Sexual Hunger. Melissa MacNeal
woman, giving the girl an apologetic smile. “If Jason Darington is passed out in one of your rooms, we’d be pleased to relieve you of him, miss.”
She was thick in the middle and rather homely; not one of the madam’s working girls. Her freckled face and prim gray dress bespoke a maid, perhaps—yet she stood fast as the establishment’s gatekeeper. Jude had no doubt she’d back them off the doorstep, if she chose.
“I’m tellin’ ya, nobody’s here.”
“Then who are you?” his father cut in. “My son, Jason Darington, was here with friends last night, and he’s past due at his wedding! Do not waste my valuable time with these silly games of hide-and-seek!”
As she opened the door wider so they could see the deserted premises for themselves, Jude noticed an enlarged foot that pointed off to one side, beneath her skirts. A clubfoot. “As you can see,” she replied in a haughty tone, “no ladies are present, nor is Miss Amelia. But the police shall arrive moments after I hit the alarm button, if you don’t leave immediately.”
His father’s eyes widened in a face that grew ruddier. “Call the police, if you please,” he jeered. “Since you’re obviously covering for Miss Beddow, the law does indeed need to be notified!”
“So notify them yourself, sir!” The door shut with a loud whump.
“Well, of all the—have you ever seen such insolence? When I catch Amelia—”
“We’d best be getting back, Father,” Jude insisted. “Our guests are in a state of pandemonium by now, unless the vicar has uncorked the wine. Can’t expect Rubio to keep the peace as the only sane male on the premises.”
His father’s body vibrated with pent-up wrath. “Yes, well, if I don’t get to the bottom of this—get a confirmation of McCaslin’s story, or the truth from the police—who will?”
As Lord Darington pivoted on his heel, Jude wanted to stay behind and investigate on his own: he and Jason might be polar opposites in temperament, but they shared a bond that kept them connected even when one didn’t know the other’s location. He resented the way his father berated him, but resentment wouldn’t get his twin brother to the church to marry Maria. With a sigh, Jude returned to the carriage to find his father inside, engaged in a window conversation with a uniformed officer.
“—weren’t no different hereabouts last night than usual,” the policeman claimed, talking around a fat cigar. “Didn’t hear no reports of foul play, nor bodies bein’ throwed off—”
Jude winced.
“—but for you, Lord Darington,” he offered in a more gracious tone, “I’ll dig deeper. See if anybody reported anything amiss last night, or recalls seein’ your Jason.”
His father didn’t look any happier, but at least he accepted the lawman’s story. “Be quick about it, too, while I go back to this fiasco of a wedding. Even if I have nothing to tell our friends—not to mention my wife—you can be sure the illustrious Miss Crimson will get wind of this scandal and publish her own ludicrous version of it!”
“Yes, milord, she keeps the Inquirer in print—not that I condone such gossip, you understand!” The officer, a stubby man with short, thick fingers, flicked the ash of his cigar. “If I learn anything, where might I find you, milord?”
“Saint Paul’s Knightsbridge. You’ll be handsomely rewarded if you show up with my son.”
The ride back to the church did nothing to settle Jude’s nerves. His father sat across from him, legs outstretched and twitching, arms crossed so tightly he appeared to be squeezing the air from his lungs. Even so, it wasn’t love or concern etching themselves into Lord Darington’s commanding countenance: he appeared more angry and inconvenienced than worried.
“Christ Almighty, if Jason doesn’t show up, there’ll be no living with your mother. The two of you nearly killed her during your birthing, but this!” he muttered. “She’s poured every ounce of her energy into making today’s wedding the year’s social high point! You’ve no idea how much pride it’s cost her, because her firstborn has chosen to marry beneath him when so many of our friends have lovely, eligible daughters throwing themselves at him!”
Jude smiled wryly. His father’s remarks only added to his dismay at how horrible—how betrayed—Maria must be feeling by now. What would happen to her, if his twin had found trouble he couldn’t get out of? And if everyone knew the Darington heir was missing, there’d be no more rendezvous about town with Maria—no more passing himself off as his brother.
But it was too soon to assume his brother was in dire straits. No doubt Jason would awaken from his drunken stupor to find he’d wandered onto a ship moored at the pier, or that he’d slept off his brandy while curled up in a doorway—or in some willing woman’s bed.
The thought made Jude smile. Most likely, this was his brother’s fate rather than the more odious ideas that came to mind. Jason was deeply, madly in love with Maria, but the whole point of a bachelor party was to have one last fling with the boys, wasn’t it? And those boys were paying dearly today for all they’d imbibed…. So his brother was, too. Had to be.
“And what are you so happy about?” his father snapped. “Already setting yourself up as the Darington heir? And your brother not gone but a few hours?”
Jude stood up before the carriage came to a complete halt at the church. “That remark doesn’t even deserve an answer, Father! And why do you believe he’s gone, in that way?” he demanded. “Lord knows you’ve always applauded—encouraged!—his escapades, so who can say what sort of fix he’s in? Or, for all we know, Jason has appeared and the ceremony is being delayed because we are not present.”
As he stepped into the vestibule, however, the strident tone of the organ and the chatter of the congregation told him nothing had improved in their absence. Jude slipped into the parlor and wished he hadn’t: his mother and sister were weeping, carrying on as though their lives had been ruined, while Maria sat glumly in the corner. Her ivory skirts billowed over the arms of her chair. Her hands lay tightly clasped in her lap, and her expression told him she was trying to believe the best—trying to be brave despite the horrible scenarios Mum and Jemma conjured up.
“Those worthless friends of his were the last to see him!” Jemma twittered between sniffles. “We should be holding them responsible for—”
“My God, what shall I tell the cook? We’ve prepared for three hundred people—”
“—the fact that my reputation is now ruined!” the younger blonde wailed. She was holding her ferret against her shoulder as though Willie were the last friend she had. “Who will want me, now that Jason has disgraced the entire family? I cannot believe he’d be so cruel as to—what did I ever do to him to deserve—”
Jude smiled apologetically at Maria and then stepped from the room. “Nothing’s to be accomplished in there,” he murmured to his father. “I’ll find Clive and Daniel. Quiz them more closely about last night’s activities.”
“As though they’ll recall anything. Or admit to it.” Lord Darington followed him down the narrow hallway, muttering. “Already four o’clock. If Jason doesn’t show in the next twenty minutes, we must make the only logical decision.”
Blinking his eyes against a wave of regret, Jude rounded the corner to find Rubio Palladino standing before Jason’s three motley-looking friends, whose backs were to the wall. “What are you not telling us?” the medium demanded in a low voice. “You may either volunteer what you know, or I can simply lay my hands on you and listen to your innermost secrets.”
Jude’s eyes widened. Did Maria’s brother truly have such powers? Had they consulted this medium first, perhaps he and his father wouldn’t have wasted time driving to Miss Amelia’s.
“I’m telling you, Jason was fine when Amelia took him to her room!” Clive rasped. His skin still resembled that of