The prince of pleasure

Chapter Nine

When Julienne returned Dare's curricle that afternoon to his home at Cavendish Square, his august butler gave her a severe glance of disapproval before summoning his lordship.

Dare appeared almost immediately. She could sense his simmering anger as he swiftly descended the front steps to the street in order to inspect the condition of his horses.

Julienne watched as he carefully ran his hands over their legs and backs to assure himself the grays were unharmed.

"I promise I didn't ruin them," she said blandly. "Indeed, I took the liberty of having them unharnessed and groomed while I was having dinner at the Primrose Inn with a certain mutual acquaintance of ours."

With a sharp glance at her, Dare ordered a footman to have the horses driven around to the stables. Then he grasped Julienne lightly but firmly by the arm.

"Before I have someone see you home, Miss Laurent, I hope you will do me the honor of taking a glass of sherry with me," he said, his silken tone brooking no refusal.

"But of course, my lord," Julienne agreed, keeping her smile to herself.

His mansion, what little she could see of it, was magnificent. She scarcely had time to glance around the vast entryway, which was tastefully adorned with statuary and tapestries and paintings in oils, before Dare ushered her into a spacious salon.

"I trust you have an explanation for stealing my horses," he said tersely as soon as he shut the door.

"I am so relieved you managed to find your way safely home," Julienne answered, deliberately taunting him.

She saw a muscle flex in his jaw, but he apparently thought better of giving vent to his anger and playing into her hands. Instead his mouth curved in a reluctant half smile. "I presume you will divulge your reasons in your own good time, my lovely Jewel?"

"You promised me a glass of wine, did you not? I declare I am parched. This spy business is arduous work."

His gaze narrowed at her cryptic words, but he went to the sideboard and poured her some sherry. When he returned to hand her the glass, Julienne stepped back out of range, on the chance that Dare might try to kiss her again. Turning, she settled on a brocade sofa.

"I was endeavoring to seduce Riddingham's secrets from him," she said finally.

She saw some hot emotion flare in Dare's eyes, but he merely moved to stand before the cold hearth and clasped his hands behind his back, as if striving to control himself.

"Happily I had no need to lure him to my bed," Julienne added in a pleasant tone.

"Did you never stop to think," Dare snapped, "that if Riddingham truly is a killer, you could have been in grave danger?"

"Perhaps, but I seriously doubt he is a killer. In fact, I think it can be proved that he isn't. At least in the case of that poor girl, Alice Watson."

His expression remained enigmatic. "Do tell."

"My initial intent, when I followed Riddingham this afternoon, was to reduce his rancor toward you. But then I realized I had the perfect opportunity to question him by asking him to dine with me. He was very angry with you, naturally, Dare. I pretended to sympathize with him."

"To what end?"

"To discover his whereabouts when Alice Watson was killed."

Dare's eyebrow rose, but he remained silent.

"Truthfully, I recalled that Riddingham missed some of my performances several weeks ago, around the time in question, and that afterward, he apologized profusely for being away. So today I asked him where he went. And he seems to have an alibi. He spent the entire weekend with his mother at Lady Smallcombe's estate in Richmond."

"He is claiming his mother as his alibi?"

At Dare's skepticism, Julienne returned a wry smile. "Indeed. And the tale gets better. He was merely supposed to squire Lady Riddingham to a Saturday afternoon garden party there. But when they arrived, her lapdog apparently was terrorized by a stable cat, and she refused to travel until the poor animal was calmer. They even had to summon the local physician to give it a sleeping potion. So Riddingham and his mama spent two nights in Richmond and didn't return to London until late Monday."

"While the companion disappeared Sunday evening," Dare murmured. "Her body was found early the next day."

"I think that makes it unlikely Riddingham killed her, don't you? And his tale is so extravagant… Surely a man of Caliban's cunning wouldn't be foolish enough to make up a story that could so easily be disproved. It would be short work to confirm Riddingham's presence in Richmond that weekend. You could ask Lady Smallcombe… or the physician, for that matter."

"I intend to. Did you question him about Alice Watson?"

"I was afraid to press too closely for fear of rousing his suspicion. But I did mention how shocked I was by the death of Lady Castlereagh's companion, that I feared London wasn't safe for womankind. Riddingham said that he barely knew her, that he only heard about her death from Lady Castlereagh recently."

