Daring the Duke (10 page)

"Audrey, you look as if you’re readying for a fight."

Her muscles had tensed, and she was indeed reaching for one of her hidden knives.

He sighed. "I’m not here to fight with you or arrest you. I could have had you the other night, and we both know it."

"Then why didn’t you?" Her heart beat a mad thump in her chest. Her hand was only an inch from one of the short blades.

He shrugged and languidly stretched his long legs forward, leaning back in the chair. "I didn’t feel like it then, nor do I now. "

"But you hate criminals."

His features tightened momentarily, but he regained his lazy air. "If you'd like me to catch you, I can." He scanned her slowly and his gaze made her heart thump in an entirely different rhythm. "It would undoubtedly prove exhilarating."

"Chalmers, if you’re not going to arrest me, then what do you want? And why are you here?" She let her hand drop to her side. She seemed to be asking

those questions a lot lately, but no one seemed to care what she wanted.

"I'm trying to answer that question myself."

He rose slowly and walked toward her. She stood still as he tucked a stray lock of hair into her cap. "What do I want from you, Audrey?"

She held her breath. A tight feeling inside echoed the stroke of his fingertips. The warmth of his hand urged her to step to him. She stayed in place.

"What’s going on, Audrey? You’ve never been this careless before."

"I’m spending all my time these days dodging you."

"Yes, but dodging me by yourself. Where’s your sister?"

A streak of alarm shot through her and the urge to bolt manifested itself.

"I don't know what you’re talking about, Chalmers."

He studied her and lightly drew a finger across her cheek. For the second time that night, she felt as if he could seduce her merely with a caress.

"You’ll tell me."

She closed her eyes, then he was gone. She heard his footfall on the stairs; he made no effort at stealth.

Why had he let her go again? What did he know about her sister? There was no getting rid of Chalmers. He would just keep popping up in unlikely places. She had no choice now but to involve him in her plan. At least if he worked with her, she could somewhat control him.

She looked at the papers stacked where he’d left them on the chair. With reluctance, she walked over, lifted them, and read the top document. They were the papers she sought. She had known it as soon as she’d seen them in his hands.

How had he known she would be here tonight?

What game were they playing?

Stephen finished writing the note to his superior, explaining the papers he had switched the night before. It had been a near thing. He had arrived only minutes before Audrey, and it had taken all of his acting abilities to maintain a casual air.

His orders were to discover who was behind the changed cargo manifests, schedules, and routes. Who it was that was allowing illegal goods onto the docks. Someone crafty enough to ask the right questions, and someone with the right connections to gain access to the information. It had to be someone in an important position.

That person was using Audrey to gather and change information. Stephen was using Audrey to make sure she gathered the wrong information.

Whoever had hired her wouldn’t know the difference in the switched shipping papers. Stephen had painstakingly changed the information, making sure all of the new information looked valid. In two weeks the villain would be forced to show his face at the docks to inquire about one detail. Or HER face, he amended. He would never again underestimate or overlook women as suspects.

In two weeks this mess would be over--for better or for worse.

"Your Grace, Lady Stinson and Lady Appling are here to see you. I seated them in the parlor."

Stephen sighed and stood up. "Grimmond, we are alone. Stop calling me

‘Your Grace.' "

The butler raised a brow as Stephen walked toward him. "I will bring tea to the parlor, Your Grace."

Stephen tweaked the butler 's coat, skewing it slightly from its impeccable position. "Thank you, Grimmond."

A martial light appeared in Grimmond’s eye, but the loud rap of a cane in an adjoining room produced a smug expression on his face and seemed to forestall his usual retort.

"Have a good meeting with Lady Stinson, Your Grace," he said, the smug look still evident.

Stephen sighed again as Grimmond walked from the room in a stately manner. He knew why the two ladies had come. He might as well get it over with.

The ladies were silent as he entered the library. Lady Stinson’s hawkish gaze was piercing, but he gave her his best smile and nodded to Lady Appling.

"How lovely of you two ladies to stop by."

"Marston, we’re here to talk about matters of importance." Lady Stinson rapped her cane.

Stephen reined in the grimace over hearing his title. He wondered if he would ever grow accustomed to it.

"And what serious matters would you like to discuss, dear ladies?"

"Your predecessor promised seasons for his three cousins, Meg, Mary, and Margaret. I want to know your intentions."

Stephen raised a brow. "I have no desire to marry any of my cousins, no matter the distance of the connection."

Lady Appling pressed in front of Lady Stinson, her lashes fluttering on colorless cheeks. "Well, you’ll have to marry eventually, and you can’t do better than my sweet Margaret."

Lady Stinson sent her sister a scathing glance and rapped her cane on her left foot, causing Lady Appling to recoil to the corner of the settee. "Or my Meg or Mary." She turned back to Stephen.

"The point is, what are your intentions as to honoring the gentlemen’s agreement between the seventh duke and our families?"

"I will, of course, honor it, Lady Stinson. I see no reason to change the arrangement as long as I don’t have to attend any fittings."

Lady Stinson looked down her nose, a quite impressive feat as her nose was somewhat prominent. "Your levity in this matter is misplaced, Your Grace. I want to be reassured that the girls will have their promised seasons."

"They will."

Some of the tension ebbed from Lady Stinson’s shoulders. "Excellent.

You were always a good sort--should have been sent to us after your parents died. We wouldn’t have shuffled you around the countryside."

Stephen stiffened but continued to smile.

"Looks like you are finally over your wanderings, though, and may I say I’m glad. Good to see you take the reins and steer the family in the correct direction. Too many poor decisions in this family recently." She levelled her gaze at him. "I'm expecting you to avoid that path."

"Your vote of confidence warms my heart, Lady Stinson."

"Good. We will leave you now, Your Grace. Thank you for receiving us."

