Must he? He supposed it couldn’t be avoided.
“I’ve a little matter I wanted to discuss with you.” The last time Vinceberry had wanted to discuss something with Finn, he’d put him on a wild-goose chase looking for a man who was shagging his wife. The man didn’t exist. But it had been a bit of sport trying to figure out what had happened.
“How can I be of service?” Finn asked. Very few people knew he took great pleasure in solving crimes. And that he employed a small lot of thieftakers and spies. Unfortunately, the viscount was well aware.
“Not service, particularly,” Vinceberry prevaricated. “But I thought you might want to know…”
“Pray tell,” Finn drawled.
“It’s about Katherine.”
Finn’s gut clenched. “Katherine is no longer my concern.”
“Rumor has it she has taken up with Mayden.”
She’d taken up with the Earl of Mayden before she’d even left Finn. Mayden was an earl. But not a kind man. “That is not news to me.”
“The news, my boy, is that she was seen about town looking like he cuffed her a bit too hard on the cheek. She’d tried to cover it with powder, but it was clear as day.”
“Why is this any of my business?” Finn asked. He regretted the sharpness of his tone for only a moment.
Vinceberry tugged at his cravat. “I thought you might want to know, what with the fact that she’s,” he stopped to clear his throat, “increasing.”
So someone had gotten Katherine with child? Poor sod. “I still fail to see why this should concern me.”
“You didn’t know.” The man sat back and pushed his lips closed tightly. He inhaled, like he was steeling himself. “You needn’t claim the bastard, of course.”
“Why would I—?” Finn bit of the rest of his sentence as understanding dawned. “You’re implying that the bastard is mine.”
If it was, Katharine would have already come to him to collect funds from him. And for him to secure a place for her to live. She knew he would come up to snuff. “I’ll pay a visit to Katherine,” he bit out. He got to his feet.
“Brilliant idea,” the old man said. His eyes narrowed. “Take care with Mayden. He’s not known for his patience. I hear he’s very protective of his little dove.”
Protective, aside from the times he hit her. Of course. Finn understood men like him all too well. “I’ll take great care.”
Finn left the shop with a purpose in mind. But he glanced down at his watch and noticed the time. He didn’t have time to pay a call on Katherine right now. But he’d be certain to do so very soon. Finn stepped back into the modiste’s shop, and the tinkle over the door drew Colette out to greet him. The moment she saw him, the sway in her step grew almost provocative. It was most unfortunate that she no longer tempted him.
“Is Miss Thorne ready to depart?” he asked.
“Almost,” she said, as she stepped close enough to graze his arm with the side of her breast. “A lovely young lady,” she said, watching his face.
“She is quite dear to her family,” he said. He refused to fall into Colette’s trap.
“Will you be attending Ackley’s soiree tomorrow night?”
He hadn’t planned to attend. But it would be the best and only way to get close enough to Katherine to find out the truth of her situation. She always attended Lord Ackley’s soirees. They were known for their debauchery. Ackley had married his former mistress. She walked about in polite society but was still shunned in a lot of places. So she liked to throw parties where men could bring their mistresses and feel comfortable that no one would be the wiser. These parties usually required masks, but it was fairly easy to find out who was who after speaking with them. He knew Katherine intimately; he felt certain he could find her in a crowd.
“The soiree?” Colette pressed.
“I haven’t decided yet.” She looked up at him like she was waiting for an invitation. “I have invited a lady to attend with me.”
Colette laughed. It was a throaty sound, more like a purr than merriment. It made his skin crawl. “Who is the lucky chit?” Colette asked. She pointed toward the back of the shop. “Certainly not Miss Thorne?”
“Certainly not,” he spit out, trying to look appalled. “Her father and my brother would skin me alive for even thinking of taking an innocent to such a place. I rather like my stones just as they are.”
***
Claire stood behind the curtain and gritted her teeth so loudly she was surprised Finn couldn’t hear her. But he kept talking with the lady he called Colette. And Claire listened. She’d take his stones herself if he even dared to attend a soiree with the modiste. She was awfully familiar with his person. And he seemed to be enamored of her breasts. He hadn’t taken his eyes off them as they talked.
Claire pushed the curtain to the side and stepped into the entryway. “Miss Thorne,” Finn said with a quick bow. “Did Colette see to your every need?”
“Not the way she wants to see to yours,” Claire muttered.
“Beg your pardon?” Finn asked. His eyes twinkled, so she knew he’d heard her.
“I have a small wardrobe to send with Miss Thorne,” the modiste said. “We just happened to have a customer who ordered a lot of clothes and left for the continent before she picked them up. We have been waiting for the right person to come along and claim them. We shortened the hem on this one, and we’re working on the rest.”
“You look lovely, Miss Thorne,” he said. His eyes jumped about on her body, rather like he was watching a tennis match. Did she discomfit him? Perhaps a bit.
“Thank you,” she replied. Her heart thrilled at the tiny compliment. “If you’d send the rest of the clothing to Robinsworth’s address?” he asked of the modiste.