"And you believed him?"

"If he is acting, then his performance is good enough to rival Kean's. I could detect no sign of artifice from him. And I should think by now I know most all the tricks of my profession."

For a long moment Dare's eyes delved into hers. Then, giving his back to her, he propped one booted foot up on the fender and stared grimly down at the empty hearth. "If Riddingham is not our traitor, then I've been chasing shadows all this time."

His tone was so dark, Julienne wanted to console him. "What of his friends, Sir Stephen Ormsby and Mr. Perrine? You said one of them may have lost the ring to Riddingham. Apparently they both were in London that weekend, for Riddingham had to cancel a planned engagement with them for Saturday night."

"He told you that?"

"Yes-when he was complaining about how his mother had spoiled his plans. Isn't it possible that one of them was acquainted with Alice Watson? Sir Stephen certainly seems enough of a rake to seduce an innocent girl for his own devious purposes. Perhaps Lady Castlereagh could tell you what connection those gentlemen had to her companion."

"Rest assured, questioning her will be my next step. And I will endeavor to find out from Riddingham what his friends knew of the girl."

"How?"

Dare exhaled in a reluctant sigh. "As much as it pains me, I suppose I will have to worm my way back into Riddingham's good graces."

"You might do best to soothe his wounded pride and let him think he is winning me."

Raising his head, Dare glanced back at Julienne. "Better yet, I will find him another love interest."

Julienne didn't particularly like the sudden gleam that entered his eyes. "It will have to be someone other than Miss Upcott. I imagine she is exceedingly unhappy with him at the moment."

"There are better candidates," he answered obscurely. "I think I will invite him to be my guest at a private club I know of."

"A sin club, you mean." When Dare didn't answer, Julienne pursed her lips. "I've heard tales of your Hellfire League entertainments. And I confess, I should like to attend myself. I am curious about what goes on at events like that."

Pushing away from the hearth, Dare moved toward her. "Are you trying to inveigle an invitation out of me, darling Jewel?"

"Would you take me?"

"Not on your life. I would be more than delighted to further your education privately, but I'll be damned before I willingly subject you to the debauchery of one of our Hellfire gatherings."

"Your jealousy is showing again," Julienne said lightly.

"How remiss of me," Dare drawled. "But I think I will do better alone with Riddingham, without your presence to complicate matters. You would only prove a distraction-to both of us. And it's imperative that I succeed this time."

Julienne stared at him thoughtfully. "You seem to have changed from the wastrel I once knew. I understand why you would be ideal for the task of pursuing Caliban, since few people can move among the ton as you can. But I still find it surprising that you have devoted so much effort to the search."

Julienne realized the truth of her words even as she spoke. It was sobering to think Dare wasn't the same reckless rogue she once had known. He had matured a great deal since their love affair. Yet a leopard didn't wholly change his spots, Julienne reflected as he crossed the room to her.

He was looking down at her intently. When his gaze traced the outline of her lips, she could feel its caress… the softness, the warmth. The thought of his mouth moving over hers sent an urgent desire burning through her senses-

Julienne froze. She couldn't allow herself to be swept away by his consuming passion again. It was deplorable enough, her need to be near him, to touch him…

"I should go," she murmured. "I'm risking scandal as it is, calling alone at the residence of a notorious rake."

"Are you that concerned for your reputation?"

"Not really. An actress has little reputation to defend, as you well know. But my calling here might give our audience the wrong idea that I had succumbed to your seduction."

For a moment Dare looked as if he might object, but then he cleared his throat and stepped back a pace. "I will have someone see you home."

She set down her untasted glass of sherry and stood. "Will you let me know what you discover?"

"Are you truly interested?"

"Yes. And I went to a great deal of trouble for you today, Dare, so I think I deserve to hear the outcome."

"Perhaps you do. I could kiss you for this, you know."

Julienne gave him a provocative smile. "I would prefer that for once you refrained."

"Very well, love. Whatever you say." He belied his words, though, by bending and giving her nose a chaste peck. "But I could almost forgive you for stealing my grays."

Several nights later, Dare lounged on a couch at one side of the drawing room, watching in satisfaction as three nubile beauties assaulted Riddingham with their sensual arts. In short order they had divested the viscount of his clothing and aroused him till he was near bursting.

