Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(41)

The laugh stuck in his throat, and he harrumphed around it.

He risked a look at Meredith. She caught his gaze, and her knee grazed his beneath the table. Then stayed there, lightly pressing against his leg.

It could have been an accident. But he didn’t believe in accidents.

“Oh, yes,” Bellamy said. His suspicious expression was at war with red-rimmed eyes. “You were so in love with Leo. But you didn’t neglect to strip his pockets, did you?”

Cora wiped her nose. “Well, I needed coin for the hackney. And he had promised me three shillings, and …” She shrugged away a great portion of her sentiment. “I’m just a whore, aren’t I? Alive or dead, he could spare a few coins.”

“Except,” Rhys said, reaching into his coat’s breast pocket, “one of those coins wasn’t a coin at all.”

From his pocket he withdrew one of the brass tokens that represented membership in the Stud Club. He laid it on the table, then slid it toward Cora with one fingertip. “You recognize it?”

“Of course.” She picked it up, peered at it, laughed at it a little. “Queer little thing, isn’t it? At first, I didn’t know what to make of it. Didn’t figure it was worth anything. I just held on to it in my purse until Jack offered me a guinea for it in trade. I grabbed at the chance, took the next coach home to see my mum in Dover. That’s where your friend found me again.”

Jack d’Orsay wasn’t precisely a friend, but neither Rhys nor Bellamy argued the point.

“After that night with Leo …” Her gaze fell to the token, and her voice went soft. “I wanted a change from that world, you know? Working as a Covent Garden girl … it wasn’t how I planned my life to be.”

All four of them stared at the table in awkward silence.

Finally, Rhys said, “That’s the way of things. Fate laughs in the face of all our plans.”

Bellamy banged the table with the side of his fist. “We have to find that man who took Leo into the alleyway. Obviously he was lured into an ambush.”

“You don’t know that. Sounds as though this stranger and your friend were both victims.” This came from Meredith. “They were both injured.”

“He was clearly feigning,” Bellamy said. “And culpable to some degree. Otherwise, why would he have disappeared?”

“I don’t know,” Meredith replied, unintimidated. “I agree, you’d best find him and ask. But I doubt you’ll find him here on Dartmoor.”

“I doubt it, too. That’s not why I’m here.” He turned to Rhys. “I’m going back to London to see what I can learn. I need a place for Cora to stay. A safe place.”

“You mean here?” Rhys asked.

Bellamy nodded.

“Now wait a minute,” Meredith said. “I run a respectable establishment. The Three Hounds isn’t that kind of inn.”

“I’ll pay all her expenses,” Bellamy said. “She won’t need to ply her trade. She just needs a place to stay. If Leo’s killers knew she was a witness, she could be in danger.” He turned to Rhys. “I thought the inn would be ideal, unless you have someplace else in mind. Have you a personal residence?”

“She’ll stay here.” Meredith rose to her feet, suddenly every inch the welcoming landlady. “Come along then, Cora. You must be fatigued. We’ll find you a room and leave the men to their conversation.”

Cora rose from the table, and Meredith beckoned her with a motherly hand. “Mr. Bellamy, will you be needing accommodations as well?”

“Just for the night.”

“Very good, then. The Three Hounds is delighted to welcome you.” The tone in her voice, however, was not a very convincing rendition of delight. “I’ll prepare a room for you, too.”

“He can have mine,” Rhys said. To her confused frown, he added in a low voice, “I’ll be camping out on the moor from now on. To discourage a repeat of this morning’s events.”

“Which events?” she whispered. “The ones at your building site, or the ones …” Her eyes flashed up toward the bedchambers.

“Both,” he said simply.

Her frown deepened.

After the ladies left them, Bellamy shot Rhys a strange look. “You’re marrying? After Leo’s death … when we discussed Lily’s future, you said you didn’t want to marry.”

“I didn’t. Not then.” And he still had no interest in marrying Leo Chatwick’s grieving twin sister. Lily was a refined, elegant lady—in the royal line, if he correctly recalled. Rhys wasn’t the man for her.

Neither was Julian Bellamy, a fact that explained the man’s persistent ill humor. If ever there was a man who discussed his childhood less willingly than Rhys, it was Bellamy. No one knew where he’d come from, and Rhys himself couldn’t have cared less. But where a lady of Lily Chatwick’s rank was concerned … even Rhys knew such things mattered. Greatly.

“So you’re telling me that in the past week, this widowed landlady has somehow changed your mind?”

“Aye.”

Bellamy riffled his unkempt shock of hair. “Don’t get me wrong. She’s a comely enough bit of goods, but … a trifle hard around the edges, don’t you think?”