Gorgeous As Sin

Everything turned out quite well after all, Rosalind reflected as the two women walked away with their purchases. Fitz’s mother seemed pleasant enough, she apparently had no reason other than curiosity for coming to the shop, and now Fitz’s jewelry was being returned by the very safest means.

In addition, she was feeling quite recovered from the excesses of last night.

She glanced at the clock. Now if only the hours would fly by so she could climb into bed and get some much- needed sleep.

WELL,” SARAH POINTEDLY said as they retraced their steps to Groveland House, “what do you think of Mrs. St. Vincent?”

“You know very well what I think. The same thing you do.”

Sarah grinned. “Not only stunning but out of the ordinary. A novelty for the boy.”

“And hardly likely to play the coquette. I see why he’s intrigued.”

“Don’t forget, she said she’s done with him,” Sarah cautioned.

Julia flashed a sideways glance at her friend. “I rather think Fitz might change the lady’s mind.”

“I ain’t so sure,” Sarah muttered. “If she were the kind to have her head turned, you wouldn’t be carryin’ them jewels back home.”

Julia shrugged. “She has principles. That in itself should entice him.”

“I dunno,” Sarah murmured thoughtfully. “He might not get his way with this’un.”

“Naturally, that’s for Mrs. St. Vincent to decide,” Julia serenely replied.

Chapter 14

SHORTLY AFTER ONE, barefoot and half-dressed in trousers and an open-neck shirt, Fitz walked into his mother’s sitting room. Clearly confrontational from his pugnacious stance to his fierce scowl, he held Rosalind’s package aloft. “What the hell is this?”

Julia set her book beside her on the settee. “You needn’t swear.”

His nostrils flared. “Very well, Mother. I would appreciate,” he said with deliberate courtesy, “if you’d tell me where this came from.”

“Mrs. St. Vincent.”

“She was here?”

“Not exactly.”

He groaned. “Don’t tell me you went to see her.”

“I just wanted a little peek,” Julia returned, unruffled. “She seems quite nice by the way.”

“She is nice, Mother. She’s also an incredible nuisance.” Each word was measured and controlled; he was clearly tamping down his temper. “In the future, though, I would be grateful if you stayed out of my affairs.”

“You seemed out of sorts this morning. I was curious.”

“I was perfectly fine this morning,” he said, cool and clipped.

“No you weren’t.”

He silently counted to ten. “I was tired, Mother.”

“I see.” She smiled sweetly. “Are you feeling better now after your nap?”

“You’re not getting off that easily,” he growled. “I’m bloody irritated. You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” she amiably replied, ignoring his growl and glowering look. “But you needn’t be angry. I bought some wonderful books for Kemal. Mrs. St. Vincent’s stock is quite extensive.”

Fitz blew out a long-suffering breath. He might as well be tilting at windmills, and it wasn’t as though he hadn’t expected her to meddle. She always did. Extending his arm, he nodded at the package on his open palm. “I suppose you looked in here.”

“No, I didn’t. But it’s obviously jewelry. Mrs. St. Vincent is an unusual woman, darling, you must admit. When have any of your lady friends ever returned any of your lavish gifts?”

“Bloody right she’s unusual,” he grumbled, dropping his arm. “She’s likely to cost me ninety thousand if I can’t get her to move.”

“Do you think perhaps you haven’t approached her properly, my dear.” Julia spoke with the patience and forbearance one would use addressing an unenlightened child. “She seemed quite reasonable to me.”

He rather thought he’d approached her every which way, diligently and repeatedly last night. “On the contrary, Mother, she is entirely unreasonable,” he brusquely said, not about to enter into a discussion with his mother on negotiation techniques. He half lifted the package. “Would you like these? I have no use for them.”

“Leave them if you wish, sweetheart. I’m sure I can find some purpose for them.” There is always the possibility the lady will want them back at some point. “Will you be home for tea? ”

“No. I’m about to go out.” After having his jewelry sent back, he had even more reason to see Hutchinson. He wanted this impasse resolved.

Chapter 15

IN A BETTER temper than he’d been on his previous visit, Fitz waited his turn in Hutchinson’s elegantly appointed reception room. Offered his choice of beverages by a solicitous clerk, he’d barely had time to finish his brandy when Hutchinson appeared in the doorway.

“A pleasure to see you again, Your Grace, and opportune. One of our agents just sent in some interesting information.”

“Excellent.” Fitz came to his feet. “Because Mrs. St. Vincent remains as obstinate as ever.”

“You’ve spoken to her again?” Hutchinson inquired.

“Yes.” He didn’t say when. As the men walked from the room, he said instead, “She’s determined to stay.”

“Women are less rational in their decision making. An observation based on considerable experience,” the barrister added with a lifted brow. “Very few women are motivated exclusively by money.”

Fitz smiled. “In contrast to men.”

“Indeed. After you, Your Grace.” Hutchinson waved Fitz into his office.

While Fitz took a seat, Hutchinson flipped through a mass of papers on his desk. “Ah, here it is,” he said, dropping into his chair. “Pernell’s report.” Sitting down, he quickly perused it. “Yes, there it is-Dilmore Jones. He’s an unsavory fellow, a gambling cohort of Edward St. Vincent.” Hutchinson looked up. “Men of Jones’s stamp are always willing to disclose what they know if the right sum of money is involved.”

Fitz leaned forward slightly. “What exactly does he know?”

“It seems Edward St. Vincent supplemented his poetry income with something less inspirational. He wrote erotica.”

Fitz smiled. “You don’t say-a favorite poet of the Queen’s writing risquй stories. Is there proof? More important, did his wife know about his sub-rosa activities?”

“As a matter of fact, we do have proof. Jones sold Pernell three of St. Vincent’s books. As for his wife being complicitous, we don’t yet know.”

“The publishers might know. With the books in hand you have their names or at least a clue to their identities.” Publishers of erotica were often fly-by-night operations with transient names and addresses that allowed them to stay one step ahead of the law. It was an era of boundless vices, public virtue, and epic hypocrisy.

Hutchinson nodded. “The publishers were obviously using pseudonyms, but the addresses were real-for sales reasons, I presume. Pernell already interviewed a Mr. Edding, who naturally denies any knowledge of either St. Vincent or his work.”

“So now what?”

“We keep the man under surveillance. As you might know, the obscenity laws are an indiscriminate