He climbed wearily from the bed and began splashing in the basin of water. “Have we heard from Nick Barnes?”
Deedle laid out the razor, strop, and towels. “No.”
“Damn.” Griffin frowned. Nick usually sent word first thing in the morning. Griffin would have to see if Nick was sleeping in—or if something more ominous had happened. But first he must deal with the lovely Lady Hero—and the consequences of last night’s impulse.
Fifteen minutes later, Griffin ran down the steps of his rented town house. It wasn’t in the most fashionable part of the West End of London, but he’d long ago decided that lodgings separate from Thomas were essential for familial accord.
Rambler was waiting at the bottom of the steps, his head held by a young groom. Griffin patted the gelding’s glossy neck before swinging into the saddle and throwing the boy a shilling.
The day was sunny, and Rambler made good time, weaving through the London traffic. Griffin found Lady Hero’s carriage not twenty minutes later, stalled behind a herd of pigs.
Lady Hero’s coachman merely nodded as Griffin waved at him and entered the carriage.
“Good morning,” he said as he sat.
“Go away,” she replied.
He clapped a hand over his heart. “Such cruelty from such a fair lady.”
She wouldn’t even look at him. She stared fixedly out the window, her profile remote and reserved. Only the faint spots of pink on her cheekbones gave lie to her serenity. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Well, yes.” He stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankle, grappling with a wholly foreign surge of guilt. Outside, a chorus of squealing rose alarmingly. “I should be abed, still dreaming, but it’s not my fault you decided to rise early and sneak off to St. Giles without me.”
She pursed her lips irritably. “This isn’t wise.”
He noted that she didn’t deny her destination. “Have you told your brother or Thomas about your jaunts to St. Giles?”
“No, but—”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
She closed her eyes as if pained. “You know we can’t do this.”
Had he hurt her so much? He cleared his throat, feeling uncharacteristically diffident. “About last night…”
She held up her palm, her face averted. “Don’t.”
He opened his mouth, but she was as still as a graven image. She seemed to have retreated somewhere deep inside herself.
Damnation! His mouth snapped shut. He turned to look out the window as the carriage began rolling forward. He’d well and truly mucked this up. If he had it to do over, he’d… what? He sure as hell wouldn’t take back that kiss.
Griffin sighed and laid his head against the squabs. That kiss had been quite spectacular. He remembered her mouth soft and yielding, her breasts pressed against his chest, and the hard beat of his own heart. He’d been aroused, naturally, but oddly the part that stuck in his mind wasn’t the eroticism of their embrace, but the sweetness. It had felt… right—as wrong as that was.
And as truly foolish as it was to have kissed his brother’s fiancée, he’d do it all over again if Lady Hero gave even the slightest sign of acquiescence.
Griffin cracked an eyelid and snorted under his breath. The lady was showing no such signs this morning. She sat ramrod straight in her seat—surely an uncomfortable pose as the carriage swayed—and her face was still averted. She gave every indication of loathing him.
Well, that was for the best, wasn’t it?
Griffin sighed. “Why have you decided to go back to St. Giles so soon?”
“Mr. Templeton has agreed to meet me at the site of the new home,” she said.
He raised his brows, waiting for more explanation, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Fine, two could play at that game. He tilted his hat over his eyes and settled back to regain some of the sleep he’d lost this morning.
The carriage shuddering to a stop woke Griffin some time later. He watched lazily as Lady Hero got up and left the carriage without a word to him. His lips twitched. That certainly put him in his place. He could stay in the carriage and await her return, but curiosity got the better of him. Griffin followed her out of the carriage, looking around.
They were in St. Giles, not far from his still, actually. The carriage was stopped at the end of a narrow lane, too wide to pass through. Griffin saw Lady Hero walking determinedly down the lane with her footman, George. Griffin jogged to catch up. By the time he made her side, she was already in conversation with Jonathan. The architect was all in black, a huge roll of papers under one arm. He turned to greet Griffin, but Lady Hero continued talking.
“… as you can see. Now we’re worried that the children will have to stay in their wretched temporary home for the winter. Can you give us any hope, Mr. Templeton?”
She drew breath and Griffin took advantage of the pause by sticking his hand out to his friend. “Good morning, Jonathan. How are you today?”
“Quite well, my lord, quite well indeed,” the architect replied, beaming. He glanced at Lady Hero and blinked at her gimlet stare. “Er… now, then, as to the progress of the foundling home, my lady. As you can see, the former architect barely laid the foundations. I’ve had a chance to inspect the site, and I’m afraid I’ve discovered several distressing points.”
Lady Hero frowned. “Yes?”
Jonathan nodded, pushing his spectacles up onto his forehead. “Most of the foundation is sound, but in places it has already settled and will need to be dug up, shored, and rebuilt. Further, the papers you sent me indicated that special stone, wood, et cetera were bought and stored here. I’m afraid I cannot find them.”
“Stolen?” Griffin asked.
“Yes, my lord, or perhaps never truly bought in the first place.” Jonathan looked troubled. “In any case, the materials will have to be purchased before further construction is done.”
