Innocent Courtesan to Adventurer's Bride Page 17

  ‘But I am not, am I?’ she shot back. ‘So it is quite hard to imagine the role. But I will do my best to act as brazenly as you would wish.’ Gregor, she saw, was biting the inside of his cheek, presumably in an effort not to laugh. What had Quinn told him in the time she had been upstairs? They were as close as brothers—did that mean they shared everything, even her intimate secrets?

  Lina tightened her grip on Quinn’s arm, put up her chin and looked around her with frank, defiant, curiosity. In some ways, that was easy to do; she had never ventured this far into the exclusive world of Mayfair and in such a fashionable lounge as Bond Street there was the chance of seeing almost any member of the haut ton, including the Prince Regent.

  The shops were dazzling. Lina saw Savory and Moore, where her aunt obtained the fine milled soap she insisted on using at The Blue Door. ‘I would like to go in there, one day,’ she said, slowing down, then saw the advertisement in the bow window: Newly arrived, the renowned Seidlitz Powders, exclusively to be had of Savory and Moore. An infallible cure for every digestive distress or obstruction. Or perhaps not, certainly with a masculine escort.

  Quinn turned into Bruton Street. ‘We must certainly shop. You have your image as an expensive ladybird to establish.’

  By the time they emerged into Berkeley Square Lina was feeling thoroughly out of charity with Quinn. Ever since they had arrived he had been more autocratic and less sympathetic. Perhaps the full enormity of the problem had only dawned on him as they reached London, or perhaps he was simply regretting taking up her cause. I am a fool to love you, she thought, deliberately pouting at him before batting her eyelashes at a passing gentleman. The young man smiled and slowed, then focused on her formidable escort and hurried past.

  It was easy to see where Gunter’s was. Rows of open carriages were drawn up, each with one or more ladies sitting inside, their male escorts leaning against the carriage doors or the railings that enclosed the central rectangle of gardens, while waiters in huge white aprons hurried back and forth with trays laden with ices and sorbets.

  ‘We will sit under the plane trees, not being in possession of the requisite fashionable carriage,’ Quinn said, walking through the gate. ‘What would you like, Celina? An ice or a sorbet?’

  ‘Lemon ice, please.’ She unfurled her parasol and stared around while Gregor went to place their order. ‘What is wrong, Quinn?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said and smiled. Lina blinked. No, nothing was wrong, he was simply vibrating like a tuning fork with concentration and excitement, tightly reined. He was enjoying this, the danger, the challenge, and his sharpness with her was like the orders of an officer just before battle. She was one of his troops and he wanted her obeying commands and with all her weapons in perfect order. She wondered if he had forgiven her for her lies; she suspected not, but it did not seem to spoil his enjoyment of the fight now they were in it.

  Gregor came back, a waiter at his heels. When they were seated, with no-one within hearing, he said, ‘Now, tell me what this is all about, my friend. You give me mysterious instructions, send me to an expensive brothel—I do not complain of that, you understand—and now Miss Celina arrives looking delightful, but not quite as a respectable jeune femme should and with an air as though the devil is after her.’

  ‘Quinn, if we tell Gregor, then we are implicating him, too,’ Lina said. ‘I should have thought of that.’

  ‘Indeed. Gregor, do you object to being made an accessory to a capital crime?’

  ‘Who committed it?’ the Russian asked. ‘You have murdered your husband, Celina? Did he deserve it?’

  ‘I do not have a husband and I have not done anything wrong. At least,’ she corrected with scrupulous care, ‘I have not committed any capital crimes. I am unjustly accused of one.’

  ‘Of course. So tell me. I think we are here to prove you innocent, no?’

  ‘Yes, but if we fail, then you and Quinn will have been seen to help me.’

  ‘So? There are many other countries in the world where I can live, quite happily. Tell me.’

  She should not be happy that yet another innocent person had become embroiled in her troubles, she knew, but the thought that Gregor’s formidable presence would be at Quinn’s back made her feel much safer for both of them.

  ‘Celina lives at that brothel I sent you to,’ Quinn said. Lina waited for the change in Gregor’s expression. He would think less of her, she knew, treat her differently. But he just nodded and settled to listen as Quinn told the story, including the events as she had described them in her notes. Although he did not spell it out, she knew the Russian would be quite clear that she had gone to Tolhurst’s house deliberately to sell her virginity.

