Lord Libertine

“Couldn’t you come, too, Mama? We will wait while you dress. The fresh air will do you good,” Bella said, without any real hope that her mother would agree.

“Fresh air? Is that what you think I need? As if that would change anything.” She dropped her hand into her lap and gathered her dressing gown tighter at the neck. She glanced at Gina and Lilly, hovering behind Bella. “You should be in proper mourning.’ Tis disrespectful of Cora to have you prancing all over London as if nothing were wrong.”

“No one is ‘prancing,’ Mama.” Well, except for her, and she was wearing proper mourning. She tried again. “Lilly and Gina have barely been out at all.”

“Nor should they be. Why, in my day, ladies did not leave the house for months. Months, Bella.”

But her mother had not allowed her that luxury. Someone had to deal with the details, and with Mama unable to cope with even the smallest matters, that task had fallen to Bella. “I…I will take Gina and Lilly to a dressmaker for mourning clothes, Mama. Will three each be enough? A walking gown, tea gown and dinner gown?”

“Yes. Yes, three each. And you too, Bella. You look absurd in my cut-downs.”

Bella glanced down at herself. Was it true? Had people been laughing behind her back? Mr. Hunter hadn’t seemed put off by her appearance, and she would imagine he’d be a severe critic. “Yes, Mama. We shall be home before tea.”

Martha collapsed against the chaise cushions again. “Mind you, do not let them out of your sight. Cora would be alive if only you’d paid attention.”

Bella winced. Guilt had become her bosom companion without Mama’s frequent reminders. She turned and followed her sisters from their mother’s private parlor.

“…wish it had been Bella,” she heard her mother tell Nancy, the maid. “Cora was always so sweet.”

The quick stab in the pit of her stomach was back again. That was happening more and more frequently these days. Tears stung the backs of her eyes and a thick lump formed in her throat. She would not cry again. She would not. Oh, but in a deep, secret part of her, Bella wished it had been her, too. Anything would be better than this constant purgatory she was living in.

“She didn’t mean it, Bella,” Gina whispered as they left the town house, Lilly trailing as she tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet.

“Yes, she did. She’d rather it had been any of us but Cora. She was always Mama’s favorite. That is why she thought she could do as she pleased. And now Mama can scarcely bear to be in the same room with me.”

“She has always been harsher with you, Bella. I think it is because you are like Papa—smarter than she, and stronger, even though you are her daughter. And yet, what would she do without you? We’d still be moldering behind closed doors after Papa’s death if you hadn’t coaxed her from her bed and pushed her back into society—and that was seven years ago!”

“What would she do without me? Why she’d have you, Gina. I fear you and I have all the sense in the family, and that Lilly and Cora…well, they were gifted with charm and beauty.”

Gina sniffed. “We are not lacking in charm or beauty. More than one lad has said so.”

“And I shall hope you will have a chance to prove that. For myself…I am only charming when it suits me. A monumental shortcoming, but there it is.”

“I have seen you charm birds from the trees, Bella.”

“When it suits me,” Bella reminded her. “I am brash and unpleasant the rest of the time.”

Gina laughed, and Lilly caught up to them as they entered the promenade beside the bridle path along the Mall. She said yet another silent prayer that no one would recognize her from her nightly excursions into the ton. She hated taking the risk, and yet there was no other way to keep her sisters occupied during the day.

A little farther along, they crossed the path and emerged on the street at their dressmaker’s shop. Madame Marie had made their presentation gowns, and now she’d make their mourning gowns.

* * *

Lockwood’s voice still ringing in his ears, Andrew had run into Daschel at Angelo’s, his fencing master’s salon. According to their tutor, he and Dash were equally matched, so they’d been paired for practice. They’d foregone masks and gloves in favor of unimpaired vision and grip. Neither of them were inclined to give quarter, so the bouts were arduous, with frequent lunges and parries.

Other students had gathered to watch them, and Dash was playing to the crowd. Truth to tell, Andrew knew his friend was a better swordsman, but he was apt to let overconfidence cloud his judgment. It was his one weakness, and one that Andrew occasionally exploited.

Daschel scored the last hit of the bout and Andrew gave him a flourishing bow. With a grin and a clap on his shoulder, Dash suggested a ride through the park before they went their separate ways. It only took them a minute to hang up their swords and collect their horses.

