Read Desire Becomes Her Online
Authors: Shirlee Busbee
Desire Becomes Her (20 page)
Luck, however, was not with Canfield that night. He’d had no complaints initially. The removal to The Ram’s Head had gone smoothly and he was now ensconced in a handsome pair of rooms upstairs. Hyde was settled in a small room next door.
After a fine meal served in his rooms the previous evening, satisfied with his decisions, Canfield had sauntered downstairs, looking for a pigeon to pluck. It was fox hunting season and many of the local notables had deserted the area to follow the hounds—which made finding gentlemen who suited his purpose difficult for Canfield. Eventually, he’d joined Townsend at one of the tables in the private rooms Nolles set aside for serious gamblers, and more from boredom than any other reason, he’d accepted Townsend’s offer of a game. Having played with Townsend both here and in London, Canfield respected Townsend’s skills, but he didn’t consider him his equal and he looked forward to winning. He was not disappointed, rising in the early morning hours the winner of a handsome sum.
Tonight, however, luck deserted him and watching the pile of coins in front of him disappear at an alarming rate, Canfield’s mood was surly. Townsend, who last night could not win a hand, had done nothing but win this evening and Canfield wondered if he’d been set up.
His eyes narrowed, Canfield glanced across the table at Townsend. “Your luck has changed,” Canfield growled.
Townsend looked up from his cards. “Indeed, I will not deny it,” he murmured. “Tonight Lady Luck is sitting on my knee—just as she was sitting on yours last night.” He smiled. “She’s a fickle wench.”
Canfield didn’t disagree, and after a few more losing hands, he threw down his cards and said, “That’s it for me.”
Townsend shrugged, making no attempt to keep him at the table. Canfield departed, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. Townsend grinned. Arrogant bastard.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Nolles slid into the room, the scar given to him by Lamb a scarlet brand across his cheek. His pale eyes on the money in front of Townsend, he said, “It appears that Lord Canfield’s run of luck ended.”
“Yes, it did,” admitted Townsend. He shifted his arm slightly and a card peeked out from the end of his sleeve. “But not,” he added, “without some help.”
“Do you think he suspects?”
Townsend shook his head. “No, not if I’m careful. But I won’t be able to pull this trick very often. He’s a smart player and if he loses too often ...”
Nolles grunted. Taking a turn around the room, he said, “And everything is well at The Birches?”
Townsend made a face. “If you mean are the goods safely stored, yes.” Townsend hesitated. “How soon before you move more of the contraband to London? I mislike having so much on hand.”
“Why? Are you expecting someone to come snooping around your cellars?”
“No.” Townsend hunched a shoulder. “I know that soon you’ll be landing another load and there isn’t much more room to store it.”
“Let me worry about that. You just keep your mouth shut and discourage visitors.”
Townsend nodded unhappily. Clearing his throat, he asked, “What are you going to do about Canfield? You know why he’s here, don’t you?”
Nolles smiled thinly. “Yes, I know why he’s here and at the moment I’m enjoying his antics. He’s a fool if he thinks that his attempts to hide his identity from Dudley worked—or that Dudley wouldn’t have warned me to expect him. Even if Padgett hadn’t already spoken to Dudley about Canfield before allowing them to meet, Dudley would have learned his name within the hour from one of his street urchins.”
Nolles sauntered over to the oak sideboard behind Townsend and from a tray of refreshments in the center of the top poured himself a glass of hock. Glass in hand, he took a seat across from Townsend. “How much did he lose tonight?”
Townsend smiled. “Over four thousand pounds.”
“At least you’ve recovered most of what you lost to that blasted Lucifer last month,” Nolles commented, wiping the smile from Townsend’s lips.
“I did, indeed,” Jeffery said tightly. “And Canfield, though he believes otherwise, is no Lucifer. He hasn’t the skill or the cool head of that devil.”
Nolles stared at his tankard, unconsciously fingering the scar on his cheek. “Which is as well for us,” Nolles muttered. Tom should have killed Barnaby Joslyn when he’d had the chance, Nolles thought bitterly—and that bastard Lamb.
“So what are you going to do about Canfield?”
