Mistress of Sins (Dredthorne Hall #3) - Hazel Hunter Page 0,24

be welcomed.

He kept one arm around her as he pressed a handkerchief between her thighs, and Jennet felt a glimmer of renewed arousal to watch him tend to her so gently. He then drew down her skirts, and attended to himself before fastening his breeches and stepping back from her, his eyes glittering with obvious gratification and no small amount of confusion. Carefully he took hold of her waist, and set her down on her feet.

Not a word had they spoken to each other since the kiss, Jennet thought absently. No expressions of affection, nor pledges of fidelity. An offer of marriage, she suspected, would not be forthcoming. He had taken what little she had kept from him, her innocence. He had done that so completely she would never again look upon any man as she once had.

No more to say, and now everything done.

Greystone might have spoken, had she waited and listened. Instead Jennet turned half toward the door, and then swung back, driving her fist directly into his face. This time she connected with his lordship’s countenance, and with gratifying force. The pain for herself also proved significant, but it seemed a fair price for the pleasure of hearing and feeling her knuckles ram against his nose and mouth. He staggered backward and collided with a shelf of seedlings, sending them crashing to the floor.

Should she hit him again? Her hand throbbed painfully, but the rest of her felt magnificent. No, she had dealt with him properly.

Jennet walked out to retrieve her fan and her mask, donning the latter. She smoothed her hair, and shook out her skirts before she walked up to the doors to the reception room, and stepped inside.

Chapter 9

From the windows overlooking the terrace Ruban watched the drama between Greystone and Jennet unfold. It brought back memories of another night recently spent in an old chateau, but not at a ball.

Jean-Pierre and his men had worked for three days on the traitor, who had been seen skulking from an officer’s tent. By the time Ruban arrived the prisoner’s features were no longer recognizable, and he bled from the ears as well as the nose and mouth.

“Without the cipher he could not read the messages,” Ruban said after listening to their reports. “What else did you find on him?”

Jean-Pierre held up a small glass vial filled with a cloudy liquid. “Poison, we think. He tried to drink it after he was captured.”

Such vials had been found on the bodies of other prisoners who had chosen death over torture. It had been whispered that all of them had been allies of the most ruthless, feared killer in France.

“I know you have met with the Raven,” Ruban told the traitor, using a soothing tone. “Tell me his name.”

The lie was one told to every captive in hopes of provoking a reaction, although it had not yet worked. This time the prisoner stiffened, and then looked away.

Being so close to finding the most hunted man in France made Ruban caress the battered face with real affection. “Tell me who he is, and where I may find him, and I will set you free.”

“You cannot catch him,” the traitor said, his tone taunting. “By now he is home in England.”

“So, he is English.” They had long suspected as much. “Where does he live there? London?” Ruban took out a dagger and showed it to the traitor. “Answer me, or I will make you beg for death—for weeks.”

The prisoner lunged forward, impaling himself on the blade, and gurgled out a laugh before he died.

“Arrest this man’s family, friends, and anyone who has been in his company,” Ruban ordered the men. “By the time I arrive in London, I want to know where the Raven’s home is.”

In the end it had been the traitor’s mistress who had confessed to seeing her lover write a message containing the words Renwick and Raven, which he had later handed off to another man in the streets of Paris. This startling information had been relayed to Ruban three days after the agent returned to England, but in the end the delay had helped more than hindered the search.

Now, had circumstances been slightly different, seeing Baron Greystone kiss and carry off Jennet Reed would have amused Ruban. Instead it proved yet another obstacle.

Still, the situation could be remedied.

Ruban slipped out of the house through the door in the pantry where deliveries were brought in, and donned a matte black wool cloak before entering a tree grove