No Place for a Lady (35 page)

"Take charge," muttered Marcus, too involved with his own fight to respond directly to Thompson. "Be the man. Obviously he was not reared... by any female... I know."

Then, adopting a new strategy, Marcus abruptly pulled back and waited, and waited, and waited until his opponent committed to a punch. Only then did he strike. He threw his whole body into a blow aimed at the man's chin. It landed with a horrible crunch, snapping the man's head backward, and dropping him like a stone.

Marcus turned to see Thompson finally finishing off his own brute.

"Well done," he commented, impressed by the man's fighting skill.

"It would not have had to be done at all," responded Thompson irritably, "if you kept better control of Fantine."

"I! I assure you, you overestimate the power men have over women. Truly, they do not need us as much as they pretend."

"That is merely the excuse of a man who cannot instill good discipline."

Marcus started to respond. Indeed, he had the words at the ready, prepared to eviscerate the man. But then he stopped. He remembered voicing similar thoughts not too many years before. Thompson was only speaking as young men did, young men who had not yet learned that people, especially women like Fantine, would not be dictated to by anyone.

"Someday," he said softly, "a young woman will come along and teach you exactly how wrong you are. Until then, believe in your own power as a man. It is as much a part of youth as scraped knees and bloody noses."

"And someday soon," Thompson retorted hotly, "you will see Fantine curb her wild ways and perform to my dictates as a lady! As her husband, indeed as her fiancé, I declare this type of folly to be at an end!"

Marcus merely shook his head. "Then you will have destroyed the very part of Fantine that you love." And with that, he turned, searching for the woman in question, wondering what she thought of her suitor now.

He scanned the darkness, thinking that she was resting against a tree. But the figure he spotted was her felled opponent. A further search of the area revealed nothing of her whatsoever.

"Damn! She is gone!"

Thompson groaned. "Now what game is she playing?"

Marcus whipped around, finding his temper much too short. "This is no game," he said darkly. "And if it were, she is a much better player than both you and I." When he saw the man's disdainful expression, Marcus cursed again. Thompson would never understand. He was too young.

"We will have to look for her," Marcus continued. "She is probably still nearby. You search in front of the house. Try to catch her if she is leaving. I will go through the gardens. If you have not heard from me within a half hour, assume I have found her and taken her home."

Thompson nodded, moving off with a speed and conviction that Marcus envied. What he would give to be that sure of himself again. But he was not. Indeed, ever since Fantine had come into his life, he was not sure of anything or anyone, least of all himself.

Two months ago, he had seen his entire future stretched before him in an endless series of tedious days. Now, he was newly emerged from a fistfight at a ball to slip through the shadows, straining for any sign of a woman who might be joining forces with a criminal leader.

At least he was not bored.

Perhaps that was the best explanation why Fantine held such desperate fascination for him. Or could it be that his feelings had changed from fascination to something deeper? Marcus paused in mid-step, not sure he should pursue that particular thought. No, he decided. Now was definitely not the time to think about that.

Especially as he had just found Fantine.

She was in the main portion of the garden, shielded from view by the night's gloom. But even in the dark, he recognized her silhouette. Never before had he responded so completely to anyone, seeing not only the outline of her lithe form, but sensing her absolute stillness, knowing she was listening to a conversation on the other side of the greenery.

Then she moved. Her head turned slightly, and he knew she saw him. With a nod, she acknowledged his presence, then turned her attention back to the conversation.

He listened too, though he heard very little—only snatches of words spoken by two men. It had to be Hurdy and Teggie.

Finally, their quarry was at hand.

So he slipped closer, easing his body alongside hers, feeling her presence as a palpable, erotic force despite the seriousness of the situation.

She turned once again and raised her finger to her lips, her expression both fierce and beautiful in the moonlight. She wanted him to be quiet. He wanted nothing more than to lay her down on the rich, fertile ground and bury himself in her.

Good Lord, he was insane!

Then someone spoke loud enough for him to understand the words, effectively distracting him.

"Good God, I did not pay you to think!"

"But—"

"I want the man dead! If you cannot do it—"

"Oi can, Oi just thought—"

"Enough." The voice had dropped to a low murmur, but Marcus still managed to pick out enough to understand the meaning. "...White's. One tomorrow.... Then.... Or never."

Marcus held his breath, his thoughts reeling. Anyone could have learned of Wilberforce's plan to be at White's tomorrow afternoon. The fact that he had told Lord Baylor about the MP's movements meant nothing. Or at least it would mean nothing if he did not recognize the voice.

But he did. Lord Baylor was Teggie.

Marcus nearly kicked himself in frustration. Instead, he held completely still, quietly considering his options. He could take care of it now. He could leap over the greenery, confront Teggie, and be done with the whole matter. Even with Hurdy there, he still could accomplish it. Surprise would even the odds.

Except for one thing. Fantine.

She still sat beside him, a silent spectator, no doubt trying to identify Teggie's voice. She would recognize it, but might not be able to place it. After all, Baylor had no doubt played a dandy with her, but had abandoned that affectation here.