“Are you joining us at Bedlam tonight, Drew?” Daschel asked as they turned their mounts onto the path.

“Depends,” he hedged.

“On whether you find Lady Lace? Egads, man. If you really want her, we can arrange something.”

“Make a business agreement?”

“Or something more straightforward.”

“No. I am enjoying the chase. I cannot remember the last time I’ve had such a challenge.”

“How long do you intend to play your little game? And what if, in the meanwhile, she chooses another?” Dash asked. “I do not think you have long to claim her. In fact, I just might try my hand at capturing the lady.”

A sick feeling of jealousy settled in Andrew’s stomach, and he glanced sideways to see if his friend was jesting. There was a flicker of something he couldn’t identify in Dash’s dark eyes. Mirth? Or was it something more daring? “Are you suggesting a competition, Dash?”

“One hundred guineas to whoever beds her first.”

“Pistols at dawn first,” Andrew murmured.

Dash guffawed. “That bad, eh? Well, I suppose I must wait until you’ve finished with her, then.”

Choosing to ignore Dash’s comment, Andrew broached the subject that had been on his mind since his conversation with Lockwood. “D’you ever think of…Spain?”

Dash was silent so long that Andrew wondered if he’d heard the question. “I’ve done my damnedest to forget,” he said after a moment. “But, yes. I think of it from time to time. Why?”

“The subject came up with Lockwood earlier.”

“Is he still after you to tell him what our unit did? What we saw?”

“I think he knows. Lockwood knows everything, but he believes confession is good for the soul. What do you believe, Dash?”

“Confession? Surely—if you want to hang. But there’s no need for that.”

Andrew doubted his friend’s conclusion that there was no need for him to hang. The secret was like acid eating through what was left of his soul. His conscience was already calloused, and he feared he didn’t know right from wrong anymore. “I was in command. I should have—”

“You can’t spend your life second-guessing your decisions, Drew. For Christ’s sake! There were five of us under your comment. None of us knew what to do. You, at least, contained the situation and kept it from the reports.”

Andrew dismounted and started leading his horse. And remembering. Of the six of them assigned to covert duty, only he and Dash were left. Three had been killed in Spain, and Richard Farron had been killed in a duel within a week of his return to England. Richard had been hell-bound for destruction. And there were still days when Andrew wondered why he and Dash hadn’t met a similar fate.

“I will never tell. You have my word upon that, Drew.” Dash dismounted and joined Andrew.

“And I appreciate your loyalty, but I’ve increasingly begun to wonder if Lockwood isn’t right. The worst that could happen is that I’d hang. And some days that prospect does not trouble me at all.’ Tis probably what I deserve. It is only the thought of what the scandal would do to my family that has kept me silent this long. God knows the world does not have much to offer anymore.”

“Stay a little longer.” Dash grinned. “I swear, we shall find something to perk you up. I know of things I think I could…interest you in, but I’ve feared you might balk.”

Andrew laughed and shook his head. He knew Dash through and through. He was every bit as much a rake as Andrew, but he had a slightly keener edge—hence the excursion to Bedlam. Was the invitation to Bedlam a test of his stomach for such things?

Dash glanced ahead and narrowed his eyes. “Say, there! Is that not Charlie and Jamie coming our way?”

Drew would not be surprised to find his brothers on Rotten Row on a fine afternoon. He followed the direction of Dash’s pointing finger and grinned. James caught sight of them first and rode for them at breakneck speed. He and Charles reined in, stopping barely a foot from Andrew’s right boot.

“Well met!” Charlie laughed as they dismounted. “We were hoping to find you, Drew. Jamie and I are looking for trouble tonight. What do you recommend?”

Andrew grinned at Dash. “There’s to be an expedition to Bedlam tonight. Fancy a trip into madness?”

Jamie looked interested but Charlie frowned. “What? Do they lock you up with the inmates so you can play at being mad?”

“I rather think they make sport of them, Charlie,” Jamie said. “And who’s to say we’re not as mad as them?”

“Make sport of the unfortunates? But what is sporting about that?”

