Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane #3)(72)

Winter shot Miss Greaves a grateful look. The lady smiled shyly back at him and he noticed that her eyes were a rather lovely dark gray.

“Oh, I suppose that’s the practical thing to do,” Lady Penelope said with a pout. “But I do think practical things are so boring, don’t you, Mr. Makepeace?”

Winter opened his mouth, a little bemused by this frivolity, but was saved from having to reply by the sound of hooves clattering on cobblestones.

A trio of mounted soldiers pulled their horses to a halt before the home. The lead soldier, riding a huge black horse nodded formally.

“Sir, ladies. Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Winter Makepeace?”

Winter felt everything within him still. He looked up into the man’s face. The officer wore the standard white wig like his men. Beneath, his pale blue eyes were sharp and intelligent. His face was long, with deep lines incised on either side of his mouth, giving the impression of a man who had been so hardened by life that he no longer made concessions for those less capable than himself.

“I am Winter Makepeace.”

The officer nodded. “Permit me then to introduce myself. I am Captain Jonathan Trevillion of the 4th Dragoons.”

“How do you do?” Winter said quietly. The ladies still stood by him, looking curiously up at the soldiers, but he made no move to introduce them to Captain Trevillion.

The other man noticed the omission with a tightening of his thin lips. “My men and I have orders to arrest any criminals we discover in St. Giles, with particular attention paid to the murderer called the Ghost of St. Giles.”

“Murderer?” Nell exclaimed. “But the Ghost has never been proved to murder anyone!”

Captain Trevillion turned his gimlet eyes on the maidservant. “He can defend himself in a court of law.”

Winter snorted under his breath. The Ghost might “defend” his innocence, but only if he could afford to pay the magistrate. The courts were notoriously corrupt in London.

“I expect your cooperation in this endeavor, Mr. Makepeace,” Captain Trevillion said coolly. “I shall be requesting the same from the other merchants and men of business in St. Giles, but as an educated man, I hope in particular to have your cooperation. Do I have it?”

“Naturally,” Winter said. He laid a restraining hand on Nell. The maidservant seemed about to make another protest. “We will do whatever we can to help the king’s men.”

“Good.” The captain nodded. “Whatever rumors you may hear will be of great help in hunting the Ghost of St. Giles and other miscreants. Indeed—”

“What a brave man,” came a husky feminine voice, “to declare he will hunt the Ghost of St. Giles.”

Winter stiffened even before he turned to see Lady Beckinhall. He’d been so intent on the confrontation with Captain Trevillion that he’d not been aware of her approach. The thought shocked him almost as much as the wash of quite inappropriate gladness that shot through him at the sight of her.

Lady Beckinhall wore a flaming red gown today, covered in silver embroidery. He felt a muscle in his cheek twitch. Her gown was at least as grand as Lady Penelope’s, perhaps more so, and it set off her rich mahogany hair exquisitely. Yet it wasn’t the expensiveness of her attire that perturbed him.

No. Disconcertingly, it was the woman herself.

Lady Beckinhall smiled quite blindingly and held out one slim hand to the man on the horse. “I don’t believe we’ve met, Captain.”

The soldier took her gloved hand and bowed over it. “Captain Trevillion at your service, ma’am.”

“Indeed?” Lady Beckinhall drawled. “How charming.”

A faint red stain tinged the captain’s craggy cheekbones, poor bastard. “If you say so, ma’am.”

“Oh, I do.” Lady Beckinhall glanced around at the people gathered before the home’s door. “To chase down a bloodthirsty murderer? Quite charming indeed.”

Lady Penelope gave a shriek at the word “bloodthirsty.” “Oh, my goodness! You told us the Ghost was harmless, Mr. Makepeace.”

Captain Trevillion’s stern eyes swung to Winter. “You have had some dealings with the Ghost of St. Giles, Mr. Makepeace?”

Winter shrugged. “Some. As I say, he never seemed particularly dangerous to me.”

“He has been accused of several bloody murders,” Captain Trevillion said.

Lady Penelope shrieked again.

Winter winced.

“But have no fear, darling,” Lady Beckinhall drawled, “Captain Trevillion is here to protect us, are you not, Captain?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Which is a good thing since we seem to have no other gentlemen as stalwart as the captain.” Lady Beckinhall widened her eyes at Winter.

Winter felt his jaw tighten at the ridiculous insult to his manhood, but he did his best not to let her see it. Instead he looked up at the captain. “If that is all, sir, I will bid you good day and see my guests inside the house.”

Captain Trevillion bowed again. “Good day to you, sir. Ladies.”

He wheeled the big black and set it to a trot, his men following behind. In another moment they were around a corner and gone from sight.

“My nerves are quite overset,” Lady Penelope declared. “And I’m sure Sugar’s are as well”—she waved vaguely at the little white dog, which appeared to be asleep in her companion’s arms—“I do hope that even a bachelor establishment such as yours has some tea and refreshments available, Mr. Makepeace?”