I Kissed a Rogue (Covent Garden Cubs) (6 page)

“The man you saw murdered last night was almost certainly a member of Parliament.”

She took a step back, the implications of the statement like a load of bricks falling on top of her. “No.”

“It’s true. I—”

“What is this?” the butler said, returning. “My lady, surely you should return to bed.”

“Thank you, Franklin, but I would speak with my father and Sir Brook.”

“Your father has not asked for you, my lady.”

Lila notched her chin up. “Will you show me to him, or must I find my own way?”

The furrowed lines on Franklin’s face deepened yet further. “He is in the library. Follow me.”

Lila did so, with only a quick glance at Sir Brook, whose legs were longer and brought him effortlessly to her side. “And don’t you tell me to go to bed.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. As I said, this concerns you.”

She nodded, dread pooling in her stomach like too much sherry.

“But, Lady Lila,” Brook added, “I don’t think you’ll like what you are about to hear.”

Four

She looked pale, tired, and impossibly lovely. Something about her hair falling down around her shoulders in an ebony cascade made her appear more vulnerable than the stiff-necked, perfectly coiffed chit he was used to seeing. Make no mistake, she still had the stiff neck and the rigid spine, but her loose hair softened the stick-up-her-arse look about her considerably.

Franklin, who had looked as though he had two sticks up his arse, led them to the duke’s library. Brook knew it was the library without having to be told. He’d been here once before. He preferred not to think back to that humiliating day, the worst of his life until then. He wasn’t there to ask for Lila’s hand in marriage tonight.

The duke rose when Franklin announced Lila, his mouth turning down into a frown. “Go back to bed, Lillian-Anne. I’ll discuss what Sir Brook and I decide in the morning.”

From behind her, Brook saw her shoulders straighten and square. She didn’t like that suggestion in the least. Brook could hardly blame her. He wouldn’t like having his future decided for him either.

“If it’s all the same, Father, I’d like to stay and listen.” She held up a hand to forestall her father’s argument. “I can’t sleep anyway, and Sir Brook has informed me this matter concerns me.”

The duke’s eyes cut to Brook, and Brook read disapproval before Lennox looked back at his daughter. “Lila—”

She took the chair closest to the fire and settled herself, seeming to dare her father, or anyone else, to try and ban her.

Brook knew Lila rarely, if ever, defied her father. He knew this from experience. The duke’s bewildered expression seemed to prove that he was as surprised at her stubbornness as anyone.

“Very well, then.” The duke nodded to the butler. “That will be all for now, Franklin. Sir Brook.” He gestured to the chair in front of his antique maple desk.

Brook took the chair, angling his body so he could see Lila. She sat with her hands in her lap, her slippered feet primly on the floor, the fire crackling behind her and lending a soft, burnished color to her hair and skin.

“Sir Brook, I trust you had ample time to make the inquiries we discussed earlier.”

“I did.” He kept his response brief, following the duke’s example. It didn’t escape Brook’s notice that no refreshment had been offered, not that he would have taken it, but he did not appreciate being treated as though he were in the duke’s employ. He had completed the task he and the duke had agreed upon. As far as Brook was concerned, this call was purely a courtesy.

“Unfortunately, it appears the worries Lord Granbury expressed this afternoon are warranted.”

“And what worries are those?” Lady Lila asked, unwilling to be left out of the conversation.

“Lord Granbury mentioned one of the MPs had been found this morning near Covent Garden. His throat had been cut,” Brook answered before the duke could give her some nonsense. She deserved to know she was in danger.

Her hand rose to cover her mouth.

“Bow Street thinks it more than likely that Mr. Fitzsimmons is the man you saw murdered last night. They would like to send a man to ask you a few questions.” Now Brook glanced at the duke. “That is, if you approve, Duke.” Brook was not strictly one of Lennox’s familiars. Lennox would have probably preferred Brook called him
Your Grace
. All the more reason Brook would call the man whatever the hell he pleased.

