Kiss Me at Christmas--Playful Brides Read online

Regina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She might as well get this over with quickly. It would be less awful if she did it fast, like pulling a tangled pin from her hair. “I asked him to … to … take my virginity.”

  A long silence ensued. Regina kept her eyes squeezed closed and tried to will the settee to swallow her whole. Then, there was a rustle of fabric as Nicole shifted beside her and cleared her throat. “Oh, my. Oh, well, I see. What did he say?”

  Regina opened her eyes. “You don’t understand.” She groaned, staring across the room at the silver vase filled with fresh white roses that sat on a table near the door. “I didn’t just ask him to take my virginity. I asked him to make love to me and I … offered him money.” She collapsed against the back of the settee in a miserable heap, burying her face in her hands.

  “You didn’t!” Nicole breathed.

  Regina pulled her hands away and glanced at Nicole. Her cousin’s countenance was aghast. Regina nodded desolately. “Yes. I did. I wish I could take it back, but I … cannot. Oh, Nicole. What am I to do?” She searched Nicole’s features for the wisdom and comfort she’d been looking for.

  Nicole patted Regina’s shoulder. Then she took a deep breath, stood, and paced toward the fireplace. She clasped her arms behind her back, much like her husband did when deep in thought. “I assume you asked him to bed you because of the Dryden debacle.” Nicole had begun referring to Regina’s impending engagement as “the Dryden debacle.” They’d had this talk a half-dozen times since Regina had arrived in London. Nicole knew Regina was doing her best to resign herself to her future marriage, but Nicole, who’d married for love, still thought it was hideously unfair.

  Regina nodded.

  “I’m so sorry, dear. I really am.”

  Regina glanced away, fighting the tears that threatened to gather in her eyes. There was no use talking about it again.

  Nicole nodded and changed the tone of her voice to one of calm authority, like a general calling orders on a battlefield. “Very well. Right, then. We must look at this logically, like an investigation. Begin by telling me precisely what Daffin’s reaction was.”

  Regina searched her memory. Nicole’s stoicism and logic made her feel better already. Perhaps together they might find a way to make her mistake with Daffin less awful … if they studied it.

  She took a deep breath. “He told me no and stated quite clearly he is not a prostitute.”

  Nicole paused in her pacing and winced. “Oh, dear.”

  Regina pressed a sweaty palm to her aching forehead. “Yes, exactly. It was awful. I’ll never be able to look at him again.”

  “Did you apologize?” Nicole resumed her pacing.

  “Yes. But he still refused. He also said out of respect for you and Mark, he would never mention it.”

  Nicole nodded. “That’s honorable of him.”

  “I know, which made me feel worse,” Regina groaned. “In the midst of my horrible insult, he was nothing but decent. I didn’t mean to offer him money, only I got tongue-tied. The man carries handcuffs and a truncheon, for heaven’s sake. I couldn’t help it. The words leaped out of my mouth. He made me anxious for some reason.”

  “It’s because you fancy him,” Nicole said, a sly smile creeping to her face.

  “We are not schoolgirls,” Regina replied, her nose in the air. Then she allowed a coy smile to tug at the side of her lips. “But yes, I fancy him desperately. Oh, why does being in his presence make me so inarticulate?”

  “You didn’t seem to have a problem speaking to him in Surrey. I daresay the proposal you were offering him is what caused you to become tongue-tied.”

  Regina pressed a hand to her throat. “You’re right. I was nothing but a mess of nerves.”

  “It’s an unfortunate turn of events, and I can certainly understand why Daffin would be offended, but surely you can make it right somehow.”

  Regina crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “How?”

  “Perhaps you can … start over?” Nicole waved a hand in the air.

  Regina pulled a silken lavender pillow onto her lap and hugged it. “Start over? How is that possible? I’m quite certain I’d prefer to die before I ever see him again.”

  Nicole snorted. “If Mark and I could overcome what we said to each other ten years ago and fall in love again, you can find a way to start over with Daffin.”

  Regina cringed. “But I’m not certain I want to start over with Daffin. At the moment, I think perhaps it’s best if I never speak to or see him again. That sounds like a solid plan to me. The entire idea to lose my virginity before my wedding was ill-begotten to begin with.”

