Daring the Duke (8 page)

"He’s a crook. Names his people after mythological characters. Runs a crime syndicate throughout England but keeps his people close at hand.

And he is not as hard as he would have people believe."

"If you only knew," she muttered. But he had it right.

"You no longer work for him, do you? Your trail was cold for a year.

Why return?"

She raised her chin, but didn’t reply.

"lf you no longer work for Flanagan, for whom do you work?"

"No one."

"Did you miss the adventure? Run out of money?"

She didn’t answer.

"No," he continued, "this entire escapade is not your style. You wouldn’t be so easy to catch."

She narrowed her eyes and stood motionless, but he moved to stand in front of her and she tilted her head back to look into his shadow-lined face. He spoke softly and ran a hand down her cheek. "Why are you taking these risks, Audrey?"

His warm voice seeped into her soul, and she found herself answering, "I have to pay the price."

"What type of price?" He stroked her cheek again.

Her voice cracked. "Not that kind."

"What then, money? What do you need?" He moved closer and continued to stroke her cheek.

"Not your money." She moved away, angry with herself for allowing him to befuddle her.

"I didn’t offer my money."

She chose not to respond and straightened her skirt.

"Come, Audrey, let me help you." She blocked his seductive, silvery voice from her heart. She had heard that tempting song before, from others.

"The alley is empty. We should go, Your Grace."

She tried to pass him, but his arm shot out pinning her to the wall. Solid warmth trying to heat her perpetually cold skin.

"I could make you tell me," he murmured into her hair, his warm breath tickling her neck.

She was saved from testing his theory when he released her and peered through the window. Satisfied the alley was empty, he held the door open.

She slipped through and hastened back in the direction of the theater. She stiffened as a tall man stepped into the end of the alleyway. She reached for a knife, then recognized the handsome, brooding features and well-tailored clothes.

"Roth, how did you find us?" Stephen asked.

"I followed the mess."

Stephen smiled.

Roth spared her a glance that spoke measures. He was here to protect Stephen. In those cold eyes she had seen herself reflected and condemned.

Must be trying to have so many people concerned about your welfare.

Or comforting.

No, trying definitely. She didn’t want or need anyone looking after her.

Roth led them to Stephen’s carriage, and they entered without incident.

Roth sat opposite them staring out the window.

Stephen tucked a blanket around her legs. She was tempted to throw it off, but its welcome warmth enveloped her. She left it on.

It was a silent trip back to her house. She avoided looking at the brooding golden-eyed man who had joined them.

The carriage door opened, and she accepted Stephen’s assistance to the front door. He leaned down, and her breath caught. He stroked her cheek, sending fire into her belly. He exhaled, murmured something that sounded like "I must be mad," and then he kissed her. A light kiss, almost a teasing caress.

He pulled his head back and stroked her cheek again. "When you are ready to let me help, you know where to find me. Good night, Audrey."

The footman opened the door, then Stephen was gone.·

She stepped into the house feeling more on edge than when they’d been shot at an hour earlier.

Stephen leaned into the squabs as the carriage rolled rhythmically down the street. His fingers still carried the feel of her cheek. Soft and smooth.

Something told him that she wouldn’t have stopped him from deepening or lengthening the kiss. That piece of insight would make the next encounter all the more interesting.

"You’re asking for a knife in your ribs." Roth watched him from across the carriage.

Stephen smiled. "Perhaps."

"You have responsibilities now, Stephen. It’s not just about you anymore."

Stephen’s smile faded. "Don’t think I’ve forgotten it. Bloody title. I would have wrung my cousins' necks myself if I had known they'd leave me to this. At least I would have some pleasure out of the whole affair."

Roth raised both brows. "Most people envy your turn of late."

"Fools."

Roth snorted. "When the Duke of Marston finishes feeling sorry for himself, let me know. Meanwhile, I'm thirsty."

Stephen glared and tapped on the trap, instructing the driver to head to White’s.

As soon as they were seated at the club Roth said, "We need to talk about Audrey Kendrick. You’re the one who discovered she was Hermes and that the wild thief Icarus was her sister. And now you are toying with her, or God forbid, courting her? Did your brain get left behind in the Thames?"

"No, Roth, my brain is functioning very well. I know this girl. I’ve studied her for weeks in order to prove my suspicions."

"And?"

"And she’s hard as stone, but not rash. She’s the planner, the plotter, the mastermind. Not the fiery brash one. The other one would probably take my head first, ask questions later. This one? She’s methodical. She figures the angles before making her moves."

"
Then
she’ll take your head. Sounds like a mere difference in timing."

Stephen chuckled. "Roth, you worry too much."

"And you, my friend, don't worry enough. You’re too cavalier about the consequences."

"What better way to find out more about why she is here than to insinuate myself into her affairs?"

"What better way to end up in the Thames than to insinuate yourself into her affairs? Listen, she looked lovely both tonight and at the Taylors', and she has acted the perfect part of a lady." Roth leaned forward. "
Acted.

She’s a hardened criminal. Possibly a killer."

Stephen swirled his brandy, watching the liquid coat the glass. "We don't know that. All we know is that she was one of Flanagan’s Olympians.

The only crimes attributed to Hermes are thefts."

"Very large thefts."

"Well, there you have it. Very large thefts is all."

Roth stared into his wineglass. "Ever since you determined the identity of Hermes you haven't behaved like yourself. The bloodlust is gone. Some other kind of lust in its place."

Stephen grinned. "She is rather beautiful for a thief who a month ago I had pegged as pockmarked, bucktoothed, and male."

"Beauty only makes her more dangerous. She’s a thief. No different than any of the others. No different than the street thugs twenty years ago."

Stephen gripped his glass but said nothing.

