mind had conjured too many ways she could be ingrave danger . He'd prayed she hadn't been hurt, that he wasn't too late. Now that Hugh had been assured of her safety, the hunger and thirst he'd ignored for two days began to gnaw at him. 'Who's watching her now?'
Quin answered, 'Rolley's inside, and I'm trailing her tonight.'
Rolley was Edward Weyland's butler. Most butlers in the exclusive enclave of Piccadilly were older with a hint of grandeur about them, denoting experience and the longevity of a family's fortunes. Rolley was in his mid-thirties, wiry, his nose shapeless from being broken so many times. His fingers were scarred from his incessant use of steel knuckles. Hugh knew the man would die for Jane.
'Is Weyland here?' Hugh asked.
Quin shook his head. 'Not getting in till late. He said if you somehow managed to get here tonight, to tell you he wants to see you in the morning to give you all the details.'
'I'm going in—'
'I wouldn't do that if I were you.'
'Why the hell no'?'
'For one thing, your clothes are covered with dirt, and your face looks like hell.'
Hugh ran a sleeve over his cheek, remembering too late the jagged cuts marking his skin.
'For another, I'm not sure Jane would want to see you.'
Hugh had ridden nonstop for days, and his body was a mass of knotted muscles and aching old injuries. His head was splitting. The idea of being near her again had been all that kept him going. 'That does no' make sense. We used to be friends.'
Quin flashed him an odd expression. 'Well, she's…different now. Completely different and completely out of control.' He caught Hugh's eyes. 'I don't know that I can take another night of it.' He shook his head forcefully. 'No longer. Not after what they did last night….'
'Who? Did what?'
'The Eight. Or at least, three of them. Two of whom are my sisters!'
Society's notorious Weyland Eight consisted of Jane and her seven female first cousins. Remembering the brazen antics they'd encouraged Jane to take part in, Hugh felt his irritation building.
'But this is no' what I've been brought here for?' Hugh had abandoned his injured younger brother Courtland in France and nearly killed his new horse, a fine gelding that had been a gift for a service he'd rendered. 'Because Weyland needs someone to rein her in?'
Surely Weyland wouldn't be so foolish as to call Hugh back for this. Weyland knew what Hugh was, of course. He was Hugh's superior and dispatched him to deliver deaths in the name of the Crown. But then, Weyland had no idea how badly Hugh coveted Jane. Nor for how long.
An obsession. For ten bloody years…
Hugh shook his head. Weyland would never have exaggerated the danger in his missive.
'Weyland didn't tell you what's happened?' Quin's brows drew together. 'I thought he sent you a message.'
'With little information. Now, what in the hell—'
'Bloody hell!' Rolley came barreling through the doorway. 'Bloody, bloody hell! Quin! Have you seen her?'
'Rolley?' Quin shot to his feet. 'You're supposed to be watching her until she leaves.'
The butler cast Quin a scowl. 'I told you she knew we'd been following her. She must've gone out the window. And got that saucy maid of hers to walk about, tryin' on dresses in her room.'
'She's gone?' Hugh lunged for Rolley and fisted his hands in the man's shirt. 'Where's she going and who's she with?'
'To a ball,' Rolley said, but immediately glanced at Quin.
Hugh gave Rolley a shake, knowing he was risking Rolley's swift uppercut, usually accompanied by those steel knuckles.
'Go ahead,' Quin said. 'Weyland tells him everything anyway.'
'She's goin' to a masquerade with Quin's sisters and one of their friends.'
'What kind of masquerade?' Hugh asked, though he had a good idea.
'Libertines and courtesans,' Rolley said. 'In a warehouse on Haymarket Street.'
With a grated curse, Hugh released Rolley, then forced his legs to cooperate while he crossed to his horse —which seemed to eye him with disbelief that their journey wasn't over yet. Gritting his teeth at his tightened muscles, Hugh mounted.
'You're goin' after her?' Rolley asked. 'We're just supposed to follow her. Weyland doesn't want her to know yet.'
'MacCarrick, rest,' Quin said. 'I'm sure they took a hansom, and the traffic will be mad. I've got time to saddle up and beat them there—'
'Then follow, but I'm going now.' Hugh reined around. 'Best tell me what I'm up against.'
Quin's grave expression made Hugh's fists clench around his reins.
'Not what, but who . Weyland thinks Davis Grey's on his way to kill her.'
Chapter Two
At his first sight of Jane in nearly ten years, Hugh forgot to breathe. The pain in his body, the hunger and fatigue went unnoticed.
He strode headlong after her, shadowing her group from a parallel alley as they strolled down Haymarket after alighting from their hansom.
At the mere mention of Grey, Hugh was determined to take Jane from this place—
A massive hand clamped on his shoulder and yanked back. 'Could've planted a knife in your back a dozen times these last ten minutes,' a deep voice intoned from behind him. 'Losing your touch?'
'Ethan?' Hugh wrenched his arm back, throwing off his older brother's grip, then swung a lowering glance at him. 'What are you doing here—'
'Christ, what happened to your face?' Ethan interrupted.
'Explosion. Falling rock.' Hugh had been caught in a shower of slate in a battle down in Andorra just days ago—the same battle Courtland had nearly lost his leg in.
'Now answer the question.'
'Went by Weyland's. Caught Quin just as he was readying to leave,' he replied. 'And lucky thing I did. It's no' like you to be so careless in a place like this. What are you thinking?'
'I'm thinking I'm taking Jane home.'
'Weyland only wants her followed. Stop shaking your head—Grey has no' made England yet.' When Hugh remained unconvinced, Ethan said, 'And he might no' make it here alive. So just calm yourself and take your nursemaid duty like a man.'
'Is that what I've been called back here for? Why would Weyland want me?'
'He seemed to think I would unnerve Jane while protecting her,' Ethan said casually. His scarred face had been known to scare women. 'And that Quinton is only qualified to divest certain foreign ladies of certain critical secrets. No, Weyland needed a gunman. And you know Grey best.'
Hugh returned his attention to Jane, who was at that moment passing the cross-street where he stood concealed, so close he could hear her throaty, sensual voice, but couldn't make out the words. She was clad in a rich green dress with a plunging neckline that bared her alabaster shoulders and revealed how much fuller her body had become. Her face was partially covered by a mask of dark green feathers that fanned out to the sides, like the wings they'd been plucked from.
In that dress and that mask, she looked…wanton.
He wasn't even surprised when cold sweat dotted his forehead. He'd always reacted physically to her. He remembered well the symptoms he'd endured that last summer he'd spent with her—the thundering heart, the need to swallow half a dozen times a minute, the stifled shudders of pleasure at her lightest touch.
