Beware of Virtuous Women (33 page)

Jesus.

At last Jack said, "She remembers, Chance. From the few conversations we've had where Jacko's name was mentioned, I'd have to say she knows. She remembers everything."

Chance sighed deeply. "Then I pray to God she never tells him. He thinks of Elly as his daughter, you know, and loves her past all reason, in the only way he knows how to love. He'd die for her without a second thought."

"And kill for her, as well. Yes, I actually was already aware of that. Thank you, Chance, for being so honest. I know telling me couldn't have been easy. One more question, though, please. You say you were half inside the cupboard. Do you remember what Eleanor's mother looked like? Does Eleanor look anything like her?"

"As if cut from the same cloth," Chance said, once more shaking his head. "I'd think that must drive Jacko nearly crazy whenever he pulls out his conscience for an airing. Why?"

"I think Chelfham flat-out recognized her, that's why. I appreciate all you've told me, but now
I'll
tell
you.
Keeping secrets damn well nearly got Eleanor killed. And if that had happened, my friend, I would have come after all of you Beckets, and you would have had to think up a whole new definition of hell on earth."

"And I believe you." Chance chuckled low in his throat. "Jack, friend, my Julia is going to adore you. Shall we go?" He got to his feet, this time Jack tossing down some coins, and they walked out into the rapidly gathering twilight.

"Eleanor is undoubtedly wondering where I am," Jack said, feeling much like a husband about to have a peal rung over his head, and smiling happily at the thought. "I suppose I'm going to have to get used to keeping her informed of my comings and goings."

"If you value your head, yes, you are. And I say that from experience. Now, are we finished? No more lingering questions, no more heartfelt confessions?"

Would Jack be pushing his luck? He decided to find out. "Two more questions, actually. One, Morgan named her twins Geoffrey and Isabella, and Eleanor told me they were very special names. Why?"

"Sorry, Jack. You'd have to apply to Ainsley for that answer. Which, by the way, I wouldn't do if I were you. Eleanor will tell you when she thinks it's time. What else?"

Jack hesitated, then decided he'd already pushed, so why not push one more time. "Ainsley's unnamed partner. The one who betrayed him all those years ago. Can I assume he's dead?"

Chance put on his hat, tapped it down at an angle on his head. "We have, for a little over fifteen years. We were given what we believed to be credible proof."

"And now?" Jack asked, remembering the man in the black coach. "Now that you know that Chelfham most probably had something to do with murdering his brother on the very ship you were tricked into attacking—with the help of the ship's captain, apparently— and that he's now a part of this Red Men Gang which is apparently led by the mysterious, dangerous man in the black coach? After all, you Beckets were privateers turned freetraders. Do you still think Ainsley's partner is dead? All these threads, Chance, slowly weaving together. Can this all be coincidence?"

"No, Jack. I don't think this could all be mere coincidence, and neither will Ainsley. Not that I'm going to tell him about the man you saw—and neither are you. Not yet. He already may have his suspicions, but that's all he'll have for now."

"Because we need to wreak some small havoc here first, with the Red Men Gang. With our mysterious stranger's flow of income?"

"Exactly." Chance slammed his fist into his hand. "It has to be him. He betrayed us while calling us friends. He took Chelfham's money to rid him of his brother aboard ship—and then betrayed him, as well, setting up that same ship for attack. That's just the sort of thing that would amuse him. Everyone loses but him."

"Except that Eleanor lived," Jack said, soaking up information and sorting it in his head. "Not only did she live, but she remembered. I suspected Chelfham, and when I mentioned his name, the pieces all began to tumble into place, didn't they? But it all began with Eleanor. I want her out of London, Chance, as fast as we can get her gone."

"I agree. Let's get this done, destroy as much of the Red Men Gang as we can, cut off the supply of funds to our mysterious stranger. Then we'll get you and Elly safely to Becket Hall and me back to my domestic obscurity. Because once we're done here, Jack, it will be time for the Beckets to keep their heads lowered, tend to their own sheep for a while, and proceed very slowly, very carefully."

"You're talking about years, aren't you? If you go after him at all. Is that what you're saying?"

Chance Becket's handsome face looked now as if it had been chiseled out of finest marble; cold, and unyielding. "Years? Yes, Jack, I think so. But if it's truly him, if he's alive, if he's out there, we'll find him. In our own time, and on our own terms." He looked at Jack, his green eyes dark as a stormy sea. "And then we'll introduce him to the deepest level of hell."

"When the time comes, I want to be a part of it," Jack told him. "For Eleanor."

"For Elly. For the man who was Geoffrey, and for his Isabella. For all of us. For more than you can ever imagine.
God.
If I thought I understood Ainsley then, when it all happened, I understand even more now, now that I have my own wife, my own children." He touched a hand to Jack's arm. "I think I have an idea, one that will make Elly's arguments moot. If you're game?" "Let's hear it."

Eleanor, half asleep, lifted her hand to push at the lock of hair that tickled at her neck, then sighed, curled more deeply into the chaise lounge that had been aired and brushed after its exposure to the smoke, then placed in Jack's bedchamber.