Dash grinned. “Observation of human nature can be enlightening, Charlie. Indeed, we can learn much from them. They have so few…inhibitions. I warrant their actions sometimes make more sense than ours.”

Charlie gave them an uncertain grin, and Andrew knew his wayward brothers would be going to Bedlam tonight. He supposed he’d have to go along to keep an eye on them, though it was not their first venture into the seamy side of London.

“Look smart, fellows! Here come those new bits o’ muslin we saw earlier,” Jamie said. “Come to town for the season, no doubt.”

“Wish we could get an introduction,” Charlie agreed as his gaze fixed on a point behind Andrew. “I’d be pleased to know any of them, but especially the one with dark hair and fine eyes. The taller one.”

Andrew turned to see three women coming along the walking path. He recognized one immediately—Lady Lace, dressed in her signature black. How interesting to see her by daylight. They were all carrying bandboxes and talking quietly.

Lace smiled at something the taller girl said and looked up. Her eyes met his, and she stiffened and quickened her pace as she recognized him. Why, she intended to give him the cut! How amusing.

He stepped out of his group, nearly in their path, and removed his hat, impossible to ignore now. “Madame,” he said with a sharp bow.

A flash of panic lit those lovely hazel eyes, a bit more greenish in the light of day. Her full lips parted and he could see she was struggling for composure as her cheeks tinted a delicate rose. What was wrong with her? He’d seen none of this girlishness before.

He thought for a moment that she would step around him and ignore him altogether, but her quick sideways glance at her companions told him that she was more worried about what they would think than about giving him the cut direct. Interesting.

“M-Mr. Hunter,” she acknowledged reluctantly.

He could feel his brothers at his back and knew they would never let the ladies escape without an introduction. “Allow me to introduce my companions.” He stood aside to indicate each of them in turn, now with their hats in their hands. “My brothers, James and Charles Hunter, and my friend, Bryon Daschel, Lord Humphries.”

The ladies inclined their heads with a slight nod at each introduction and murmured polite responses. Andrew studied them. The taller dark one, as Charles had called her, was lovely and lush looking and bore a faint family resemblance to Lace. His experienced eye detected a sensual nature to that one. The other, slightly younger by the look of her, was fair with sparkling blue eyes. She was, as yet, unformed in her nature and he thought she could go either way—soft and compliant or demanding and imperious.

“A fine day for a walk, is it not?” Dash commented, filling the awkward silence that should have been filled with Lace’s introductions of her companions.

“Yes, a lovely day,” she conceded.

“Have you been shopping?” Jamie asked with a glance at their bandboxes.

The younger one answered with a flirtatious smile. “Bella thought we could use the outing. I vow, I feel better already.”

Bella? Ah, so Lady Lace was actually “Bella.” Was that a pet name, shortened from a longer name, or her actual given name? Her dark brows drew together as she shot the younger girl a quelling look.

Jamie glanced around at their surroundings. “Fresh air is good for the constitution, I am told.”

“Do you walk here often?” Charlie asked the taller one.

She shot a sideways glance at “Bella.” “Not as often as we wish, sir. But we make do.”

Jamie fiddled with the rim of his hat. “If the exercise is too demanding for you, I’d be happy to make a loan of my cabriolet.”

Andrew frowned. That was going a little too far for a covey of women whose names they still didn’t know. And that fact was still the most disconcerting of all. He glanced pointedly at “Bella.”

“We have been gone overlong, Mr. Hunter. I am certain you will excuse us. We really must be getting back.”

“May we escort you?” Though he knew she’d refuse, just as she’d refused to introduce her companions, he asked just to annoy her. She really was lovely when she had her ire up. Ah, and there it was, the deepening flush tinting her cheeks with indignation.

“No!” She paused and took a deep breath. “I mean, thank you, but no. It is not far and we would not want to interrupt your ride.”

He’d almost forgotten the horses. “Perhaps we shall meet again,” he said. “Soon.”

Her eyes widened and she glanced at her companions once more, then pushed them ahead of her with a hand on the small of the younger girl’s back.

They watched the ladies’ departure, appreciating the sway of their skirts as they hustled away.

Dash was the first to speak, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he glanced skyward. “I say! Is it snowing? I feel a decided chill.”

