Page 19 of The Devil’s Waltz

Chapter Ten

Christian moved through the crowded house with his usual aplomb.

The most demanding of society was nowhere in sight—Chippie’s background made him as much a persona non grata as Christian’s reputation—so he was greeted by most of the acquaintances that he passed.

He stopped here and there for a short quip, a brief conversation, but then moved on to his eventual destination with single-minded determination.

Chippie’s library wasn’t that difficult to find.

His brand-new house had been designed by Rotterdum, one of the architects used by new money, and Christian had already been in several.

The layout was essentially the same, though when he slipped inside Josiah Chippie’s study and closed the door he felt a momentary start before he realized the tall, shadowy figure was simply one more of Josiah’s damned statues.

There was a fire going, but clearly no servant was going to be checking on it during the demands of a party, so he stoked it up himself until it came to a nice blaze, then helped himself to Chippie’s brandy.

It was cognac, and he had to resist the impulse to throw it into the fire.

He avoided all things French when he could help it, limiting himself to canary and claret rather than the French stuff.

For harder spirits he preferred whiskey, but he decided not to be picky, and he sat down in one of Chippie’s comfortable leather chairs and propped his feet on the desk, admiring his elegant boots.

They’d cost a pretty penny—maybe he’d even eventually pay the poor artisan who’d worked so hard on them.

In the meantime, he could enjoy the wonderful sheen and wait for Chippie to make his appearance.

It didn’t take as long as he’d expected, though he was on his second glass of cognac.

The party was still going strong—the noise and the music filtered through the closed door, and he wondered briefly where the dragon was.

Probably searching for him to give him another one of her lectures.

Or perhaps she’d given up for the night.

She’d looked a bit defeated when he’d left her in the garden.

A shame—both the leaving, and the defeating.

He liked his dragon when she was breathing fire, and he would have been more than happy to see whether he could arouse her.

..ire...if he hadn’t had business to attend to.

No man hired assassins to kill him and got away without being sternly reprimanded. And made to pay a price.

Chippie didn’t even notice he was there. His face was flushed with wine and good humor, and he was halfway toward the desk before he realized he wasn’t alone. His expletive was suitably sailor-like, and impressive even to a man like Christian.

“Good evening, Chippie,” Christian said, not bothering to rise, or even remove his feet from the vast mahogany desk. “Have a seat.”

If he’d had any doubts as to Chippie’s true calling the expression on his face made it vanish. The cheerful nouveau riche father was simply a facade. The man living behind it was capable of just about anything.

“I wouldn’t make a fuss if I were you,” Christian continued smoothly. “It’s past time you and I came to an understanding, and I don’t think you want any witnesses as to what I have to say.”

“I don’t know that I want witnesses as to what I’m going to do,” Josiah grumbled, but his initial flash of rage had vanished, leaving him wary. “Take your boots off my desk, you whoring son of a bitch.”

“Certainly, you soulless purveyor of human flesh,” Christian replied in a mild tone, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Society is so interesting, don’t you think?

So many simply refuse to accept a man because his money is self-made, and those who do hold the most ridiculous standards.

Trafficking in human beings is regarded in very low esteem, and of course illegal in this country.

If the source of your money were to become public knowledge you wouldn’t be invited anywhere, and your daughter could kiss a titled marriage goodbye.

But you know that already, don’t you? You’ve gone to great effort to cover up the fact that you make your money off the slave trade. ”

It was a telling blow. “You have no proof,” Chippie said hoarsely, dropping down in the seat behind the desk.

Christian kept his triumphant smile to himself. It wouldn’t do to underestimate someone like Josiah Chippie—he would have no qualms in simply cutting his throat and leaving the servants to clean it up. Then again, Christian wasn’t easily bested, and he was on his guard.

“It would be easily obtained if I put my mind to it. At the moment I’m a bit perturbed. Two men attacked me this morning, and to my surprise they weren’t simply out to rob me. They seemed quite determined to kill me.”

“Imagine that,” Chippie said with a sneer.

