Chapter Eleven
Matthew pulled theslim pick from his pocket.Wells & Co.had a surprisingly hefty lock on their back door.Not that it would be a problem for him; there wasn’t a lock that he couldn’t open.An important skill that had made him valuable to the gang he ran with after his uncle died.His uncle had invested everything he had in his theater, and when he died, the theater died with him.Matthew had only been fifteen and far too green to even think of running the business.
The talent had all left for jobs with other venues, and his uncle’s partner had sold the building and kindly given Matthew his share of the proceeds, as his uncle had instructed in his will.As an adult, Matthew now recognized how lucky he was that the man hadn’t swindled him out of his inheritance.Charlie had watched out for him.Matthew continued to return the favor now that Charlie was too old to work on the stage any longer.
Returning home to his parents hadn’t been an option.He hadn’t been able to stomach the fear and resentment that had still churned in his gut at being sent away, at his father choosing his brother over him.So, Matthew had made the choice to care for himself.He’d never regretted his choices, except perhaps on the day of his mother’s funeral.He had cried at the loss of the one person who had loved him and tried to keep him safe.In the end, she hadn’t been safe in that house either.Stella told him their mother had swooned and fallen down the stairs, breaking her neck in the tumble.But the doubt and fear in his sister’s eyes said volumes about how ‘accidental’ their mother’s death had really been.
The scrape of a door opening down the alley made him freeze for a moment.He stepped back against the wall, blending into the shadows, and took a drag from his cigarillo.But the voices that emerged from the nearby business floated down the opposite way from where he stood.He clamped his smoke between his teeth and turned back to the lock.With his tools, he played with the mechanism until he heard the telltale click of the lock opening.
He opened the door and swiftly slipped inside.The back room was filled with shelves full of inventory.He briefly wondered where their workshop was located.Probably in a part of town with cheaper rent.
Through the shadows, he moved to the front room.The curtains had been pulled in front of the large front windows.Matthew sighed in relief.He glanced around in the dark and spotted the shape of a kerosine lamp.Taking his cigarillo, he lit the wick with the glowing end.Lifting the light, he scanned the shop’s interior.Fancy, indeed.Ben had relayed Miss Harper’s experience here earlier today.His lips twitched in amusement, thinking about how put out she must have been that he had been right.
He stood behind the back counter of the establishment.Crouching down, he ran the light across the shelves.Neat and orderly, there were more rolls of ribbon and various supplies.Ink pots, pens, foolscap, and then, in the last section, a row of cloth-bound books.He slid one out and laid it on the counter.The inside showed that it was an account book from 1827.He reached down for the next one, which was marked with the current year.
Flipping through, he figured out that the book was organized by item.He turned pages until he found men’s hats.By scanning the order numbers, it was easy to find number two twenty-three.His finger traced across the page, and his breath caught.Fuck.The gut feeling haunting him for the past two weeks since he’d seen the mark across Mary Beth’s throat had been spot on.No matter how much he’d argued with himself that he was allowing his own childhood trauma to interfere with logical thinking, here it was, neatly penned across the page.
His brother’s name—Jonas Perrin, the Viscount Griffen.
The hat in the alley belonged to Jonas.Jonas had appeared at the Blue Angel the night of Mary Beth’s murder.Had he killed her outside in retribution for being thrown out of the club?Matthew scraped a hand down over his face, his fingers instinctively finding and tracing the old scar hidden under his beard that ran across his neck, under his chin.Who knew why Jonas did anything?His brother’s mind was not right, never had been.God dammit, did Jonas know the Blue Angel belonged to him?Had he figured out where Stella had escaped to?Or was it a strange twist of fate that had brought him to gamble at the Blue Angel that night?
Jesus, if there was even a chance that Jonas knew Stella was at the Blue Angel, she was in danger.Their brother had kept his sister’s disappearance quiet, but Matthew knew Jonas had had a private investigator looking for her.Matthew had looked into the investigator and found that the man had been quietly asking friends in Norfolk and Stella’s acquaintances from finishing school about her whereabouts.No one guessed she would ever come all the way to London and certainly not to the east side.
But the whispers that another one of Viscount Griffen’s children had gone missing was too juicy a piece of gossip to not be passed along.Their father was probably rolling over in his grave that Stella had also escaped.Matthew’s constant worry in the past year had been that someone who knew Stella in Norfolk would spot her and inform Jonas.Not that Matthew had any intention of letting her go without a fight.Jonas might hold the title and clout that came with it, but Matthew had plenty of money to send his sister safely abroad if needed.
He traced his finger over the name on the page.Jonas was a danger to more than just Stella if he had been strangling women all over the east side.A chill ran down his spine as he thought about the note that had led Elizabeth to the Green Door Tavern.Could it have been Jonas?Did he lure her there to harm her?Or had he wanted her to be a witness?
If Lizzie was in his sights, she was certainly in danger.He slammed the accounts book shut and slid it back into its place.He must go tomorrow and talk with her.Tell her everything he knew.She certainly needed to be a damn sight more careful than gallivanting about town at night with only an umbrella as a weapon.He turned out the lamp and let himself out as silently as he had entered.He walked down the back alley and emerged onto the street.Fishing out a coin for the lad who watched his horse, he said, “Thanks, Tim.Good hunting tonight.”
