More than a Masquerade by Adele Clee
Chapter 2
For the love of God,Eli was going to murder Lucius Daventry with his bare hands. The man had promised to send a woman who could fight her way out of a skirmish. One who could talk her way out of volatile situations.
Miss Gambit was a damn siren.
A dangerous creature who could charm the devil.
There wasn’t a chance in hell of him hiring her. The woman would push him to the brink of insanity. She was funny, charming, utterly unpredictable. Precisely the type of female he avoided. But he needed to appease Lucius Daventry and so had no option but to put Miss Gambit to the test.
“The knife is so small, I can strap it to my thigh.” She gripped the ornate handle and drew the Scottish blade from its sheath. “It slips easily into my boot.”
Blood rushed to Eli’s cock for the second time this evening. The impudent devil first raised his head when she accused him of being stiff. Stiff? He was as solid as a blacksmith’s forearm. Hence the reason he needed to get rid of her. Quickly.
“Put the blade away before someone calls a constable,” he urged between gritted teeth. “Has Daventry taught you nothing? An enquiry agent should avoid drawing undue attention.”
She laughed in the light way that stirred something inside him. “People are far too drunk to notice. Despite the light of a thousand lamps, it’s still rather dim tonight. And you were the one who insisted on snooping in my reticule.”
The woman had an answer for everything. “If Daventry thinks you have the skill to assist me, why send you with chaperones?” Perhaps he could rile her enough she’d refuse to work for him.
Miss Gambit glanced at Dante D’Angelo, sitting with his wife in a booth on the opposite side of the colonnade. “Mr Daventry takes his responsibility to his agents seriously. As a gentleman, he would never expect a lady to come to Vauxhall alone.”
Eli felt a sharp stab to his conscience. “Unlike me.”
“Unlike you,” she agreed.
Damn, he admired her honesty, too.
The siren set about putting her odd collection of objects into her reticule and then took another sip of wine. Teaching her to drink quantities of alcohol would only end in trouble. When in her cups, she was likely the tactile sort who stroked a man’s arm as if it were his shaft, who brushed an errant lock from his brow and whispered sweet nothings. The sort who tangled a man in her web and left him paralysed with passion.
Eli pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the tension.
The minx noticed the crack in his defences. “Too much wine, Mr Hunter?”
“Not enough, madam.”
She snatched the bottle and refilled his glass. “As your assistant—”
“Apprentice.” Curse the saints! He had no intention of hiring her.
“As your apprentice, it’s my job to perform the mundane tasks.”
The tasks he wished she’d perform were anything but mundane. Hence the reason he needed to tell her she’d failed his stupid test. Daventry could send another agent, preferably one with greying hair and whiskers sprouting from her chin.
“I need an expert, Miss Gambit, not someone who stumbles about like a newborn foal.”
“An expert in what exactly?” Her smile faded. “You haven’t mentioned why you need an agent.” The visible signs of insecurity left him wanting to play the affable gentleman, not the cold-hearted bastard.
“I need to recover a stolen artefact.” And punish the traitor in their midst, though there was a damn sight more to the problem than that. “Which is why one of your tasks is to steal the ruby stick pin from my waistcoat. You have until the evening’s end to complete your assignment.”
“Steal the pin?” The lady narrowed her gaze. “How can I steal what I cannot see?”
Eli touched the ruby hidden in the red collar of his waistcoat.
“Heavens, it’s so small.” Miss Gambit leant over the table and peered at the tiny jewel. The edges of her cloak parted, drawing his attention to the lush curve of her breasts. “I’ll have to grope around for five minutes to find it.”
Eli inwardly groaned. Miss Gambit was like a gift that kept on giving. He made a mental note to visit Lucius Daventry and whip him with a birch.
“Fail to steal the pin, and you fail the task,” he said in the blunt tone he used with most people. He poured a splash of wine into her glass. “You’ll need to perform while slightly sotted. I can down a flagon of wine and not feel the effects.”
“So you wore red tonight to conceal the pin.” She spoke as if she knew all his secrets. “I thought you wished to complement my outfit, thought you’d worn red as a sign of solidarity.”
He snorted. “Everything I do has a purpose. I’m not prone to flights of fancy or bouts of emotion.” Indeed, he’d not entertained a woman in his bed for years. The mere thought roused the bitter feelings he fought to keep buried. “I’m never swayed by sentiment.”
He was not a slave to his wants and desires.
But Miss Gambit was the first woman in a long time to test his reserve.
