The Trouble With Seduction. Victoria Hanlen

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СКАЧАТЬ spent my boyhood in St Giles. I know the ways of that world. No one is more prepared than I.” As a boy, against his parents’ orders, he’d explored the rookery’s labyrinthine underworld. There, villains could melt into the murk, their identities amorphous, ever shifting. If anyone could find them, he could.

      “Cory and I were often mistaken for one another. No one would—”

      “I forbid it!” His father’s voice came out as thin and sharp as a dagger nailing him to the wall. “You were nine when you left, still a boy. Your full attention is needed for our growing business in Liverpool. I wanted you there for a reason… to keep you as far from St Giles as possible.”

      “Farnsworth, my superintendent, can take over in my absence.”

      The muscles worked in his father’s emaciated jaw as he gazed up at the ornate cast plaster on the high ceiling. “You underestimate the danger.”

      “I know the police can’t be trusted, and the villains’ trail grows colder by the minute.”

      His father’s face turned crimson. A new vigor seemed to revive him. “Stubborn fool!” He pounded his cane on the floor. “How can you be so brilliant yet so dense? If they were bold enough to do this to him, they will not hesitate to do the same to you!”

      “Why?”

      “You are my sons. Over the years I’ve had to do… things.”

      “But who are they?”

      His father rubbed his forehead with trembling fingers. “An ever-changing sewer of villains that thrive in the shadows with gangs and networks of underlings.”

      Damen fisted his hands in his pockets. “You know I can do this. I’m familiar with their underhanded tricks and deceits. I lived there long enough to know how to fight dirty.” He made sure his next words were delivered with unmistakable conviction. “And I intend to root out his assailants whether or not you agree.”

      Moments passed while his father sat in silence. His voice came out a low croak. “What are you suggesting?”

      “You said Cory had been looking for an arsonist. Perhaps he stumbled onto something more.”

      “That something more was five ruffians, not one sole arsonist.” His father glared at him.

      “In any event, it appears he found the problem, or, rather, the problem found him.”

      “Wandering through St Giles after dark was the biggest problem.”

      “This was not some random attack, Father. The footman said Cory knew one of the villains. What I find odd is that neither of us has been in London for years. Cory may have an enemy that followed him here?”

      “What do you plan to do?” His father sounded like he was tiring.

      “Given our resemblance, it shouldn’t be difficult to proceed as if I were him. I intend to goad his assailants out into the open. With any luck I should have them in irons within a few days.”

      His father’s lips curved sourly. “Before you dive into the mire, you should know a marriage has been arranged between Cornelius and a woman of means – a Miss Eugenia Lambert.”

      Damen’s gaze shot to his comatose younger brother. “Cory is taking a wife?”

      “In four weeks.”

      Damen let out a snort of disbelief. “He’s not even been back in London two weeks and he’s already engaged?”

      “Cory returned with a desire to find and marry a wealthy woman. A perfectly reasonable ambition for a second son. He interviewed and made a choice between three eligible women. Miss Lambert agreed to his proposal two days ago.”

      “Who were the other two?”

      “The heiress Miss Calista Collins and Lady Strathford.”

      “Lady Strathford? As in the widow of Lord Strathford, the famous inventor? Why didn’t he choose her?”

      “He said something about too many ghosts in the wedding bed. She’s twice widowed. Are you acquainted?”

      “I’ve never met her, but was quite impressed with Lord Strathford. I heard him lecture at Cambridge – rather an odd duck, but a brilliant, brilliant man. She must be a lot younger than him.”

      “At least half his age.” His father pressed bony fingers to his brow. “Hopefully, you’ll not have to deal with Miss Lambert. I’ll talk to her father about postponing the wedding. If you’re set on doing this, we’d best keep Cory’s real condition mum.”

      ***

      Damen, his father and Gormley, his father’s valet, withdrew to the room adjoining Cory’s to discuss plans. Yet no matter how much they coaxed and cajoled, Gormley remained deeply distressed and uncooperative.

      “I am not at all comfortable with this,” the valet pleaded. “Passing yourself off as your younger brother is sure to send the men who assaulted him after you.”

      “That’s the plan, Gorm.” Damen took another gulp of his father’s fine whiskey.

      The lanky valet hunched his shoulders, letting his long arms dangle limply at his sides. “This is not at all wise. Think of the repercussions.”

      Damen set down the bottle and braced his hands on the table, forcing his head forward. “Hit me, you miserable lily pad!”

      Lord Falgate leaned forward in his wheelchair and jammed his cane shakily toward the valet. “He’s stubborn as always and bent on doing this whether or not we agree. So get to it, man – bonnet him! Now’s our chance to thrash him for all the times he’s irritated me.”

      Gormley’s gaze drifted around Damen face, his expression growing more and more dejected. “I’d forgotten how closely you favor your brother.” The valet turned to Falgate. “You had me shave off his beard. Now I must pulverize his handsome face? I’m sorry, my lord, it simply isn’t done.”

      Falgate glared at the valet and jammed his finger toward Damen.

      Gorm sighed and slapped Damen openhanded across the face, leaving little more than a sting.

      His father pounded his cane against the floor in frustration. “Be a man and put some muscle into it! If I were in better fettle, I’d do it myself.”

      “Come on Gorm. Give me a shot, right here.” He pointed to his cheekbone. “I can’t very well go down and pick a fight in a wharf bar, now can I? I’m supposed to be mugged and left for dead.” He took another gulp of whiskey and shoved the bottle toward the valet. “Here, have another swallow. Now wind up those big mitts of yours and show me some knuckles!”

      An hour later, Damen sat alone with Gormley, as the valet finished applying salve to the cuts and bruises around his face.

      “Please accept my apologies. I am a very poor pugilist. The last time I struck someone I was ten years old.”

      Damen СКАЧАТЬ