The Electrifying Exploits of the English Three. Elysabeth Williams
ball memorable. Mrs. Smythe said his balls were always memorable. That is all.” She heard Eliza stifle a snicker.
“Well, they are.”
“Spare me.”
“Otherwise, how very odd.”
“She is odd.”
“True. All right, I shall send word to Cuthbert.”
“Very well. Goodbye.” Jillian tucked the device back into her reticule and watched the people round the pond in the middle of the park, politely tipping hats or shaking hands as they encountered other people they knew.
At this distance and under a shade tree, Jillian was safe from such trivial niceties. It wasn’t that she disliked people, it was...actually, maybe it was that she disliked them. Years of watching deceitful males leave their wives to enter the arms of strangers at her father’s club had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Men weren’t trustworthy. They lied as they kissed their babies and left to gamble and carouse. She felt almost blessed to have caught her father’s lies when she had. She would never have to endure such emotional torment from another man as long as she had the carrot to dangle over her father’s head.
Jillian never wanted to feel the pain her mother was forced into, and still endured. She was a shell of a woman who kept a smile plastered on her face at all times. Jillian was certain once her mother eventually passed, her father wouldn’t care who knew of his indiscretions.
He was rich beyond measure. What would he care if she exposed him as the biggest whorehouse owner in all of London? She had saved up most of her overabundant allowance–also known as the blackmail money–so she would be safe for a while after the truth came out. Jillian had thought far ahead. She would leave the country, most likely, or simply fade away into the background of London society and disappear. It was not as if she had anything to stay for here.
She let her eyes wander over the walkers again. She took notice of a gentleman walking in her direction, newspaper tucked under one arm.
“Oh, bugger me,” she mumbled as she recognized Mr. Devin Dashing.
Mr. Dashing, like the baron, was a gentleman of leisure. She’d lived next door to his parents’ estate while growing up, and had always seen him around. What little she did know about his personal life was his perpetual single status, the same as hers, and he was usually underfoot, annoyingly so. He managed to put himself wherever she was, whether it was in the city or in the country. She never understood why their paths kept crossing
Though she’d sworn she saw the dastardly man when she, Eliza and Miriam had slept in the woods during their last training event. Yet she’d been suffering from delirium at the time, induced by sleep deprivation and hunger. Combine those with homesickness and it made perfect sense to wake up thinking she saw the familiar face of Devin Dashing.
If there was a bright side to his existence, he was easy on the eyes. She watched him walk with a certain over-confident swagger and noticed nearby women glance his way. He was tall. His hazel eyes seemed to stand out with everything he wore–or perhaps she just paid more attention to them since he had such a tendency to stare at her. As he approached, she tried to avert her eyes as if she wasn’t watching the way he moved, or the way his grin spread only over half of his face. She ignored the way he made her legs burn and her heart race.
“Good afternoon, Miss Johnsworth,” he said, tipping his hat.
“Yes, good day, Mr. Dashing.”
“May I join you in your solitude?”
Jillian wanted to yell hell no but instead smiled sweetly and moved over. “Why, of course.”
He sat and unfolded his newspaper, just as he had at the baron’s house.
“Has anything happened in the last twelve hours that might warrant yet another paper, sir?”
He chuckled and folded it again, laying it across his lap. “My apologies. I suppose it’s rude of me to read and not engage in conversation. I tend not to know what to say in your presence, and...I would like a reason to shut my mouth and not need to say anything.”
Jillian looked into his eyes, paying close attention to his smirk. Something deep within her snapped. “Shut up and kiss me, Devin.”
He choked. “Come again?”
Her hand flew to her mouth, trying to pull the words back. She blinked in surprise and glanced around. Gathering courage, she stood and slipped behind a small group of trees and bushes. Devin stood slowly, walked around from the other side of the brush, and found her standing there with her back toward him.
“I shall ask once more. Come again?”
She didn’t turn around. “I said shut your gob and kiss me.” Her voice was shaky yet determined.
Devin swallowed hard as he took her by the shoulders. He spun her around to face him and kissed her soundly. She threw her arms around his neck and leaned into his embrace, caring not for anyone who might see. Devin threw his top hat to the ground. She ran her fingers through his hair. He pulled away, stared at her in disbelief, and pulled her back to him with his hands on her face, tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs.
“I don’t know what has come over me, Mr. Dashing. This is not proper.”
“Do you suddenly care what is proper, Miss Jillian, the perpetual maiden?”
“Yes and no,” she said, both her amorous mood and courage waning.
“Meet me in a more proper setting. We shall proceed from there.”
How she would love to, she thought to herself. If there were only a way to make it happen. She would never trust a man to enter her home, much less her life. She had learned the hard way what a man’s purpose in life was: to destroy the lives of women. Her father had made sure she realized time and time again that men would do nothing but destroy and hurt.
As if he had again peeked into her soul, Devin picked up his top hat and dusted it off. “I don’t want you to make a mistake you cannot take back, Jillian.”
It rocked her heart. He painted a picture she did not want to see in her life–a picture of a man capable of caring and decency.
Jillian turned her back and walked into public view. She climbed into her carriage and glanced over where Devin still stood. As he adjusted himself a blush rose to her cheeks. Her cab began to roll, and she turned her head toward the road with the nagging feeling he was still watching as she departed.
Chapter 5
Propped up on his bed by simple pillows on a solid navy blue quilt, Kane Maddox thumbed through the most recent note from the colonel. In one hand he held the note, while in the other he held a tintype of a beautiful, dark-haired woman. She smiled as if she hid a very amusing secret. Her face, though pale in the picture, seemed flawless. Her eyes were sultry and mesmerizing.
Kane pulled his eyes away from hers and read the message again. She would be the next task. The colonel had summoned him to help the woman and her two friends with another plan. Yet he was supposed to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Though it was a vague request, Kane knew there must be another reason the colonel wanted his nephew to remain near her. His eyes flicked toward the tintype again. He found himself unusually drawn to her. It unnerved him. He was never this interested. Usually solitary, Kane found it difficult to maintain relationships with anyone. He hoped the attraction would soon pass. There was nothing worse to him than finding himself emotionally invested in a job.
Taking a deep breath, he put the picture back into the envelope and tucked it under his pillow. He planned to take the next few days to get closer to her. The information his uncle had given him regarding the coup had led him down an interesting path. He’d found himself lurking in the seediest bars, following her husband. At their last meeting, he’d managed to get only tidbits from the drunk before Rothschild was too intoxicated to form a complete sentence. It was too apparent how he spent his time and