Was that why Lucius Daventry sent her?
“You’ve been hurt,” the mystic blurted in the carefree manner of someone ordering from the menu. “Quite deeply.” She gave a nonchalant wave towards his person. “That’s why you’re so stiff, so reserved. That’s why people say you’re a man without feeling. You’re running away from something, Mr Hunter, running from—”
“Enough!” Eli shot to his feet.
All conversation in the adjacent supper boxes died.
D’Angelo fixed them with his impenetrable gaze.
“It’s time for your next test.” Eli tossed back his burgundy before stepping out of the booth. His anger was a palpable beast clawing at his shoulders. “Keep hold of your silk purse, for you may need a weapon. I pray you’re not afraid of the dark.”
Her eyes widened, but she quickly hid her fears. It was not his intention to scare her, but if Miss Gambit insisted on dicing with danger, he needed to know she could protect herself.
“I’m ready to prove I have the qualities you need, sir.”
Merciful Lord! Was there no respite from this torment?
“Follow me.” Eli might have offered his arm, might have played the courteous gentleman, but work was a serious business. He’d not come to Vauxhall to promenade or dote on a woman he found attractive.
“Where are we going?” Miss Gambit hurried to keep his quick pace.
“To the end of this tree-lined avenue.” Eli checked over his shoulder to ensure D’Angelo wasn’t following. “You’re to cover the length of the Dark Walk unaccompanied.”
She failed to smother a gasp.
Doubts surfaced. The need to play protector did, too. Damn. Every instinct said he should keep her in his sights. The logical voice in his head demanded he take her back to the supper box and find another way to test her mettle.
“Rest assured, sir, I shall pass your test. Should I encounter fools, know I can break a man’s nose if necessary.”
Eli might have laughed, but he found nothing amusing about the threat of danger. Miss Gambit must be prone to exaggeration. A woman with such dainty hands would struggle to hurt a boy, let alone a man.
“Daventry said you worked for Madame Dubarry. Rogues rarely frequent modiste shops, so where did you learn to fight?”
“You’d be surprised. Madame Dubarry had a certain allure that drew scoundrels in droves. Indeed, she eloped with the youngest son of a baron, and I was left to deal with her creditors.”
Eli glanced at her. “With shocking frequency, you seem to find yourself in distressing situations. Rather than improve your needlework skills at Madame Dubarry’s, did you learn to hit a man hard enough to break bones?”
“No, sir. I learnt to fight when living with Lady Hanaway.”
Confusion clouded his already addled mind. “A lady of gentle persuasion permitted you to spar with the servants?” Now he knew she was spinning a yarn.
“Of course not. Lady Hanaway would have been mortified to know her sons treated me with such disrespect. The blighters made my life a living hell. It’s partly why I never leave home without a weapon.”
Her confident tone said she spoke in earnest, yet it all seemed so far-fetched. “You should know something else about me, Miss Gambit. I do not suffer fools or liars. There is nothing I detest more than dishonesty.”
“Then it seems we were destined to work together, sir. I am of the same mind. The truth may sting, but lies leave a lasting wound.”
He felt a small prick to his conscience. Was it wrong of him to put her through an ordeal when he had no intention of hiring her? Should he just hit her with honesty and advise she find a safer profession? One where she was in no danger of tempting the most hard-hearted men.
Eli came to an abrupt halt. “Let me speak plainly.” Surely a woman who valued honesty could handle the truth. “I’ll not hire you to help solve my dilemma. I suspect you’re stubborn and too headstrong.”
“I prefer tenacious. It sounds much more appealing.”
“You’ll be more of a hindrance than a help.”
Miss Gambit’s striking blue eyes widened in anger, not shock. “Mr Hunter.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I have done everything you’ve asked. I have donned a ridiculous dress and played your silly game. I have—”
“There’s nothing ridiculous about that dress.” On the contrary, the red silk showed the curve of her breasts to perfection. The only regrettable thing was his need to voice his opinion.
Two lines formed between her brows. “You’re somewhat of an enigma, sir. One minute I’m a thorn in your side. Next, you’re admiring my clothes. Are you unwell? Perhaps it’s the wine.”
“It’s not the wine.”
“We could have met in the Order’s office in Hart Street, yet you forced me to come to Vauxhall. I passed your first test easily. Did you congratulate me? No. You looked remarkably unimpressed.”
“Only weak people need praise.”
