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Was it terrible of her to be mystifyingly fascinated? “Based on your knowledge, what do you think he would desire for his aid?”
“His currency is favors, ones he calls in when it suits his purpose. He has cultivated a reputation of being quite merciless with those who try to renege on their bargains.”
I see. “What does he broker?” she asked, trying to understand the tension wrapping its arms around her brother.
“The flesh and the souls of those unfortunate enough to desire his help.”
She recoiled. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“You are uncharacteristcally dramatic.”
Simon scowled. “Mr. Tremayne brokers and trades anything from rare jewels, secrets that make and topple governments, guns and gunpowder for armies, alliances, anything on the black market.”
Dear Lord. Her heart hammered against her breastbone. “And your theory on how he would be able to help?”
Simon cleared his throat. “If…if something nefarious has happened to Jane, he would know. If she had been taken against her will or sold…he would be able to unearth the information of her whereabouts with his network of spies.”
Georgiana’s mouth went dry. “Do you believe it possible for Jane to have been sold?”
Simon hesitated. “Anything is possible when someone is missing, Georgiana,” her brother said softly. “She may have eloped with a lover, she may have been enticed into a lifestyle not fit for a lady and cannot extricate herself, or she may be dead.”
A terrible weak-kneed feeling assailed Georgiana. “I see, and you truly believe this man can unearth information that has eluded Bow Street investigators?”
“Yes.”
She took a deep, steadying breath. “Would my life be in danger to know such a man?”
Her brother sighed. “Perhaps not. I’ve never heard of him losing a client. He has honor of a sort, if such a paradox can be believed. He has never betrayed how he comes by his secrets, and he has a most coveted network of spies in the London underground, where most are disgustingly loyal to him. That is the reason the crown has seen fit to procure his services from time to time—discreetly, of course.”
“There is honor amongst blackguards and reprobates, that is news,” she said caustically. “How do I procure his services? I believe we must send him an invitation to tea, one most artfully worded.”
Her brother glared at her. “You will not have this man to tea,” he growled. “While your life may be secure, your reputation would most certainly suffer a blow.”
“Are you implying that if this man called upon me, polite society would know who he is and what he does?”
“I suppose not,” he admitted. “The man is a damn enigma. Most in our society will not be familiar with him, nor will they be inclined to admit they have done business with him. Damn it, Georgiana, I am decidedly uncomfortable with the notion of you meeting Rhys Tremayne.”
“I assure you, I would never agree to meet such a man alone. This is a business meeting, and we will treat it as such.”
He hesitated. “Swear to me if he is not able to find answers, you will leave this business of finding Jane to time,” he said gruffly.
Georgiana strolled to her brother’s side, stretched up onto her toes, and kissed his cheek gently. “Thank you for being so protective. I promise.” If Mr. Tremayne unearthed no answers, then where else could she turn? She would have to abandon her quest to find out what had happened to Jane.
“Good. He will be here at midnight.”
“Here?”
“Yes. Though I tried to discourage you, I knew it would be in vain. But I had to try. I arranged it so that an invitation came from you to Mr. Tremayne. That will certainly intrigue him.”
Her eyes widened. “An invitation artfully worded?”
“No. Blunt and succinct.” Simon started to pace. “I need to control the meeting, and I’ll not have that man in your home. We’ll retreat inside to the ball, dance but no drinking. We need to keep our wits un-muddled. At midnight, we’ll meet him here in the gardens with dozens of people only a shout away.”
Misgivings stirred in her heart, and Georgiana had the sense that she had just dashed headlong from a steep cliff with only jagged edges below to meet her fall.
Chapter Two
Rhys watched the ravishing young lady gesture with animation. Surely this could not be the duchess. Her companion was a man he recognized—the Earl of Fairfax. They had done business in the past, and now Rhys understood how she had found him. Clearly, she believed the earl had sent the note. Were they lovers? His thoughts shifted through the dossier he had collected on the earl years ago when they had done business. The man hadn’t possessed a lover, or a wife.