“Gads!” Charlie glanced at their departing backs and then at Drew. “She appears not to like you much.’ Tis one thing to cut you, and another to cut the rest of us.”

Jamie chuckled. “There you have it—the very reason we should learn manners, Charlie. We never want a beautiful woman finding us unworthy of a common introduction. Or judging our companions by our own bad behavior.”

Despite their words, Andrew’s companions burst out laughing at his discomfort. Bella would pay for this. Oh, so sweetly.

Dash glanced between Bella’s stiff back and Andrew’s own bemusement. “What did you do to her, Drew?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Yet.”

Chapter Five

Bella tightened the laces at the top of her chemise and tucked the strings into her bodice. “Keeping Mama and Lilly occupied is more important than you can know, Gina. But if there is ever anything I cannot handle alone, I swear I shall enlist you. I swear it.”

Gina frowned, suspicion narrowing her eyes. “See that you do, or I shall take matters into my own hands.”

“Just what do you think I am keeping from you?” She smoothed the fabric of her gown over her hips.

“Many things, Bella. For instance, who was that man today? The one you addressed as Mr. Hunter, who attempted the introductions? Surely you have not forgotten such a handsome man?”

How much could she tell her sister without inciting her horror? “How could I introduce you without giving myself away to Lilly? And no one knows me by my name.”

“Really?” Gina tilted her head to one side. “What do they call you, then?”

“Lady Lace.” She tried not to notice Gina’s giggling as she stuffed a handkerchief in her reticule. “And I am not altogether certain Mr. Hunter is the sort of man one ought to introduce to one’s sisters.”

“I gathered as much,” Gina said. “But I think I would not care. He is far too handsome. And the others, as well.”

The slightly stubborn jut to Gina’s chin warned her that her sister would need better answers. Which of the Hunter brothers did she have her eye on? Or was it Lord Humphries? She supposed it did not matter—any of them could break her heart.

“Why are you hiding your name, Bella? I thought you did not give a whit for your reputation now that Cora is dead.”

“I do not care in the least, but I thought it better if no one knew where to find me. The last thing I want is for Mama to get word of what I’m doing. How ghastly it would be to have some man turn up on our doorstep asking for an audience.”

Gina sank onto the bed in feigned distress. “Oh! That would be dreadful, indeed. Awful even under the best circumstances. Mama is enough to frighten all but the most ardent suitors away.”

She smiled at Gina’s teasing. “And anyway, Gina, when we return to Belfast and our mourning ends, there is still a chance that you and Lilly will find husbands among the gentry.”

“You, too, Bella.”

“That is quite impossible. My face is now known in London. How could I tell my future husband that he could never take me beyond Belfast lest I be recognized as a…a…” She shrugged and gave a self-deprecating laugh as she pinched her cheeks to bring her color up. “I am not blameless. I have now kissed more men than any collective dozen of my friends.”

“As to that, Bella, was Mr. Hunter—the one who spoke to you—one of the men you kissed?”

Heat crept into her cheeks and she busied herself with fastening a jet necklace around her throat. “Really, Gina! I do not see what difference that would make.”

“Well, if you are not keeping track, someone should.”

“Yes, then. Which is all the more reason I wish to keep you and Lilly away.”

“Was he that dreadful?”

No! Lord, no. In point of fact, he’d been the best of the lot. “I fear that he would think you and Lilly are likewise…loose. He could have reason enough to believe that, since we were together. Would you really want to defend yourself against an ardent swain?”

“Yes, if he looked like Lord Humphries or any of the Hunter brothers. I am assuming, of course, that you have cleared them of any suspicion of having killed our Cora.”

“I, ah, of that group, I have only kissed Mr. Andrew Hunter.”

“And you have acquitted him?”

“Not entirely.”

Gina tilted her head to one side. “Not entirely? But how is that possible?”

“I…it was rather sudden and he turned away immediately afterward, so I fear I must do it again before I can eliminate him.”

The corners of Gina’s mouth twitched. “Ah. I see. Well, yes. I suppose you must. And then move on to the other Hunter brothers? And Lord Humphries?”

“Eventually,” she admitted. “If I do not find the murderer first.”

“But tonight?”

