Page 16 of Beneath the Devil’s Mask (The Hidden Hearts Collection #4)

Five

Sara Palmer unfurled the leaves of her ivory-handled fan and waved it before her, trying to enjoy the luxury of what might be her last night attending the theatre.

The subscription on the box Mandell had hired for her was due to run out.

Such an excellent location it had been, near the stage, rather private from the rest of the house.

If she came to the theatre again, it would have to be at the half-pay rate, coming in after the main bill was over, sitting in the pit. Just another one of the economies she would be forced to practice until she acquired a wealthy and noble lover, hopefully one more marriage-minded this time.

Sara sighed. Her prospects did not look good.

She was a fool to have broken with Mandell before she had been assured of something better.

The marquis had been most generous, and under his protection, Sara feared, she had learned to be extravagant.

Only three days separated from him and she was already feeling the pinch.

Mandell had finished paying for the lease on her apartment and the stabling fees for her horses, but there had been the dressmaker’s bill she had forgotten to have him settle, also one from the jeweler.

Sara did not know what had gotten into her. She was usually far more efficient and businesslike in her dealings with men. Her only excuse was that she had been distracted of late, and she did not have to look far for the source of it.

Frowning, she glanced at the tall figure of the young soldier who lounged in the chair behind her. With a yawn and a stretch, her brother rose and moved toward the door of the box.

“Where are you going, Gideon?” Sara asked sharply.

“Just thought I would step out a moment to get a breath of air.”

“There is plenty of air right here. Sit down. I didn’t ask for your company tonight merely to have you abandon me while you slip backstage to flirt with some actress.”

“Is that what you are afraid of, my dear sister? Or did you think I was going to nip out to the alley and carve someone else up with my hook? The intermission is almost over and it has been so long since my last murder.”

“Lower your voice!” Sara hissed with a nervous glance around her. “There are some here tonight who might not appreciate your dark sense of humor.”

“Like that fat magistrate who was sitting in the box next to us?”

“Yes!” Sara was relieved to see that the portly official had stepped from his seat during the intermission, especially since Gideon persisted in talking so recklessly.

Her brother had that look in his eye that boded ill.

Sara had known it since their childhood, that diamond-hard glitter.

Sometimes it almost seemed as though Gideon was begging to have a noose placed around his neck.

She was not soothed, even when he stepped up behind her and began to massage the back of her neck with his large powerful hands.

“Sara, Sara,” he chided. “You have to relax about this Hook affair. The beaks in the city are too busy rounding up all the one-handed men to bother with me as a suspect. The only one ready to send me to the gallows is you. You wound my tender feelings. Positively, you do.”

“Your feelings couldn’t be wounded with a poleax.

” Impatiently, Sara thrust her brother’s hands away from her.

“If I still suspect you had something to do with that murder, I have good reason. You were always lurking about with Bertie Glossop and that other young idiot Dan Keeler. And I know how vile your temper can be when you have been drinking. As if that were not enough, you have been flashing around an inordinate amount of money lately.”

“It is only my pension, the grand reward our government bestows upon the noble warriors who shed blood for dear old England.” His mocking tone was underscored with bitterness as his hand crept to his face in an almost reflexive gesture.

He stroked the jagged scar that bisected his chin like a flash of white lightning, the legacy of the French saber that had nearly cleft his jaw in twain.

“You’ve never seen a penny of recompense since you have been out of the army,” Sara said indignantly.

“I never saw a penny while I was in the army. All I have to show for my devoted service is this uniform.”

“Stolen off of some officer’s back!”

“He no longer had any use for it. He died of dysentery, poor chap.”

“You should get rid of it. It is dangerous to go around impersonating a lieutenant.”

“But it impresses the devil out of the ladies.” Gideon grinned.

“Sometimes I think I should have stayed with the regiment, but things got sadly flat after Waterloo. And I daresay they won’t release poor old Boney from Elba merely to suit me.

So alas, my dear, I fear your brother must embark upon a new career. ”

“What worries me is that you have already found one.”

“Sara, I assure you one last time. I am not the Hook. I swear upon our mother’s grave.”

“Our mother is not dead.”

“The graves of our fathers then.”

“Whoever they might be.”

“Not even our own mama knows for sure.” Gideon flashed her a dazzling smile.

Her brother possessed enough charm to wheedle himself into anyone’s good graces, from the local barmaid to the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Only Sara had never been taken in by him.

When he reached out to pat her hand, Sara gave his fingers a sharp whack with her fan.

“Ow!” Gideon sucked on his injured knuckle, eyeing her reproachfully. “For all your pretensions, Sara, there is one difference between you and the Quality. I have never seen a real lady use her fan for a truncheon.”

“I wish this was a club. Maybe then I could beat some sense into your head,” Sara muttered as she checked the handle of her fan to make sure she had not broken it.

“I never thought I would say this, but some things were better back in the days when we all lived in the slums of Bethnal Green. If you and Davy didn’t mind me, I could thrash you both.

Now Davy is taller than you and I cannot reach to box his ears.

He is making a living by stealing dead bodies to sell and you are up to heaven knows what.

I daresay I shall end with both of my brothers clapped up in Newgate. ”

“At least you will know where we are.” Gideon’s knuckles had apparently recovered enough for him to risk chucking her under the chin. “Old Aunt Peg always said I was a villain child, born to hang. When the day comes, will you shed a tear for me, sweet Sara?”