The slight tickle came again, and she frowned, flicked at it once more before thinking:
Spider?
Spider!

Her hand came up a third time, this swipe much more forceful, and the back of her hand came into sudden, hard contact with something much larger than a spider.

"Ouch! Damn, woman, that was my nose. Are you trying to maim me?"

Eleanor at last opened her eyes and turned onto her back, to see Jack hovering above her in the dim light. "Jack?"

"And who else where you expecting in your boudoir, madam?" he asked, lifting the dragging cashmere shawl and pushing it out of his way as he sat down beside her. He longed to crush her in his arms, protect her from all possible harm, and yet was at the same time in awe of her, and all she'd silently carried on her shoulders for so long.

"Someone more punctual, obviously," Eleanor said as she sat up, pushing at his arm. "You're still sitting on the shawl. Get up, so that I can."

"Why? I rather like you where you are. All soft and warm and...well, no longer pliable, I suppose." He grinned down at her. "All right, all right, don't pull faces at me. I'm getting up."

He was trying to be amusing and boyishly endearing, Eleanor supposed, and she, she also supposed, was to respond by forgiving him the fact that he had been gone all day and late into the evening, without a note, without an explanation.

But, although her relief that he had returned to her safely was very nearly overwhelming, Eleanor was not feeling quite that charitable.

"You sent me off with Rian," she told him once she'd slid her legs over the striped satin and pushed herself up to a sitting position. "Do you have
any
idea what it is like to have that boy running amok in a millinery shop?"

Jack had retreated to the drinks table and now held a glass of wine in his hand. "I sent you to a bootmaker. What were you doing in a millinery?"

Eleanor rolled her eyes. Men, even if you loved them, could be so terribly obtuse. "The milliner's shop was just a few steps down from the bootmaker, and I saw a bonnet in the window that I felt sure would be perfect for Fanny and—who are you to ask me to account for my time? Where
were
you?"

"In a moment, Eleanor," Jack said, putting down his glass and taking her hands in his. Delaying the inevitable? Yes, that was it. He'd faced the French in battle, but telling Eleanor what he and Chance and Cluny had done? He'd have to slowly work himself up to that particular bravery. "Tell me about Rian. I'm not sure how somebody runs amok in a millinery shop."

Eleanor rolled her eyes even as she tugged mightily, withdrawing her hands from his grasp. "He insisted upon offering his
opinion,
that's how. And I can tell you honestly, Jack, that there are a multitude of utterly brainless young girls in Mayfair whose mothers would be well advised to keep them on firm leashes. The giggles were bad enough, the constant applying to Rian for his thoughts on each bonnet tried on. But when I saw one of them slipping a small scrap of paper into Rian's hand? Well, Fanny has one less bonnet, and Rian can tell her why."

Jack covered his mouth with his hand, to hide his smile. "What was in the note?"

Once again Eleanor rolled those huge brown eyes, and Jack longed to grab her, kiss her senseless. "The time and place for a clandestine assignation, of course. Lady Sylvia Barnsthorpe should be leg-shackled to her bed until she grows some sense."

"You're delicious as a dragon of maidenly virtue, Eleanor. I imagine all your sisters and brothers shudder when you're displeased with their behavior. But tell me, isn't Rian in love with Fanny? They're both very young, but they're not related, not really, and I always thought that—"

"Fanny fancies herself in love with him, but nothing will ever come of it," Eleanor said, wondering why they were pursuing this inane conversation, why
she
was pursuing it, when all she really wanted to talk about was Jack, and where he'd been all day. "Rian is war mad, and won't be happy until he's on the continent and someone is shooting at him. His greatest fear in life is that Wellington will have won before he can get there. Where
were
you?"

Jack held up one finger. "In a moment, Eleanor. Before you grabbed hold of Rian's ear and dragged him back here, did you happen to actually visit the bootmaker's shop?"

Eleanor was immediately embarrassed. "Oh, yes. Yes, I did. I was angry with you for demanding that Rian take me there, but you were right. Mr. Bodkin was able to remove the higher heel on my shoe and replace it with one matching the other shoe. I'm much more comfortable now. I... I
list
rather more to one side when I walk, but I do feel much better this way, and I thank you."

"You're welcome," Jack said, then put out his arm and made a circling motion with his finger. "Show me."

"Show you? Walk about like some prize pig on parade? No, I most certainly will not," Eleanor said, wondering if she might still be lying on the chaise lounge, still very much asleep, and dreaming of this new, rather belligerent Eleanor Becket.

"Very well," Jack said, retrieving his wineglass. "Then I suppose there's nothing else but for me to tell you where I've been all day."

Finally,
Eleanor thought, primly folding her hands in front of her. "You did go to see Chelfham, didn't you?"

Jack actually had to jog his memory on that one, as it had been a long, eventful day. "I did, in fact, early this morning. He knows you'll be leaving London tomorrow, which is why I knew you'd be safe today."