Daring the Duke (3 page)

Audrey couldn’t restrain the blush that shot to her cheeks. She tipped her chin up and walked faster, tilting her head to the side to prevent him from seeing the effects of his words.

The comments seem pointed, but his face was that of a seducer. He was a rogue, and rogues made comments like that. It didn’t mean anything else.

Dear Lord, she hoped it didn’t mean anything else.

They reached the door, and he allowed her to take the packages inside.

He smiled broadly, swung his walking stick, and tipped his hat. “What a pleasant afternoon it has become. Good day, miss. It would be my greatest fortune to see you again soon. Perhaps the Fates will be kind twice.”

Not waiting for a reply, he tipped his hat and ambled down the steps, whistling.

Audrey’s heart raced at his parting shot. She stared at his retreating back and the tapping of his walking stick. There was a wicked blade in that stick. She knew the type. And a wicked man wielded it. She knew that type too.

She didn’t know whether to follow him and hit him in the alley or just thank her lucky stars she was still free and standing in her doorway. She decided on the latter as she watched Henry Travers stalking toward the house in his “Dr Smith” disguise. Later she would figure out what to do about Stephen Chalmers and his merry little whistling.

“Inside. Now.” Travers gritted through his straight white teeth, grabbing her elbow, and propelled her forward.

Audrey cocked a brow. If Travers thought he could intimidate her after she had just come face-to-face with her number one adversary, he had another thought coming, Travers stormed past her and slammed the door.

“What the hell were you doing with Stephen bloody Chalmers?”

She shook herself free and called for her maid. The sullen woman appeared and took the packages.

“Well?” Travers demanded.

“I was bringing groceries home for supper.” Audrey walked into the overwhelming purple drawing room, Travers hot on her heels.

“What?”

She sat in one of the violet straight-backed chairs, casually resting her elbows on the arms. Her nerves were frayed from bumping into the blond Adonis on the street, but she didn’t want Travers to see her consternation.

“He offered to assist me with my packages.”

“Why? Where did you meet? What did you tell him?”

“I told him about all of the papers I have stolen and changed recently and that you are planning to assassinate the Exchequer.”

Travers looked on the verge of exploding; he hadn’t even bothered to removed his wig and fake spectacles. His normally unblemished skin mottled in anger. “So help me, girl, I will have you whipped if you don’t tell me right now what passed between you.”

Audrey experienced a moment’s unease. Travers was a thorn in her side, most definitely, but this unnatural anger was unsettling. He was usually a calm devil, measured and precise. Not a screeching demon.

“I bumped into him, literally, and being a gentleman, he took my packages and insisted on accompanying me home. That is all.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He just chattered.”

“He said nothing? Didn’t say a word to you other than small talk?”

She crossed her arms. “No. I have no explanation of what streak of bad luck put me first in your path and now in his.”

Travers swore. “We’re going to have to adjust the plans and schedule.”

“Perfect. Release my sister and good luck with your new plan.”

He laughed unpleasantly and twenty years vanished as he removed the wig and glasses of his disguise. He trailed a finger down her arm, and she jerked it away.

“I don’t think so, my dear.”

“Where is Faye?”

“She’s safe, for now.”

Audrey hated herself for the weakness, but she walked to the window, putting the table between herself and the angelic-looking devil. “She’s out of Newgate?”

Travers absently played with his pocket watch. His eyes were dark and brooding, and she wondered how much longer she’d able to play his game.

“I’m making arrangements for her release.”

As soon as her sister stepped foot from prison, Audrey could relax. Faye would easily be able to escape from a dozen of Travers’s guards.

His eyes mocked her. “She’s in no danger . . . of harming others. She’ll make a delightful . . . guest.”

Audrey’s heart quickened. “What do you mean?”

Travers shrugged. “The last report said her condition was poor. All the more reason for you to successfully complete your tasks and speed her release.”

She couldn’t keep the anguish from her voice. “What have you done to her?”

He laughed and dropped his lean aristocratic frame into the chair she had abandoned. “Nothing, my dear. The damage had already been done. Why, you remember what it’s like.”

Cramped spaces, rats, moldy bread, and the smell of rotting flesh? Yes, she remembered who had incarcerated them without a whisper of proof or semblance of a trial. All under the table, all too effective.

“If anything happens to my sister, I’ll kill you. I don’t care about your connections or threats to do me harm.”

Travers looked unconcern, his patrician features unmarred. “We’ll see my dear. So far I’ve managed to stay remarkably healthy in your presence.

Now, do you have them?”

“Yes.”

Audrey strode from the room, head held high, and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Once there she quickly retrieved the bundle from one of her hiding places. She was afraid to linger too long. Traves might follow her.

Lately he made been making more overt gestures. She gagged at the thought of him touching her and wiped a hand across her clammy forehead. He hadn’t tried anything other than light touches designed to torment and unnerve her, perhaps not yet ready to test her boundaries. For all his vices and sins, she would never call him stupid, but one couldn’t be too careful.

She returned to the study and dumped the bundle in his lap. “All the papers are inside, along with another parchment with a copy of each seal.”

His eyes devoured the worn cloth as he carefully unwrapped the bundle with a gentleness that surprised her. “So they are. You have done well, Audrey. With the proper incentive, I knew you would succeed, or I’d never acquired you for these tasks. Your sister will live another day.”

She sat across from him, using the low center table as a barrier. “When will I see my sister?”

“Tut, tut. Patience and trust, my sweet. I have another task for you.”

Her fists clutched the arms of the carved chair and darkness seeped into her soul. She had known this was how it would turn out, had know Travers was the last person to keep his word, but she couldn’t resist fighting. “Our deal was the papers for my sister.”

“But now there’s something else I want from you.” Travers surveyed her.

