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Suspicion ravaged his mind. What was going on? He realized at once, June Keenan was not alone upstairs. He was touched by a wave of irritation more than anger, and no disappointment at all. On the short drive over, he had already decided to end things with June. He couldn’t say why, as she had been a satisfying bed partner, yet he no longer wanted her. Now, this turn of events would make it easier. That she should behave thusly in an establishment he was paying for only confirmed women of all classes were treacherous creatures.
He noted the distress on the young maid’s countenance. No doubt, she imagined him partial to June now above stairs with another and merely wished to spare him the sight of her mistress’s betrayal.
“Ah, I see. Why don’t you go on up so that she might have a moment or two to prepare herself for my visit,” he said softly. He had no wish to walk into a scene of June and some man in bed. How ludicrous that would be. “You may tell her I need to speak with her.”
The maid blushed hot pink, dropped a curtsy, mumbled something incoherent, and rushed up the stairs. He was left to turn on his heel and make his way to the front parlor. He stood there for a moment while his fingers tapped at his sensuous lips and rubbed his square jaw. He had no real affection for June, but he did not like being duped in this manner. His pride was jabbed, and he could find no immediate reason why she should serve him such a trick. It had been part of their explicit agreement that she would not share her favors while accepting his protection. It was true he had not visited her in weeks, but even so...?
* * * * *
While he was deliberating just what he would say to her, June’s young maid rushed to the bedroom. She didn’t bother to knock, for she was flustered and anxious. She enjoyed her job because she rather liked her mistress who had been kind to her. Would she lose her job if her mistress lost this establishment?
She rushed inside the room to find her mistress locked in Sir Warren’s arms under the covers. She averted her eyes and cried out, “Ma’am, oh, ma’am. Don Rodrigo...be here. Lord ‘ave mercy on us, oi don’t know ‘ow oi kept ‘im downstairs, but thot’s where he is, though oi jest don’t know ‘ow long he’ll stay there.”
June froze. She was not ready to lose Rodrigo. She had to think, and it didn’t take long to gather her wits and throw on her negligee around herself. “Take Sir Warren out the back staircase. I trust you have his coat and hat nearby.”
“Oi, did that as soon as I saw Don Rodrigo enter the hallway.” She turned to Sir Warren, who was totally naked, and averted her eyes as he pulled on his clothes. “Oi, do hurry, sir,” she urged as she peeked out the door and down the hall to make sure Rodrigo had not come up the stairs. “There is no saying he won’t change his mind and come up, ye know.”
Sir Warren was amused. All this haste. He wasn’t in the least concerned. In fact, he rather enjoyed cutting Rodrigo out with June Keenen, and would have enjoyed seeing his face when Rodrigo saw who it was with his mistress. He sighed. He dropped a kiss on June’s lips, who impatiently shooed him off. “We shall have to conclude our business—tomorrow.” It was a statement made without any doubt.
“Yes, yes, of course, only go now...quickly!” June shot back on a hushed sound as she scanned the room to make certain he had not left anything behind.
“So, I shall, but with your promise to meet me at the Bell Tavern on King Street tomorrow at noon. I have a plan, and you must play a part in it,” Sir Warren said softly.
She frowned, uncertain and a bit worried. “I shall try.”
He turned back to her, and his expression was arresting. She thought she saw a wicked glint in his hazel eyes. “Don’t try, my sweet, be there!”
June Keenen knew a threat when she heard one. Oh, what had she done? Sir Warren had proven himself to now be a problem for her future. She responded in the only way she knew how. “Yes, of course. I will meet you tomorrow at noon.”
June had fought to get to where she was. She had used her beauty, and she had used men, but she had long ago learned to be wary of men such as Sir Warren. She had long hoped to find a man of means, not an aristocrat, but perhaps a wealthy merchant who would marry her, for she knew her beauty would not last forever. She couldn’t do anything that would interfere with that all-important plan, which meant she could not bring too much scandal to herself.
* * * * *
Below stairs, in the front parlor, Rodrigo pulled away the rich dark brown damask drape. He stood in the darkness of its protruding and squared lead-paned window. He had an excellent view of the small townhouse’s front court and of the dimly lit street. He watched as Sir Warren came around the house and made for the curbing.
Sir Warren! June had been entertaining Sir Warren in her bedroom. The knowledge hit him between the eyes and slapped his cheek. He was astonished and supremely annoyed. He felt a sudden urge to pull the expensive hangings down and fling them to the flames. Of all the men in London, she had picked Sir Warren to throw her favors at!
Madre de dios! Sir Warren, who openly courted his Jessie, had just been with his mistress—now ex-mistress. May the devil take him. What was this? Had he come here on purpose? And during his agitation, another question entered his mind—why had he just thought of Jessie as his? She was not—she never would be. He would soon leave England without her.
The fact he had left his lodgings with the sole intent of taking his mistress to bed and had changed his mind within ten minutes of reaching her establishment meant nothing. The fact he had decided to go in and see her to make final arrangements with her and bid her farewell...meant nothing. Sir Warren’s visit to June, he was certain meant to mortify him, was obvious. No doubt Sir Warren would make it known at the club he had made a fool of him with his mistress.
Oddly enough, this only mildly irritated Rodrigo.
Well, time now to go upstairs and demand...damn if he would.
He moved instead to the writing desk. There, he sat for a moment and hurriedly composed a note. The door of the parlor opened, and June’s maid came in. “Madame is awake, Don Rodrigo, and would be ever so pleased to have ye visit her now.”
“I find that I haven’t the time for her after all,” Rodrigo answered as he got to his feet and reached out to hand her the letter he had just folded in half. “Would you see that your mistress gets this?” So saying, he tweaked one of her stray curls beneath the mop cap, gave her a generous coin, and leisurely made his way to the hall and its front door.
Some moments later, June read, as her eyes narrowed with growing wrath:
June:
There is a saying you English are fond of. I find it most appropriate now. “That in your teeth, my lass.”
All other words would be wasted. I have no quarrel with the decision you made tonight. It was time.
The house, you may continue to enjoy for another three months, at which time its lease will terminate. All receipts accumulated to this date, I will be pleased to defray. However, all others after today’s date, you shall have to present elsewhere...perhaps to Sir Warren.
