Tempted By the Night by Elizabeth Boyle

Rockhurst caught this one just as deftly, it landing in his hand with a heavy thud and the jangle of coins.
    “Now that’s more like it,” the earl told Cappon, tossing the reins down to Tibbets and climbing back down. He reached under the seat and hauled out a large bag, slinging it over his shoulder, the contents rattling about with the same heavy mystery as the coins in the pouch. “Now who is it you want me to kill this time?”

Three
    Kill? Hermione nearly fell out of the carriage. This time? What the devil did he mean by that?
    And here she’d been worried about him being a rake!
    Meanwhile, Rockhurst strode up the steps in his usual easy, confident manner, Rowan trotting along at his side. There was nothing nefarious in his demeanor, nothing that would suggest he was about to commit murder.
    The carriage jolted forward, and Hermione caught hold of the sides. She looked up to find Tibbets leading the horses away.
    Jiminy! She had few choices—to hide in the earl’s carriage and hope he returned before dawn or follow him inside this house of horrors.
    Then once again, the ring made the decision for her, and she found herself tumbling over the edge of the carriage, landing with a hard thump on the filthy street.
    “Oohhh,” she complained, knowing for certain she’d ruined her gown.
    Then she glanced around and realized she was all but alone, Rockhurst and Cappon almost to the top of the steps.
    One thing was for certain, she wasn’t going to stay outside on this dreary street. Whether she could be seen or not, the creatures lurking about in the shadows were enough to make the hairs on her arms stand up. After gingerly getting to her feet, she hurried to follow Rockhurst up the steps.
    Murder, indeed! she told herself. It had been just a jest. And not a very funny one. She’d merely misunderstood what was being said, though it did her courage little good as the earl’s carriage disappeared into the darkness, for with it went the only bit of civilization in sight.
    Rowan turned his head and growled at her, but she didn’t care. Being mauled by the earl’s infamous dog was preferable to remaining outside as the encroaching shadows from the other doorways and alley loomed forth.
    Then just as quickly as the darkness outside had surrounded her, she found herself in the brightly lit entryway of Cappon’s establishment. While Rockhurst continued through the wide foyer with easy familiarity, Hermione found herself stumbling to a halt once again.
    Never had she seen such a place.
    Now Hermione wasn’t one to shy away from color or colorful combinations, but even she found the array of silks and velvets boggling. And those were just the drapes and wall hangings and not the colorful display worn by the patrons and Cappon’s…er, employees.
    Eyes down, she told herself, feeling suddenly like a girl of Viola’s innocent years rather than a miss well out of the schoolroom and in her third Season to boot! Not that such a thing was something bragged about, but Hermione had to imagine that in this situation a few years of Society would be something of an advantage. After all, she’d heard quite a few on dits about what went on outside Mayfair.
    At least she thought she had. With a rarely mustered bravado buoying her, she took a deep breath and looked up.
    Halfway up the stairs, a brightly clad woman in a low-cut gown waved at the earl.
    At least Hermione hoped it was a woman—after her mistake with Cappon, she wasn’t too sure she should assume anything.
    “If it isn’t the devil himself! Rockhurst, darling,” the lady called out, leaning way over the railing, her enormous breasts threatening to spill from their satin trappings. “When you’ve finished that nasty business out back, come slay me with that wicked bit of steel you keep beneath your breeches. My thighs are always willing to be your sheath.” She winked at him. “And I promise not to fight back…overly much.”
    “I’m still not convinced