“Robinsworth’s address?” The modiste looked startled. “Rumor has it that’s where you’re residing, my lord.”
Finn looked down his nose at the woman. “You’re certainly not implying that there’s anything untoward happening at Robinsworth’s?”
Claire thrilled as the modiste said, “Certainly not.” She turned to Claire and curtsied. “It was an honor seeing you today, my lady.”
Finn held out his arm and Claire laid her hand upon it. He led her out of the shop with a determined stride. It wasn’t until they were outside that he took a deep breath. “What’s your relationship with that woman?” Claire asked. She hated herself as soon as the words left her mouth. But she couldn’t keep from asking.
“Define ‘relationship,’” he said with an unrepentant grin.
“You’ve bedded her.” Claire’s heart thumped hard within her breast. She didn’t like the thought of him with the modiste at all. Not one bit. In fact, she had an uncommon urge to stomp back into the shop and jerk the woman’s hair from her head.
“That was a very long time ago.” He looked a little uncomfortable as he handed her into the carriage.
“Not long enough for her.” Claire harrumphed, falling back heavily against the squabs. “To what party was she referring?”
“Just a gathering.” He looked out the carriage window.
“Do you plan to attend?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Why?” Her heart stuttered as she waited for his response.
“I need some information that can only be obtained at this soiree.”
“So, you do plan to attend.”
“Only if I can find someone to accompany me.”
“I would be happy to attend with you.”
“It’s not that kind of soiree,” he said with a harsh glance in her direction. “It’s not for ladies. It’s for people like Colette.”
“And like you.”
“And like me,” he agreed. “And not for ladies like you.”
Didn’t he know that she could be anyone she wanted to be? She spent her li
fe in disguise. She could be anyone she wanted and make everyone believe it. “I’m not innocent, you know.” She said the words softly. And he suddenly turned to look at her. His gaze was hot enough to set fire to the carriage.
“I was there when you lost your innocence, Claire. You need not remind me.”
“But you just said I couldn’t attend with you because I’m not the right kind of lady.”
“You’re still not the right kind of lady.”
“I beg to differ.”
“It’s a masked ball. With all sorts of debauchery. Courtesans and mistresses. And a few paid ladies.”
“You mean whores?”
Finn sputtered into his closed fist. “Where did you learn such a word?”
Claire rolled her eyes at him. “You’ve been inside me, for goodness sakes. I’m no better than any of those ladies. Let me attend with you. Just for the sport of it. You can get your information and then we can leave.”
“Don’t say things like that,” he ground out. His voice sounded like it had been dragged down a gravel road before it left his lips.
“That I’m no better than those ladies?”
“That too.” He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “And that I’ve been inside you.”
Claire’s breath caught in her throat.
“I happen to remember it in vivid detail,” he went on to say. His gaze was locked on hers. “You needn’t comment on it.”
“You remember…?” Her voice was a quiet whisper, but he still heard her.
His fists clenched at his sides. He inhaled deeply, steeling himself before he said, “I remember everything. The taste of your skin. The smell of your neck. The feel of your thighs wrapped around me. The little breathy sounds as you cried out. I remember it all. I remember it in great detail. So, you would do well not to speak of it again.”
“Or what?” she taunted.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and a footman opened the door and lowered the step. “Or you might find yourself in a similar situation.”
“Take me with you tomorrow?” she insisted. She didn’t want him going to a den of iniquity alone. Or with any other woman.
“No.”
She would just have to change his mind.
Twelve
Finn dressed with great care the next night, making sure his cravat was folded to perfection, and the pin that winked from the center of it matched his eyes perfectly. He let Simmons apply scented shaving soap when he shaved off his evening stubble. He looked presentable, he assumed. He tugged at the length of his jacket. Despite the debauchery that would be present, he knew this would be a formal ball.
Simmons bent and wiped an imaginary spot from the toe of Finn’s boot. He stood up and surveyed Finn with a critical eye. “I believe you are presentable, my lord,” Simmons said.
He was more than presentable. Presentable was a Christmas goose. He was the blasted chandelier in the middle of the ballroom, alight with a thousand flaming candles.
Finn hated these gatherings. He would rather stay at home. If he stayed home, he could go and find Claire and entice her to talk to him. She’d been surprisingly absent all day. Finn had even gone to search her out at one point during the day, worried for her, but was informed by Wilkins that she had gone out to visit the apothecary with her new maid.
What on earth might she need from the apothecary? And with what did she purchase it?
“I gave her some of the household funds,” Wilkins had informed him. “I believe His Grace would have wanted me to do so.”
Finn should have thought of her need for money and given her some of her own. He had plenty to spare.
He looked once more in the looking glass, content with what he saw. He would go quickly to Ackley’s ball and find Katherine, and then ask her that fateful question. The question that could change the course of his life.
He highly doubted that the child was his. But one could not be certain of such matters. The thought of having a child didn’t frighten him. The thought of having a child with Katherine did.