Griffin glanced at Lady Hero and saw that she was biting her lip. “I… I will have to see about obtaining the monies necessary to purchase material. Last time it took weeks for the stone to be shipped.”
“Ah.” Mr. Templeton rocked back on his heels. “Here I think I have good news, then. I know of a supplier of fine granite who has some already sitting in his warehouse here in London. I have no doubt that he has enough to meet our needs. It isn’t the Italian marble that the original plans called for, but the granite stone is pretty enough. Cheaper, too. I believe I can persuade him to extend you the credit on the stone.”
Lady Hero seemed to relax. “Wonderful, Mr. Templeton! I shall rely upon you to arrange for the granite to be bought and moved here. Now, perhaps you can show me the problems you spoke of.”
Griffin sat on the stone foundation of Lady Hero’s home and waited for her to complete her tour with Jonathan. He tilted his head back, feeling the sun on his face. He’d have to take her home after this and then return again to St. Giles to consult with Nick about what to do with the Vicar. Griffin rubbed the back of his neck wearily. He couldn’t remain indefinitely in London guarding the still. Perhaps the Vicar could be bought off somehow. Except that Griffin balked at giving the man money. The only other means of eliminating the crime lord was assassination.
Griffin chuckled in disgust. He hadn’t sunk quite that low yet.
“My lord!”
He glanced up to see a footman trotting toward him.
Griffin straightened. “What is it?”
“There’s a lad at the carriage asking after you. Said to tell you that Nick sent him.”
Lady Hero had returned with Jonathan by this time. She looked at Griffin for the first time that day. “What is it?”
“A matter of business.” He glanced at Jonathan. “Are you done here?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then let’s go.” He took her arm and walked rapidly toward the carriage. He hated to take her along, but he couldn’t very well let her wander alone in St. Giles. “Damnation.”
She arched her eyebrow at him but kept pace with his stride. The youth waiting beside the carriage was one of Nick’s crew. He doffed his hat at the sight of Lady Hero, his eyes widening. He’d probably never seen an aristocratic lady in his life.
“What is it?” Griffin demanded.
The lad jumped, tearing his gaze from Lady Hero. “Nick wants to talk to you, m’lord. Quick like, if’n you can.”
Griffin nodded. “Hop on the back of the carriage.”
He gave the coachman directions and then helped Lady Hero in before pounding on the roof.
She watched him as he threw himself on the squabs. “How did your messenger find you?”
“I sent word where I’d be,” he said absently.
Thankfully she didn’t ask any more questions. The carriage was already pulling up in front of the distillery’s wall.
“Stay here,” he ordered her before leaping from the carriage.
Griffin strode through the gate. Nick was in the courtyard.
“In here.” Nick jerked his head toward the distillery, leading the way.
Inside, the fires illuminated the cavernous building like something out of Hades. A small knot of his men was gathered over something that lay on the warehouse floor. As Griffin drew nearer, he saw it was a man.
Or what was left of a man.
The body was tangled, the limbs at angles the joints weren’t meant to bear naturally. Griffin took one look at the face and glanced away.
“Tommy Reese,” Nick said, and spat into the straw. “Went out for a tankard of beer yesterday afternoon and was thrown over the wall just ’alf an hour ago, lookin’ like that.”
Griffin fisted his hands. He remembered Tommy; he couldn’t have been more than twenty. “Did he say anything?”
Nick shook his head. “Already dead.” He glanced sharply at the silent men and gestured Griffin to the side. “Tortured, I’m thinkin’, m’lord.”
“No doubt.” Griffin grimaced. “Was Reese party to any particular secret of our business?”
“Nah, just started.”
“Then the Vicar did this as a warning.”
“And to scare the men.” Nick lowered his voice. “Already two ’ave run off. Couldn’t stop them, though I told the buggers right enough they’d be safer in here.”
“Fuck.” Griffin rolled his head on his shoulders to stretch his neck, then swiveled to the men. “Well, this is first shot. From now on, no one goes out at night, and during the day you go in pairs. Is that clear?”
The men nodded, though none would meet his eyes.
Griffin smiled widely, though he felt more like howling. “And your pay has just doubled, right? Any man still here by tomorrow gets a fistful of coins. You go out tonight and you’ll get that instead.” He jerked his chin at the corpse.
One by one, he stared at each man until they all met his eyes and nodded.
Finally, Griffin jerked his chin. “Get on with it.”
The men went back to work. No one smiled or looked particularly cheerful, but at least they weren’t whispering mutiny among themselves anymore. Nick pulled two of the men aside and gave them instructions in low tones. A moment more and the two men had lifted Reese’s poor body between them and taken it out to the courtyard. Griffin turned back to watch broodingly as the stills were stoked.
“My God,” came a feminine voice behind Griffin.
He turned and met Lady Hero’s accusing eyes. “You’re running a gin still!”
Chapter Seven
Early the next morning, the queen greeted her suitors in her throne room. She wore a gown of silver and gold, her midnight-black hair was coiled and twisted beneath a golden crown, and every man in that room was amazed by her beauty and bearing.