It did not matter. Marcus could not allow her to end the business now. If Hurdy discovered she had betrayed him, if he discovered that her true goal was to capture Teggie, her life would be forfeit. There would be no place for her to hide from him or his men.

And even if they could somehow maintain her aura of innocence before Hurdy, this was still a public place. An altercation would certainly attract attention, especially once Teggie was arrested. If Fantine was in the middle of it, her reputation would be in tatters.

Fantine would count it a small matter, he knew, but he could not. Her life and her reputation meant a great deal to him, even if she ended up married to Thompson. He would not allow her to throw herself away.

Even if that meant risking Wilberforce's life.

So he stayed silent, his hand on her arm to keep her from doing anything rash. She made to brush it away, but he would not release her, and she could not risk the noise of an argument.

Moments later, Hurdy and Teggie separated. Marcus could hear their heavy footfalls as they slipped away.

"Damn it, Marcus," hissed Fantine. "Let me go! I can follow—"

"No. We must get you home."

"Do not be ridiculous." She tried to push to her feet, but he held her still. "I must discover—"

"We must make sure Wilberforce does not go to White's tomorrow at one."

Fantine took a deep breath, clearly trying to hold on to her temper. "Well, of course, but—"

"It is too late to follow Teggie."

Suddenly, she jerked her arm out of his grip and pushed to her feet. He followed quickly, but she did not move. Instead, she stood silent, pushing up on her tiptoes to try and see over the shrubbery. It was another few moments before her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I could have followed him."

He shook his head. "Not as you are dressed. It would raise too much comment and alert Teggie as well."

She looked down at her attire, only now realizing just how torn and dirty it was. In addition to the great rent that exposed part of her right leg, her bodice and shift now showed a jagged V between her breasts. For the moment, everything was covered property, but a single breeze or careless movement would bring the whole thing down to her ankles. As it was, delicious whispers of creamy white skin gleamed in the moonlight.

"Marcus! You are staring!" Then to his eternal amusement, he saw a blush creep up the skin between her breasts.

"I did not think you so modest."

"I am not. But the way you stare would make anyone embarrassed."

Marcus looked up, scanning her features in the moonlight. She had turned slightly away, but her lips were parted with excitement.

He could barely contain his joy. She was excited. By him. By his single heated stare, she was so affected as to become obviously nervous.

He reached out, his touch nearly reverent as he stroked her chin. Her gaze flew to his, and for a moment she reminded him of a deer, both vulnerable and infinitely beautiful.

"We can catch Teggie tomorrow," he said softly. "Nothing will happen before then. Right now, you are my chief concern. Come, let us get home."

Fantine nodded slowly, but her gaze remained locked with his, her eyes wide, her mouth so inviting. "Home?" she said, her word breathless; then suddenly her eyes widened. "Home! Blimey, Lady Anne will kill me. Just look at my gown!"

He smiled at her horrified expression. The woman had just fought hand-to-hand with killers, followed a murderer, and solved her case, though she did not realize it yet. After all that, she was terrified of what his mother would say?

"Never mind," he said softly. "I can take you to my home. You may clean up and get a new gown there while I send a message to Lottie. This way at least you will not present yourself in complete disarray."

Fantine frowned. "Will they not think it odd?"

Marcus shrugged. "Of course they will think it odd, but Lottie is used to it by now, I am sure. As for Mother, she will be discreet, though she may ring a peal over you in private."

"Wonderful," she said, her voice heavy with dread.

"You will survive," he said with a chuckle. "I always did."

Chapter 19

She had to get out of the area quietly. Fantine knew that if anyone saw her in her current attire, her reputation would be in tatters within an hour. A few weeks ago, that thought would not have bothered her. After all, what need did she have for a chaste reputation? One could move about much more freely when one was thought a tart. That was, in fact, one of the reasons she adopted her persona as Fanny.

But for the first time, her reputation did matter to her. She wanted to be thought of as pure, as respectable, if not for herself, then for Lottie and Lady Anne, not to mention Marcus. They were bringing her out. Any misbehavior on her part reflected as much on them as it did on her.

So with a nod to Marcus, she allowed him to guide her through the bushes and around the house. They encountered no one, slipping through the shadows, avoiding the street, until they came up behind Marcus's carriage.

Then he pushed her inside, pulling the door shut before she had time to catch her breath, shutting out the light as thoroughly as if he had drawn a cloak of secrecy about them.

"My reputation is safe?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes," he said as the carriage began to move. "As long as you stay out of sight until you are properly attired. A torn and muddied dress is too much to keep secret."

"But if I am clean and decently covered?"

"Then Lottie and Mother will act as if everything is as it should be. Perhaps I should send a message to Lottie. She could escort you home."

Fantine worried at her lip, thinking through the events of the evening. Guilt ate at her for allowing the danger to Wilberforce to escalate so badly. If she had not attended the ball tonight, then the MP might very well have died. And she would be to blame. She had been sorely neglecting her investigative duties, though in truth she had no idea what she could have done differently.