your observations."

Hellfire!

Though he had reservations about voicing his opinion and was not a man of great sentiment, it was essential to show Rothley in a negative light.

"Your eyes remind me of a summer sky. It's the only place I've ever looked and felt past sorrows drift away." It was not a lie. "Your abiding loyalty strikes such a deep chord in me. It's like we're woven from the same cloth."

Her slow smile had a teasing quality. "I might accuse you of being insincere, but I believe you meant every word." She turned to Rothley. "I shall remain at Fortune's Den until the murderer is caught. If you're a true friend, you will support my decision. If you want to help us in our endeavour, find evidence to show someone else killed Lord Howard."

Knowing Rothley would never betray her, Aaron extended an olive branch. "Well? Do you care to hear what we've uncovered, or will I have the pleasure of throwing you out?"

Rothley narrowed his gaze but said nothing.

Aaron prompted him. "The sooner this matter is resolved, the safer Miss Lovelace will be. We need someone to search Howard's house."

"To look for what exactly?" Rothley replied.

"We need to know what social events he attended recently and who visited him at home. I estimate we have a day or two until the world learns he's dead. Then the ton will be baying for our blood."

Rothley looked at the letter in Miss Lovelace's hand. "Someone informed me of the crime. Similar notes may be in circulation."

While all of London might know their secret, Miss Lovelace's suspicions mirrored his own. "The villain wants the blame to rest on Mr Chance's broad shoulders. You were sent here to drive a wedge between us."

"All the more reason you should leave now and marry me," Rothley pressed. "The great Aaron Chance can defend himself."

Aaron could not argue with Rothley's logic. Though it pained him, he could not be selfish. "Rothley is right. You'll be safe if you marry him. He can protect you in ways I cannot."

Miss Lovelace shook her head. "But they'll invent lies about you. Find fake evidence. Throw you to the wolves."

"I have suffered worse and survived."

"No!" she cried. "You were there in my hour of need. I'll not forsake you now." With a defiant glare, she faced Rothley. "I'm staying here. You can help us, or you can leave."

"Your brother would drag you out and force you to comply."

Aaron clenched his jaw. "Touch her, and you'll deal with me."

"Justin is no longer with us." Miss Lovelace strode to the study door and motioned to the hall. "Decide where your allegiances lie."

Rothley cursed under his breath. He scowled at Aaron before gritting his teeth and surrendering. "Fine. But you will tell me everything."