The Undoing of a Libertine

  “So this is the bastard who took my plaything away from me,” he said, giving Jeremy a full stare, his eyes flicking over his fine clothes, sizing him up, no doubt.

  Jeremy felt the blood in his temples pounding through his veins as the muscles in his face tightened, his own humanity in full question right now.

  This degenerate lump of unrepentant flesh had dared to put his hands on Gina, stolen her innocence from her, hurt and beat and savaged her. Jeremy knew the desire to kill. Bloodlust, pure and simple, was what it was. To kill this evil sitting before him would bring no sting of conscience. A goddamn public service to England is what he’d be doing!

  “Took? You pile of shit, I married her. She is my wife!”

  Strawnly flicked his tongue out and swiped both corners of his mouth with it, looking just like a lizard, his dead eyes going back in between Jeremy and Luc before settling on the guard. “My new dolly doesn’t quite compare though. Her tits are smaller.” He looked to Jeremy again. “Now, your wife…mmmmm…her titties are simply magnific—”

  Jeremy lunged so fast Strawnly jerked backward and hit his head on the wall behind him. Luc held Jeremy back as he spat out his response in a lethal rasp. “You’ll shut your fucking mouth before you see so much as a farthing. Don’t speak of her again, or I might lose my temper and kill you right here in public, consequences be damned.”

  “So volatile, Greymont,” Strawnly grumbled and then shrugged him off. “About my instructions, have that cunt abbess bring it to the same place as before.” He wagged a finger at them. “She comes alone though, tomorrow night—the money and safe passage. There’s a ship out of this pissing rain and doldrums island at midnight tomorrow, and I’m going to be on it.”

  “Good for you,” Jeremy said. “And Marguerite?”

  Strawnly rolled his eyes. “God, why do you care so much? She’s just three holes for my cock. That’s all any female is good—”

  Jeremy lunged again, his face so close to Strawnly he could smell his fetid breath and nearly gagged. “Where is she, you degenerate animal?”

  “Easy now. We don’t want to cause a scene,” Strawnly drawled. “For some reason, that whore is important, and it works out all the better for me anyway. If you must have her back, it’ll cost you a little more. Another thousand would be sufficient, I think, and providing you keep to your end of our bargain, I’ll tell where she’s been keeping. After that, gentlemen, I’ll be gone from here, and you’ll never see me again.” Strawnly looked confident.

  That part of it is definitely true, you soulless bastard…

  * * * *

  Now Jeremy and Luc waited in the building across the street, hidden and undetected. Nightfall would come, and soon after that, Therese Blufette would arrive to deliver the money. Strawnly would take it and board his ship. Marguerite would be retrieved. And then? Well, nature would take its course, as was right and proper…

  * * * *

  Georgina had not been to London in more than two years, and never had she travelled alone. Well, not precisely alone. Apart from the driver, Ned, there was her maid, Jane, and then at the last minute she’d decided to bring Frisk as well. The group of four was hardly an impressive sight. A person unknown to them would be pressed to deduce who was in charge of their expedition.

  Getting off from Hallborough had been a challenge, but she had done it. The staff there had not yet seen signs of her stubbornness before today. Mr. Mills and then Mrs. Richards were intent upon trying to dissuade her, but she’d simply ignored them. A quick explanation to the Rourkes was sent off, a coach ordered, her bags packed, and Ned told to drive them to London. And to her surprise, all of that was done.

  The trip in to Town had proved easy enough, and dusk was beginning to transform the hues of the landscape as they pulled up to what was to be the first destination on the itinerary—number twenty-six, Oxley Street, Covent Garden.

  Ned was nervous, fumbling with the retractable steps, before assisting her out of the coach. He looked up at the fashionable house sporting a red door and then back at her. “Madam, are you sure this is where I must take you? I don’t think Mr. Greymont would approve—”

  “Thank you, Ned. Your loyalty is noted.” She cut him off imperiously. “This is indeed where you must take me.”

  Ned dipped his head in deference and asked, “Shall I escort you inside?”

