Lord Libertine. Gail Ranstrom
hundred guineas to whoever beds her first.”
“Pistols at dawn first,” Andrew murmured.
Dash guffawed. “That bad, eh? Well, I suppose I must wait until you’ve finished with her, then.”
Choosing to ignore Dash’s comment, Andrew broached the subject that had been on his mind since his conversation with Lockwood. “D’you ever think of…Spain?”
Dash was silent so long that Andrew wondered if he’d heard the question. “I’ve done my damnedest to forget,” he said after a moment. “But, yes. I think of it from time to time. Why?”
“The subject came up with Lockwood earlier.”
“Is he still after you to tell him what our unit did? What we saw?”
“I think he knows. Lockwood knows everything, but he believes confession is good for the soul. What do you believe, Dash?”
“Confession? Surely—if you want to hang. But there’s no need for that.”
Andrew doubted his friend’s conclusion that there was no need for him to hang. The secret was like acid eating through what was left of his soul. His conscience was already calloused, and he feared he didn’t know right from wrong anymore. “I was in command. I should have—”
“You can’t spend your life second-guessing your decisions, Drew. For Christ’s sake! There were five of us under your comment. None of us knew what to do. You, at least, contained the situation and kept it from the reports.”
Andrew dismounted and started leading his horse. And remembering. Of the six of them assigned to covert duty, only he and Dash were left. Three had been killed in Spain, and Richard Farron had been killed in a duel within a week of his return to England. Richard had been hell-bound for destruction. And there were still days when Andrew wondered why he and Dash hadn’t met a similar fate.
“I will never tell. You have my word upon that, Drew.” Dash dismounted and joined Andrew.
“And I appreciate your loyalty, but I’ve increasingly begun to wonder if Lockwood isn’t right. The worst that could happen is that I’d hang. And some days that prospect does not trouble me at all.’ Tis probably what I deserve. It is only the thought of what the scandal would do to my family that has kept me silent this long. God knows the world does not have much to offer anymore.”
“Stay a little longer.” Dash grinned. “I swear, we shall find something to perk you up. I know of things I think I could…interest you in, but I’ve feared you might balk.”
Andrew laughed and shook his head. He knew Dash through and through. He was every bit as much a rake as Andrew, but he had a slightly keener edge—hence the excursion to Bedlam. Was the invitation to Bedlam a test of his stomach for such things?
Dash glanced ahead and narrowed his eyes. “Say, there! Is that not Charlie and Jamie coming our way?”
Drew would not be surprised to find his brothers on Rotten Row on a fine afternoon. He followed the direction of Dash’s pointing finger and grinned. James caught sight of them first and rode for them at breakneck speed. He and Charles reined in, stopping barely a foot from Andrew’s right boot.
“Well met!” Charlie laughed as they dismounted. “We were hoping to find you, Drew. Jamie and I are looking for trouble tonight. What do you recommend?”
Andrew grinned at Dash. “There’s to be an expedition to Bedlam tonight. Fancy a trip into madness?”
Jamie looked interested but Charlie frowned. “What? Do they lock you up with the inmates so you can play at being mad?”
“I rather think they make sport of them, Charlie,” Jamie said. “And who’s to say we’re not as mad as them?”
“Make sport of the unfortunates? But what is sporting about that?”
Dash grinned. “Observation of human nature can be enlightening, Charlie. Indeed, we can learn much from them. They have so few…inhibitions. I warrant their actions sometimes make more sense than ours.”
Charlie gave them an uncertain grin, and Andrew knew his wayward brothers would be going to Bedlam tonight. He supposed he’d have to go along to keep an eye on them, though it was not their first venture into the seamy side of London.
“Look smart, fellows! Here come those new bits o’ muslin we saw earlier,” Jamie said. “Come to town for the season, no doubt.”
“Wish we could get an introduction,” Charlie agreed as his gaze fixed on a point behind Andrew. “I’d be pleased to know any of them, but especially the one with dark hair and fine eyes. The taller one.”
Andrew turned to see three women coming along the walking path. He recognized one immediately—Lady Lace, dressed in her signature black. How interesting to see her by daylight. They were all carrying bandboxes and talking quietly.
Lace smiled at something the taller girl said and looked up. Her eyes met his, and she stiffened and quickened her pace as she recognized him. Why, she intended to give him the cut! How amusing.
He stepped out of his group, nearly in their path, and removed his hat, impossible to ignore now. “Madame,” he said with a sharp bow.
A flash of panic lit those lovely hazel eyes, a bit more greenish in the light of day. Her full lips parted and he could see she was struggling for composure as her cheeks tinted a delicate rose. What was wrong with her? He’d seen none of this girlishness before.
He thought for a moment that she would step around him and ignore him altogether, but her quick sideways glance at her companions told him that she was more worried about what they would think than about giving him the cut direct. Interesting.
“M-Mr. Hunter,” she acknowledged reluctantly.
He could feel his brothers at his back and knew they would never let the ladies escape without an introduction. “Allow me to introduce my companions.” He stood aside to indicate each of them in turn, now with their hats in their hands. “My brothers, James and Charles Hunter, and my friend, Bryon Daschel, Lord Humphries.”
The ladies inclined their heads with a slight nod at each introduction and murmured polite responses. Andrew studied them. The taller dark one, as Charles had called her, was lovely and lush looking and bore a faint family resemblance to Lace. His experienced eye detected a sensual nature to that one. The other, slightly younger by the look of her, was fair with sparkling blue eyes. She was, as yet, unformed in her nature and he thought she could go either way—soft and compliant or demanding and imperious.
“A fine day for a walk, is it not?” Dash commented, filling the awkward silence that should have been filled with Lace’s introductions of her companions.
“Yes, a lovely day,” she conceded.
“Have you been shopping?” Jamie asked with a glance at their bandboxes.
The younger one answered with a flirtatious smile. “Bella thought we could use the outing. I vow, I feel better already.”
Bella? Ah, so Lady Lace was actually “Bella.” Was that a pet name, shortened from a longer name, or her actual given name? Her dark brows drew together as she shot the younger girl a quelling look.
Jamie glanced around at their surroundings. “Fresh air is good for the constitution, I am told.”
“Do you walk here often?” Charlie asked the taller one.
She shot a sideways glance at “Bella.” “Not as often as we wish, sir. But we make do.”
Jamie fiddled with the rim of his hat. “If the exercise is too demanding for you, I’d be happy to make a loan of my cabriolet.”
Andrew frowned. That was going a little too far for a covey of women whose names they still didn’t know. And that fact was still the most disconcerting of all. He glanced pointedly at “Bella.”