“Anytime, Mr.Reeves.”The boy tipped his worn cap and scurried away, back to picking pockets outside the theaters down in the Garden.
Matthew mounted his horse.He needed to get back to the club.Friday evenings were always busy.But as he rode down the street, his thoughts drifted back to his brother, and instead, he guided his horse west to Berkeley Square.
*
The large squarewas lined with the grand homes of some of London’s wealthiest peers, the address only second to St.James Square.Jonas had let the house last year.What a bachelor wanted with such a large mansion was beyond Matthew’s comprehension.The lights blazed in the front windows.Matthew stroked down his horse’s nose when Bax nudged his shoulder with a soft whinny.“Hang in there, boy.We won’t stay long.Just wondered what he is up to tonight.”
Would he go gaming?To his fancy club to dine and drink?Matthew popped open his watch and tilted the face to catch the moonlight.Quarter past ten.Perhaps Jonas was already out for the evening.Then, a clatter of horses’ hooves sounded from down the street.A town coach pulled up in front of the house.Matthew immediately recognized their family crest gleaming in gold paint on the door.A couple of minutes later, his brother descended the front steps.He was dressed in formal evening attire, his dark hair slicked back and his face clean-shaven.
“Let’s see where he’s going,” Matthew murmured to his horse.He mounted and set off a short distance behind Jonas’s coach as it exited the square.Turned out his brother wasn’t going far.Two streets over, the town coach pulled up in front of a stately home in Grosvenor Square.Matthew snorted derisively.Fucking toffs.Can’t walk two blocks?He passed the grand house and found a spot down the block where he let Bax nibble on the grass of the great lawn that filled the center of the square.His brother descended from the carriage and disappeared into the house.Matthew tied his horse’s reins to a low branch of a tree.“I’ll be right back, I promise.”
Then he skirted around the house.In two swift moves, he was over the fence.He straightened the sleeves of his jacket as he strolled to the back garden.Expansive and perfectly planned in the French style, shadowed marble statues stood among neat squares of blooming flowers.He stayed away from the long terrace, where light from the ballroom spilled out.Keeping to the shadows, he puffed at his cigarillo.
A bright, sparkling scene played out through the tall French doors that lined the back of the house.Glittering headpieces and colorful gowns interspersed with black formal wear danced across his view.And that’s when he saw Lizzie.Standing next to an ajar door, her lace fan fluttered back and forth.She stood alone, apart from the rest of the guests.She wore a gown of subdued navy-blue silk.It had white lace trim along the low neckline and at her wrists.
Even from here, he could see that her throat was unadorned by jewelry.Such a shame.That long, lovely neck should be dripping in jewels—emeralds perhaps, to match her eyes.He swallowed hard as he thought about kissing down the creamy skin of her throat until he reached the delicate swells of her breasts.Dammit, this woman was so damn distracting.
What the hell was she doing here?His breath froze in his chest as he realized that she was in the same room as Jonas.God dammit!He took two steps forward before pausing.He certainly couldn’t go in there.He wasn’t dressed properly and would stick out like a sore thumb.And he couldn’t risk Jonas seeing him.Even though it was unlikely his brother would recognize the adult version of him, he would not take the risk of exposing himself.He had Stella to protect.Stepping back, he took another drag of his cigarillo.He would simply have to watch and make sure Lizzie got home safely.
Chapter Twelve
The woman acrossfrom him was beautiful.Her dark blue gown highlighted her creamy skin and the long lines of her neck.Her brown hair was piled simply in a crown of curls.Her delicate facial features were highlighted by sharp cheekbones and perfectly arched eyebrows.She wore no adornments, which was unusual, but she did not need anything to distract from her serene beauty.Simply staring at her as she softly fanned herself calmed his beast.What would she smell like?Certainly not heavily scented perfume, like so many of the other ladies here tonight.No, this lady probably smelled like fresh soap or perhaps a delicate lavender.
She moved away from the open window and strolled along the edge of the ballroom.He followed.He had to know her scent.She even walked gracefully, winding past other guests with purpose.Although she spoke with no one.She was no fresh debutant.Was she visiting someone this summer?He tapped his fingers against his leg.He stopped when she paused.Her rosy lips curled up in amusement as she watched Beltram make a fool of himself.In his cups, as usual.
What would those lips taste like?His eyes drifted back down to her throat as he imagined it marred by bruises.They would show up so well against the pale skin there.He would be able to pull her close and take in her scent as he strangled the breath from that long, elegant neck.She wasn’t like the others.No, she was far lovelier.He would have to seduce her first, his beast demanded.He had to know what she tasted like.He would know her scent, drown in it.Then afterward, he could take pleasure in watching her slip away with his hands around her throat.This one would be different.
Lost in thoughts of all the beautiful bruises he could put on her alabaster skin, he frowned when another man stepped next to her.He couldn’t hear what they said, so he moved to pass slowly behind them.He was rewarded when he heard the man address her as “Miss Harper.”The name didn’t ring a bell; she must be visiting someone, like he’d first thought.He would ask Lady Cheltenham who Miss Harper was staying with.He strode away to find their hostess.