  She shook her head. “Please await me here and stay with Jane. I hope I’ll not be a long time.”

  Lifting the ornate, swan-headed knocker, she gave it a good smack, thinking that red was an unusual color to paint a door. A thin man answered, she assumed the butler of the house. “We are closed for business this evening,” he informed her.

  Closed for business? What kind of business did they do here? she wondered. It looked like a private residence to her. She blinked at him, standing her ground.

  He raised a brow. Finally, he asked, “May I help you?”

  “I have come to call upon Madame Blufette,” she said firmly, lifting her chin.

  The man’s face changed into one of dismissal. “Madame is not receiving tonight. She has a previous engagement and will be going out shortly.”

  Georgina felt frustration. “Please, I only need a few moments of her time.”

  “Sorry. That will not be possible, Miss…err—”

  “Greymont. Tell Madame Blufette that Mrs. Greymont came to call.” She felt the waver in her voice but held on to her composure, determined to keep to her goal. She was going to get to the bottom of the mystery somehow. The mystery of this Madame Blufette and why she wanted to meet with her husband! The butler’s eyes seemed to widen at the mention of her name, but then he bowed and shut the door in her face.

  Georgina fumed as she went back to the coach. Ned leapt ahead to help her in, seemingly thrilled she was not getting inside that house.

  “Are we on to Sir Rodney’s townhouse then?” Ned inquired hopefully.

  “Not yet!” she snapped. “I want to wait here for a while.”

  Ned went back up to the driver’s seat, and she glared out the window of the coach, keeping her eyes fixed on the glossy red door. Jane gave a weak smile, and Frisk crawled over to Georgina, putting his paw on her lap. Her hand went to his neck instinctively, her fingers drawing through the luxuriant fur over and over again as they waited.

  A hired hackney pulled up to the front of the house, and then some ten minutes later, a woman in a dark cloak slowly descended the steps. She had a black velvet bag and a leather packet with her.

  Georgina flew out of her coach and walked right up to the woman. “Are you Therese Blufette?”

  The woman turned her head and lifted her eyes up to Georgina, who topped her by about six inches. “Mon Dieu!” she gasped, and then whispered something indistinct that sounded as if she said, “like Marguerite.”

  “What’s that? And why are you sending letters to my husband and asking him to come to you?” Georgina demanded of the older woman. Yes, Therese Blufette was much older than Georgina had assumed. She was probably late in her fourth decade and, although had the bearing and form of a considerable French beauty, did not look at all well. Her complexion was sallow, her brown eyes dull, her movements deliberate and stiff as if suffering from an affliction. The only colorful part of her was the deep red chestnut of her hair.

  “Mrs. Greymont?” she asked gently.

  “Yes.” Georgina braced herself, afraid to hear what this woman might tell her.

  “I am an acquaintance of your husband’s, nothing more. I know him to be an honorable man, honest and loyal. And I offer my congratulations on your marriage, Mrs. Greymont. I wish you all the best of life. I hope you will be very happy together.”

  The sincerity with which she spoke was disarming. Therese Blufette did not give the impression of a woman out to seduce her husband. “But why do you send this letter and ask him to come to you?” Georgina waved the letter in her hand.

  Madame Blufette eyed her intently, her voice full off
emotion. “I am trying to make things right—before it is too late.” She looked up at the sky and the position of the full moon, and then her awaiting hackney. “Mrs. Greymont, I have to be somewhere right now. It is imperative that I go immediately. Perhaps you can call tomorrow…” She trailed off and turned away.

  Georgina watched the hack pull onto the street and snapped into action. She wanted answers now! Tomorrow was too long to wait. Shouting up to Ned, she knew she was not behaving as the lady she was brought up to be, but didn’t give a tinker’s damn right now. “Ned, follow that hack and don’t lose it, whatever you do!”