“Besides your begging, of course. But that pleasure will come in own due time. Until then I shall only dream of the moment.”

Audrey fought the anger and the fear, instead, keeping her features flat as she always did when he insinuated something sexual between them. If only Faye were free. If only Audrey could scoff at Travers increasing suggestive innuendos and ridicule his demands. If only they had left England last year. If only . . .

Travers crossed his ankles. “And there is the Chalmers situation. How very strange that you should sit before instead of locked in Newgate with your sister. Why do you suppose that is? Chalmers would put you there in a heartbeat.”

“I have no idea, but it is dangerous to continue as we are.”

A flash of something, perhaps fear, passed through his eyes. “For Audrey the adventurer? The notorious thief? I think not. I know you won’t let the Duke of Marston interfere in my plans or in your desire to have Faye safely home.”

He practically spat Stephen’s title, and a splinter of wood broke from the beneath one of his short nails. The brief flitter of fear she had seen was gone. His expression was hard and angry—something more than his usual bitterness. What was Chalmers to him?

Travers looked at his pocketwatch once more, as if it had somehow betrayed him, before violently shoving it back in his pocket and withdrawing a paper. He shoved the paper across the table. “This is your next task. And I have a little plan for Stephen Chalmers as well.”

Stephen accepted the glass of champagne and circled the Taylors’

ballroom floor. A few women tried to catch his eye, but he smiled and worked his way through the crush, nodding to acquaintances but not pausing to converse. As long as he smiled, the ladies would think they could snare him later in the evening. He had been using the tactic for the past two weeks, ever since gaining the title, and so far it had worked. He kept moving.

There was only one woman he wanted to speak with this evening. One woman with long legs that made breeches look sinful.

Roth was announced, and Stephen nodded to him over the crowd but continued purposefully through the throng, searching for his prey. The information he had received said he would not be disappointed.

Never had he looked so forward to interrogating a suspect and extracting information than he did with this woman.

Two more guests were announced.

Music drifted through the room but Stephen was longer listening. The vision that had just entered the ballroom blotted the noise. Wearing a white-trimmed lavender gown she stood elegantly next to a well-dressed gentleman who looked slightly out of place. Long white gloves covered her hands and lower arms. Raven hair was pinned to her crown, loose strands escaping down to her shoulders. He couldn’t see her eyes clearly from the distance, but he knew were silver-blue. She appeared to simpering, but her eyes were too quick, too assessing to be submissive.

Those icy blue eyes took in the gilt coverings, the heirloom candlesticks, the expensive paintings, and the bounty of silver. And then her gaze assessed each person she was introduced to in the same manner. Stephen would bet she could estimate the earnings and holdings of each person within a few hundred pounds of his or her actual worth.

Anticipation surged through him.

The pair moved into the room and chatted with various guests who approached them. The lady’s eyes kept moving, consistently assessing, weighing, and judging.

He wanted to push through the crowd, but instead he made a slow circuit and watched her work. She knew how to handle herself in a ballroom. Her behaviour was correct, her manner changing between a blushing young woman and a lofty maiden depending on the person introduced.

Stephen switched his gaze to her companion, who seemed ill at ease in the formal setting. His clothes were well tailored, but he fidgeted as if he were desperate to remove his cravat. The woman soaked all of the attention, effectively deflecting any from the man, her supposed stepfather. Clever girl.

Stephen’s anticipation surged again as he walked towards the couple. As opponents, they were well matched. The board was set. He had moved his pawn earlier in the day, and now it was time to implement his next strategy.

“Stephen!”

Turning, he amended his earlier statement. There were two women with whom he wanted to talk. He winked at the lovely blonde woman as he made his bow. “Calliope. James. Good to see you back for the season.”

“Your Grace,” Calliope’s voice held amusement, and a devilish smile appeared as she curtsied, then gave him a warm embrace.

“This imp of yours grows more beautiful each day,” Stephen remarked, grasping James’s outstretched hand. “And sassier too.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He laughed, bestowing a loving glance on his wife. “May I add my condolences your newly acquired title?”

“You know me only too well, James.”

Stephen continued to exchange pleasantries with the Marquess and Marchioness of Angelford at the edge of the dance floor, his eyes tracking his opponent as she made her way through the swarm.

“Roth said you would be here tonight. Have you seen him?” James said.

“Yes, he is lurking about.”

Calliope put her hand on Stephen’s arm. “We will have to speak later in the evening. There are so many things we wish to tell you.”

She looked at her husband and a slight blush warmed her cheeks. Stephen fought amusement and a slight twinge of envy at the shared glance. That they loved each other was evident. That they were happy was even more so.

His parents had enjoyed such a relationship, and if he could have gifted a lucky star to any couple, it would be to the one in front of him.

“I’m sure you will both nauseate me with your blushes and caresses, but please don’t make it too early in the night.”

James tried to cover a laugh, and Calliope rapped Stephen lightly with her fan. “Rogue.”

Stephen smiled and turned to locate the icy-eyed woman. After a quick search he spotted her near the refreshment table. A few admirers had taken up court. He grimaced as he saw Henry Travers making a dashing bow.

A fan tapped him on the arm. “Stephen? You just ignored tow questions.

Which lovely lady holds your attention?”

Calliope was smiling, and James’s brows were raised in inquiry.

“Just thinking about fetching you some punch, my dearest butterfly.”

Calliope laughed. Roth sauntered over their group, greeting all of them.

Audrey tried not to stare at the foursome across the crowd. Her new admirers were beaming and asking for permission to dance, permission to recite a poem, permission to fetch lemonade. She accepted the last offer and wish she could give the rest permission to cross a busy street. She felt suffocated in the mansion, surrounded by glittering popinjays. Of these people she had no fear. The well-tailored and handsome folk in the tight group, however, were a different story.