Page 56 of The Last Chance
Aaron considered the point, which took longer than usual because Joanna dominated his thoughts. “Or Venus wasn’t invited to the party and she sneaked in via the mews. This is the only house on the row with access from the garden.”
He paused, registering a presence behind them.
“Experiencing the pleasures of the outdoors, Mr Chance?” came a woman’s sultry voice. “I hear you have been causing quite a stir.”
Damnation! How the blazes had she recognised him?
He turned to find Mrs Flavell, their flamboyant hostess. The forty-year-old wore a red silkrobe à la françaisewith an oriental pattern. Her powdered white wig was large enough to hide a small aviary.
“I could make a fortune auctioning you to the highest bidder,” the widow continued. Her wicked grin spoke of mischief, though she’d forgone a mask. “Most ladies in London would give an organ to spend the night with the formidable Aaron Chance.”
Mrs Flavell’s gaze shifted to Joanna. “You must share your secret, my darling. How the devil did you lure him into the maze?”
Joanna smiled. “One must appeal to the man behind the scandalous reputation. It’s not an easy task. More akin to laying siege to a Norseman’s fortress with a blind beggar and a lame donkey.”
Mrs Flavell laughed like her sides hurt. “Oh, how utterly amusing you are, my dear. Perhaps you might return without your chaperone. With your wit and beauty, the world could be yours.” She glanced at the house. “They’re already squabbling over you. You could take your pick tonight.”
Aaron’s anger snapped as easily as thawing ice on a raging river. “The first man to touch her loses his hand. You’ll tell them she’s mine.”
“My friend is somewhat protective,” Joanna said.
“Your friend?” Mrs Flavell narrowed her gaze. “I’ve seen men fornicate like beasts to appease their physical cravings. I rarely see one kiss a woman like she owns a piece of his soul.”
Aaron shifted uncomfortably. “What do you want?”
“Changing the subject so quickly. I think that proves my point.” The lady produced a letter she had tucked inside her bodice. “This came for you ten minutes ago. I would have brought it outside, but I didn’t want to spoil your little adventure into the verdure.”
Aaron snatched the letter, noted his name scrawled in elegant script, then broke the seal and read the missive.
I shall bring your house down brick
by brick until you’re the only one
standing in the rubble.
Hellfire!
Alarm shot through him, his heart hammering in his chest asevery muscle tensed. Either his nemesis followed him to Belgravia, or Mrs Flavell’s mouth was as loose as her silk drawers.
“Did Daventry say I would be here tonight?”
“No. Mr Daventry refused to disclose your identity, even when I mentioned asking you to play master with a small group of ladies upstairs.” Mrs Flavell feigned concern. “I trust all is well.”
Aaron firmed his jaw. “Don’t toy with me. I own most of your patrons’ vowels. One threat and I could empty your house. Who delivered the note?”
Mrs Flavell seemed to find it all so amusing. “A penny boy. I doubt you’ll catch him. The sprightly little thing took off down the street, a gangle of arms and legs.”
Aaron thought to wipe the smirk off her face. “Someone is out to hurt my family. I don’t need to tell you what I’ll do when I find the culprit. Our enquiries led us here. Don’t force my hand. Believe me, you’d rather be my ally than my enemy.”
The widow shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
Joanna spoke, her sweet voice bringing an element of calm. “We need the names of the women Thomas Parker enjoyed at your parties.”
“I made an oath to protect my patrons’ anonymity. Besides, the list would fill more pages than Walter Scott’sWaverley. I’m not exaggerating when I say Mr Parker leaves no stone unturned. His brother, Sir Geoffrey, asked that I withdraw his membership.”
Perhaps Sir Geoffrey hoped his brother would find a willing bride.
And the mention of membership roused an interesting point.
