Wicked Widow Read Free

his carefully laid plans.
    He was no longer amused by his own curiosity and anticipation. It was imperative that he discover not only how much Madeline Deveridge knew, but how she had come to learn such carefully concealed facts.
    He lounged in the corner of the black velvet seat and studied her veiled features.
    “Very well, Mrs. Deveridge,” he said. “I will do what I can to help you recover your missing maid. But do not blame me if it transpires that young Nellie does not wish to be found.”
    She reached out to lift a corner of the window curtain and peered into the fogbound street. “I assure you, she will want to be rescued.”
    His attention was caught and briefly held by the graceful, gloved hand that grasped the edge of the curtain. He was unwillingly fascinated by the delicate curve of wrist and palm. He caught the faint, tantalizing scent of some flowery herbs she must have used in her bathwater. With an effort he brought his attention back to the more pressing issue.
    “Regardless of how this matter is concluded, madam, I had better warn you that when it is finished, I will want some answers of my own.”

    She turned her head quite sharply to stare at him. “Answers? What sort of answers? ”
    “Do not mistake me, Mrs. Deveridge. I am extremely impressed with the quantity and quality of the information you possess. Your sources must be excellent. But I fear you know a bit too much about me and my affairs.”
    It had been a desperate gamble, but she had won. She was face-to-face with the mysterious Dream Merchant, the secret owner of London’s most exotic pleasure garden. Madeline was well aware that she had taken a great risk by letting him know that she knew his identity. He had good reason to be concerned, she thought. He moved in high circles in the Polite World. He was on the guest list of every important hostess of the ton, and he was a member of all the best clubs. But even his fortune would not protect him from the social disaster that would ensue if Society discovered that it had admitted to its most exclusive ranks a gentleman who had
gone into trade.
    She had to acknowledge that he had carried off an audacious performance. Indeed, Hunt had crafted a role for himself that was worthy of the great Edmund Kean. He had successfully managed to keep his identity as the Dream Merchant a secret. No one thought to question the source of his wealth. He was a gentleman, after all. Gentlemen did not discuss such matters unless it became obvious that a man had run out of money altogether, in which case he became the subject of considerable scorn and a great deal of vicious gossip. More than one man had put a pistol to his head rather than face the scandal of financial ruin.
    There was no getting around it. She had virtually blackmailed Hunt into helping her tonight, but she’d had no other choice. There would certainly be a price to pay. Artemas Hunt was a Vanza master, one of the most skilled gentlemen who had ever studied the arcane arts. Such men tended to be extremely secretive by nature.
    Hunt had gone to great lengths to hide his Vanza past—a very ominous move indeed. Unlike his ownership of the Dream Pavilions, a membership in the Vanzagarian Society would do him no harm in social circles. Only gentlemen studied Vanza, after all. Yet he was intent on cloaking himself in mystery.
    That did not bode well.
    In her experience the majority of the members of the Vanzagarian Society were harmless crackpots.
    Others were no worse than enthusiastic eccentrics. A few were quite mad, however. And some were truly dangerous. Artemas Hunt, she began to believe, might well be in that last category. When this night’s business was finished, she could find herself facing an entirely new host of problems.
    As if she did not already have enough to keep her occupied. On the other hand, given her inability to sleep through the night lately, she might as well keep busy, she thought glumly.
    A shiver went through her.