Then one of the beauties mounted him while the other two continued to attend him with their hands and mouths and bare breasts.

His face flushed with passion, Riddingham writhed and bucked beneath their erotic ministrations. Moments later his lanky body spasmed, and he gave a hoarse cry of ecstasy as he spent himself. Eventually he fell back, limp with exhaustion.

Dare sighed with ennui.

He had invited Riddingham for an evening of pleasure at Madame Fouchet's salon, so he shouldn't be disappointed that his invitation had been accepted. He'd been forced to arrange this means of interrogating Riddingham, since Lady Castlereagh had recalled nothing further about who might have been pursuing her companion.

It had taken some doing to persuade the viscount to unruffle his angry feathers. But Dare was nothing if not persuasive, and his change of tactics seemed to do the trick. Dare had complained that Miss Laurent refused to forgive him until he'd made peace with his rival, and griped that he was losing the battle for the Jewel's affections.

Letting Riddingham believe he was winning her put the viscount in a more generous mood. Thus, three nights following their curricle race found them at Madame Fouchet's elegant sin club.

"You will take good care of my friend?" Dare had asked the Frenchwoman.

"Mais oui, absolutement," she replied in her husky, welcoming voice as she discreetly nodded to three of her Venuses.

Dare gladly gave Riddingham into the madame's care, knowing she would skillfully ply him with port and sex and make him feel like a king-or at least an Eastern potentate with a luscious harem.

Then Dare settled back in one corner of the room, prepared for a long night.

In his wilder days, he had been a frequent visitor here, and he still knew some of these straw damsels by name. Glancing around the room, he saw that Riddingham wasn't the only gentleman partaking in the debauchery. A half-dozen other acquaintances were enjoying the erotic pleasures Madame Fouchet offered.

But he had no desire to follow suit.

Rising abruptly, Dare poured himself a brandy and went to stand at the French window, looking out at the dark night. Despite his years, he felt suddenly old, raw with weariness, burned to the core.

His brutal discontent had caught him by surprise. For the most part he'd succeeded in denying its existence until recently.

It was no wonder, of course, that he suffered from boredom and loneliness. All his closest friends had married, abandoning their wicked ways in favor of home and hearth with their chosen mates.

Sin had been the first to go. Damien Sinclair was once as notorious a rakehell as Dare himself, until he embarked on a calculated seduction and found the one woman he couldn't live without.

Lucian Tremayne had been content to play his spymaster games until he lost his heart to the flame-haired siren he'd only wed in order to gain an heir.

Lucian's distant cousin, American privateer Nicholas Sabine, had developed a unquenchable passion for the beautiful daughter of a duke and persuaded her to return home with him. And Nick's ward, Raven Kendrick, had wed a stranger to avoid scandal but found her heart's desire in her infamous husband, a half-Irish gaming hall owner named Kell Lasseter.

It was their troubled marriage that had recently caused Dare to cut short his stay in Yorkshire and make a mad dash to Ireland.

Lucian had been amused when he heard the story, Dare remembered.

"Do I assume correctly, Dare, that you've been playing Cupid?"

Dare had smiled faintly at the irony of a jaded rake like himself assuming the role of matchmaker. "I thought someone needed to intervene. Raven planned to leave England without even informing Kell."

"So you went to Ireland to fetch him?"

"Yes. And we arrived at the London docks barely in time to prevent her departure."

The Lasseters had sailed for the Caribbean two days later. It was much too soon to have received any word from them yet, Dare knew, but he had no doubt they would be extremely happy together.

He would miss Raven greatly, even though his feelings toward her were merely those of a protective older brother. The unconventional minx had been a good influence on him. Indeed, his abrupt journey to Ireland on Raven's behalf was one of the few good deeds he could claim in his admittedly dissolute past.

Dare found himself frowning as he took a long swallow of brandy. Julienne's earlier remark about him being a wastrel had stung, probably because it was so close to the truth. For most of his thirty-three years, he'd been nothing more than a consummate pleasure seeker. Except during his former lamentable obsession with Julienne, he had never cared enough about anything in his life to warrant seriously exerting himself. Not until Caliban had appeared, in any event.

