If You Give a Rake a Ruby (14 page)

“That one,” Fallon said, pointing to the burgundy gown with jet beading. I'll wear that tonight.” She lifted her ruby necklace from a box Lily had packed. “And this.”

“Yes, miss.”

Fallon was ready in an hour, but just barely. She wasn't entirely pleased with the way Kitty had styled her hair. It was swept up and coiled high on her head. She wasn't certain if she looked regal or like a lamp post. But Kitty was looking nervously at the clock, and so Fallon shrugged her shoulders, grabbed her wrap, and started downstairs. It wasn't as though she cared what her father thought of her. She hadn't seen him in years, and to say they parted on bad terms was an extreme understatement.

So why was she nervous? Why were her hands shaking? Why could she not seem to take a deep breath? She reached the ground floor of the town house and thought to check her hair once more in the gilded mirror hanging in the vestibule. Oh, it really was too high! She couldn't go like this.

“Bloody hell.”

Fallon spun around and spotted Warrick lounging against the banister. She hadn't seen him a moment before. He was studying her and shaking his head. “I know,” she said. “My hair isn't right. I'll fetch Kitty—”

“Don't move.”

She raised a brow as he moved forward, coming closer. “There's no time for any alteration, and I wouldn't want one anyway. Good God.”

Fallon sighed. “It's not
that
bad.”

“No, it's not bad at all. In fact, I'm going to have a devil of a time keeping my hands off you and even more of a challenge keeping other men's hands off you. You're bloody radiant.”

Fallon blinked. “Thank you. I think.”

He bent over her gloved hand, kissing it lightly. “I wish we were going anywhere but where we must tonight. I'd like nothing more than to see that gown in the glitter of ballroom chandeliers.”

“I thought you didn't dance.”

“Tonight I could make an exception.”

***

Warrick had not intended to return home so late. He didn't like leaving Fallon, even though he knew she was completely protected in his home. Still, he felt the urge to hurry through his business with the solicitor and return to her.

Admittedly, his intentions might not have been purely protective.

And so when he stepped out of his solicitor's office and onto the street, he almost knocked over the woman waiting to enter. “Pardon me,” he said perfunctorily. “I'm terribly sorry.”

“Warrick? Is that you?”

He paused and studied the woman more closely. “Louisa?” He took her arms and smiled at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Apparently we have the same solicitor.” She embraced him. “I've missed you.” She pulled back, touched his cheek. “You look tired.”

“You look lovely, as usual. You always were the best-looking of the Fitzhugh clan.”

She gave him a sad smile. “And you were always the best liar. I know I don't look well.”

She didn't. She looked thin and pale. He'd heard rumors her husband had recently acquired a new mistress. His neglect of his wife was obviously taking its toll. “Do you want me to speak to Hartford? I can be persuasive.”

“Good Lord, no!” She shook her head emphatically. “I am pathetic enough without asking my little brother to confront my husband.”

“I'm not so little anymore.”

“No, you're not.” She adjusted her hat. “I know Mother paid you a visit.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do not tell me you are going to lecture me as well.”

“At one time I would have. Now, I say happiness is fleeting. If you've found it, embrace it.”

Warrick raised his brows. His oldest sister had always been something of a moral stickler.

“I see I've shocked you.” A strand of her light brown hair blew across her cheek. “But you see, I like her.”

“Her?” He moved aside to allow a clerk to pass. “Fallon?”

“Yes, your courtesan. Did you not know she rejected Hartford? He offered her carte blanche, and she said no. She didn't want him.”

Warrick was not surprised.

A woman with a yapping terrier passed them, and Warrick nodded politely. Louisa waited until she was out of earshot to continue. “And so my point, dear brother, is that you should not allow Mother to arrange your life. Not all of her efforts are successful.”

“Point taken.” He moved to open the solicitor's door for her, but she put her hand on his arm.

“I know you have your pride, but so does Papa. If you go to him—”

Warrick stiffened. “I have tried to speak to him.”