“And you’re a man who makes assumptions.” She hurled the accusation like a powerful punch. “Let me complete both tests. If I fail to reach the end of the Dark Walk or fail to steal your ruby stick pin, then dismiss me.” She arched a brow before playing her ace card. “Mr Daventry will accept your decision if you’ve treated me fairly.”
And that was the crux of the problem.
Eli worked with Lucius Daventry, too. Though no one knew the identity of the men who toiled behind the scenes to see justice served. He was not an enquiry agent but a man who fixed problems. He did not work for the Order, per se, but for Daventry’s secret organisation, the Order of Themis. And he’d have to give Daventry a bloody good reason for not hiring this woman.
“Then let’s proceed to the Dark Walk, Miss Gambit.”
They strolled the last two hundred yards in silence. Perhaps she would take one glimpse down the shadowy avenue and admit defeat. Perhaps she would approach the task with a confidence that belied her years.
“The Dark Walk is home to degenerates,” Eli warned as they came to a halt at the entrance. The Walk was a verdant tunnel in the height of summer, a wild wilderness of bare boughs and lonely evergreens come winter. He didn’t mention he would be following her every move. Though this was more a test of logic than bravery.
“People use the walk to conceal all sorts of nefarious deeds,” she agreed before stepping into the dusky avenue and peering left and right. “But couples come here, too. Is there anything greater in this world than an expression of love?”
Miss Gambit stood beneath nature’s canopy like an angel of light in the darkness. She made love sound so simple, so pure and sincere. But Eli knew the sort of love conjured by the devil. A twisted love full of bitterness and betrayal.
“Don’t tell me,” she said before he could answer. “You don’t give praise, and you don’t believe in love. Your heart lives in an impenetrable fortress, and you’ve thrown away the key.”
She was rather astute, truth be told.
“And I thought I was unreadable. Perhaps it’s time for a new mask.”
“Pick one that allows you to smile on occasion.” She glanced left. “I shall walk the longest path. It’s not totally dark. I see hanging lanterns dotted along the route.”
Soon she would realise that the strange sounds were more frightening than the lack of light. The grunts, the groans, the sinister chuckles were enough to make a man bolt, let alone a golden-haired nymph.
“Take the shortest path. Walk to the end and back again.”
Miss Gambit bit down on her bottom lip and nodded.
The urge to comfort her came from nowhere. He hated how the foreign sensation took command of his senses and so blurted, “Be quick. I shall wait here.”
Without another word, she took to walking the devil’s road, a place where sinners with bestial appetites lurked, degenerates out to violate their fellow man. Eli stood at the junction and focused on the red silhouette moving amidst the indigo shadows.
When her head whipped left and right, he suspected she’d stumbled upon a couple fornicating. She quickened her pace, but didn’t run, didn’t swoon or suffer a fit of the vapours.
Eli’s heart pounded. No, he could not hire Miss Gambit. He’d be a nervous wreck fit for Bedlam. Logic said it was a mistake to hire a woman, yet he knew it would cause uproar in the Sanctum.
Then his worst nightmare formed before his eyes.
Two prominent figures stepped out from the blackness to block Miss Gambit’s path. Two boisterous devils who thought it amusing to snatch her mask and throw it into the shrubbery, to tug on the ribbons of her cloak.
“Turn around,” Eli whispered. “For the love of God, run.”
A sensible woman knew when to retreat. But the stubborn minx became embroiled in a verbal altercation. She tried to barge through the scoundrels, tried pushing them aside, but one grabbed her hood and yanked her backwards.
Anger reared.
An unholy rage had Eli sprinting along the avenue. He might have warned the bastards, demanded they keep their filthy hands to themselves. Might have tried to reason or bargain. But he was a man of action. A man who never gave miscreants a second chance.
Eli launched himself into the air, slammed his fist into one brute’s face and knocked the bastard out cold.
“Simmons!” the man’s accomplice cried.
“Release the lady.” Eli gestured to the unconscious dandy sprawled across the path. “Else, you’ll join your friend in the dirt.”
Miss Gambit took matters into her own hands. She stamped on the man’s foot and punched him on the nose. The devil clasped his hands to his face and dropped to his knees, howling in pain.
Struggling to control his temper, Eli kicked the rogue back onto his arse. “Should I see you here again, I’ll not be so forgiving.” Then he swept Miss Gambit into his arms and strode off towards the Hermits Walk.
“Put me down, sir!”