If he was to change the pattern of his decadent life, Dare reflected, Caliban was as good a place to start as any. Better, perhaps, because the stakes were so high.

And he found to his surprise that he wanted to change.

For now, however, he was required to spend the rest of the interminable evening at Madame Fouchet's, lulling Riddingham into a state of loquaciousness.

To that end, he endeavored to get the viscount thoroughly sotted, so that by the time Riddingham stumbled happily into the Wolverton town coach, he was three sheets to the wind.

Dare slurred his own words, pretending to be just as drunk when he asked if the viscount had enjoyed himself.

"By Jove, 'twas bloody splendid!" Riddingham exclaimed. "Mush say, Wolverton, you have excellent taste in fancy pieces. Those ladybirds of Fouchet's left me all wrung out…"

"I'm certain they would be glad for you to return any time. The blonde told me she hadn't had a great buck like you in months."

"Did she now?" Sprawled on the seat, his disheveled clothing reeking of sex and wine, Riddingham flashed a silly grin.

"Saw her admiring your ring," Dare commented. "Wonder if it has some special power over females?"

Riddingham's grin broadened as he held up his hand to peer at the ring. The dragon's ruby eyes winked in the dim light of a passing streetlamp. "P'raps so."

"I really would like to have one of those for myself. You're certain Stephen Ormsby didn't lose it to you?"

Riddingham's brow furrowed. "Doan remember."

"Well, at least your taste in women is better than Stephen's. Heard he was sniffing around that young companion of Lady Castlereagh's a few weeks ago. The girl who wound up floating in the Thames."

"Pity about her."

"Yes, a pity. You and Stephen were both at Castlereagh's rout a few weeks ago, weren't you?"

The viscount gave a woozy nod.

"Did you see him make a play for the girl?"

"Happen I did. But there was another chap… tall, dark-haired fellow…" Riddingham gave a drunken snicker. "She was making sheep's eyes at him and scarcely noticed ole Stephen."

"Indeed? She preferred this other chap? Who was it?"

"Can't recall his name but… think his title was higher than a baronet. Remember because it miffed Stephen when she snubbed him. Fancies himself quite the charmer, Stephen does."

Riddingham gave a snort of laughter before he laid his head back against the squabs and promptly passed out.

Over his snores, Dare forced himself to consider his next steps. He very much doubted that Riddingham had killed the girl or even hired someone to kill her. And the likelihood that he was Caliban now seemed so far-fetched, it was almost laughable.

Dare frowned. It also seemed laughable that he'd ever suspected Julienne of being Caliban's accomplice. She wasn't in league with a cunning killer. Nor was she a traitor.

The thought brought Dare less comfort than it should have, for now he no longer had any legitimate pretext for pursuing her. At least no pretext that would make Julienne take him seriously.

She thought his public courtship a juvenile act of revenge-and perhaps it had begun that way. But he was fooling himself to pretend that his goal hadn't changed.

Desire tormented him like hot coals, yet his need for Julienne had gone beyond the physical. He wanted more than simply to win their wager; he wanted her earnest surrender.

His loins hardened when he remembered claiming his victory kiss after the race. His fear that she could have been thrown from the curricle. Her soft lips parting warm and moist beneath his. Her heart beating wildly as her soft breasts pressed against his chest. The exhilaration that filled him at her willing response…

He could have gone on kissing her forever for the sheer joy of it. Even that simple intimacy touched some part of him he'd kept inviolate for years. For all his sensual expertise, he'd remained emotionally detached from his lovers, holding himself apart even as he sought release from the emptiness that gnawed at him.

He would have to find the strength to hold himself apart from Julienne, Dare knew. She would only savage his heart once more if he allowed her to.

To care for her again was impossible, unthinkable.

Still, he couldn't lose her. Not yet.

And he couldn't prevent himself from contemplating what it would take to truly win their wager.

He found Lucian the following morning, sparring at Gentleman Jackson's Rooms on Bond Street. Dare wanted to catch his friend before he left town for his Devonshire seat and his pregnant wife, Brynn.

Dare winced as he watched the punishing round of fisticuffs, but Lucian appeared to enjoy the physical barbarity, delivering his own share of powerful blows with relish. When the bout was over, Lucian and Dare moved to one corner of the vast room and spoke over the din of another boxing match.