  I will not behave as though I am ashamed, she thought. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Except lying to Quinn, embroiling him in this, not telling him I was a virgin and falling in love with him, her conscience reminded her. She made herself concentrate on what Quinn was saying.

  ‘We need to talk to Celina’s aunt, Madam Deverill, and discover what she has been able to find out and what she has done to clear Celina’s name. She may still be too sick to have done anything—did you see her when you were there?’

  ‘I did. A lady of great personality,’ Gregor said. ‘In her day, which was not so very long ago, I think, she would have been one who wove magic—an enchantress.’

  ‘So my great-uncle thought, I assume,’ Quinn said. ‘She is well?’

  ‘She looked fragile, like glass. But formidable. Now I hear the story I can see she is under great strain, but she hides it—almost.’

  ‘I have a back-door key,’ Lina said. ‘We could let ourselves in and make our way to Aunt Clara’s rooms.’

  ‘No.’ Quinn shook his head. ‘I want to see Makepeace in action if he is there and I want to walk in through the front door legitimately so if we are found wandering about we may plausibly be lost.’

  ‘Then I will go in at the back door,’ Lina said. ‘I still do not understand what Makepeace has to do with this.’

  ‘He is a loose end I want to snip off,’ Quinn said, infuriatingly vague. ‘No, we all go in the front door.’

  ‘But I cannot!’

  Gregor looked across her at Quinn and laughed. ‘Aha! Our young friend the prince incognito?’

  ‘Exactly. I have the clothes in my baggage.’

  ‘What are you two talking about?’ Lina demanded.

  ‘Let me explain,’ Quinn said. ‘Once we had reason to remove a young lady from a place where she was not happy to be.’

  ‘A harem?’

  ‘A staging post on the way to one. We could not walk out with a young woman, so we left with—’

  ‘A youth!’ Fear and a thrill of excitement made her laugh out loud. ‘But could I pass?’ Quinn’s gaze swept down over her bosom and she coloured up. Her breasts were not impressive, she knew that, but perhaps, now, that was a blessing.

  ‘By the time I have finished with you, you would pass for the Shah of Persia,’ he said with a grin.

  It was certainly a high-class establishment, Quinn thought as they mounted the steps of The Blue Door at half past eleven that evening. The deep blue paint was offset by gleaming brass fittings, torchères flamed with brazen disregard for discretion and elaborately clipped shrubs in tubs lined the wide steps.

  He looked for the spy hole and saw it blink with light for a moment before the door swung open. ‘Monsieur Vasiliev.’ The big man inside spoke politely, even as his eyes flickered over the two figures beside the Russian. ‘Welcome back. And your friends also. You will sign the book?’

  It was all part of making this seem like an exclusive club, Quinn thought, signing George Arbuthnott with a flourish. Doubtless the book was full of more pseudonyms than genuine signatures. He stood back and the slim youth at his side bent his turbaned head over the book and produced an elaborate flourish. It had taken Quinn half an hour to teach Celina how to write something short but very rude in Arabic.

  ‘Gentle
men, the salon.’ Celina took a step forwards and he reached to touch her arm, then she must have realised her own mistake, for she dropped back, gazing around as though in wonder at what must be very familiar surroundings indeed. The doorman gestured towards a wide arch hung with blue-velvet curtains. ‘Mr Makepeace will be with you at once to enquire your pleasure. Refreshments will be brought.’

  They sauntered through. Celina he could feel quivering slightly—fear or excitement? He suspected both, but he had confidence that she would act her part. With her hair concealed under a turban, her curves by a long jacket of heavy silk with a long brocade waistcoat over the top and full trousers caught at the ankles, she made the perfect youth. Her skin was stained to a warm gold, her eyebrows and lashes blackened and her blue eyes subtly ringed with kohl to make them seem darker. Cotton pushed high inside her cheeks changed the shape of her face and she had spent the afternoon following Gregor around trying to walk like a man—an exercise that had them both in fits of laughter.

