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Her gut twisted. What must he think of her? Raising her glasses again, she observed him carefully, looking for any sign of disapproval. But his smile only widened, further confusing her. Perhaps he hadn’t seen?
Her mother cleared her throat, making her jump. Sabrina kept her eyes on the stage for the remainder of the evening, ignoring Montgomery when he returned—and ignoring Fairford as well.
He hadn’t seen anything. Surely he hadn’t. And if he had, then apparently her behavior had not displeased him. Quite the contrary, if his smile was any indication.
That thought disturbed her more than a little. She’d heard of men who enjoyed sharing their women. He hadn’t struck her as the sort, but then again…
No. She had to assume that he had simply not seen anything. Therefore, she must continue with her plan. He’d professed a love of winning. Therefore, she must continue to present a challenge. But how?
Montgomery was too dangerous to use as a foil to draw him out. The risk of becoming the victim of her own trap was too great. No. She had to find someone else. With him sitting beside her, however, it was impossible for her to think of any candidates for the job.
His clean scent assaulted her with every breath. Soap. Leather. Boot polish. Him.
Strategizing would have to wait until her mind—and body—settled down. It was with immense relief that she at last applauded the singers.
As they waited for their carriage, she spotted a familiar shock of ginger hair amid the crowd and smiled to herself. At Chadwick’s side was a lovely, sweet-faced young lady who looked positively aglow with adoration.
By chance, he happened to glance up at that same moment.
Sabrina nodded her approval, and his lips parted in a familiar grin. Gladness filled her heart. Good for him! Quickly, she turned away lest his companion notice her and become upset.
And there was Montgomery, staring at her with a most knowing expression.
Her gaze dropped before he could read her thoughts in that uncanny manner of his. How she wished he would just go away. Her conscience pricked her sharply for the dishonest thought. The truth of the matter was that she wished he would snatch her up in his arms.
All the way home, the memory of his touch haunted her, and with it, a craving for more. Her mother nattered on endlessly about trivial things until she thought she would go mad. And he, he responded just as easily as if he hadn’t had his hand on, on her—where it didn’t belong, less than an hour before.
It was unjust in the extreme that he should even be able to speak coherently, while she herself was a bundle of raw nerves. She excused herself the moment they arrived, claiming exhaustion.
Montgomery caught her as she passed. “Pleasant dreams, Pest.”
She shot him a murderous glare. He knew bloody well he’d condemned her to a night of torment. Again, she wanted to strangle him with her bare hands. If she could only manage to do so without touching him.
HENRY DRUMMED HIS fingertips on the desk, agitated.
“You’re certain it was him?”
“Yes, my lord,” answered the man. “I was assigned to watch Childers’s residence. He visits her almost daily, straight there and back—or so we thought. I suppose someone didn’t do their job properly this time, because the curtains weren’t drawn when his carriage left, and I could see the vehicle was empty. So I went back and hid ’round the carriage house where I could see everything. Half an hour after his own carriage had left, I watched Fairford get into another unmarked carriage. I followed it to Boucher’s and saw him get out and go in. He was wearing a mask, but it was him. He had the same pale-blond hair.”
Hell. A wave of acute distaste washed over Henry. He looked at Percy and marked that he seemed to find the news just as disturbing.
Had it been an ordinary brothel, he would not be so alarmed, but the nature of th
e services provided at Madam Boucher’s were legendary. That particular establishment catered to the worst sort of debauchers, and the things that happened behind those doors defied all morality, not to mention several laws.
“Do you want me to keep watching him, my lord?”
“Yes,” Henry answered. “I want to know how often he frequents that establishment. And if anything else turns up, you are to let me know immediately.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You may go now,” said Percy, opening the door.
“If Fairford has been keeping an unmarked carriage at Mrs. Childers’s so that he can send his own back empty and then later depart in the other one, that means he knows he’s being watched,” Henry said softly after the door closed.
“Not necessarily,” said Percy. He went to the tray and took up a decanter of brandy, poured two large glasses, and brought one to him. “It may just be that he doesn’t wish all of London to know the details of his personal affairs. After all, it is Boucher’s. I wonder if it is as bad as they say.”
“It is far worse, I can assure you. Have you never been there?”
