Page 41 of Rakes & Reticules
The woman was petrified; that kind of terror only came from dire threats.
“Lady Huxley isn’t ready to talk freely yet, but she’s definitely hiding something. What’s more, she seems utterly terrified of her husband.” He glanced upward, a small frown veeing his eyebrows.
“You haven’t touched your brandy, Siobhan.” He raised one finger toward her glass. “It will steady your nerves.”
She’d performed remarkably well tonight. Better than Fletcher could’ve hoped, but she’d confessed her nerves had taken a pummeling.
She dropped her focus to the finger’s worth of amber liquid he’d poured into her tumbler. “I don’t care for the strong taste.”
“So we go through this charade again tomorrow?” Darius plucked the glass from her fingers and set it on the side table. He sat beside her and slung an ankle over his knee.
He seemed quite taken with Siobhan, not that he could blame his brother. Siobhan Kenney was a fascinating woman, nearer Darius’s age than Fletcher’s.
Not that, at ten years her senior, he was too old for her. But she was his employee in a manner of speaking and therefore utterly off limits.
That weird, undefinable feeling rooted around Fletcher’s breast again.
He gave a contemplative nod in response to Darius’s question before taking a sip of whisky. “I think we must. And every night until we’ve snared our prey. We mustn’t let up. If you are up to the task, Siobhan.”
“I suppose I must be.” She mustered a brave smile. “The sooner the Huxleys are apprehended, the sooner my siblings and I can go on with our lives.”
As yet, Fletcher hadn’t decided on a permanent position for Siobhan. She didn’t qualify for typical jobs atDe la Chanceor his other establishments besides a cloakroom attendant. Knowing her as he did now, she would find the work tedious and unfulfilling, but she would not complain. Respectable positions were few and far between.
Still, he’d prefer it if she liked what she did, and that brought him back to what the devil was he to do with her after Huxley’s arrest? Thus, for the time being, he kept pushing the question to the back of his mind. So far, no brilliant inspiration had struck him.
Her transformation from a skinny boy of all work to a regal lady was more than he could’ve hoped for. She mightn’t have been raised among England’s upper ten thousand, but despite her protests, she bore an element of refined breeding.
For certain, Almack’s peeresses would find fault with her speech, manners, or some other inconsequential detail, but Fletcher had been hard-pressed not to gawk at her like a callow youth all evening.
Whatever seamstress had sewn tonight’s sapphire gown deserved an award. The silk swayed and swirled with each step, giving Siobhan a graceful, confident air and accenting her gently rounded curves. The color brought out the blue hues in her midnight hair and caused something magical to happen with her eyes.
In a word, Siobhan Kenney was stunning.
Several men had murmured their approval, and a couple dared to voice an interest in approaching her with disreputable offers. Fletcher had succinctly squelched their immoral contemplations with a glower meant to eviscerate, and he’d instructed Chandler to have security keep an extra watchful eye on the brazen curs.
Perhaps it was time to reevaluate the men’s memberships atDe la Chance.
Huxley’s acute and real interest in Siobhan was both a blessing and a curse.
Siobhan must tread carefully to retain his interest without leading him to believe she was willing to engage in a full-on dalliance. Fletcher, on the other hand, must convince Lady Huxley hewaswilling to engage in a romance without actually doing so.
It was a delicate game they played. One that could backfire and send their prey into hiding once more. Fletcher was tired of the intrigue and peril. He wanted the matter finished once and for all.
So far, Torrian hadn’t been able to dig up a motive for Huxley’s part in sabotaging and vandalizing Fletcher’s businesses. The man was sly. Except for the note his wife had given Siobhan, he was always several people removed from the actual crimes.
What Fletcher hadn’t anticipated and which needed careful consideration, was Lady Huxley’s fear of her husband. She hadn’t admitted Huxley was an abusive brute but confessed she was afraid to cross him and that he controlled her completely.
Except for her liaisons.
Lord Huxley didn’t appear to give two farthings how his wife conducted herself as long as she remained discreet. Wouldn’t her affairs incense a controlling brute? Nevertheless, men wishing to hide their abuse grew practiced at leaving marks where no one would see.
That truth put things in a different perspective.
Perhaps her ladyship carried out her husband’s directives because he forced her to.
If Fletcher offered her a way out, an escape from the monster she’d married out of her lust for a title, would Lady Huxley be willing to reveal what she knew?
It was worth considering.