  Now she was serious, staring about her with a good approximation of a cocky youth rendered nervous by his first exposure to the sins of the flesh. Perhaps she had seen enough young men receiving their initiation here under the aegis of older brothers or even fathers to know what to do.

  There were half-a-dozen young women in the room and four men. A swift glance reassured Quinn that he knew none of them. Two of the girls fluttered over, all pretty silks and low cut gowns. ‘Gentlemen.’ A redhead with bouncing curls took Gregor’s arm. ‘Oh, you’ve come back and brought some friends, Mr Gregor.’

  ‘Friend,’ Celina said in Arabic. Her accent was atrocious, but with any luck no one here would speak the language.

  He had taught her three words. Friend for those she knew would not betray her, enemy for those who might and unsure.

  ‘Ooh.’ The redhead giggled. ‘Who is the young gentleman?’

  ‘A very special young gentleman,’ Quinn said with heavy emphasis. ‘He speaks no English and those who serve him would be very anxious if they knew he was out. But young men will be young men, hmm? And we think it is best he sows his wild oats with us and not by slipping off and getting into mischief.’

  ‘I’ll help him keep out of trouble,’ the redhead said with a smile, fluttering her lashes at Celina, who ducked her head and wriggled in convincing embarrassment.

  ‘I think we would all like to stay together,’ Quinn said. ‘Perhaps some of your friends would like to join us?’

  ‘Ooh, yes. I’m Katy and this is Miriam.’ The brunette gave him a look that promised a night of smouldering pleasures. ‘And there’s Daphne, just come down.’

  ‘Unsure,’ Celina said after a swift glance at the statuesque blonde.

  ‘How about someone more our young friend’s size?’ Quinn asked.

  ‘Paulette?’ Katy looked at Miriam, who nodded. ‘She’s ever so sweet and she’s tiny.’ Katy’s hands waved about five foot from the floor.

  ‘Friend.’

  ‘He likes the sound of her,’ Quinn said.

  ‘I’ll just get Mr Makepeace and find a nice room.’ Katy fluttered off, leaving Miriam to press glasses of champagne into their hands and lead them to couches on the far side of the room from the other group.

  Wedged between himself and Gregor, Celina was safe from Miriam’s wandering hands that just now had settled one on his thigh, the other on his shoulder as she curled up on the sofa next to him. He was in proper evening clothes after a hectic afternoon at the tailor and shirt maker and the skilful caress was hard to ignore through thin knitted silk.

  He could have worn his own eastern clothing here, but the first part of the evening had taken him to the Society of Antiquaries. He had membership, originally because old Simon’s influence had overruled any qualms about his reputation and latterly because of his own fame amongst men who valued travel and scholarship above tales of society scandal.

  Now he had a handful of introductions, some renewed acquaintances and two invitations. His own campaign of revenge and reinstatement was running very well alongside Celina’s adventure. But there was no time to think of that now; the man approaching them across the room was more than sufficient distraction from Miriam’s wandering hands.

  ‘Here is Mr Makepeace,’ she said. Quinn decided that the man’s taste in waistcoats alone was a crime.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Mr Vasiliev, Mr Arbuthnott, er…’ he frowned a little at the crown of Celina’s turban, which was tilted towards him ‘…sir, welcome.’

  Quinn could feel Celina pressing closer to his side. Tension was radiating from her and he could see why she disliked this man so much; now he was showing them an unctuous servility, but the crocodile was visible beneath the surface. The urge to put an arm around her was strong and quite impossible. He wondered at how protective he felt.

  ‘Gentlemen. May I offer you any supper yet, some more wine? Or perhaps you would prefer to retire upstairs immediately? The room is ready. There are menus tucked in that folder should you wish to enjoy any of our other facilities.’ He offered the small leather file he carried and Quinn opened it to see the cost of the room and the girls they had chosen set out. The price was high and the options available had him raising his eyebrows. Something for everyone except those who preferred flagellation or their own sex or, he noticed as he got to the end of page three, young girls.

  Even as he thought it Makepeace remarked, ‘If there is anything that you gentlemen desire that is not on the list, do, please enquire. I will do my best to obtain it. I hope, very soon, to expand the range of the delights to be had at The Blue Door.’

  Celina was grinding her teeth. Quinn got to his feet. ‘Thank you, but what we have ordered will be sufficient. We may be some time.’