“Only if you reek of onions.” She turned her head away so that he could not see her lip quiver in a rare display of emotion.

She had but two fears, one was of ending like her mother, living above a pawnshop, reminiscing about her many lovers and the glories of her youth.

The other was of Gideon finishing his life upon the gallows.

Sara was close in age to both her brothers, but it had always been Gideon she had understood and loved too well. How many nights had she lost sleep worrying about him, imagining him taking that final walk up the scaffolding, smiling and defiant even as the thick hemp was slipped round his neck.

If she understood Gideon through and through, then likewise he comprehended her every mood. He settled back into the chair beside her and covered her hand with his own.

“Come on, Sary. Please stop fretting and scolding.” Gideon’s charm was never more lethal than when he resorted to using her childhood nickname.

“I admit I have done a reckless thing or two which could get me hanged. But one of my friends has put me onto a scheme for making money that is practically foolproof.”

“If this suggestion came from one of those ruffians who carouse with you at the Jolly Tar, I shudder to think what it is.”

“No, this has nothing to do with any of my dockside acquaintances. This idea came from the respectable Mr. Keeler. That is, before we had our falling out. That boy is the most reprehensible cheater at cards.” Gideon’s lips thinned, but the ugly expression vanished as quickly as it had come, as he continued enthusiastically, “But Keeler has his uses, being a banker’s son.

Before we parted company, he showed me an almost undetectable method of counterfeiting coin. ”

“Counterfeiting? That is your notion of honest employment?”

“I never said anything about honest employment. I said I had found a good way to make money.”

Sara pressed her fingers to her temple, feeling the familiar niggling. She would end by having one of her infamous headaches over this. Counterfeiting coin! What madness would possess Gideon next?

“I think it would be better if you left London. You are doomed to get yourself into some sort of deep water if you remain here,” Sara said. “I could lend you enough money to get out of the city.”

“Leave London and do what?”

“Rusticate in the country or go abroad or—”

Sara was floundering for another suggestion when she was interrupted by someone barging into their box. One of the players burst in, a petite female with a half-exposed bosom and carroty curls.

“Excuse me, madam,” the girl squeaked. “I was looking for—oh, Gideon!”

When her brother rose to his feet, the chit all but flung herself into his arms. Wrinkling her nose, Sara attempted to fan away the stench of cloying perfume. Why did Gideon have such low taste in females?

Slipping his arm about the creature’s waist, Gideon said, “Cherry, my little love. Allow me to present you to my sister.”

Sara gave the girl a look that would have frosted hot tea. She had no desire to be introduced to any three-penny actress. The girl greeted her with a mighty sob, her face pale beneath her layering of garish makeup.

“What’s the matter, love?” Gideon asked.

“Too dreadful,” was all the girl could choke out. She continued to snivel against Gideon’s shoulder despite all his coaxing and pressing of kisses to her brow.

Oh, lord, Sara thought. She hoped Gideon had not gotten another stupid wench with child. Unable to endure any more of the nonsense, she shot to her feet.

She spun the girl away from Gideon, saying, “Stop it. Unless you want to be smacked, you’d best save this melodrama for the stage. Either tell us what is wrong or get out”

“Sara!” Gideon protested. But her words had more effect on the girl than all of Gideon’s crooning. Cherry looked up at Sara with wide frightened eyes. Sniffing, she wiped her face on her sleeve.

“The Hook has been abroad tonight,” Cherry said, “They found another body in the street behind the theatre.”

A chill shot up Sara’s spine. Gideon wrapped his arm around the trembling actress’s shoulders and he seemed to be avoiding Sara’s eye.

No! She sought to reassure herself. It was all right this time. Gideon had been here with her, watching the play. But he had not joined her until the second act.

Sara’s head gave a mighty throb and she passed one hand over her brow, fearing she was going to be ill. She wanted to press Cherry for more details but was afraid to do so.

It did not matter. Having finally found her voice, the girl’s words came in a torrent “It was another murder. Some banker’s son.

The body is still laying there in all that blood.

And the constables are everywhere. Someone saw something this time and they might be able to figure out who the Hook is.

But I am still terrified to go home alone tonight. ”

The girl clung meltingly to Gideon. Cherry’s hysterics were largely feigned. It was quite clear what the girl wanted, and it was a testimony to Gideon’s finesse that he was able to steer her back out of the box without promising anything.

Much as Sara wanted the girl gone, she moved to stop them, placing one hand on Cherry’s arm. “This banker’s son,” Sara asked. “Do you know who he was?”

“Some young lad named Daniel Keeler.”

Sara’s hand fell back to her side and she could feel the color draining from her face as Gideon hustled Cherry outside.

First Bertie Glossop. Now Daniel Keeler. What was it Gideon had called him? The most reprehensible cheater at cards. She recollected all too well Gideon’s hard smile when he had denied knowing anything about the Hook’s activities.

Sara blinked. The pain that flared behind her eyes caused them to water. Sometimes it was a great disadvantage to know one’s own brother so well.

When Gideon returned to the box, a heavy silence hovered between them. He faced her with a wry smile.

“You may be right after all, Sara,” he said. “Perhaps I should leave London.”

Sara stared deep into those cold silver-blue eyes. “Yes, you should,” she agreed hoarsely. “Tonight.”