Page 26

Chapter Fourteen

Rafferty didn’t bother to glance at Georgie, but with his hand still resting on her shoulder, holding her in place, he felt her initial jerk.

So her knight in shining armor was in league with this horrible man?

What did that make Rafferty? It was time she knew.

She needed a dose of reality about him. He removed his hand, but she made no effort to rise.

“I’m not a man to threaten, Billy,” he said in a low, seemingly affable voice. “Not unless you’re ready for the consequences.”

Stiles grinned his toothy grin. His large white teeth were a matter of great pride to him, and he took almost obsessive care of them. Rafferty wanted to slam them down his throat. “Oh, no, you wouldn’t want to upset the little lady.”

“The little lady is in the family of my employer. She doesn’t mean anything to me. But if I gut you, I might get blood on her dress.” He didn’t have to be touching Georgie to sense her start at his brutal words.

“I’d like to see you try,” Billy’s rough voice was like the purr of a savage tiger. “You and me’ve a long history, one that needs to come to a close. I’ve waited long enough.”

“Get out of here, Billy,” Martina said. “You don’t want to make a scene, now do you? Particularly when you know if it comes to a one-on-one fight, Rafferty would win.”

“You mind your own business, you bloody little catamite. I’m a dangerous man when crossed.”

“Are you?” Rafferty said mildly enough.

“You’re forgetting my bad temper,” Stiles said in a deceptively amiable voice. “I might just have to do something about our good friend Martin here. He wouldn’t like what I have in mind.”

“And you’re forgetting me, Billy,” Rafferty drawled. “He’s under my protection.”

Even someone as brutal as Billy Stiles reacted when he spoke like that, but he wasn’t cowed for long.

“We don’t need to fight about it,” he said in what he obviously hoped was a pleasing voice. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry. What’s taking you so bloody long?”

“I don’t work for you. We’ve got an agreement and you can bloody well keep it.

You’ll know when it’s done.” He kept his voice calm and level, at odds with the murderous rage that filled him.

It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t kill Stiles in a public place and get away with it.

He could disappear before anyone would notice.

But he didn’t want to do it in front of Georgie. And the bloody bastard knew it.

“And what about this pretty little girl, then?” He nodded toward Georgie. Rafferty followed his gaze and cursed inwardly. She was looking dazed; of course she was.

“She’s nobody.”

“Seems to me you wouldn’t ’ave come running to the rescue for just nobody, and Martin can take of hisself. Seems to me she’s someone who matters to you.”

“I told you, she’s simply the daughter of the people I’m working for. She means nothing to me.”

“Well, true and all she’s not your type, boyo.

I could almost believe that. Georgiana Manning, Martin said.

” He turned and leaned over the table. “Well, Miss Georgiana Manning, you might be seeing me again soon, unless your friend here gets a move on things. He may not appreciate a pretty little morsel like yourself, but I’m a man to notice things. ”

Georgie simply stared up at him, and Rafferty wondered if she were going to cry. Most gently bred young women would after being threatened by a murderous bully.

But Georgie was made of sterner stuff. She rose then, and he made no attempt to stop her this time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Stiles, but I assure you that Rafferty is our butler, nothing more, and he has no special affection for any of us—we’re simply his employers.”

Once more they got the full effect of Stiles’s teeth. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing you sometime soon, then, Rafferty,” he said smoothly, ignoring Georgie.

“When the business is done,” he said obscurely. If Georgie knew he was in her household to find a lost treasure, she’d tell her father. No, she wouldn’t, she’d probably want to help him find it.

Once more, Billy smiled. “And don’t be thinking you could do a bunk and disappear. I can always find Miss Manning.”

And with that, he turned and left, leaving a cloud of cheap scent behind him.

Rafferty could feel the tension vibrating through Georgie’s body, and he took her arm. “Come along,” he said grimly.

She pulled away from him, her face blank and unreadable, and started from the tearoom. They’d gathered a fair amount of attention, and eyes followed her as they left. By the time they reached the sidewalk the bright sunlight was gone, but the hackney he’d hired was still waiting.

She allowed him to help her in, but she felt cold and stiff under his touch. Martina followed, a worried expression on her face, and Rafferty wondered how long it would take him to cut Billy Stiles’s throat.