While Lucian toweled himself dry, Dare related what he had learned about Riddingham's alibi for the time in question.

"And you're convinced that Riddingham is not Caliban?" Lucian said at the conclusion.

"I am. We've been looking at the wrong man. Although it's still possible his cohorts were involved."

"Who?" Lucian asked, his interest sharpening.

"Sir Stephen Ormsby and Martin Perrine. Do you know them?"

"Sir Stephen, I do. Perrine only vaguely."

"Sir Stephen is a fashionable fribble, Perrine a dull sort who scarcely says a word in mixed company," Dare said. "They were both at Riddingham's estate in York last month, which is how they wound up as guests at my recent house party. I invited them because Riddingham could have won the ring from either of them. Moreover, Sir Stephen was seen trifling with the companion in recent weeks."

He recounted Riddingham's delight that Sir Stephen had been spurned by the girl in favor of a tall, dark-haired nobleman.

"That could prove to be a significant lead," Lucian declared, visibly pleased by the information. "I'll look into it at once."

"Martin Perrine shouldn't be disregarded entirely, though," Dare remarked. "It's common knowledge that his pockets are terminally to let. As a younger son, his prospects must not be too promising. He could have turned traitor for financial gain."

Lucian's brow creased in contemplation as he donned his shirt. "I will have him investigated, but I doubt Caliban is in the game solely for wealth. He's a brilliant strategist who revels in outwitting his opponents."

"Perrine certainly doesn't strike me as brilliant. And he isn't of noble blood."

"Still, his quiet manner might simply be a cultivated disguise. And it's possible he calls himself Lord Caliban to increase his importance to his victims. I'll see what my agents can find out about him, along with Sir Stephen and this unnamed nobleman."

Dare started to reply, but just then Gentleman Jackson, one of England's former champions and the owner of the boxing salon, came over to commend Lucian on his bout.

When they were alone again, Lucian began tying his cravat as he said to Dare in a low voice, "I'll have to ask you to keep up your hunt, since unmasking Caliban has become even more urgent. This morning I received a communique from France. A few days ago there was a failed attempt to poison Lord Castlereagh."

"And you think it is Caliban's hand at work?"

"Our foreign secretary has enemies here at home, certainly," Lucian admitted. "And since he isn't here to defend his policies, several members of Parliament have become more vocal in denouncing him. Even the Cabinet is seriously divided. But I can think of no one who would resort to murder to be rid of him."

"But how would his death benefit Caliban?" Dare asked.

"It might simply be revenge. If Napoleon abdicates as expected, his successor must be determined. Castlereagh is finally convinced it would be better to have a Bourbon monarch on the throne rather than Boney's young son, and his lordship is leaving Chaumont for Paris soon to settle the issue with our Allies and the French Senate. That could be Caliban's motive: retaliation against Bonaparte's biggest rival. He could be planning to assassinate Castlereagh."

"So we should assume that he is Caliban's next target," Dare said thoughtfully.

"I think we must. And Caliban will doubtless have accomplices. He's a master at developing conspirators- finding their weaknesses and exploiting them. Brynn's brother Grayson is the only person I know to have escaped Caliban's web, and he only managed it by fabricating his own death. Which reminds me… have you come to any conclusion about Miss Laurent's involvement with Caliban?"

Dare grimaced involuntarily. "Yes."

"And?" Lucian prompted.

"And I think she's innocent. I was mistaken about her, I realize now. She was the one who discovered the evidence that exonerates Riddingham. If not for her, I might still be chasing a dead end."

"So I was right after all?" Lucian's question held an edge of amusement.

"Yes, damn you," Dare replied good-naturedly. "I admit I allowed my past with her to influence my judgment, just as you accused me of doing. I've since revised my opinion of her. I believe she would make you a good spy after all."

"Oh? Then you'll approach her about working for us?"

"If you are still interested."

"I am. I would ask her myself but I am leaving for Devonshire later today." Lucian paused. "You know my assistant, Philip Barton? If you discover anything at all of importance, contact Philip. He'll know what to do."

Dare nodded. "Give my love to Brynn," he said absently, his mind already debating how he would broach the subject with Julienne. "By the time you return, I should have something to report."