  “First of all, I’m not entirely settled on the notion of the Dryden debacle. I want you to have the opportunity for a love match. That’s why we need to remain in London as long as possible and not allow Mark to send us off to the countryside over a couple of silly carriage incidents.” Nicole nodded resolutely. “Second, hiding from Daffin is unlike a Colchester. You must be brave if you’re to get what you want. Believe me, it’s a lesson I’ve learned well in the past year. My life would be completely different if I hadn’t been brave last summer, when Mark arrived on my doorstep in France and asked me to come home with him to pretend to be his loving wife.”

  “And I’m ever so pleased it worked out for the two of you, because I adore having both of you in my life. However, at the moment, I would like to die of embarrassment,” Regina said with a nod. “I believe that makes my case different from yours.”

  Nicole hurried over to sit next to her again. She wrapped her arm around Regina’s shoulders and squeezed. “You don’t want to die of embarrassment. You want to have a nice affair with Daffin, preferably involving those handcuffs you admire so greatly, and I don’t blame you.” She winked at Regina.

  Regina blushed. It was true. She’d been intrigued by the man’s handcuffs since Surrey and Nicole knew it.

  “I admit you’ll have some groveling to do,” Nicole continued. “Groveling and apologizing, but he cannot hold it against you forever. Besides, there might be a part of him that is flattered. After he has time to think about it, I mean.”

  Regina eyed her skeptically. “Flattered over being treated like a prostitute?”

  Nicole shook her head and squeezed Regina’s shoulder once more. “No, not that part, the part where a gorgeous lady wants to spend the night with him.”

  Regina heaved a sigh, blowing air into her cheeks to puff them out. “He did say I was beautiful and desirable. But even if he could find it in himself to forgive me, how would I ever have the opportunity to explain? I refuse to return to Bow Street. I’m certain he’d turn me away without seeing me.”

  Nicole pulled away and plunked her fists on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me he said you were beautiful and desirable? I’d say that’s a fine start. Though I agree, returning to Bow Street is not the way to go about it. We’ll have to think of something else.” She pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side as if deep in thought.

  Regina wiped a lock of hair from her brow with the back of her hand. “And I disagree with you. The carriage accidents frightened me. Especially the second one. Perhaps we should listen to Mark.”

  A few moments passed before a slow smile spread across Nicole’s pretty face. A twinkle sparkled in her sea-foam-green eyes and she clapped her hands. “The carriage incidents, of course. Oh, Regina. You’re going to love me. I just thought of the perfect plan.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Daffin braced himself against the cold that blasted him as he turned the corner onto an alley in one of London’s seediest areas. Seven Dials was filled with the scum of the earth, the ne’er-do-wells, the criminals, the forgotten. It wasn’t that the neighborhood’s inhabitants couldn’t be law-abiding citizens. His friends the Cavendish twins had grown up here. Both spies, they now worked on the right side of the law, but their old stomping grounds were filled with the kind of miscreants who remained firmly on the wrong side.

 
Daffin hadn’t been raised here. On the contrary, he’d grown up in a part of town that had the veneer of respectability and the smell of money. Only he’d never belonged there. And he never would.

  The cold wind speared under his neckcloth, and he pulled his cloak more tightly around his shoulders. A small group of ragtag urchins were singing Christmas carols on the street corner. Christmastide. The season was supposed to be about family, and Daffin had no family. Not anymore.

  He’d received a tip that Henry Vickery was staying in a house down this way. Daffin would love nothing better than to find the son of a bitch and drag him off in handcuffs today. Perhaps that would make Daffin’s nagging sense of dread go away. Perhaps he could pretend Christmastide wasn’t happening. Perhaps he could escape the memories this year. He couldn’t sit still. Sitting still led to thoughts of the past.

  He tugged the brim of his hat down over his brow. When it came to memories, there was a new one he couldn’t seem to forget.

  It had been four days since Regina waltzed into his office with her shocking proposal. He’d been unable to stop thinking about it since. Damn it. Her offer had been ludicrous. So why couldn’t he let it go? Because it was a first? That’s what he kept telling himself. Even if he didn’t believe it.