Lady Appling recovered her composure and smiled becomingly as she trailed behind Lady Stinson.

He had seen Lady Stinson’s free hand knotted in her skirt. She hadn’t been sure he would honor the promise. He took no offense; pride was the only thing holding Lady Stinson together. Her husband had lost their wealth at the tables, and Stephen had always admired the lady’s pluck.

Not, he shuddered, that he would want her as a mother-in-law. He had spent a small amount of time in her presence during his "shuffling," as she called it, although never in her household. Luckily he had ended up with a distant cousin of his father's, the late Viscount Canfield. The viscount had been a much-needed mentor, and Stephen had become fast friends with his oldest son, Brandon. Running wild with Brandon over the estates had saved his sanity. The memories brought a smile to his face. He needed to pay Brandon a visit soon.

Lady Stinson would never have afforded him the freedom allowed in the other houses. He had never spent time in her household, as his other relatives had been afraid that Lord Stinson would drain his inheritance, a well-founded concern.

Lord Stinson wouldn’t be able to touch the money Stephen would give to the girls for their seasons. He would talk to Logan, the Marston solicitor, about setting up an account manager to communicate directly with Lady Stinson.

Stephen glanced at the clock. Another hour until Logan arrived. He rubbed his hands together and headed for the conservatory. An hour to be Stephen Chalmers and not the Duke of Marston.

Audrey wiped a hand across her dusty cheek, the excitement from a job well done still humming in her veins. She threw her tools on the rug and placed the bundle on the bed. She unwrapped the cloth to examine the papers within.

The beautiful impressions of the seals and signet rings were stamped on each page. Each stamp a verification by its owner to follow through with the directions on the page. Obtaining papers and seals was usually a mindless task. Only Travers’s separate assignment was proving troublesome.

It was the one item she might be able to bargain with once Travers told her its location. Travers had talked about it in a voice heavily laden with desperation.

She sighed heavily. Travers would never let them go, and it was time she reconciled herself to that fact. It was time to execute a new plan.

She chewed her bottom lip as she carefully stowed the papers in the floor hollow she had created. Chalmers had offered his help. Perhaps she should have Flanagan stage an attack on her and appeal to Chalmers’s protective instincts?

She needed to talk to Flanagan in any case--might as well see if he had any useful information before formulating a plan. In saving Chalmers the night before, she had tossed her lot in with his.

Saved him yet again. She seemed to be forming a bad habit.

She washed, dressed, and made her way to St. Giles. Places where people like her belonged, not in wealthy Mayfair houses like Stephen Chalmers's.

Someday maybe she could forget her past, someday when she was on a new shore with a new identity and a new outlook on life. But not today Not as she made her way through the winding and twisted streets. Not when she knew which ways led to dead ends and possibly the ultimate dead end. Not when she knew exactly the paths to take.

She marched right into Flanagan’s "office," having no trouble getting past his security.

"I want you to stop the attacks on Chalmers."

She paused. "Or Marston, or whatever people are calling him these days."

"Nice to see you too, Hermes, my dear."

She grinned and sat. "Fine. It’s nice to see you, you old goat."

The deep wrinkles around his eyes creased, but he didn’t smile. It was about as close as he came, though, which was a good sign. "I see you are in fine fettle. Wasn’t sure what to expect with all the rumors circulating."

"What have you heard?"

Flanagan waved her question away. "Why do you want me to stop the attacks? Chalmers has it coming, even if it’s not on my orders. S’truth, the orders didn’t come from me. There are lots of rumblings about big rewards for taking out Chalmers. A couple of men have split from our ranks to do so. They itch to deal with Chalmers, Angelford, and Roth.

Damn if those three don’t cause all our trouble." He gave her a knowing glance. "And I would retain my best people if Chalmers were out of the picture."

She winced. Flanagan always saw more than she wished. "I know. But it’s damn stupid of the men who attack them now. Last year after the attack on

Chalmers at the river, half of the blighters who participated were captured or killed."

"S’truth, all but one. Leonard." Flanagan spat.

"I need you to use your influence to stop the attacks."

"Was wondering when you’d work up the mettle to come here and ask for my help. Demanding is more your style, but that’s what made you such an asset."

She took her pride in hand. "I need your help, Flanagan."

"Why does it matter to you? Wouldn’t it be better to be rid of him?"

"I need him."

Flanagan surveyed her for a few seconds, all the while pulling his long mustache. "You and Icarus left Olympus, so the job won't be free. This Travers bloke probably already knows about us if ‘n he contacted you."

He gave the mustache another tug, and his eyes creased in his near smile.

"You wouldn’t be in this bind if’n you hadn’t left."

She continued to look at him, not twitching a muscle in response. She wasn’t surprised he knew about Travers or the situation. Flanagan was nothing if not an information hound and hoarder.

"You’re a hard one, Hermes. Always have been, always will be. But you know the rules. What’s in it for us? I have to settle the boys down somehow. And just so you know, I can only settle the ones under my influence."

"One hundred pounds."

"Five hundred and not a crown less."

"Three hundred and not a pence more."

"Deal. Now you want to tell me about Icarus?"

Audrey moved in her chair. "She’s in Newgate."

"Heard the rumors. Didn’t want to believe it myself. This Travers bloke is the cause?"

"Yes. He put me in there long enough to get a taste, to know that nothing would stop me from freeing Faye. The bastard reworked the papers-he’s blackmailing at least two of the guards, paying off ten others, possibly more."

l Flanagan pulled his mustache. "A dangerous man."

"He is using some of the men from O’Leary’s ring. I recognized a few of the thugs."

"O’Leary’s gone missing."

"I doubt he will be found. Keep your back to the wall, Flanagan. Someone dangerous is behind Travers. Whoever it is will make a play at the first opportunity."