  ‘But of course! Just ring if you need anything.’

  ‘A nasty piece of work,’ Quinn observed in Arabic, apparently to the slender young man climbing the stairs at his side.

  ‘The male staff are armed,’ Gregor answered from behind them.

  ‘Here we are.’ Katy threw open the door to a room with a vast four-poster bed with a scantily clad young woman lying in wanton invitation in the middle of it. There were mirrors all around, a chaise, and marble sculptures of classical beauty and startling obscenity. Celina, he saw, did not turn a hair. No wonder she was immune to the weirder archaeological remains scattered around at Dreycott Park.

  Quinn locked the door behind them and walked to the chaise. ‘Are there any spy holes in this room?’ The girls shook their heads in unison. ‘Then, ladies, may I rely upon you not to shriek?’

  ‘Only if you want us to,’ Katy said with a wicked twinkle. She perched on his knee and wrapped an arm around his neck, a sweet-scented soft bundle with a wicked tongue, which she proceeded to use on his ear.

  ‘Katy, Miriam, Paulette—it is me, Lina,’ Celina said, pulling off the turban, and the three girls abandoned any pretext of interest in the men.

  ‘Oh, my Lord!’ Katy gasped, throwing her arms around her. ‘You’re safe! Where have you been? We haven’t dared ask Madam in case that toad Makepeace is listening. You didn’t take that sapphire, did you?’

  ‘Not that I’d blame you if you had,’ Miriam chimed in.

  ‘Ladies, please.’ Quinn held up his hands. ‘Not so loud. Let us sit down and Celina will tell you all about it.’ She shot him a sideways glance, her darkened skin strange in contrast to the tumbling blonde hair. ‘A short version,’ he added.

  ‘…and Lord Dreycott wants to talk to Aunt Clara,’ Lina finished. It felt so good to be with her friends again. Miriam and Katy sat either side of her with their arms around her waist, Paulette sat on the floor, gazing up at her open-mouthed.

  ‘Can you prove her innocence, my lord?’ Katy demanded, her eyes fixed on Quinn with fierce loyalty.

  ‘Yes,’ Quinn said with quiet confidence. Lina wanted to get up and hug him, but she made herself stay still. He was seeing her in what he thought of as her natural surroundings at last;
his opinion of her would be set in stone by now. ‘Can you bring Madam here, or can Celina and I get to her without Makepeace knowing?’

  ‘Best to go to her,’ Miriam said. ‘Paulette can stay here with Mr Gregor just in case Makepeace puts his ear to the door.’ Both Gregor and Paulette looked enthusiastic about that suggestion, Lina noted. ‘Katy and I can cover both ends of the corridor—we’ll say we’ve come out for more wine or something if Makepeace or one of his bullies comes along.’

  In the event they reached Aunt Clara’s door without any alarms other than a patron chasing a squealing girl out of one room and into another. Lina scratched on the panels and after a moment the key turned and the door opened.

  ‘Lina!’ She was in her aunt’s arms, both of them sobbing, hardly aware of Quinn behind her propelling them both firmly into the room and locking the door behind them.

  It took a while for both of them to regain their composure, but eventually she was able to introduce Quinn.

  ‘Of course, the new Lord Dreycott. Thank you so much for taking care of Lina,’ Aunt Clara murmured, turning her handsome blue eyes on him. ‘I was so grateful to Simon for taking her in. I received the letter you sent to Cook, my dear, but I haven’t been able to get anything out. That wretched man watches like a hawk and I did not dare do anything to give away your hiding place.

  ‘I am never going to forgive him for what he has done to you,’ she added fiercely. ‘To sell you to Tolhurst like that and then for this to happen!’

  ‘It was Makepeace’s idea to introduce Celina to Sir Humphrey?’ Quinn asked.

  ‘Of course it was! Do you think I would do such a thing to my niece? The swine took control when I was so ill and forced her by threatening me and everyone here. He knew that her only role here was as my companion and to keep the books, but he threatened all of us, so she felt she had to obey him.’

  There was silence as Clara twisted her handkerchief between her hands. Lina looked at Quinn. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, directly to her. There was regret and a sort of anger in his eyes. ‘So sorry.’