  Chapter Thirty

  To give and not to count the cost;

  To fight and not to heed the wounds…

  —St Ignatius Loyola, “Prayer for Generosity” (1548)

  Anxious and tense, Jeremy watched through the window from across the street. Therese had just been admitted into the house only a minute before. He wanted this god-awful exchange over with and Strawnly on his way to the docks, just as he’d designed. Everything was in place, and he could taste victory in the back of his throat. Almost. He had to remain unseen for just a little while longer.

  And then, like a curtain being drawn at a theater, the scene changed. To one of abject horror. His heart denied what his eyes were seeing. Something was wrong with his legs, too. He couldn’t move them fast enough to get to her. Wrenching out of the building, he burst onto the street, maddeningly mute, struggling to warn her before it was too late. Fate did not help him in this though. He was not quick enough. He got to the road just as his Gina, his precious Gina, was admitted into the same house Therese had just entered. The train of her blue cloak disappeared as the door shut behind her. Strawnly was behind that door. Noooooooooo!

  * * * *

  A rather dour and unkempt servant admitted Georgina after she gave her name and demanded to see Madame Blufette. He mugged an irreverent sneer, shrugged, and told her to follow him. His attitude gave her some hesitation. What was she really doing here in a strange house, chasing after a woman she did not know? But it was too late now, she thought. She was already in, and trepidation or no, she was determined to get some answers.

  Just before she stepped into the parlor, Georgina heard their voices. The name “Marguerite” was thrown out. Madame Blufette was conversing with a man. A man who sounded angry. A man owning a voice she had heard before. Her neck tightened as the hair stood up, like she was being stabbed by a needle straight through to the bone, and she knew paralyzing fear. Dear God, what had she done by coming here?

  Her error was a grave one, she knew, but it was far too late to correct it, for her presence was made known by the manservant right then. “Mrs. Greymont,” he announced.

  The one. A man in a red coat, bearing evil eyes, snapped his neck in her direction and lost his speech, so shocked he was to see her in his house. She turned to run, but he caught her easily, his arms like a vise around her ribs, pulling her back into his body.

  “What a surprise,” he panted, his mouth at her neck, and then one of his hands gripping fiercely around her throat. “Ohhhhh, I’ve missed you.” He shuddered, clearly undone at his good fortune in snaring her. She felt his erection pressing against her hip. He ground against her. “You smell just as I remember. Will you feel the same, too, I wonder…when I fuck you again?”

  It was him! Just like before, only this time she had walked right in freely—a witless fly into his spider’s web.

  Madame Therese protested to him from across the room. “Mr. Strawnly, let her go!”

  “Shut up, cunt!” he snarled at Therese. “Don’t interrupt my reunion with my lover.”

  “No! I’d rather die than be touched by you!” Georgina screamed, twisting in his grip. Her warrior instincts kicked in, and she fought him with every bit of her strength, but he held the advantage over her as he tightened his fingers around her throat and squeezed off her breath. No air to breathe. Her head felt like it was going to explode, and then the colors of the room started to dim to darkness. On the brink of unconsciousness, she stopped struggling, and he loosened his grip.

  “That’s it,” he purred as she gulped in deep breaths. He slapped her face hard and then a second time. “Take some air, wildcat. I want you strong, for when we fuck.” His eyes widened in the euphoria of madness.

  The slaps hurt and her throat ached, but nothing was as awful as the searing regret she knew for her folly.

  “Right now, we’ve got to get gone, my special little whore. Later you can fight me. I want you to…then. God, it’s going to be good!” He pulled out a knife from somewhere and laid the blade up against her throat. “So you must behave yourself for me right now—”

  A thunderous pounding at the door got everyone’s attention. “Ginaaaaaaaa! Strawnly, I know she’s in there with you! Let her go!”

  Jeremy? That was Jeremy shouting on the other side of the door! Jeremy was here, too! What in the hell? “Jere—” Her scream was cut off by the filthy hand of her attacker, clamped tightly over her mouth, the knife pressing a bit harder into her skin with his other hand. Georgina’s thoughts leaped erratically, and she was nearly unable to comprehend her situation. Where she was, who she was with, what was being discussed. His name was Strawnly, apparently, and Jeremy knew him. How could this be even possible?