“Clearly they weren’t properly warned as to who they might be dealing with. They seemed quite surprised when I put up a fight. So surprised that they were, perhaps, a bit too talkative.”

“What happened to them?”

“I’m afraid I killed them both,” he said blithely.

The second man who’d run off was terrified of Josiah Chippie’s wrath, and having seen the look in his host’s eye, Christian could understand.

Not that he should go to any trouble to save a man who was out to kill him, but he could afford to be generous in this circumstance, since he was about to get exactly what he wanted.

“I suppose I could have spared one, dragged him before a magistrate and lodged a formal complaint, but I decided that dealing with you directly would be much more efficient.”

“I had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course you didn’t. And I expect you are such a stalwart and law-abiding citizen that you would make it your duty to see that nothing like that ever happened again, at least to me.”

“What do you want, Montcalm?”

Christian smiled sweetly. “Your daughter’s hand in marriage, of course. I thought I made my most honorable intentions clear.”

“You’re only interested in her fortune!”

“Wouldn’t you want a son-in-law who was eminently practical?”

“She can do better.”

“Alas, I can’t argue that,” Christian said. “I must admit my reputation is a bit...shady. Unlike your own unblemished one. But I’m expecting marriage to make a new man out of me. A sober, devoted husband and father...”

“You aren’t fathering my grandchildren!”

“Then I suppose we can always have a celibate relationship. And of course there are ways of preventing pregnancy, but I imagine you know them and would rather not think of them in terms of your daughter.” He took another sip of the cognac.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he added as Josiah made an involuntary move toward him.

“If the poor girl were orphaned she’d have no one to look after her. ”

He halted, wisely. “The Honorable Miss Kempton?—”

“Ah, yes, the Honorable Miss Kempton. She does try to be inflexible, does she not? I’m afraid if it came to a battle between us then I would undoubtedly win. She’s not nearly as fierce as she would have one believe.” He allowed himself a faint smile at the memory.

“I’ll find someone else...”

“Accept the inevitable, Chippie.”

Josiah sank down in his chair, a calculating expression on his face.

It had taken him long enough, Christian thought lazily.

He had to be a smart man to acquire the kind of fortune he had, but it was taking him a damnably long time to get down to business.

Perhaps it was simply that he didn’t want to admit defeat on any level.

“How much do you want?” Josiah demanded hoarsely.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know what I’m talking about. I’ll give you five thousand pounds to leave my daughter alone and to be silent about any speculations as to where I made my money.”

“Sir, you insult me.”

“Ten thousand pounds.”

Christian was enjoying this. “What kind of gentleman do you think I am?”

“Twenty thousand pounds.”

“A remarkable sum of money, indeed. But your daughter is your sole heir.”

“Fifty thousand pounds and not a farthing more. Or I’ll kill you myself and be damned to the consequences.”

“You could try,” Christian replied in a silken voice. “But I would hate to see such a thing happen. And it would be so hard on poor little Hetty. I suppose in good conscience I can only agree. After all, I would hate to see her abandoned with a father in the dock.”

“I could always get away with making you disappear.”

Christian smiled. “Believe me, you couldn’t.”

“I’ll send someone over to your rooms with a banker’s draft?—”

“And a knife? I don’t think so.”

“Then how do you expect me to arrange this...?”

“You’re not the sort of man who trusts anyone, even banks. I’m certain you can find at least that much hidden in this house.”

“Do you think I’m a fool? I could be robbed.”

Christian was tactful enough not to point out that that was exactly what was happening.

“Most street thieves have the sense to steer clear of me, because my reputation precedes me. I imagine the same holds for you. The members of the criminal underground are very well informed, and only a dolt would think to rob you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“We are simply two gentlemen—and I use that term with great affection—who have come to an agreement due to our mutual concern for your daughter. We both want what’s best for her, and I would never be so bold as to think that I could aspire to her hand.

” Christian was enjoying himself. “I’m willing to relinquish her affection at great cost to myself, and it is only to be expected that it be at great cost to you, as well. ”

Josiah Chippie stared at him for a long moment. “All right,” he said finally. “I accept.”