Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(39)

“Oh!” The yellow-haired girl perked, abandoning her examination of her fingernails. “Raspberry shrub would be lovely.”

Meredith choked on a laugh. “As a general habit, we don’t do pink and bubbly in this establishment, but I think I’ve a bottle of cordial somewhere. Will that do?”

“Yes, please.”

Meredith gave Rhys an amused glance as she headed for the bar. “Do have a seat, the three of you.”

By the time Rhys and Bellamy settled themselves at the table, she was back, bearing a tray with a tumbler of brandy, a skinny glass of cordial, and a pint of ale, which she set before Rhys. He loved that she knew what he’d drink without asking. But he hated that she was serving them, when by all rights she ought to be a lady, with a fleet of servants to wait on her.

And damn, what kind of gentleman was he, allowing her to serve him this way? Belatedly, he pushed back from the table and stood. It was a meager gesture of respect, but it was something. As she lingered over the task of distributing drinks, Rhys could tell she was curious just what this conference was about. So was he, for that matter.

“Join us.” Rhys offered the chair next to his. “Mr. Julian Bellamy, this is Mrs. Meredith Maddox. She’s the proprietor of the Three Hounds.”

“We need to speak privately,” Bellamy said. He shot a glance at Meredith. “With all due respect.”

“She’s also my future wife.” Rhys pulled out the chair. “And if this is about Leo Chatwick’s murder, she already knows as much as I do.”

He chanced a look at Meredith. Her eyes had gone the dark gray of thunderclouds, and they were twice as agitated. He shrugged, well aware that he wasn’t playing fair. Now she had a choice: Accept the label of future wife, or abandon all curiosity about the conversation.

He stood there, poised with the empty chair, awaiting her decision.

“It’s my inn,” she said finally, taking the chair from Rhys’s grasp. “I’ll sit where I please.”

And sit she did.

“Fine,” Bellamy said. “This is Cora Dunn. She’s the one who found Leo after the attack and brought him to my home.”

Ah, so this was the prostitute who’d witnessed the murder. And she’d found more than Leo’s senseless form, if Rhys remembered the story right. When they first learned of the murder, it had been assumed Leo was alone when he was attacked. There was no way to confirm it, however, since the whore who recovered his body had disappeared.

But just two weeks ago, the remaining members of the Stud Club had all been together in Gloucestershire when a stunning revelation was made: Not only had the prostitute been found, but she reported that Leo had been with another man when he was attacked—and his companion’s appearance closely matched that of Julian Bellamy.

“So,” Rhys said to the girl. “Who was Leo with that night?”

She twisted her glass of cordial by the long, slender stem. “Well, I don’t know, do I? A man who looked a great deal like Mr. Bellamy here.”

“But he wasn’t me,” Bellamy interjected.

“Could have been,” Cora said, sipping her cordial. “I saw him in a darkened alley, you know, and his face was smeared with blood. Don’t know as I’d recognize the gent now, were we sitting face to face.”

Bellamy swore under his breath. “We’ve been through this. I set the fashion for brainless young bucks of the ton. They ape my hair, my attire, my mannerisms. Lots of young men look like me. This one wasn’t me.”

“Well, of course I don’t believe so.” The girl bit her lip. “But the two of you do look remarkably like. And his clothes were beautiful.” Propping her chin in her hand, she went on wistfully, “Had a waistcoat of velvet with gold stitching. That stitching glittered, even in the dark. What I wouldn’t give to have embroidery half so fine.”

A fit of coughing overtook Meredith. She reached for Rhys’s ale and helped herself to a long draught.

When she attempted to slide it back, he told her, “Keep it.” To Cora, he said, “Why don’t you start again. Tell us everything that happened that night, from the beginning.”

“Well, I was in Covent Garden, in my usual place for the evening. Each lady has her usual place, you know. A hackney stopped right in front of me, and this splendid-looking gent beckoned me inside. Fair hair, light eyes, fine features. I’ll tell you,” she said, directing the comment at Meredith, “it’s not often we get one so handsome as that.”

Meredith looked completely nonplussed by the “we” in that sentence, but she merely tilted her head and said, “Go on, then.”

“Anyway, he complimented my bonnet, which I was quite proud of. I’d just replaced the ribbons a day before. When I said, ‘I thank you, sir,’ he told me to call him Leo. And then he asked me if I’d like to see a boxing match over in Whitechapel. He’d made plans to attend with a friend, he said, but the friend cried off.”

Bellamy gave a low groan of culpability. “That would be me.”

“Normally, I told him, I stay far clear of the East End. That’s for low-class girls, the ones what work the docks. But he was so handsome, and he asked so prettily. And I’d never seen a boxing match, not a real one, so …” She lifted her eyebrows. “Off we went. On the drive, he was ever so kind to me. Let me drink brandy from his flask. I didn’t even know then that he was a lord, but I could tell he was true Quality. Not from his clothes or his accent, but just his manners.” Cora’s eyes fell, and she traced a groove on the tabletop. “He treated me like a person, Leo did. Like a sweetheart even, not just a whore. Sometimes I still can’t believe he’s dead. Like to broke my heart, though I’d scarce known him a few hours and we hadn’t even …”