  Oh, he’d been propositioned by ladies before, but most of them were married and bored and looking to cuckold their unassuming husbands with a Bow Street Runner for a lark. Regina was different. She certainly was the first lady to offer him her virginity. She could also claim the distinction of being the first lady to offer to pay him for sex. He shook his head. What the hell had she been thinking?

  She might be slightly older than the average Society miss, but it was ridiculous of her to believe she’d have trouble finding a lover. She didn’t need to pay someone for the privilege, which was what made him uneasy. She’d said he was her choice. But why? True, they’d shared an undeniable flirtation in Surrey, but why had she chosen him? Because she trusted him? Because he was friendly with her cousins?

  She’d looked embarrassed when she’d left his office hastily last week. In hindsight, perhaps he’d been too harsh in his rejection. Her proposal had caught him off guard. Completely out of her element, she had bungled the thing, but the woman needed to save herself for Dryden. At the very least, she should offer herself to some chap of her same social standing. No doubt, she’d find someone from her set whom she wanted to take to her bed.

  Daffin had been flattered and even slightly tempted, but he needed to stop thinking about Regina’s offer and concentrate on finding Henry Vickery, the piece of rubbish who’d robbed half a dozen Mayfair mansions and brutally beaten a young newspaper delivery boy who’d witnessed him leaving one of the houses. The child would have a permanent limp thanks to Vickery. Daffin would like nothing more than to return the favor.

  He came to a stop in front of the address he’d been given, number 15 Mercer. He took a deep breath, his blood rushing through his veins. This was the part of his work he liked best. He pounded on the door with his fist, then waited several seconds, leaning in to better hear. Scurrying and curse words met his ears. It took the better part of a minute before a rickety flap in the door opened and two beady, dark eyes blinked at him.

  “Who be there?” a gruff male voice asked.

  “Someone looking for Henry Vickery,” Daffin returned dryly. “Is he here?”

  The beady eyes blinked again. “Who be askin’?”

  Daffin put his fists on his hips and glared. He didn’t have time for games. “Why don’t you open the door and I’ll give you my card,” he drawled.

  The flap slapped shut, and the door slowly opened to reveal the beady-eyed man was short and hunched. He was also in possession of dirty, ripped clothing and questionable shoes. He smelled like a rubbish heap and his greasy dark hair stuck out in all directions from his untidy head.

  Daffin bowed. “Daffin Oakleaf, Bow Street Runner, at your service. Are you Henry Vickery?”

  “I ain’t.” The chap grimaced at him, revealing a set of rotten, yellow teeth.

  Daffin watched him carefully, narrowing his eyes. Years of experience with liars had taught him how to ferret out one quickly. This man was telling the truth, at least about not being Vickery. Besides, Vickery had pulled off heists that had involved a great deal of physical acuity. Daffin doubted the man before him was capable of scaling walls and running quickly.

  “Is Mr. Vickery here?” he asked, tugging at his cuff.

  “No.” The word came out too quickly and in a strained tone. A lie.

  Daffin pushed aside his cloak, opened his overcoat, and pulled a one-pound note from an inner pocket. He held the bill between two fingers. “How about now? Does this serve to assist your memory?”

  The man’s eyes flicked back and forth. He was obviously weighing his desire to earn the bill against what was probably his fear of Vickery. But Daffin knew criminals. Greed always won out with their lot.

  The man snatched at the bill. “’E’s in the upstairs bedchamber. First door on the right at the top o’ the stairs.”

  Daffin squinted at the man. “Is anyone else here?”

  The man shrugged. “’E might ’ave a bit o’ fluff wit ’im.”

  Daffin cautiously entered the flat, pulling his pistol from his coat pocket. He kept his back against the wall while his eyes adjusted to the darkness in the cramped, smelly space. “Which way?”

  The man nodded toward an arched doorway and moved out of the way, clutching the pound note to his chest. He remained near the front door, obviously ready to run should the scene not unfold in Daffin’s favor.