“When he’s no longer useful, he’ll ... have a fatal accident.” Nolles flashed Townsend a sly look. “A fall over the cliffs like your friend Ainsworth suffered would do nicely, don’t you agree?”
Recalling the night months ago when Lord Joslyn had killed Ainsworth and saved Emily from rape, Jeffery’s eyes dropped to the table. He shuddered as the memory of riding through the dark with Ainsworth’s body strapped to his horse rolled over him. He’d been terrified of discovery during that dreadful ride and had breathed a sigh of relief when he’d thrown the body over the cliffs near the Seven Sisters. No one, he reminded himself, had seen him. Nolles had to be guessing.
Townsend looked directly at Nolles and said, “Yes, a fall from the cliffs would do very well for Lord George Canfield.” Brazenly, he added, “I’d recommend someplace near the Seven Sisters.”
Nolles’s eyes narrowed, not pleased with Townsend’s reply. Perhaps the man wasn’t the spineless ninny he’d thought... . Nolles swallowed some hock before saying, “At least Canfield is providing some profit in the meantime.”
Jeffery Townsend had come a long way since the night he had disposed of Ainsworth’s body, but he was still squeamish about murder. “Do you think that killing him is the best way? What does he really know?”
Nolles stared at him as if he’d lost his wits. “He knows that Padgett knows Dudley,” he said coldly. “And he knows that Dudley is connected to me. Any one of those things would be reason enough to kill him; he knows too much.”
“But why not continue to let him invest? His money has been useful—and as long as he gets a return, he’s not likely to kill the goose that laid the golden egg.”
“If he’d remained content only to provide money and take his profits, I’d agree with you, but he didn’t.” Nolles scowled. “His lordship is a spoiled, spiteful child, and if it suited him, he’d turn us over to the authorities in a heartbeat.” His fingers tightened on his glass. “I was against letting him meet with Dudley, but Padgett thought otherwise.” He took an angry breath. “If Canfield had stayed in London, I’d have been happy enough to take his money and pay him something on his ‘investment, ’ but the fool had to come here.”
Townsend didn’t care overmuch what happened to Canfield, but no matter how far he had fallen, he had an aversion to outright murder and he mumbled, “But as long as he invests—”
Nolles’s hand slapped the table. “You forget I met with Padgett in London last week and he confirmed that Canfield doesn’t
have
the funds to invest anymore. Canfield is desperate for money—which makes him dangerous—and useless.”
have
the funds to invest anymore. Canfield is desperate for money—which makes him dangerous—and useless.”
“So where did he get the money to lose tonight? And pay lodgings here? If his finances were so desperate, I wouldn’t have thought he’d have left High Towers. He was a guest there and it wasn’t costing him a penny.”
Nolles tossed down the last of his hock. Putting the glass down on the table, he muttered, “Most likely his father has softened toward him and sent him some money.”
Townsend leaned forward. “Well then,” he said, “isn’t that promising? Perhaps before long, he’ll be restored to his father’s bosom and once again be plump in the pocket—with money to invest.”
Nolles flashed him an icy green glance that sent a chill down Townsend’s spine. Showing his teeth, Nolles snarled, “I’ll not have my fate in the hands of that strutting coxcomb!”
“And, uh, Padgett agrees? The death of a member of the aristocracy will not go unnoticed. I would think that Padgett would advise against it.”
Nolles shook his head, an ugly smile crinkling the scar on his cheek. “The moment he approached Padgett, Canfield signed his death warrant.” His voice full of contempt, he asked, “Who do you think told Dudley to feed Canfield my name and location? Killing him was always part of the plan. Of course, Padgett agrees, you hen-hearted looby!”
Townsend flushed to the tips of his ears, and his eyes dropped to hide the rage searing through him. What he wouldn’t give to have his hands around Nolles’s throat, throttling the life out of the little bastard.
Nolles watched him, and misliking the line of Townsend’s mouth, his fingers closed around the small pistol he carried in his vest pocket. He didn’t believe that Townsend would attack him, but he admitted that it had been stupid of him to show his scorn so openly. Dealing with Canfield was trouble enough; he didn’t need to give Townsend a reason to betray him.