Closing the door after them, he stepped back, watching as they drove away, Georgie’s pale face averted. Well, at least that particular problem was solved, trifling as it was. She would no longer moon over the inappropriate butler.

He should be delighted.

She means nothing to me. Those words were swimming around in Georgie’s brain as she stared blindly out the window of the hackney.

She’d never thought she was particularly stupid, but so many odd things had been said that she was at a loss to understand anything. Anything but she means nothing to me.

“Don’t believe everything that man says,” came Martina’s low contralto, and Georgie turned to look at her.

“Which man?”

“Either of them, for that matter,” Martina said, a worried expression in her warm brown eyes. “Best not get between two fighting dogs—you’re bound to get savaged yourself. They’ll work it out.”

“Will they?” she asked listlessly.

“In the end.” Martina sounded resigned, and Georgie turned back to the window, more of that conversation drifting through her mind.

He’d killed someone. That should have shocked and horrified her, but for some reason it didn’t.

She’d never had any illusions that Rafferty was a gentleman, or particularly safe and gentle.

He had been gentle with her, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

Why had he done all these things for her if she meant nothing to him?

Why had he come back with her to be their butler if he was.

..what was he? A man who killed? A man who lied?

And what was that awful man talking about?

What was a catamite, and who was Martin?

“Did Rafferty kill a man?” she asked suddenly.

“What would you think if he did, Miss Georgie?” Martina countered, admitting nothing.

“That he would have had a good reason for it.”

Martina’s smile was so wide it almost cracked her maquillage. “You’re a good girl, Miss Georgie. No wonder he likes you so much.”

“He doesn’t. He said I meant nothing to him.” Her voice came out more strained than she would have liked, almost tearful. She wasn’t going to cry, not now, not until she was entirely alone. If Norah were to hear of her distress she’d crow.

Martina looked torn. “You’d be better off believing that.”

“It’s the truth. You heard him.”

“I heard him tell a man who was threatening you that you don’t matter. You might want to take that with a grain of salt. And that’s all I’m saying, so don’t ask any more questions.”

A faint hope, one that had almost been crushed beyond recognition, began to stir. “What do you mean?”

“You heard me. You can figure it out yourself, Miss Georgie.” She glanced outside in relief. “We’re home now. Why don’t you go upstairs and I’ll bring you a nice cup of tea?”

“I’ve just had enough tea to turn my insides brown,” she protested, feeling oddly comforted. “But you could see if you can sneak me one of Bertha’s cream cakes.”

Martina’s smile was warm and sympathetic. “Now that I can do.”

Rafferty went through his duties with his usual unflappable calm, showing no sign that his brain was in a turmoil.

He and Stiles had an arrangement—Rafferty would find the treasure and Stiles would get his cut.

It was the only way he could have gotten Billy out of his hair while he searched.

Rafferty could do a thing with delicacy—Stiles was more brute strength and a total lack of morals.

Not that he trusted Stiles for a moment—as soon as he told Stiles where the money was, he’d then become superfluous, and Stiles had killed a man for a great deal less.

This job had been a godsend in his efforts to locate the hidden cache, but he’d forgotten how it might affect the Mannings.

How it might affect Georgie. Of course, Stiles had picked up on that right away—how could he not, with Rafferty flying to the rescue? He’d been a fool to underestimate him.

No, he hadn’t been careful enough as he’d gone about resurrecting the Mannings’ luck. He still wasn’t quite sure why he’d done it—down on their luck aristocrats were hardly his charity case.

But he knew the answer perfectly well. Georgie had gotten beneath his skin, though he wasn’t quite sure how or why. Well-bred virgins were probably the least interesting of womankind, and yet the only way he could keep himself from thinking about her was by concerted effort.

At least that was over now. She knew him for what he was—an ordinary criminal. No, that wasn’t quite true—he was an extraordinary criminal, one who had proven impossible to catch.

Stiles was the problem. He was the one who would put a knife in his back the moment it was turned. He was the one who’d hurt Georgie if he thought Rafferty was cheating him. And Stiles was a suspicious man.

If it were as simple as disappearing, then Rafferty would consider it, as long as it kept Georgie safe. But the plain truth was, it would do no good. Stiles would just go after it himself, slaughtering anyone who got in his way.

Ice ran down his spine. He couldn’t protect her, not all the time.