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Chapter Twelve
Dita, dressed inriding breeches, a jerkin, and with her curls pinned and tucked into a cap, sat in the back of the small, unmarked carriage bearing no identification. After hours of waiting for Dash to return, she could stay home no longer. She had napped for a brief time but awakened with the awful crushing sensation in her chest when remembering Roddy was missing.
She had paced for another hour by the early morning light before concluding that Dash might not come for hours. She then dressed to take Buttercup to Rotten Row and work out the anxiety that plagued her. She needed action, and Alfie wasn’t here to spar with her to burn off her endless energy.
When in the stables, a memory from the night in the library surfaced. Her brother had directed Reese to ready his horse to ride to Haversham’s. Harry, the assistant stable master, confirmed that Roddy had ridden his stallion that night. Fury was a beast if not handled properly and would be memorable at any stable. And Fury, like Roddy, hadn’t returned.
With the missing horse as a possible clue, she decided to act. She had to go to Haversham’s where she would wait for Dash to exit. They could then search Haversham’s stable for the stallion. She was dressed like a stable hand to accompany Dash. He wouldn’t recognize the horse and wouldn’t know if Haversham’s men were lying to him. She knew Fury very well and was capable of handling the headstrong horse.
Dash would not be happy with her arrival. She considered sending a note of her plans, but what if it was intercepted? This could be a real breakthrough and couldn’t be ignored. She wasn’t a silly woman running off on a hare-brained scheme as Dash might accuse her of. She was using extreme caution. She brought her knife, which was tucked into her waistband. Her position in society constrained active spying, but there were ways around society as she had proven in her disguise as a servant and now as a stable hand. Harry drove the carriage and was also trained by Alfie in self-defense. The stableman had bulk and strength, which Dita didn’t. He would be able to help if needed.
She closed her eyes and willed her thrashing heart to slow. She had spent her awake hours replaying the evening that Roddy disappeared. He had thrown the note into the fire, which was unusual. Was he keeping secrets from her? Had he lied to her about Haversham’s and Dash? But if he had government business, why wouldn’t he have shared this information with her? She did question him a lot about the war, but he was adept at avoiding anything he didn’t want to answer. There was no reason for him to lie to her. She tried to squelch her hurt feelings that Roddy didn’t believe she could be trusted. And maybe if Roddy had, she wouldn’t be desperately searching for clues to his whereabouts.
She had questioned Reese about the person who had delivered the note. He had told her that Dash had asked him the same. A street urchin who was paid by a “toff” delivered the note to the servants’ quarters. There was nothing to pursue with the note, but finding Fury in Haversham’s stable would confirm that the note Roddy received was a fake to lure him to the club.
Light streaked through the window. Dawn was quickly approaching. Dash must have finished by now. What if he didn’t come out of Haversham’s to accompany her to the stables? She’d do what needed to be done. She was well trained.
Dita yawned at the same time her stomach grumbled. She had no appetite but probably should have eaten something besides the tepid tea she had shared with Emmy the night before. Emmy was going to be mad that Dita had left her out of this morning’s excursion. She hadn’t thought of Fury until she arrived at the stables. And how could Dita, dressed as a stable boy, have her companion accompany her? Emmy didn’t have the skills required this morning. No matter the logic, Emmy’s feelings would be hurt.
It was too bad Charlotte, with a theatrical bent and a flair for disguises, wasn’t in London. She could have accompanied Dita. Not accepted into polite society with her unknown patronage, Charlotte remained in Bath as a teacher at Miss Danvers’ school. The boldest of the four girls, she hoped to work undercover in France, and this morning would be a perfect experience for her.
Charlotte had coached the others about living in the disguise like a character on the stage. Dita was not a good actress, but she had no trouble acting the part of a stable boy. She had grown up wearing this outfit to ride horses and to practice her fighting skills with Alfie. She truly had benefited from her parents’ neglect in having a freer childhood than other young women of her station. She’d always longed for love from her mother and father, but Alfie, Harry, Reese, and Totty had offered affection when her parents were incapable or unwilling.