After receiving her letter, Rhys hadn’t taken the time to seek information on the duchess. He’d simply kept all his business meetings for the day and allowed his anticipation and curiosity to simmer. Even though so lowly placed, he had heard of the duchess and her political leanings, but he hadn’t thought to keep her in his crosshairs. He would need to update his file on the earl and create one for the duchess. Information was the bedrock of Rhys’s business, so he waited and watched their body language. He moved closer, keeping his footfall light until he was within hearing distance. The rays from a gas lamp bathed her in a soft glow, and he swallowed. She was even more beautiful up close. The fragrance of her perfume drifted through his senses. Soft, feminine, subtle yet also bold.
His lips had curved when the earl suggested she take a lover. Though a cool blankness had suffused her face, Rhys had spied the curl of hunger in her eyes, and his mouth had gone dry. She did want a man between her thighs. A heady dash of interest stirred within his veins.
He forced himself still as they spoke of a missing woman, and his reputation. Instead of her being afraid of his dastardly notoriety, the interest in her eyes seemed to multiply. She and Lord Fairfax spoke of trivial matters, namely a ball he wished she would attend, and a particular gentleman their mother would be happy for her to grant dances to. So, they were siblings. Ah yes, the dossier had mentioned the earl was in possession of two younger sisters, except both had been unmarried then.
The woman laughed. “Mother has been quite insistent I allow the marquess to court me, but I’m not interested in him.”
Lord Fairfax grunted. “My nerves would be better off if you would simply be biddable.”
She snorted in a quite unladylike manner, her actions so reminiscent of his sister’s, Rhys frowned.
“Mr. Tremayne has more than two hours to arrive, but I find I am reluctant to return to the crush. I believe I shall await his presence here in the gardens.”
Her brother snapped a reply Rhys missed. He allowed his footfall on the ridiculously soft grass to be heard, and her head snapped up. God’s blood. This close, her dark beauty had the impact of a fist to his gut. She had a small, pointed chin, finely arched eyebrows, and eyes as turquoise as a sunlit sea. They were fringed in thick ebony lashes. Her beauty was unequaled…and so was her wealth and stature.
For the first time he could remember in years, a sliver of uncertainty burrowed under his skin and lodged itself. Though so achingly young and lovely, she was a woman sure of her position and power in this world. It was evident in the regal manner in which she held herself.
He uncoiled from the shadows.
Arrogance and a certainty of her power settled on her like a second skin. The flush leeched from her face, the glint of youthful exuberance in her eyes replaced by icy civility. The transformation from a carefree young lady to a woman of power was unmistakable. And he was effortlessly captivated, despite the futility of being attracted to her.
She lifted her chin, displaying a long, graceful throat that was adorned with an emerald necklace, and arched an imperious brow. “Who the hell are you?”
…
Simon whirled around at Georgiana’s sharp demand as a shadow uncoiled itself from a few shrubberies.
&n
bsp; “How refreshingly un-duchess-like,” the man drawled.
Georgiana flushed. He’d so startled her, she hadn’t minded her tongue one bit.
Instead of bowing, he tilted his dark head arrogantly to one side. “You summoned me.”
His accent slightly lacked the refinement a gentleman of society would possess, yet she liked the roughened cadence of his voice. Her eyes widened. He was early. His face was in the shadows beyond the pool of light cast by the candles and lanterns.
“Come into the light.”
He sauntered closer, his long stride faintly animallike in its grace.
His features were rough but brutally masculine and handsome, with eyes the gray-blue color of winter. A straight nose and sharp, arrogant cheekbones lent an air of aristocratic breeding. He was attractive in a dangerous, exciting way, simply because he appeared so improper, an anomaly in her well-ordered world.
But certainly, this could not be Mr. Tremayne. Her brother had said he’d been in the business of dealing secrets for twenty years. Perhaps the man had been audacious enough to send a business associate ahead? “Mr. Tremayne, I presume?”
His expression was faintly amused. Then his head barely dipped in acknowledgment. To measure the man, she assessed him quite thoroughly, and she felt something kick hard inside of her. Everything about Mr. Tremayne was unexpected. His features were so powerfully appealing she couldn’t help but stare…and stare some more. She belatedly realized he returned her intense scrutiny, and her cheeks grew hot under Mr. Tremyane’s slow, careful appraisal. Her brother cleared his throat, and Georgiana flushed in acute embarrassment. To be caught gawking as if she were a debutante.
“How old are you, Mr. Tremayne?” The question had to be asked, not once had she imagined someone so virile, young, and self-assured.