The nymph threaded her arms around his neck and fixed him with her piercing gaze. She was too close for comfort. The piquant scent of orange blossom teased his nostrils, a light fragrance that roused images of citrus groves in the height of summer. She was so soft, so supple. God, it had been so long since he’d craved a woman’s touch.
“Put me down, Mr Hunter,” she repeated, yet held him like she needed the heat of his body. “There’s no chance of the degenerates following.”
“Madam, I’ll not put you down until I find Dante D’Angelo and hand you over to his care. You’re a hellion who thrives on making mischief.” A harridan who pushed him to the brink of insanity.
She wriggled in his arms, and he tightened his grip.
“Let me down, sir, else I shall punch you on the nose.”
Strange. For a man who avoided intimacy, he found he could not let her go. “Punch me if you dare, but I’m not releasing you until I find D’Angelo.”
“Oh! I knew you were an obnoxious oaf the moment our eyes met.”
Yet he’d felt an odd stirring that had immediately set him on edge.
“People are staring,” she complained.
“I wouldn’t know. I’m so damn angry I can only see red.”
“You said we shouldn’t draw undue attention.”
“Sometimes, I’m forced to break my own rules.” Eli kept his gaze focused firmly ahead. He didn’t want to notice the white flecks in her blue eyes or the way her long lashes fluttered against her porcelain cheeks. He didn’t want to imagine setting his lips to hers and tasting heaven’s sweetness.
But the lady knew how to get under his skin.
“Carry me if you must.” Her hand slipped from his neck to cup his face. “Even your jaw is hard and rigid. What do you do to relax, Mr Hunter? What is your pleasure?”
In another lifetime, she would be his pleasure.
In this one, he was too damaged to succumb to temptation. If he wore his inner scars for all to see, he’d be a freak show at the fair. And she was an enquiry agent, a woman seeking independence. One with a mind clever enough to distract him while she attempted to steal his ruby stick pin.
Eli released her but set a steadying hand to her trim waist. “My pleasure is catching thieves in action, madam. You’ll need to take a less obvious approach if you mean to best me.”
Miss Gambit’s frustration radiated. She marched alongside him until they reached the supper boxes. Dante D’Angelo was busy feeding his wife grapes in a way that seemed highly erotic.
Eli grabbed hold of Miss Gambit’s wrist and stormed over to Daventry’s lackey. “Miss Gambit failed the test. If you see Daventry before I do, tell him I’ll not work with any of his agents and will source my own partner.”
“What? But that’s totally unfair.” Miss Gambit sounded more than displeased. “You cannot blame me for being accosted on the Walk. If you’d left me to deal with the matter, I would have prevailed.”
Eli swung around to face her. “A sensible woman would have retreated the moment the men blocked her path. You, madam, are illogical and a veritable shrew. You may take risks with your own life, but you’ll not take risks with mine.”
D’Angelo slipped out of the booth and squared his shoulders, ready for a confrontation. “Miss Gambit has the skill to assist you in your endeavour. Daventry will demand you reconsider.”
“I might have overlooked her recent error had she managed to steal my stick pin. As she failed both tasks, that’s the end of the matter.”
Miss Gambit braced her hands on her hips and her cloak gaped open. Eli’s traitorous gaze dipped to her breasts. Merciful Lord. No doubt she would ride roughshod over his dreams tonight.
Eli bowed and resisted bolting to the exit. “Good night, Miss Gambit. I’m sure you’ll be the perfect agent for some other sorry fellow.” Jealousy reared its head at the thought of her entertaining another man. Jealousy! Good Lord. This was worse than he feared. Four years without a woman in his bed was taking its toll.
“You’ll not find another agent with Miss Gambit’s skill,” D’Angelo pressed. “Might you give her one last test?”
“No one gets a second chance.” Not a cheating fiancé nor a backstabbing brother. Eli stole a glance at the woman who’d shaken his world in the space of an hour. “Might I suggest you find a safer means to earn a living?”
Then he turned on his heel and strode towards the Grand Walk.
As Eli left Vauxhall and made his way to the coach park, he convinced himself he would forget about Miss Gambit’s pleasing countenance, forget she excited him as no woman had done before.
What the hell was Daventry thinking, hiring her to catch criminals? The woman was a menace. Only a man three pence short of a shilling would contemplate forging a partnership.
So why did he feel a pang of regret? Why did every instinct demand he hire her to assist with his dilemma? He couldn’t answer either question. But as he climbed into his conveyance and settled into the black leather seat, his inner voice made a startling premonition.
Eli would encounter the confounding woman again.
He feared fate had decreed it.
