If You Desire

Chapter One

London, England

1856

Ahardened killer, denied his obsession for a decade.

That was what Edward Weyland was bringing back into his daughter's life with one cryptic message:Jane is in grave danger.

Since receiving Weyland's missive in France two days ago, Hugh had read and reread it with fingers gone white from clutching it in fury.

If anyone had dared to hurt her…

Now, after days, and nights, riding like hell was at his heels, Hugh had finally reached the Weyland town house. He slid down from his saddle and nearly toppled over, his legs gone boneless from so many hours on horseback. His mount was as winded as Hugh, its coat lathered and its barrel chest twitching.

As Hugh approached the side door, where he always entered, he encountered Weyland's nephew, Quinton Weyland—who also didwork for Weyland—sprawled along the stairs.

"Where's Jane?" Hugh demanded without preamble.

"Upstairs," Quin said, seeming preoccupied and even somewhat dazed. "Getting ready for…for her night out."

"She's safe?" When Quin nodded absently, relief sailed through Hugh. Over the hours alone on the road, his 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."