“I know. He didn't mean what he said. He was stricken with grief and not himself. He loves you. He doesn't blame you for Edward.”

Warrick shook his head. He wished that were true.

“We all loved Edward,” Louisa was saying, “but he is dead, and you are alive. We miss you.”

“And I miss you.” That much was true, at least.

“I should go in.” But she did not release his arm. “Will I see you at the ball?”

“Louisa.” He shook his head.

“Come, Warrick. Papa wants to see you. He loves you.” The bell on the solicitor's door tinkled faintly as she disappeared inside. Warrick stood on the street, watching a steady stream of horses and carriages pass by.

You
killed
him
. His father's voice rang in his ears.
You
murdered
my
son
.

Warrick loved Louisa, and as much as it pained him to admit it, she was wrong about their father. His love for Warrick had died with Edward.

Several hours later, Fallon served as the perfect distraction from the meeting with his sister. Warrick followed Fallon to the carriage, trying very hard not to stare at the creamy skin of her back. Where in God's name had she unearthed that gown? It was the most seductive thing he had ever seen. Somehow she managed to wear it without looking the least bit tawdry. It dipped low in the back, showing an appalling amount of flesh, and hugged her curves when she moved. The dark red color made her skin look warm and creamy. He wanted to kiss her, run his hands over that skin to feel for himself.

But this would not do. He had more important matters to think of at the moment. Matters of life and death. It would be better if he put Fallon out of his mind. He would find somewhere to hide her until he had Bayley where he wanted him.

Tonight Warrick intended to find out who had ordered his termination.

The Merry Widow was all but empty when they arrived. It was still early, and Warrick knew it would not stay so for long. This time, when he and Fallon entered, the clerk showed them directly back to Daisy's chambers. She was sitting at her desk, spectacles on her nose, looking at a ledger. She looked up when they entered. “Finally! I received your note and didn't know what to make of it.” She stood and crossed the room to stand opposite Warrick. “I don't know who Joseph Bayley is, but I'm not going to leave my own establishment.” She looked at Fallon. “I shouldn't have to leave, should I?” And then as though really seeing Fallon, she reached out and touched the glittering beads on her gown. “Marchioness, do you think you could stand in the common room for just a few moments? Or, better yet, stand outside—”

“Daisy, she's not here to bring you more business. I'm afraid tonight I have to ask you to repay a favor.”

“You know I am more than happy to do anything you ask, Warrick, but why do I have to leave?”

Fallon put her hand on Daisy's arm. “Warrick just wants to protect you, Daisy. The men who are coming here tonight are dangerous.”

“As though I don't know how to deal with dangerous men.” She puffed her chest out.

“Daisy, I have no doubt of your capabilities, but I'd feel better if you were safely away. If you were here, I'd spend the entire time worrying about you and not thinking about what I should.”

Daisy blinked. “Oh, well, if you put it that way I suppose I could find somewhere else to go for a few hours.”

“Thank you, Daisy.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Now I owe you a favor.”

“Rubbish.” She waved her hand. “I still owe you at least a dozen.”

“Daisy,” Fallon said, “what is it Warrick did for you that you are so indebted to him?”

Warrick opened his mouth to change the subject, but then he reconsidered. Perhaps he should allow Daisy to sing his praises. It might make Fallon see him in a different light.

“I know he saved your brother,” Fallon added.

“That he did,” Daisy said. “But then, when he brought my Robbie home, he also helped him find a place. It's not many who want to hire a man with a deformity, even if it was from the war. Now Robbie works as a groom for Lord Darlington, and it's perfect because Robbie has always loved horses.”

“Lord Darlington?” Fallon glanced at Warrick. “I see.”

Warrick shrugged. “Darlington needed a groom.”

“But that's not all he did,” Daisy said. “When Robbie was gone in the war, I didn't have any means of income. I'd been a dressmaker, but the shop I worked at had to close when the lady what ran it fell ill. I ended up on the streets.”

