Daring the Duke (2 page)

“No worries, Roth,” Stephen flashed a grin. “The next few weeks should be quite exciting. Wait and see.”

Roth threw up a balled-up piece of paper at his head. Stephen grinned as he caught it, but promptly grimaced as the action aggravated his sore shoulder. The shoulder hadn’t fully healed in the year since he had

“fallen” into the Thames. He rotated his arm and felt the slight pop.

Roth watched him, concern etched in his eyes. “Still paining you?”

“Feeling better every day.”

“Discover anything new about your saviour?”

“I have the men following a few leads, but no, nothing new.”

His friend tapped a finger. “That is odd.”

“And frustrating. You don’t have to remind me.”

It had been a year, but Stephen could still feel the dark grip of the Thames before he had blacked out. Jumping off the bridge while barely conscious had not been his smartest move, but in the end it had save his life. As a result of his involvement and investigation, justice had been served. The treasonous members of England’s Foreign Office had been apprehended.

Everything had worked out satisfactorily, with the exception of the shoulder injury and not finding the faceless savior who had fished him from the river. Both loose ends still bothered him.

He rotated his shoulder again. “Only one more thug to corral from the Foreign Office investigation. Leonard Peters. The dullard has been absent from London since the incident, which is fortunate for him. A stone would give him a good beating in a test of intelligence.”

“He works for Flanagan,” Roth pointed out.

Roth was relentless. He wasn’t going to dismiss the Flanagan connection until he was satisfied.

“So did some of the other conspirators, but they all maintained they were hired for an outside job. No connection to Flanagan.” Stephen cracked his knuckles, an annoying habit taken from his father. “And there was plenty of incentive for them to implicate Flanagan.”

Roth nodded but looked unconvinced. “But most of his folks are loyal. I think you should investigate Flanagan’s bunch.”

Stephen stroked his fingers down the curves of the inkpot. “I have. As a matter of fact, investigating his gang is exactly how I determined Hermes’

identity. Icarus’s too. Two of his favourite thieves.”

Roth leaned forward, careful to avoid the ink-stained papers. “Excellent.

Tell me who Icarus is then.”

“Tonight, old man, tonight,” he teased the man only two years his senior.

“I do believe I dislike you these days, Chalmers.”

Stephen grinned. “I promise the Taylors’ party will be interesting.”

Roth raised both brows in disbelief and rose. “I find that hard to believe, but I’ll see you this evening.”

Stephen released the curved inkpot and leaned back in his chair. Tonight
would
be interesting. The carefully structured impromptu meeting this afternoon would guarantee it.

A light-hearted feeling of anticipation and excitement thrummed through him. The chase was going to be even sweeter this time. He felt it in his skin. He would finish the game started years before when Hermes had pilfered important government documents. While not a treasonous affair, and therefore not in Stephen’s usual line of work, the papers contained secrets that has caused consternation among his superiors and a lot of official sweating. Stephen had retrieved the papers, but the thief had been long gone—an indescribable shadow by witness account.

Since he had been needed on the Continent, Stephen had assigned numerous men to catch the thief. Hermes had slipped through the fingers of every runner and hired guard. Slipped through every time without a trace.

But this time the thief was making mistakes, just as every criminal eventually did. Rather than confining activities to the general populace, the thefts had once more crossed into governmental affairs. This time Stephen was going to catch the thief himself and not delegate the work.

And it was a task he expected to enjoy thoroughly. The thrill of the chase pulsed through him again, forcing him to temper the feeling with cold realism. The ending to these cases was always the same. Prison and often a death sentence. Justice was the cornerstone of English society and civilization. Societies that had laws without justice crumbled—justice always needed to be served.

Stephen fiddled with the tangled fronds of the fern on his desk. Tangled just like he planned, but maybe a little too twisted to unravel.

He lifted the plant and walked to his conservatory, whistling. He needed the right amount of twist to get the desired effect. Too little was boring; too much created a mess. He needed the perfect combination.

He loved a challenge.

* * *

“Good afternoon, Miss Kendrick. The cabbages are particularly plump this day. My son hauled ‘em in from the country early this morning.”

Audrey Kendrick smiled at the stout grocer and examined the healthy vegetables in his stall. A hearty cabbage soup would complement the roast duck she planned for supper. “In that case, I believe I’ll take two.”

“How is Mr. Maddox? Is he feeling better?”

Audrey gritted her teeth but assumed a hopeful expression. “Yes. He is no longer bedridden. The doctor says he has made an inspired recovery. He’s well enough that we shall even be attending a gathering this evening.”

The grocer leaned forward. “Pardon my saying, miss, but I’ve never seen that doctor around these parts before. Now, the good doctor around the corner, that’s who you should have looking in on your father.”

Audrey loosened her knit fingers from her skirt. Father indeed. “Oh, Dr.

Smith has been very kind to us. Father took right to him. I don’t think he would be doing as well without the right doctor.”

The grocer smiled and bundled her purchases. “Well, then that’s what matters. Here you go, miss. Have a good day. And give your father our regards.”

Audrey forced herself to smile back. She wouldn’t be surprised to find her skin stretched permanently across her face from the strained smiles and false cheer. If she had to refer to that vicious old goat as her father one more time, she was going to scream. The lies were growing more difficult to utter. Especially in the face of such people. Round, jolly vendors hailed her, and motherly, cheerful women called out greetings. They were too damn nice here.

This pleasant little slice of London, on the outskirts of Mayfair, was almost comical in its contrast to her old territory. Mayfair was nothing like the dregs of London, where one foul word could find you with a knife embedded in your ribs.

Absently, she rubbed her right side. She was never going back. A voice in her head mocked her.
You’re already back.