  Strawnly yelled through the door. “Greymont, you’re not supposed to be here. You’re breaking the rules of our little agreement.”

  “You have my wife in there!” Jeremy yelled back, his voice low and harsh.

  “Ahhh, but she came to me.”

  “Let her go, Strawnly. If she is harmed, you’ll hang, you know that!”

  “Not if I get out of this hellhole of a country.” The negotiation stopped, both men seeming to weigh their options.

  Jeremy spoke up, more calmly now. “Strawnly, no attempt will be made to stop your departure if you send her out, unharmed. There’s a hack here to take you wherever you want to go.”

  “I don’t trust you, Greymont. How do I know you won’t have a gun on me, like you did to Uncle? No, here’s how it’s going to work. You step back, to the other side of the street. I’ll send my man out to spot you first. If you’re not far back, I will kill her. There’s a knife on her throat right now. You push me, I cut her!”

  “I’m going back right now. Do not hurt her!” Jeremy returned through the door.

  And then nothing, no sounds coming from the other side of the door at all.

  Oh dear God, Jeremy, what have I done?

  * * * *

  Jeremy was in hell. Truly. Strawnly had Gina in his grip right now with a knife at her neck. No, goddamnit! Keep your wits, he told himself. Be strong, for her. Just get her to safety and worry about the rest later. Nothing else was of consequence in this world but Gina’s safe return.

  A slight, weasel-faced man stepped out on the landing and made eye contact with him. Jeremy nodded and held his hands out to show he had no gun, and then pointed to the hack which was still parked in front. The man went back inside. He saw Luc emerge from the building they’d been hiding in. “Stay back, Luc. No telling what he’ll do to her if he sees you.” Luc nodded and slunk back into shadows.

  The door opened, and Gina was pushed out first, Strawnly clenching her from behind and a glinting knife, indeed, stretched across her throat. Her eyes were wide with terror, bouncing about as she tried to find him in the moonlight.

  “Gina,” he shouted, and her eyes found him and locked on, rolling back in their sockets with relief. He started toward her.

  Strawnly moved quickly toward the hack, pushing Gina ahead of him. The driver looked worried, bolting up in the seat, holding out his palms.

  “Sit your arse down, driver!” Strawnly screeched.

  “It’s all right,” Jeremy told the driver. “You’ll take him wherever he wants to go so he doesn’t hurt her. I’ll pay. Here.” Jeremy passed up a pound note to the nervous driver, who accepted it with a shaking hand.

  ?
??Stand back, Greymont. That’s close enough!”

  Not nearly close enough was more like it. The malevolent snake still had Gina, and there was a good ten feet between them. Jeremy held his breath and waited. He stared at his beautiful wife in the clutches of a vile beast who had a fucking knife on her neck!

  “Gina…I’m going to get you. Everything will be all right.” He nodded, sucking in a gasp, and then he focused on Strawnly. “Let her come to me. You have everything you want, Strawnly. Release her and go.” He held out his arms out to Gina.

  “Oh, Jeremy, I’m so sorry,” Gina whispered.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m going to get you,” he told her.

  Strawnly grinned evilly. “This is touching, really, you two,” he mocked. “But she feels good, Greymont. I’ve missed her.” He snaked out his tongue and licked her cheek.

  Gina cringed and clamped her eyes shut.

  “Suddenly, I feel the need for a companion on my trip abroad.” He leaned into Gina’s ear. “What do you say, little puss? Shall you come with me? I promise to fuck better than him.”

  “Nooooo,” Gina sobbed, succumbing to panic. She struggled, realizing he intended to take her, until he pressed the knife in a little farther, her skin rising up on either side of the blade from the pressure.

  “Gina, be still, sweetheart! You’ll be all right.” Jeremy held on to his composure, the instinctive part of his brain taking over, understanding that rash action on his part would only serve to get her throat slashed.