Finn shrugged into his coat, took his walking stick and hat from Wilkins, and started for the front door. He’d called for a carriage before he came downstairs, and the staff at the Hall was nothing if not efficient. Wilkins opened the door, and Finn stepped out into the night. He turned back to look at the upstairs window. He very nearly turned around and went back inside when he saw a figure standing in the window upstairs, watching him leave. He couldn’t see her face, but he had no doubt it was Claire. He tipped his hat at her, and she raised her hand and waved.
The footman opened the carriage door and Finn stepped inside. He leaned back heavily against the squabs. He didn’t relish this night, not in the least. He wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation with Katherine. He wasn’t even looking forward to the debauchery. He had only one woman on his mind, and she’d been on his mind for months. And now she was in his house. And he was gone. He sighed heavily.
From the darkness on the other side of the coach, a throaty laugh erupted. Finn jumped and reached for the lamp. As he did, the person on the darkened side of the carriage came to sit beside him. He looked her up and down.
“Who the devil are you?” he asked.
“I can be whoever you want me to be,” she purred. She wore a black silk mask that tied behind her head. Her hair was a riot of black curls atop her head, held back by shimmering diamond hair clips.
The scent of her reached up to tickle his nose. It was the soft smell of lemons and summer. He would know that smell anywhere. In fact, it invaded his dreams most nights, wrapping around his manhood and squeezing. Much like it was doing now. “Claire?” he asked.
She laughed and tugged the mask from her face. “I thought it would take you longer.” Her lips formed a pout. And he immediately wanted to kiss her.
Finn moved to tap the roof so he could call the coachman to turn around and take her back. But she reached over and covered his hand with hers, drawing it down into her lap. “Claire,” he warned. “You have to go back to the Hall.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
***
Claire didn’t like the idea of him going to a den of iniquity. Not at all. And she was bound and determined that he would not go without her. She’d spent the entire day preparing for the ball. She’d even paid a visit to the apothecary to get tint for her hair. Her normal blond locks were now a sooty black. Her face was painted and her eyes lined lightly with kohl. She even had a tiny beauty mark on her left cheek.
She looked up at Finn, prepared to explain her actions. But his eyes were riveted to her breasts. She looked down and tugged at the bodice of her gown, trying to bring it a little higher, but it was no use. Instead, she straightened her spine and stared back at him.
“That dress is positively indecent. Where did you obtain it?”
“I paid a visit to your Colette and told her what I needed.”
Finn groaned. “What possessed you to do such a thing? Are you mad? She’ll tell everyone!”
“She had no idea who I was. I went after I’d tinted my hair and painted my face. She thinks I am a newcomer to town and that my name is Mrs. Abercrombie.”
“And she’s not my Colette,” he grumbled.
“She would like to be.” It was amazing the things women would say when they didn’t assume you were an innocent. “She was rather envious that I had been invited to this particular ball.” But that was neither here nor there. She took a deep breath and pushed on. “Tell me what tonight’s mission is. So I can prepare myself.”
“You will wait in the carriage, Claire. I will not take you into Ackley’s ball. There are things there that someone of your sort should never see. You’d be scarred for life.”
“Public beheading?” Claire gasped, teasing him.
“More like public intercourse,” he said, raising a brow at h
er.
Claire’s heart stuttered. “You mean… two people…” She let her words trail off.
“Or three or four,” he corrected. “This is not your typical soiree.”
“I can overlook the public intercourse.” She tapped his leg, and he scooted it away from her. “What’s wrong?”
“I will not take you to this party. I’d take you home if I didn’t think this would take no more than a moment.” He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I just need to find someone and ask some questions.” He looked down at her dress again. Then back up to her hair. “What did you put on your hair?” He pulled one of her curls until the curl straightened, and then let it slip from his fingers to curl back up at the base of her neck. Claire shivered lightly.
“Don’t worry. I used a little faerie dust in my hair, so it will wash out tonight.”
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice suddenly raspier than usual. “But I like your real hair color more. I miss it.”
“Thank you.” Her heart was beating so strongly that he could probably hear it.
The carriage began to slow. “You will remain in the carriage,” he warned. She wouldn’t, but she would let him go inside before he figured that out. She could be a help to him in his mission, whatever it was. He just didn’t know that yet.
She nodded at him and heaved a sigh. “I will remain in the carriage. Though I’d hoped for at least a dance.”
“We can dance when we get back to the Hall,” he said. He pointed a finger at her and shook it. “Do not get out of the carriage.”
He spoke briefly to the footmen who remained with the carriage, and one of them looked through the window into the coach, surprised to see her there. “Who is she, my lord?” one of them asked.
“Just an acquaintance of mine,” he said. “Do not let her out of the coach.”
“You can count on us, my lord,” the footman said. Then he leaned against the door and sealed her in. She could get out. She was a faerie after all. But she couldn’t shrink and fly away in this dress. Definitely not. She’d need her fae clothing for that. But she would find a way. She would not let Finn attend this party without her.