Knowing he had to retrieve the situation, Nolles muttered, “That was uncalled for. I apologize.” He forced a smile. “Take an extra hundred pounds from tonight’s winnings and put my outburst down to frustration with having to swallow Canfield’s arrogance.”
His features sullen, Jeffery demanded, “If Padgett wanted him dead, why didn’t he have Dudley take care of it in London? Why send him here?”
Wearily, Nolles said, “There are too many eyes in London, too many people we don’t own. Dudley could have arranged for Canfield to suffer a fatal knife wound in one of his brothels or in a dark alley, but Padgett thought it, er, prudent to take care of the problem here where we have control of the situation. As he pointed out, there are more places to hide a body where it will never be found. Canfield will simply ... disappear.” He smiled. “No body. No murder. No crime.” When Townsend continued to look unhappy, Nolles sighed and muttered, “If you don’t like it, you can discuss it with Padgett yourself—he’ll be here before long.”
Startled, Townsend jerked in his seat. “Why?”
Nolles’s lips tightened. “Because he wants to see for himself
precisely
how well your place fits our needs.”
precisely
how well your place fits our needs.”
Townsend looked alarmed. “You don’t think he’s unhappy with our arrangement, do you?”
“No. No, nothing like that,” Nolles said quickly, trying to calm the other man. “Padgett is not as familiar as Joslyn was with the way things are run, and he decided that it might be wise to see the entire operation before he invests more money.”
The conversation continued for a few minutes longer, but Nolles was aware that when Townsend finally rose and left, the other man was not completely mollified. His face hard, Nolles stared at the door through which Townsend had disappeared.
The squire, he decided grimly, could become a problem ... much like Canfield, but he’d worry about that later. A second disappearance or murder too soon after the first was bound to ignite the neighborhood and bring attention where he least wanted it, and he had Lord Joslyn to thank for it.
The events of that night back in March had been as devastating as unexpected, and thinking over the days and weeks that had followed Thomas Joslyn’s death and the confiscation of the contraband hidden in the tunnels beneath Windmere, his face twisted into a mask of hate. Lord Joslyn and his brother and that wretched Lamb had cost him a great deal, and he swore that soon, they’d suffer retribution—even if Padgett advised against it.
Nolles stared moodily at his glass, thinking of Lord Padgett. Padgett and another friend of Tom Joslyn’s, Stanton, had been involved in the smuggling scheme right from the beginning, and while Stanton remained in the background, Padgett quickly bridged the chasm created by Tom’s death. Even with Padgett taking over, it had taken them months to recover from the loss of all goods confiscated from Windmere’s tunnels, but once Nolles had brought Townsend into the fold and with the access to the cellars of The Birches, they’d progressed.
Padgett was no Tom Joslyn, but he and Padgett rubbed along together well enough, Nolles conceded. Still, they had disagreements—putting Canfield in touch with Dudley and from Dudley to him was only one of them. He sighed. At least Padgett realized that Canfield had to be eliminated, but despite what he’d told Townsend, he’d have preferred it be done in London. With the deaths of Tom Joslyn and the Windmere butler, Peckham, back in March and the discovery of the contraband, there’d been enough upheaval in the area. Lying low seemed wise, but no matter how Padgett felt about it, Canfield had to die. He was trouble. As were the Joslyns ... His fingers strayed to the still-tender scar on his cheek. I should have kicked Luc Joslyn to death when I had the chance, he thought sourly, and damn the consequences.
When he’d learned by accident from Canfield and the younger Ordway that Luc would be dining at High Tower, it had seemed a perfect opportunity to strike at the Joslyn family. There was only one route Luc would take home afterward and that made it child’s play to lie in wait for him. Remembering the orgasmic rush that flooded through him when his boot had smashed into Luc’s head, he decided that he didn’t regret his actions and given the chance he’d do it all over again. My mistake, he admitted, was in being overconfident and thinking that it would be Luc Joslyn who would come looking for my blood.
He’d known that attacking the viscount’s half brother would have repercussions, but he hadn’t expected such a swift reaction or for the trouble to arrive in the form of John Lamb. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He touched the scar. And he was going to take great pleasure, very great pleasure in killing Lamb.
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