Dangerous Seduction: A Nemesis Unlimited Novel (27 page)

“No,” Eva said.

“No, what?” Alyce drifted over to her chair, but couldn’t find the calm to sit. Instead, she wandered to the window. It offered a glimpse of sky between the buildings.

“It doesn’t get easier when they go off on an assignment,” Eva replied. She picked up her tea cup, sipped at it, then grimaced and set it down. It must’ve gone cold. “I thought you ought to know that now. The fear never goes away.”

*   *   *

Simon rode alone in a hansom, heading toward the offices of Wheal Prosperity’s owners. He drummed his fingers on the window frame—a contrast from the usual calm that enveloped him before a scheme. The cab rolled past a woman with Alyce’s hair color. And he could’ve sworn he saw her standing outside a mercer’s shop. But that was impossible.

She was back at the tavern. And so were his thoughts. His lips held the feel of hers, her warmth and taste. He’d kissed many women in his life. But it was hers that resonated, long after the kiss itself was over. It felt as though her spirit burned in him, guiding him like a lantern in the darkness of the mine. For her, he couldn’t fail.

And despite her objections to having Eva act as guardian, he didn’t regret his decision to have the other Nemesis operative accompany her today. He didn’t doubt Alyce could take care of herself, whether she was in Plymouth or Peking, but it sure as hell freed his mind to think of other things, knowing that Eva was with her. No harm could befall her.

He alit from the cab when it stopped outside a handsome brick-fronted building. A discreet brass plaque on the front announced
GREATER CORNWALL MINING ENDEAVOR, LTD.
He ascended the stairs, and with each step he slipped farther into the persona of a solicitor, giving his posture an extra stiffness, as if rigidly monitoring the world’s behavior and finding it slightly below standards. But for the right price, he’d make everything all right.

Inside, the offices exuded decorous wealth, with thick imported rugs on the floor and paintings of idealized mines on the paneled walls. None of the mines looked at all like Wheal Prosperity. The equipment wasn’t rusty. The clean, well-dressed miners all grinned as they readied themselves to be lowered over a hundred feet beneath the surface.

The office foyer was furnished with a few upholstered chairs pushed against the walls, ready to receive the arses of supplicants. The air was full of ink, foolscap, and hair oil, and the sound of typewriter keys clacking. Simon maintained his own offices in London where he pretended to be a younger son dabbling halfheartedly in industry—though it wasn’t much of an act, since he truly was only dabbling, his real work being Nemesis. The scent of both offices was identical. Except here, he truly cared what happened within these mahogany-paneled walls.

Moments after he stepped inside, a smooth-faced clerk approached him. “May I assist you, Mr.…?”

“Shale. Simon Shale, solicitor.” He handed his coat and hat to the clerk, who stared at the items with a puzzled frown. “Where is he?”

“Sir?”

Simon strode down one corridor, passing offices and more clerks. “The government tax man.”

“Oh, Mr. Darby.” The clerk shuddered. “He’s in with Misters Harrold and Tufton, but I really don’t think they’d want to be interrupted.”

“They will.” Men’s raised voices sounded from the other side of a door. The name
OLIVER HARROLD
was painted in gold on the door. One of the voices belonged to Jack, whose deep timbre made the other two men sound thin and nasal.

As the clerk sputtered his objections, Simon opened the office door without hesitation and stepped inside. A middle-aged man with thinning hair but a full beard sat behind a huge desk, his face as red as his waistcoat. Oliver Harrold, presumably. Another man of middle years stood beside the desk, his arms folded across his girth. Simon’s research identified him as Victor Tufton. There was a third partner in the ownership of the mine, one John Stokeham, but either Stokeham was out of town or hiding, because the only other occupant in the room was Jack.

Jack whirled and pointed a finger at Simon. “You, again.”

The first time Simon had met Jack, he’d been intimidated by his size and near animal ferocity. When it came to sheer strength, there was no doubt Jack could easily beat Simon into the next world. And even though he knew exactly who Jack was, and the role he played, Simon’s first instinct was to throw down his portfolio, put up his fists, and growl his defiance.

Training, however, kept Simon’s arms at his sides, his expression calm.

“Yes, me, Mr. Darby. Always a pleasure to encounter you again.” He produced a calling card from a pocket in his waistcoat and handed it to the clerk. “Simon Shale, solicitor.”

The clerk, sending terrified glances at Jack, edged around the room. He handed the card to Tufton, who barely spared it a look.

