A Daring Passion

Swallowing her nausea, Raine forced herself to step over his body and moved down the line of stalls. She was too close now to hesitate, she told herself sternly.

Finding her mare at the very back of the stables, Raine reached out her hand to open the gate. It was only then that she realized she still clutched the golden locket in her hand.

She gazed down at it blindly, wondering how the devil she had managed to hang on to it during her struggle.

For a moment she considered dropping it on the floor. She needed no tangible reminders of the past hours. The Lord knew that it was going to be difficult enough to rid her dreams of her brief time in London.

Besides, the necklace had been tucked in a hidden pocket, as if it held a great deal of value to Philippe. Surely a value that was sentimental rather than monetary.

Perhaps a reminder of a lost love who had broken his heart.

With a grim smile, she closed her hand around the locket.

Soon she would be on her horse and leaving London and Philippe Gautier far behind.

The damnable man would discover not to trifle with Miss Raine Wimbourne.

CHAPTER SEVEN

AS ARRANGED, SWANN WAS waiting with Philippe’s carriage near St. Paul’s. Commanding his groom to take them to the Cock and Bull near the docks, Philippe climbed in to discover Carlos sprawled in the corner, fast asleep.

Philippe did not disturb his companion as he settled on the leather seat. He needed to consider what he had been told and what his next steps should be.

Unfortunately his treacherous thoughts refused to obey his stern commands. Rather than focusing on his brother and the man who was determined to destroy him, his mind was instead consumed with the thought of a small, pale face and pair of flashing dark eyes that made him smolder with desire.

Raine was no doubt furious with him, he wryly conceded. She possessed far too much pride and spirit to easily accept her captivity.

Still, he did not doubt that he would soon be able to coax her from her ill humor. Perhaps he would stop by a jewelers on the way back to his house. A sparkling bauble always managed to smooth even the most ruffled feathers.

He was just at the point of debating between diamond earrings and a ruby bracelet when Carlos stirred and opened his eyes to narrow slits.

“Judging by the smell of the streets I can assume we are not returning to Mayfair for a hot bath and hearty breakfast?”

“We are headed to the docks.”

“Ah, what could be finer than strolling the docks on an empty stomach?”

Philippe smiled. “I have been informed that there was a Frenchman who was recently boasting of his intent to release an Egyptian curse at a pub known as the Cock and Bull.”

Carlos was abruptly straightening as he regarded Philippe with a hint of surprise.

“Egypt again.”

“Precisely.”

“A strange choice of words, but not any real evidence,” Carlos warned.

Philippe had already determined that a handful of drunken words spoken in a seedy pub were not enough to clear his brother.

“No, no tangible evidence, but it gives me a place to begin my search for the damnable villain.”

Carlos considered for a long moment before glancing out the window. “From what I know of the Cock and Bull you won’t find many willing to speak to a man of your pedigree. Sailors in the whole have little use for fribbles and fops.”

Philippe gave a lift of his brows. “Why else do you suppose I brought you along?”

Carlos flashed his white teeth. “I assumed it was for the charm of my company.” The carriage began to slow and Carlos bent to grasp the bag he had tossed on the floor. He rummaged through it until he pulled out a threadbare wool coat and battered hat. Pulling them on, he was pushing open the door before the carriage came to a full halt. “Remain here, I will find someone who can help us.”

Philippe reached out to grasp his arm before his friend could disembark. “Take care, Carlos. If you are seen it will be known that I am in London.”