She swept up her cloak and turned toward the door. “Tonight I am not likely to see them. Remember, I am going where scoundrels and rakes go.”

Andrew leaned over Charlie’s shoulder. “Seen enough?”

“We’ve only just begun. Do you suppose it is all like this?”

“I haven’t a single notion, Charlie. This is my first visit, as well.” When they had arrived at Bethlehem Hospital and paid the keeper for entry, Andrew hadn’t known what to expect, though he gathered he would not find it entertaining. Thus far he’d been right.

They’d been led past cells where unfortunates were either cowering in corners or reciting nonsensical words in singsong voices. Here a man played in his own filth, and there a woman exposed her breasts and cackled. Yet another man screamed and shouted curses, pounding the door separating patients from visitors. And everywhere the odor of unwashed bodies and rancid food assailed them.

The keeper, their guide, told stories of how this one had been abandoned by a lover, or that one had lost his entire family in a fire and had fallen into deep melancholy. But how, Andrew wondered again, could such misery be entertaining? Was it all just a matter of taste?

As much as he wanted to leave, he also wanted to find out what purpose Dash had for this outing, because it was not like his friend to arrange something like this without a reason.

Charlie shrugged and echoed Andrew’s own thoughts. “I cannot see the purpose of this, Drew. It tickles none of my senses. I am not amused, entertained, titillated or curious. Surely there’s more?”

“Observation of human nature, I believe Dash said,” Andrew whispered.

“An’now, gents, ’ere we are at the commons, or the gallery as some calls it,” the keeper announced. “These ’uns is harmless. You can ’ave a bit o’ fun with them if you wants. Cost you extra, though.”

Another group of visitors had arrived before them and stood in a far corner, their laughter overriding the sound of shouts and curses. Andrew turned in the direction of their pointing fingers to find a group of men scrambling over what looked to be a hunk of nearly raw meat. The scene reminded him of a pack of dogs behind a butcher shop. This, he assumed, was what the keeper had meant by “a bit o’ fun.”

Dash, who had gone ahead with Henley, Jamie and Throckmorton, glanced over his shoulder to look at Andrew. Waiting for a reaction, no doubt. But Andrew had none to give him. Whatever response Dash had been looking for, he could muster neither outrage nor amusement. He’d seen enough in the war to make him numb to human suffering and to realize that there was no limit to man’s inhumanity. He turned back to the activities in the common room, trying to keep track of the shifting tableaus as they were incited by the “visitors.”

Money changed hands, and then one of the inmates approached a woman dressed in a mobcap and a low-cut dress. He whispered in her ear and she glanced at the group that had sent him. A manic smile exposed gaps where teeth should have been, and she began to hitch her skirts up around her hips. Lord! Were the visitors such immature idiots themselves that they derived pleasure from seeing an unfortunate expose herself?

But it did not stop at that. The payment had been for something else entirely. There, for all to see, the male inmate dropped his trousers and the pair of them began to copulate to the enthusiastic encouragement of the onlookers. On some base level, Andrew realized that watching such activities was arousing for a good many people—that it awakened a hunger, at the very least. He’d known courtesans and the owners of private clubs to arrange such performances. But here and now, at the expense of those who either did not comprehend their actions or appreciate that they were being made sport of, it seemed intrinsically wrong.

“Amazing, is it not, what one will do for money?” Dash asked. “I daresay we could make this lot do damn near anything we chose.”

Andrew blinked and turned to his friend. “For a crust of bread or a cut of meat?”

“Aye. Does it remind you of the war, Drew?”

This echo of his own thoughts caused the hair on the back of Andrew’s neck to prickle. Was this why Dash had brought him here? “The madness? Or the depravity?”

“Both. And the power. Bedlam is as close to Valle del Fuego as I’ve found since our return.”

That godforsaken village! “Why would you want to be reminded, Dash? God knows I’ve spent years trying to forget.”

“Aye, but there was something there—something lacking in London. Some tiny primal spark. You must feel it. Something so…so fundamental that it has no name.”

There was more Dash was trying to tell him, something he would not put into words and was pleading with Andrew to understand. “Uncivilized,” he admitted. “Not altogether comfortable.”

“Precisely!” Dash’s expression was somber. “It pulls at one, does it not?”