“I don’t know who you are, Mr. Shale,” Tufton said. “But these are private offices and this is a private meeting. Linford,” he said, turning to the clerk, “show our unwelcome visitor out.”

Simon spoke before the beleaguered clerk could move. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I think you’d rather have me here than Mr. Darby. In fact, I
know
you’d rather have me here.” He turned to Jack. “You’ve harassed these good men long enough, Darby. Oughtn’t you crawl back into your ditch next to the taxation office? Maybe there’s a sewer that needs a new tariff.”

Tufton, Harrold, and the clerk all gasped at Simon’s flippant remarks. They stared at him as if he’d gone raving mad right in the middle of their offices.

A convincing shade of red filled Jack’s face. “It’s official government business I’m here on. And no shoddy London solicitor’s going to run me off.”

“My God, you’re a tedious fellow,” Simon drawled. “Had you the slightest splinter of intelligence in that massive, bulky head of yours, you’d know that you aren’t going to get a single ha’penny from these gentlemen. Especially now that I’m on the case.”

Jack stepped closer and Simon kept his own expression blasé, as if nearly seventeen stone of solid muscle weren’t looming over him. “I’m not going anyplace until these blokes pay what they owe.”

“But we don’t owe
anything
!” Harrold exclaimed. “That’s what I have been trying to tell you all week! We make certain that we stay up-to-date on all our taxes.” He whitened when Jack’s gaze turned on him.

“Then you haven’t been keeping current with the new laws on mining properties,” Jack snarled.

“Mr. Darby,” Simon murmured, “you’ve threatened these poor good men enough for this day. No money’s changing hands, not today. As well you know, a new solicitor is afforded proper time to acquaint himself with levies—and the government wouldn’t step on that regulation, would it? This
is
Britain, after all, not some corrupt, philistine nation such as France or the United States. So go brawl with drunken sailors, and we’ll see you again bright and early tomorrow.”

“I—”

“Go on, now, Darby. You’ve been a good soldier for the taxation office, but a wise soldier knows when to retreat. Think of all the clever things you’re going to say to me tomorrow.”

Jack blinked, as if genuinely confused by Simon’s mixture of insult and flattery. “I’m coming back,” he growled.

“Of course you are. All the best diseases do. Good day, Mr. Darby.”

A brief silence, then Linford the clerk squeaked, “Shall I see you out, Mr. Darby?”

“Don’t bother, milksop. I know every corner of these offices. And they’ll belong to the government if you don’t pay up.” With that, Jack stalked from the room.

A long, slow exhale came from Harrold and Tufton. Then Harrold looked at Simon. “Thank you very much for your assistance, Mr. Shale. But who in blazes
are
you?”

*   *   *

“You ought to go back to the hotel and get some rest,” Eva said as they sat in the back room of the tavern. “Doubtless you need it, and there’s nothing for you to do while Simon’s busy at the owners’ office.” She stood. “Come, I’ll escort you there.”

“So you’ll sit at my bedside like a nursemaid and watch me sleep?” Alyce would have none of that. “I was too busy scuttling from the train station to the hotel and back again to see anything of Exeter. I won’t miss my chance to explore Plymouth.”

She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, anyway. Her body felt tight, as if she were strung up on a loom, but instead of being woven into something whole, threads of her kept unraveling. There might not be anything left of her by the time she returned to Trewyn.

“What would you like to see first?”

“The sea,” she answered at once.

But when she and Eva stepped out onto the street, and Eva moved to hail a hackney, Alyce stopped her. “I want to walk.”

“The Barbican is at least a mile from here.”

“I walk four miles to and from work every day. One will feel like a holiday. Unless,” she added, “it’s too far for you.”

Eva bristled. “The best path is to the left.”

Together, Alyce and the woman she’d met only an hour earlier began to walk down toward the seafront. The day was at its height, and the streets bustled with activity. Carriages, cabs, and wagons trundled along the avenues. Voices and hawkers’ cries were thick in the air. Alyce had never seen so many people in one place before. Easy to feel like one of those bits of seaweed floating along the current, as if she might just wash away in the sea of people and noise.

But she thought of Henry, and Sarah, of her fellow bal-maidens and the rhythms they made as they swung their bucking irons, and the red mud-covered faces of the miners. She thought of Simon and the faith he had in her. The ground grew steady beneath her feet.