  Daffin moved through the doorway and quickly located the narrow, cramped staircase. Still keeping his back to the wall, he made his way up the stairs in silence until he stood in front of the first door. Loud snores came from inside the room. If indeed it was Vickery in the room, Daffin had got the jump on him. He smiled to himself before taking a deep breath. Then he raised his booted foot and savagely kicked open the door.

  A woman’s scream was the first thing that met Daffin’s ears. Beady had been right. Vickery wasn’t in bed alone. The criminal startled awake and lunged from the side of the bed, but Daffin’s pistol was trained on the man before he had a chance to reach for his own weapon, which sat on a table near the door. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Daffin said, cocking his pistol and centering it between the thief’s eyes.

  The naked prostitute grabbed the sheet to cover herself. Her blue eyes were wild with fear as she stared at Daffin and his pistol.

  Vickery growled and slowly lifted both hands, his eyes narrowing on Daffin. “Oakleaf?”

  Daffin’s smile widened and he took a hint of a bow. “How did you know?”

  “Heard ye was lookin’ fer me,” Vickery grumbled.

  “Not anymore,” Daffin replied.

  He briefly allowed his gaze to scan the prostitute. Her dirty blond hair was in disarray, and bruises colored her neck and shoulders. She had men in her life who treated her poorly. Most likely a pimp. Or Vickery. Daffin hated to see women at the mercy of bad men. His throat tightened.

  With his free hand, he reached into his overcoat and pulled out a guinea. He tossed it on the bed and gestured for her to get it. Ignoring her nakedness, she scrambled across the mattress and grabbed it. The coin was likely a fortune to her. Daffin clenched his jaw. “Use that to get away from whoever gave you those bruises. If you go to the almshouse on Clancy Street, Mrs. Dillon there often has positions for young women willing to work hard as maids.”

  The prostitute nodded and the hint of a smile touched her cracked lips. “Thank ye, guv’na.”

  Turning his attention back to Vickery, Daffin strolled to a pair of dirty, crumpled breeches that sat in a heap on the floor. He kicked them toward the man. “Get dressed,” he commanded, keeping his pistol trained on Vickery as the thief climbed naked out of the bed and hurriedly pulled on his breeches.

  Next, Vickery tossed his filthy shirt o
ver his head and wrapped his dirty neckcloth haphazardly around his throat. Once the thief was somewhat decent, Daffin pulled his handcuffs out of his coat & slapped them over Vickery’s wrists. He gestured toward the door with the pistol. “Let’s go.”

  Vickery preceded Daffin out of the room.

  “Don’t try anything, Vickery. You’re the worst kind of scum, a thief who hurts children. I’d love nothing better than an excuse to blow you to kingdom come.”

  With that, he led the scoundrel at the end of his pistol down the stairs and past the beady-eyed man who had since hidden his pound note somewhere within his questionable clothing.

  Minutes later, they made it to Daffin’s waiting coach and drove off in the direction of the magistrate’s court. Daffin leaned back against the squabs, his pistol still trained on Vickery, who eyed him for any sign of weakness. Even in handcuffs the scum might try to grab his pistol and would kill him with it without blinking an eye, so Daffin kept his finger firmly on the trigger.

  He had his man. Henry Vickery would find justice. He was going to gaol for a long, long time. Daffin was pleased to wrap up the case before the holiday. But what would he work on next to keep his mind off Christmastide?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “No, my lord. Nothing happened. We were perfectly safe on our outing today.”

  Regina entered the salon. Mark stood near the sideboard, a drink in his hand. Nicole sat on the sofa, watching the interaction between her husband and one of the groomsmen while rolling her eyes. The groomsman stood near the door, clutching his hat, shaking in his boots.

  “No one tried to run you off the road?” Mark intoned.

  “No,” the groomsman replied.

  “Darling, he’s told you all he can, for heaven’s sake,” Nicole said. “Nothing happened.”

  “Fine. That will be all.” Mark waved away the groomsman and returned to his seat. His expression remained thunderous.

  Regina made her way to Nicole and slid onto the sofa next to her. “You went out today?”

  Nicole took a deep breath. “While you were in your bedchamber catching up on your correspondence, I decided to visit my mother.”