“Oh.” Fallon put her hand on Daisy's arm.

“Don't pity me, my lady. It was good money, and I didn't mind the work. I like a handsome gentleman, I do.” She winked at Warrick, and he shook his head and laughed. “But some of the other girls couldn't stand on their own, and there are some bad men…what you'd call…” She put a finger to her lips.

“Unscrupulous?” Warrick suggested.

“Yes! That's it. They were unscrupulous, and the girls didn't have anywhere else to go. So Warrick helped me open this place. Now there's a safe place for girls to ply their trade.” She grinned. “I make a bit of money myself.”

Fallon looked about the room, and Warrick wondered if she saw what he saw—the trappings of a woman who had come from nothing and made her way in the world. That was, if anyone could see past the mounds of roses.

“And I can buy as many roses as I please!”

“That must be lovely. Was Warrick a client of yours?”

Daisy looked horrified. “Oh, no! I mean, I wouldn't mind giving him a tumble, but he's always been all business.” She narrowed her eyes at Fallon. “But I expect that might not be the case with you.”

“Daisy—” Warrick interrupted. “Is there anything you need to take with you? Can I help you collect your things?

“Oh, all right. I'm going. I wasn't asking for details.” She took her reticule and her hat and started for the door. “But just out of curiosity, my lady, what do you charge? You know, from a purely business perspective?”

“Daisy!” Warrick put his arm about her waist and hustled her toward the door. “We can discuss it later.”

When she was gone, he turned back to the room and surveyed the rose-infested chamber. He knew Daisy had a peephole into the public room, and that would be perfect for Fallon to use to observe her father. But she also needed somewhere to hide if something went wrong or Bayley demanded a more private place to talk. “This armoire might be the thing,” he said, crossing the room and opening the door. It was full of—what else?—roses, but he liberated them, making space for Fallon.

She watched him quietly, and he wasn't certain he liked the thoughtful expression on her face. “What are you thinking about?” It was a dangerous question to ask a woman. He should know as he had two sisters and two sisters by marriage.

She shook her head. “Nothing, really.”

He didn't believe that, but he was smart enough to let it go. Finally, a woman who didn't need to share her every thought and feeling.

“I'm not offended by Daisy's remarks, if that's what you think.”

Or perhaps she did want to share.

“She means well,” he said, checking the time on his pocket watch. He still had several hours in which to survey the layout of the brothel and make last-minute adjustments to his plan.

“I know, and I do play the role of a courtesan. It's not as if I'm a lady.”

Warrick set down a vase of flowers and took Fallon by the shoulders. “You're more of a lady than most of the so-called ladies of the
ton
. You're kind, intelligent, fearless.”

She shook her head. “Oh, I'm not fearless. Kind and intelligent and—don't forget—fascinating, I will give you, but not fearless.”

“And what are you afraid of?”

“My father,” she said softly. “I don't know how I'll feel seeing him after all of these years. I thought he was dead. I thought I was alone in the world.” She shrugged. “But now I don't know what to think.”

“There's nothing to think, Fallon. You don't owe him anything, and you're better off without him.”

“I know.”

“And?”

She glanced up at him, those dark eyes full of unshed tears. He knew she'd never let him see her weep, and somehow that made the knife in his gut dig even deeper. “He's my
father
,” she whispered. “No matter what he's done or who he is, he will always be my father.”

Warrick let out a slow sigh. He felt the same way about his father. The man was an ass who'd disowned him because he hadn't followed Society's dictates for what the third son of an earl should do with his life, but that didn't mean he didn't love his father and miss him.

That didn't mean he wasn't thinking about what he could do to mend their relationship. Even if Lady Edith was out of the question, there must be something. There must be some way his father could forgive him for Edward.

“And this is not what we should be thinking about right now,” Fallon said. “You have plans to make, I'm sure. And after tonight, you'll have your answers and we won't have to hide in your town house or creep about in dusty tunnels.”