Dita’s hunger, thirst, and nervousness intensified with the more time she spent alone in the carriage. How much longer would she have to wait? She had been parked across the street from the club for over an hour. Dita found herself drifting off, thinking of Dash’s vow that he loved her. The sensitive and attentive man from last night was the man she had loved. Their incendiary kisses at the ball had reawakened the physical needs that she had denied herself. The pleasure in his arms at the ball, mixed with the memories and his promises, reawakened a flittering feeling of hope. But could she trust him with her feelings? She wasn’t sure she could live through the pain of his betrayal again.
He was wounded by his childhood and by his loss of fortune, but he had spent the past years in a gambling den and had one of the worst reputations in all of society as a wastrel and a rake.
Emmy reported that the rumor blatant in Lady Billingsworth’s ballroom was that Dash had returned to thetonto marry Dita for her dowry. Did he believe he could kiss her and beg her forgiveness, and the past would be forgotten and the present ignored? Had he changed so much that he could manipulate her, pretend kindness, and make promises of love to regain her trust? Her inability to not respond to him and his touches and their shared childhood blurred her perspective. She was out of her depth with the seasoned rake.
Dita was startled out of her reverie by the sound of voices. Men were starting to leave the club but no sight of Dash. Carriages were pulling up in front of the entrance, most likely from the stable on the side of the club. This would be the best time to go into the stable, when the staff was busy getting mounts and carriages ready—a perfect time to blend into the confusion.
If she waited too long, her entry would be noticeable. She watched the gentlemen staggering out in the early light. She spotted Frankland and Cole leaving together. She needed to find a way to reveal their true nature to society. Their attack on her would not be forgotten. She would discuss this with Emmy, who was proving quite adept at manipulating society’s expectations. The Frenchman’s taunt to Dash was brilliant by keeping him off-kilter about her marriage plans and making him jealous.
She leaned out the window opposite the entrance, not wanting to draw attention with her high-pitched voice. She spoke quietly to Harry. “Pull around to the front of the alley. Let’s get a view of the activity from the street.”
Harry moved the carriage forward and stopped at the entrance to the alley, giving her a view. There was a flurry of men running back and forth, bringing horses out of the enormous stable which was almost the size of the club. It would take time to search for Fury in the extensive area, but at least fewer horses would need to be examined.
Her focus was captured by a couple barely visible in the shadows of the club. All the air went out of her lungs. Not able to catch her breath, like all the times Buttercup, with the disposition of a prickly rose not a delicate buttercup, had thrown her. It was Dash. She would recognize his broad shoulders and the tilt of his head anywhere. He was standing close to a woman, with his hand braced over her head. The position of his arm prevented Dita from seeing the woman’s face. His large frame hovered over her, his body and head bent as to a lover. The woman’s dress was cut low, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. The sound of the woman’s giggle hurt like knives piercing Dita’s skin.
Dash curved his head toward the woman to kiss her. Dita was frozen in place, unable to move away from the pain and the need to continue to watch. Memories of Dash’s muscular body over hers in the same sensual way and the pleasure of his soft touch on her cheek slammed through her in painful surges. Her heart splintered into tiny pieces.
She wanted to sob, scream, and tackle the traitorous scum to the ground and pummel his lying handsome face and lips.
The cad had told her it was delicate work, and it would take hours. She swallowed hard against the sob twisting up her throat. She had believed him. Again. She had waited for him while he dallied with a prostitute in an alley.
“Harry.” She hated that her voice broke. “Drive around to the other side of the stable. There has to be another entrance.”
“We should wait for Lord Beldon.”
Harry was seeing the same scene as she was. Her friend and compatriot on all sorts of adventures since they were children wanted her to sit in the carriage and witness Dash making love to another woman. Were all men this dense? She had her pride, and she wouldn’t allow Harry to know the agony she suffered.
“Drive around to the back. I’m very capable of looking for Fury without any help.”
“He might have a very good explanation.”
She could hear the disbelief in Harry’s tone. He was a loyal friend but not a good liar.
“I might be innocent, but even I recognize lust.” Dita couldn’t stop herself from looking again. Dash was pushing hair behind the woman’s ear—the same way he had stroked her. Her stomach roiled, watching his touch. The one she dreamt of. It had all been an act. All these years, she had believed she was special. Women were interchangeable to the practiced cad. The shame and embarrassment fueled her anger and outrage.