No. No, she was temporarily “assigned” to a few tasks. As long as she and Faye survived this mess, there was enough money to ensure they’d have a life. A new life from London. If there was one lesson in the entire experience had taught her, it was she and her sister couldn’t remain in England. The past would always haunt them.

Moving away from the vegetable stall and her dark thoughts, Audrey stepped into the center of the market. The smell of warm bread and delicious meat pies filled the air. The atmosphere was festive. It was another way that life in Mayfair was better. In the dregs, women hawked their wares to visiting merchants. Here, merchants hawked their wares to women and servants eager to return with the best of the day’s meat and produce.

“Fresh vegetables!”

“Tasty cutlets!”

“The finest potatoes in England!”

A street urchin breezed past and she felt a slight brush. In a trice she had shifted her packages and seized the boy’s arm with her free hand. The boy looked at her in surprise, then panic.

“Not today, boyo.” She pulled him forcefully toward him to keep him off-balance, reached into his pocket and retrieved her money pouch. He regained his footing and scampered into the crowd.

She absently memorized his features. He was new. The boy had promise; he just needed a little practice. It was the same for all new recruits.

Audrey continued down the lane of colourful stalls, letting the cheerful atmosphere temporarily soothe her. These rosy bursts of humanity were the only things that kept harsh reality away, and unfortunately such moments were becoming fewer and harder to come by.

A bright reflection drew her attention. The summer day was cloudless, and the rays easily caught the gleaming steel in the stall on the right.

The new smith was flipping knives. She sighed wistfully. He might be an apprentice, but the quality of his craft was evident. Balance, tempered, and sharp. His was the stall she most wanted to visit. But if Miss Audrey Kendrick, fainthearted gentlewoman from the country, strolled in to toss the blades, the grocer and half the other vendors she frequented would become suspicious.

No, she couldn’t afford to indulge her hobby. But maybe she could sneak into the smith’s house. Of course, she would pay for the merchandise. Her honor demanded it in this instance. But she’d relieve him a few of those crafted beauties and—

A fresh forest scent assailed her, momentarily breaking her concentration.

An odd smell to find in London. “Oof.” Audrey felt as if she’d hit a pine tree.

“The Fates are kind today.”

The tree had a smooth, deep voice. Audrey looked up at the handsome blond-haired man she had just crashed into, and the expression in his devilish green eyes caused her breath to lodge in her throat. One second.

Two seconds.

“I’ve been waiting all day for a beautiful woman to fall into my arms. But I am a reasonable man and will accept a collision instead.”

Dear Lord, he was here to arrest her.
Move
, she shouted to her traitorous limbs. But she was rooted in place, rendered speechless and incapable of flight.

“You looked a little shocked, miss. Are you hurt? I didn’t mean to startle you, but you so intent on watching the smith you didn’t see me.” A mischievous glint lit the familiar stranger’s face, belying his words.

Air whooshed from her lungs, and she stammered, “No, I’m fine, thank you. And you?” She nearly winced as the words spewed forth.

The lazy smile reached Stephen Chalmers’s eyes. “I’m interested.”

Audrey swallowed and again murmured something less than intelligent.

But her mind was screaming danger. Did he know who she was?

She watched in a trancelike state as he released her and twirled his walking stick with casual grace. It had been a long time since she had been this close to him, but his sheer presence still overwhelmed her. Still caused that breathless feeling, like she was being sucked into her own stomach.

“Good. Great. Good-bye.” She shuffled backward in a dazed manner, her purchases swaying precariously in her arms.

“Here, let me help you with those packages.”

Audrey snapped to attention, but he took advantage of her momentary brainlessness and smoothly relieved her of her day’s purchases. His fingers grazed her side, and she had to force herself to breathe again.

He watched her frozen state in amusement. Undoubtedly, he was accustomed to causing a flustered reaction in women. Audrey’s wits returned at the though, and, feigning gratitude, she reached out for the packages. “Very kind of you, sir, but not necessary. It’s late, and I must be on my way.”

He waved a dismissive hand, having no trouble in balancing all of the parcels in one arm and his walking stick in the other. “In my own self-interest, I can’t leave you to wander into someone else. Then our encounter would be nothing special. I insist. Where to, miss?”

His green eyes were twinkling. Damn. She cast a quick glance around. A few of the vendors were smiling at her apparent “fortune” in attracting the attentions of such a handsome, well-dressed man. There was no way to extricate herself from this sham without causing a scene.

And what difference did it make if he accompanied her home? If he knew her identity, he already knew where she lived. And if he didn’t know who she was, denying him might cause his suspicions to rise. The shock of seeing him and touching him faded, and she felt the familiar rush of the chase slither through her.

“I’m on my way home.” She looked away from him and pointed to the small house at the end of the street.

She peeked her escort from beneath her bonnet. Did he never stop grinning? He looked exceptionally pleased with the situation and matched her pace as they walked.

“Did you find everything you needed?” he asked.

She nodded and slipped into character. “It was an eventful day at the market.” Well it had started out normally enough….

He peeked into the top bag. “Onions and cabbages? Fixing something tasty, are you?”

“Actually, they make perfect replacements if a head falls off a doll.

Especially if you imagine it to be someone in particular and jab it with sharp sticks.”

“Not good news for you,” Stephen said to the unresponsive vegetables in bag. He looked back to her. “The smith has a wonderful stall for sharp implements.”

“All of those shiny objects. I couldn’t help but be dazzled.”

He waved a hand, imitating a romantic young buck. “Shiny and dazzling.

A woman of your beauty should be swathed in glittering gowns and priceless jewels.”

Audrey nearly snorted.

A wicked look entered his eyes. “Yes, your legs would look lovely draped in dark silk. And if you were scandalous enough, you could don breeches and strike a man dumb with longing.”