* * *
The door to the carriage opened, and the urchin clambered in and onto the opposite seat.
"Fill me in, Alfie," Gavin said as he observed the scene beyond the window.
"She an' that carroty-pated git been wearin' their 'eels down for an hour or more. 'Im's a stuffed shirt, if I e'er saw one." The boy snorted. "Walks wif a stick up 'is arse an' bends 'is 'ellos more times than a ha'penny whore."
Gavin released the curtain, bringing the carriage into darkness once more. As usual, Alfie's description was spot on. The boy had got Lord Charles Portland down to the last priggish detail.
"And Miss Fines?" he said. "How would you describe her manner during their exchange?"
Beneath his grimy cap, Alfie's eyes swung heavenward. "Like a moon-struck booby, that's 'ow. Makin' eyes an' spoutin' 'eaps o' rubbish." Fluttering his lashes, the boy mimicked, "Ooh, my lord, you're so 'andsome. I ne'er seen a gent so 'andsome. Why, you're the 'andsomest—"
Gavin held up a hand. "I get the idea, Alfie."
His jaw clenched. He told himself it should come as no great shock that Percy would fancy herself in love with Lord Portland. Half the chits in Town would give their eyeteeth to wed the bloody viscount, and the other half would give much more than that. Aye, Gavin thought with disgust, he understood the workings of theton. Thus, he should not be surprised. Nor should he wish to tear Portland's head off and dismember the rest of the niff-naff limb by limb.
What the devil did Percy see in that bloodless fop?
A title and loads of blunt, that's what, the cynical voice in his head answered.'Tis what all middling class chits aim for. Percy may honey coat it with talk of romance, but in the end she's no different from the rest of her kind and don't you forget it.
The anger focused him. While Percy might have delusions of love where Portland was concerned,Gavinwas the one she'd kissed with unbridled enthusiasm. He could still taste her lips, sweet as spun sugar, melting against his. He could feel her eager hands and the way her soft curves had molded with perfect pliancy to his own hard form, which grew instantly harder at the memory.
Portland wanted her heart? He could have at it. That organ was useless as far as Gavin was concerned; what he meant to have was Percy's delectable body. And his revenge. Raking a hand irritably through his hair, he told himself to stay fixed on the goal. In a nutshell: ruin her, take her brother's shares, and destroy Nicholas Morgan, all in one fell swoop.
"You want me to keep tailin' 'em, guv?"
"No, I have it from here." Gavin flipped the boy a coin. "You go on."
Alfie caught the guinea mid-air and saluted. "Pleasure, sir, an' won't mind if I do. Plenty o' pigeons in the park today, an' all o' 'em ripe for a pluckin'." With a grin, he hopped out of the carriage and melted into the crowd.
Having seen enough of Percy and her beau cavorting in the sunshine, Gavin instructed the driver to proceed home. The route took him through the Covent Garden market, and he stared pensively out into the bustling piazza, formulating his strategy. Coercion would only elicit Percy's rebellious streak, so the way to seduce her was to let her think she was making her own choices. To lay out the lures and let his curious (and more than a little competitive) adversary take the bait.
Having a competitive nature himself, he had to admit he found their games... entertaining. His lips twitched, thinking of the grudging manner in which she'd held her side of the bargain. She hadn't wanted to yield that second kiss, yet when she had, she'd participated with a pure passion that had roused him utterly. With her, the innocent act of touching lips had fueled his lust more than the most debauched acts with other women in the past.
He wondered if Percy had thought about their kisses. Wondered if she—like him—had done more than just think about it. The notion of Percy frigging herself made him hot all over. Of course, proper young misses did not do such things, but a man could dream, couldn't he? By the time he arrived at the club, his trousers had gotten uncomfortably tight again. So he was not especially pleased to see Kingsley's velvet-clad figure at the front steps of The Underworld.
"Hunt, well met." Kingsley waved a greeting.
Gavin buttoned his jacket over his front. Thank God he'd not worn a cutaway today. "To what do I owe the honor?" he said.
"I'm following up on my promise to lend a hand," Kingsley said pleasantly. "The wife's off in Bath for a few weeks so I thought you and I could talk. Man to man, eh?"
"Shall we meet in my office?" Gavin said without enthusiasm.
He led the way up the steps into the circular atrium. Sunlight streamed in from the windows, gleaming off the black marble floors and the crystal tiers of the chandelier. Like spokes of a wheel, six lavish hallways extended outward toward the gaming salons. Industrious servants cleaned and swept; Davey paused in the act of polishing a mirror to bow low.
Gavin noted the envious slant to Kinglsey's gaze.Let the bastard look. But if he tries to take what's mine, I'll do more than pummel him into the dirt. This time, I'll wring his bloody neck.
They entered the office, and Gavin waved Kingsley into the chair facing the desk. He poured the man a drink, knowing the other wouldn't touch it. If the tables were reversed, he wouldn't either. Sitting back against studded leather, Gavin eyed his uninvited guest and slowly sipped his whiskey. "What sort of assistance are you offering, Kingsley?"
The Adonis smiled, showing perfect white teeth. "A proposal of mutual benefit. The way I see it, there's only two men deserving of the riches Covent Garden has to offer, and they're both sitting in this room."
"I'm certain the other proprietors would disagree."
"Who—Lyon? The O'Briens?" Kingsley made a scoffing sound. "They're uncouth and uncivilized, not fit for greatness. And the attack on your patrons? I wouldn't put that cowardly action past any of the three."
Or you."What are you proposing?" Gavin said.
