“I am a duke. My title affords me many connections,” he said. “All of which may be used to promote the circulation of the Devil’s Bliss.”
“We all know you’re as rich as Croesus,” Thorne said suspiciously. “Why d-do you want a part of this h-hypothetical venture?”
“A man can never be too rich. Money, however, accounts for only part of my interest.”
Stamford’s close-set eyes were skeptical. He’d dragged a wooden chair to the circle. It looked uncomfortable, the seat putting him at a lower level than the rest of the men.
“Why else would you want to poke your nose in our business?” he said in nasally syllables.
“Because, dear fellow, I can.” Ben gave him a condescending smile. “This is before your time with the Horsemen, but the other gentlemen know that I am a man who enjoys diversions with an element of danger. Nothing works better for ennui than the forbidden.”
“You always were the w-wildest of us,” Thorne admitted reluctantly.
Edgecombe’s mouth formed a sly curve. “You and your duchess.”
Ignoring the bait, Ben said, “Arabella was always one for an unusual adventure. She would have found the Devil’s Bliss delightful, no doubt.”
“You cannot just barge in and claim a share of something that isn’t yours,” Stamford burst out.
“Can’t I?” Ben crossed an ankle over his knee, his posture relaxed and gaze challenging. “Longmere told me that men have died because of your goods.” He took a calculated risk. “Baron Winford and John Hagan, for instance.”
A heavy silence fell.
“There is no proof that their deaths had anything to do with our product,” Edgecombe said defensively. “Countless people have taken the Devil’s Bliss with no harmful effects.”
“Our clients have reported nothing but the purest pleasure.” Bollinger crossed his arms over his chest, his jowls reddening above his cravat. “To accuse us of harming anyone is slanderous—”
“No need to get up in the boughs, old boys. As far as I am concerned, no risk, no pleasure, and anyone who partakes of Devil’s Bliss is making their own choice.” Ben paused, just long enough for the others to let their guards down. “However, the authorities might have a differing viewpoint of your enterprise. And they would undoubtedly frown upon your connection with a Chinese mastermind whose product is killing Englishmen.”
“Are you b-blackmailing us, Hadleigh?” Thorne’s tone was icy.
“On the contrary. I do not betray my friends. Which is why you would rather have me on your side than against it.”
In the wake of his threat, the crackle of the fire seemed to grow louder. Ben kept his expression neutral. Take the bait, you bastards…
“In that case.” Edgecombe raised his glass, his tone sardonic. “Allow me to be the first to welcome you back, old friend.”
28
Since parting from Ben a week ago, Livy had been consumed by thoughts of him. She worried about his welfare and the progress he was making with his villainous former cronies. He had succeeded in getting back into their fold; stories were emerging in drawing rooms across London about Hadleigh’s reunion with the Horsemen.
While attending a luncheon with Fiona and Glory, Livy had overheard two ladies gossiping loudly about a certain duke who’d fallen back into his old ways. Tittering, they’d sipped tea and savored the tidbits about tavern brawls, drunken wagers, and visits to houses of ill repute. Livy’s hands had fisted around her silverware, her stomach too knotted for her to eat.
Although Ben had warned her about the possibility of gossip, she hadn’t realized how painful it would be to hear such dreadful tales told about him. To witness Society’s glee at the Duke of Hadleigh’s apparent relapse into degeneracy. Knowing his true reasons yet being unable to defend him frustrated her to no end. She’d wanted to tell the clucking hens to shut their beaks and mind their own business.
How she yearned to see Ben. Yet she could not: he had made it abundantly clear that contacting him during his covert undertaking could compromise her safety and his own. In the case of an emergency, she could relay a message through Mr. Chen, who had ways of getting in touch with Ben.
Even if Livy couldn’t be with Ben, she was determined to help him. She and the other Angels had spent the week conducting their own investigation into Longmere’s killer. They’d spoken with the earl’s housekeeper, Mrs. Ingerson. The good lady had provided a list of models who had posed for her employer in recent weeks. When Fiona had delicately inquired if the deceased had seemed friendly with any of the women, Mrs. Ingerson had denied it.
“The master, God rest his soul, had eyes only for his wife,” she’d said.
For what it was worth, Livy was relieved at Longmere’s apparent fidelity. Since the funeral, Pippa had spiraled deeper into grief, and the last thing Livy wanted was to add to her friend’s burdens. She, Fiona, and Glory had interviewed various models, who’d all confirmed that Longmere’s behavior had grown increasingly agitated leading up to his demise but had little new information to share.
At present, the Angels were en route to visit Miss Alicia Hoskins, one of Longmere’s favorite muses who’d just returned from the countryside where she’d been tending to a sick relative. The carriage ride gave the trio a chance to chat. Glory and Fi shared the opposite bench, their pastel skirts overlapping like petals.
“Any news from Hadleigh?” Fiona asked.
“No.” Livy sighed. “I do miss him so.”
“You will be reunited soon.” Framed by the pleated green silk lining of her bonnet, Glory’s face was sympathetic. “He has managed to infiltrate his former group. Once he finds Fong, there will be nothing stopping you from your happily ever after.”
In front of her closest friends, Livy couldn’t hide her worries any longer.
“Hadleigh and I still have a rather large barrier to surmount,” she said in a rush.
Fi’s blue eyes were keen. “The fact that you haven’t told him about the Society of Angels, you