“Simon wrote that you work at the mine,” Eva said as they moved into a business district full of sober-coated men.

If Eva, with her polished manners and accent, thought Alyce would be ashamed of her work, the fancy lady was in for a disappointment. “As a bal-maiden. I smash pieces of ore with a big hammer. Makes me deucedly strong.”

Yet there was no disgust in Eva’s gaze. “Jack and I run a school and a boxing studio in Manchester. I do the schooling, he teaches the boxing, but he makes certain I get in front of the heavy bag three times a week.” To Alyce’s shock, Eva curled her arm, revealing a tight, rounded bicep. “I’m coming along, but it’s going to be a while before I can beat you at tug-o-war.”

“Or wrestling,” Alyce added. She studied the woman walking beside her. “I may like you.”

“But you aren’t certain.” Eva nodded. “That’s a good policy: caution. I’d urge you the same when it comes to Simon.”

Whatever thawing Alyce might have felt toward the other woman instantly froze. “You heard what I said to him—I’m a grown woman. Any choices I make are my own.”

“I’d be the last person to tell another woman how to think or act.” She glanced both ways before crossing a busy street. The smell of seawater and the cries of seabirds grew thicker. “But Jack and I … we’re a rare exception. Nemesis agents don’t involve themselves with people who are part of a job. Safer for everyone.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot lately about my safety. But I work at a mine. Doesn’t get more dangerous than that. If I can handle that, managing Simon won’t trip me up.” The desire between her and Simon was already explosive—but more dangerous were the feelings that tangled through her whenever she thought of him, looked at him. How her heart swelled when he was near, and how it shriveled when he was at a distance.

She and Eva turned down another street, and suddenly a wharf opened up before them. Ferries chugged through the water, and sailboats bobbed in their wake. A few green cliffs rose up on the other side of the harbor, with houses perched atop them, staring out at the water like sentinels. Eva turned right, leading them along a paved waterfront. Gaily painted shops and stone-fronted buildings lined the street, and Alyce even spotted a tea shop full of women wearing ridiculous and beautiful hats.

“He’s a gentleman, you know,” Eva said as they strolled.

“He’s told me. Some rich man’s younger son. A rich man who doesn’t approve of him.”

“If his father ever found out about Nemesis, he’d be disowned. Cut off without a penny.” Eva spoke flatly, as if reciting rugby scores. “He wouldn’t be welcome at home or at any family gathering. Couldn’t appear with them at any public function. In essence, he’d be dead to them, and disgraced, metaphorically dead sons aren’t eagerly embraced by the rest of Society.”

Despite the sun breaking through the clouds, a chill danced along Alyce’s arms and down her back. He’d never talked of his life in Society with fondness—in fact, he seemed to hate it—but to lose all contact with his family, to become a pariah … it would be a high price to pay. She couldn’t imagine the desperate loneliness if she lost Henry and Sarah.

Still, she said, “He’s aware of the risk.”

“Of course he is,” Eva answered readily. She stopped walking and considered a seagull perched atop a mast, sure-footed even as its resting place heaved beneath it. “All of us are. What we do for Nemesis means too much for us to stop. Even Simon, who has the most to lose.”

Anger filmed Alyce’s gaze. “I’m not going to show up at his father’s doorstep.”

“No, you won’t. And if you tried, well…” Eva smiled a cold little smile that looked like a knife coming out of its sheath. “You’d discover just how ruthless Nemesis can be. Particularly when it comes to protecting one of our own.”

“He came to Wheal Prosperity to help. If you think I’d ever hurt him, I’ll show you my own boxing skills and knock you right into the harbor.”

Eva’s smile warmed. “That’s all I needed to know.”

Crossing her arms across her chest, Alyce demanded, “All this has been a test?”

The other woman didn’t seem offended. “My idea, not Simon’s. I saw the way he looked at you. How you look back.” She nodded toward a group of clouds casting shadows on the harbor. “Desire passes. Provided one takes precautions, lust can be sated without repercussions.”

Alyce’s face heated. Candid as conversation with other bal-maidens could be, Alyce had never talked of such frank matters with a stranger.

“If you and Simon merely wanted to jump into bed together,” Eva continued, “I wouldn’t be saying any of this. The two of you could have your enjoyment of each other and that would be the end of it. But I see it goes beyond that.” She glanced at Alyce. “Far beyond. Everything I’m telling you … it’s merely a matter of safeguards, for both you
and
Simon.”