Roth sighed. "I know I don’t want to hear this, but what is your plan?"

"It's loose. She has a plan for me though."

"Lovely. " Roth shook his dark head.

Stephen had caught a fleeting glimpse of something in her eyes before she had been able to mask it. Audrey hadn’t looked scared when the men had passed by their hiding place. She had looked irritated.

"She saved my life."

Roth narrowed his eyes. "Tonight?"

He nodded. "Pushed me out of the way of the initial round of gunfire."

"lnteresting. I wonder why? Better for her to let you die."

"That’s the rub, isn’t it? Why’d she save me when she would only gain by having me out of the way?"

Roth leaned back. "Hmmm. And you don’t think it was a ploy to earn your trust?"

"Could be, but I doubt it. The action was too spontaneous. But as I said, she definitely has a plan." For good or ill, it suited him just fine. Better to be good, but he couldn’t count on her. Not yet, perhaps not ever.

He ran a manicured finger along the rim of the glass. He wanted to trust her. Needed to trust her. And that was odd. There were few people he trusted in life. And here he was, defying logic, rebelling against his own mind, wanting to trust an admitted thief. A criminal. But logic be damned.

There was just something about her that was familiar. That made him feel he had nothing to fear from her. There was an indefinable feeling of rightness when she was by his side.

"I know l’m playing the part of the mother hen,but for God’s sake be careful," Roth said.

Stephen finished his drink. "We’ve been hunting Audrey Kendrick for years, albeit believing her to be a man named Hermes. Who would have thought the fleet-footed thief would be a woman?" He set the glass on the table. "Crafty, deceptive, a trickster. l We make a good match. The game must be played."

"This isn’t a game, Stephen."

"Sure it is. Always has been."

"Games tend to end badly in our business."

"So they do. But life would be quite dull if everything went according to plan."

"According to someone else’s plan, maybe. But you have always wanted things your way. All of us do. ]ust remember that Audrey Kendrick seems to be cut from the same cloth."

"I will. In the meantime, I need you to track down her sister. I don’t have much information on her whereabouts--she disappeared around the sametime as Audrey. Whereas Audrey reappeared a few weeks ago, no one fitting her sister’s description seems to be active in the London underground. Since they work together, it is odd. Something worth checking into."

Roth nodded. "I will ask around tonight. Did you recognize any of the shooters tonight?"

"Yes. Leonard Peters, as amazing as that is. Seems to have shown up to finish the job he started last year."

"Interesting. Learn anything?"

"Audrey knows him."

"That makes sense; they both worked for Flanagan at one time. I’ll ask around about dear old Leonard tonight as well. With his ornery disposition and degenerate reputation, he shouldn’t be too hard to track down."

They set a meeting time for the next day and Stephen strode back to his carriage. Roth was right. Stephen knew that even for his own nature he was behaving recklessly. He had never felt so invested in any of the others he had hunted, be they men or women. Why Audrey?

He dismissed her beauty. He had been around too many beautiful women to have the outer surface affect him. No, it was the layers beneath that were interesting. And he had just begun to peel them away. He had just skimmed the surface, perhaps two layers deep. Quickness, humor, intelligence, and irreverence. Superficial qualities, but he had a delicious hint of what was to come.

He couldn’t stop himself from trying to touch and expose the layers any more than he could stop himself from trying to put an end to her illegal activities. For some reason, he cared too much on both counts.

One of his men was waiting near his carriage and handed him a note.

Stephen scanned the note, and his mouth tightened. Was he getting his wish, or was this a sign of things to come? In any case, there would not be a peaceful ending to the night after all.

Maddox was waiting for her. He had probably been peeking through the window. She tried to brush past him, but he blocked her way.

"Travers expects you to meet him."

She gave her stepfather a withering look. "I read his dictates. You left his note open on the desk for anyone in the household to read."

"I told you not to sass me, girl." He was having more trouble keeping his cockney from springing up. Her mother hadn’t been able to see what lurked beneath the carefully cultivated facade. She had married him in grief and under false pretenses.

Audrey balled her fists and clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt. "And I told you not to speak to me unless it was important. Do you have something of import to say?"

Maddox’s face reddened, and his large fists were clenched as well, but he remained silent.

"Good, then get out of my way. I have to change."

She stepped around him and walked steadily up the stairs. Maddox cursed and slammed the study door. Gone to drown his rage in some cheap liquor. She hoped he choked on it.

She stripped her garments and pulled on her favorite shirt, coat, and trousers. Men's garb. Fitting, what with four different men trying to dictate her life. Her only freedom came with donning their clothes.

She finished dressing and slipped her knives into place. She gripped the steel covered by the fabric at her wrists. Tonight was like any other.

The door to the study remained closed as she walked past and onto the street. Good. One man down, three to go.

Flanagan said he would leave her alone, that she A had earned her freedom. But no one was ever truly freed from Olympus. She would always run into old acquaintances or someone looking to use her. Now that her identity was common knowledge, she would never find peace in London. Only new borders would provide that for her. America.

She picked up her pace.

Travers needed to be dealt with and Faye freed. Everything hinged on the plan she had set in motion. After completing the last set of tasks, which should

give her enough time to locate Faye, she would take care of Travers.

Perhaps with a nice large boulder tied to his feet as she pushed him into the river.

And then there was Chalmers. Where he was going to fit was anyone’s guess. Every preservation instinct told her to carry out Travers’s orders without involving Chalmers. lf she wasn’t careful, she would have an even more dangerous enemy. His reach was longer and stronger than Travers’s. Although Travers aspired for more, he was still a middleman, whereas Chalmers had been at the top prior to gaining a dukedom. Now the Duke of Marston was