Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)

Surveying the man’s posture and pinched expression, Rhys could tell he wasn’t lying. If anything, he was understating the extent of his wounds. In that moment, Rhys was convinced of the man’s innocence. Of all people, he knew what a trial it was to recover from injuries so severe. There was no way a man would willingly incur them just to mask his own involvement in a crime.

He stood up and crossed the room. Without a word, he slid a hand under Faraday’s arm and lifted, transferring the wounded man’s weight from the doorjamb to his own shoulder. Then he slowly walked him the three paces to a chair and helped him sit.

“Thank you,” Faraday said, giving Rhys an amused look. “That was rather forward of you.”

“If I’d asked, you would have refused the help.”

“True.”

Rhys went back to his own chair. “The mending hurts worse than the breaking, I know. I’ve snapped a bone or ten myself.”

“So I gather.” Faraday tilted his head a fraction. His gaze trained on the scar on Rhys’s temple, then slid to the fresh split in his lip. “You must be Ashworth, the great war hero. Still doing battle, it would seem. Any teeth left?”

“Most of them.”

“Good. Giles makes excellent shortbread.” He called over his shoulder. “Giles!” When the ancient manservant appeared in the doorway, Faraday instructed, “Tea, Giles. And shortbread, and a few sandwiches if you can muster them.”

“I don’t suppose you have chocolate?” Cora asked hopefully from the corner.

“Well, hullo there.” Faraday gave the girl a rakish smile. “I thought Giles mentioned a pretty girl. Was beginning to think he’d gone dotty and mistaken Mr. Bellamy here.”

“Wonderful,” Bellamy muttered. “Tea and shortbread. It’s a regular party.”

Faraday settled in his chair. “I thought you loved nothing more than a party. That was always the word around Town.”

“Your use of the past tense is appropriate. I don’t get around to so many parties of late.”

An ironic smile crooked the wounded man’s lips. “That makes two of us.”

“So what happened that night?” asked Rhys. “Start from the beginning.”

Faraday took a deep breath. “I went out to the East End for the boxing match, just like everyone else. Afterward, I happened to cross paths with Leo in the street. He called me over, and—”

“That’s not the way Miss Dunn tells it.”

“Miss Dunn?” Faraday folded his hands with a careful air of indifference. “Who is Miss Dunn?”

Bellamy gestured toward Cora. “Miss Cora Dunn, the prostitute who found you after the attack. The one you directed to transport Leo to my address.”

“Oh.” Faraday blinked at the girl with new interest. “So sorry, dear. I didn’t recognize you. It was dark that night.”

“She says you were the one who called out to Leo.”

“Really?” He worried the edge of his fingernail and shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps I did. Honestly, I don’t remember. I don’t see how it’s important.”

“If you’re lying to us,” Bellamy said, his voice a low threat, “that is important.”

“What did you and Leo discuss?” Rhys asked. “Cora says she heard arguing, shouting.”

“Oh, yes. Leo was vexed with me. You recall, I’d lost my Stud Club token to the Duke of Morland a few days earlier. Leo was angry with me for wagering it. He knew Morland was out to collect all ten and disband the Club, and he’d warned me not to play with him.”

“But you did.”

“I did. As I told Leo, I’d grown weary of his silly Club. With the likes of you two for members, it wasn’t fun anymore. And I don’t even breed horses.”

“What do you do with your time?” Bellamy asked contemptuously.

“Much the same as you, my friend. Spend money, when I have it. Perfect the art of leisure. Work at being very good at being good-for-nothing.”

“So,” said Rhys, “if that’s your life’s ambition, why have you come all the way out here to the edge of England?”

“I needed a place to convalesce. I’m my uncle’s heir, but for now I have no property of my own. This place came to mind. I once brought a sweet little blond here for a very pleasant summer holiday.” He swept Cora with a gaze that Rhys did not appreciate. “The rent’s cheap, and the servants are discreet.”

Giles entered the drawing room, carrying a tea service that rattled precariously on its tray. Cora accepted the duty of pouring and began to distribute cups of the steaming brew to each gentleman.

“Why the need for discretion?” Rhys asked him. “You were injured in a violent attack, and yet you fled the scene, leaving Leo in the care of a stranger. You left Town in secret, squirreled yourself away in this remote cottage, and never once attempted to have your attackers identified or brought to justice. Why?”

Bellamy snorted. “Because he’s hiding something, obviously.”

“Thank you, love.” After taking his cup from Cora, Faraday cautiously sipped his tea. “What would I be hiding?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” said Bellamy, growing agitated.