“I do not. No Runner will come to my house and question my daughter.”

“Helpful as always,” Brook muttered.

“Furthermore, what sort of training do these Runners receive? It’s purely ridiculous to think that a man of Mr. Fitzsimmon’s rank and standing would be milling about in Seven Dials and associating with…ruffians.”

Lila’s eyes skipped from her father to Brook and back again. She’d uncovered her mouth, but now her knuckles pressed white against her lips.

“That was my initial question as well. However, upon speaking with Mr. Easterday, the head of the Bow Street Runners, who is a very good friend of mine, I discovered the Runners have been troubled by Mr. Fitzsimmons’s activities for several weeks now.”

“But this is preposterous!” the duke said, rising. “Are honest citizens now to be investigated by the Bow Street Runners? It is revolutionary France all over again!”

“What reason do the Runners have for making inquiries about Mr. Fitzsimmons?” Lila asked, smoothing over her father’s outburst.

“The Runners were hired by a man whose identity they did not wish to reveal to look into a spate of burglaries in the homes and offices of the enemies of Mr. Fitzsimmons. It seems in the last six months or so, anyone politically opposed to Fitzsimmons has become a target for burglary. Key papers and private correspondence are taken along with valuables. I must admit, I find it strange that a common rook would want papers and correspondence. Most of them cannot read.”

“Surely you do not think a member of the House of Parliament has been breaking into homes and pilfering them.” The duke leaned on his palms.

“Of course not. He wouldn’t have the skills or knowledge.”

“But the men who abducted me would,” Lila said quietly.

“Yes. The Runners are investigating possible connections between Mr. Fitzsimmons and several gangs in the Covent Garden area, including the gang I think responsible for Lady Lila’s abduction.”

“Good. The Runners should earn their pay for once,” the duke announced. “If that is all, then—”

“Forgive me, sir, but that is not all. In all likelihood, Lady Lila witnessed the murder of a prominent member of Parliament. Let us assume for a moment, Mr. Fitzsimmons paid Beezle, the leader of the Covent Garden Cubs, to crack the houses and offices of his enemies. Last night, their agreement went terribly wrong, and Beezle or another member of the gang murdered Fitzsimmons. That’s a capital crime. The gang members involved will surely hang.”

“I imagine they might hang for any number of their offenses,” Lila added.

“Yes, but they haven’t been hanged because they haven’t been caught. You, Lady Lila, witnessed the murder. That puts you in danger because Beezle—if it was Beezle—knows you saw him. He’ll want no witnesses because, mark my word, Beezle does not intend to hang.”

“Then we send Lila to the country after Rose’s wedding.”

“And what makes you think Lady Lila will be safe in the country? Moreover, what’s to stop Beezle from attempting to kill her while she is in London?”

“No thief would be so bold,” the duke declared as though he had any knowledge whatsoever concerning the matter.

“These men are bold and growing bolder still.” Much of that could be attributed to the reluctance of men like the Duke of Lennox to sanction a metropolitan police force in London. There weren’t enough Charlies and Runners to catch the criminals, much less prevent or deter crime. Assaults, rapes, thefts, and now abductions were on the rise and had reached new heights.

“But that is not my only concern,” Brook said.

“You are certainly full of them tonight.”

“Yes, Duke. My other concern is that perhaps Mr. Fitzsimmons was not working alone. Yes, he has standing and power as a member of the Commons, but there are many other men with much more clout than he.”

“Bosh!” the duke said. “This is pure conjecture.”

“Even so, I’d like to hear what Sir Brook has to say,” Lila added, her voice quiet.

Brook inclined his head toward her. “My question is why would Beezle—or whoever was behind the murder and abduction—kill Fitzsimmons? After all, with Fitzsimmons dead, the source of revenue dries up.”

“And you think someone else, someone with more power than Fitzsimmons, ordered him killed?” This came from Lila, who sat forward as she spoke.

“I think it highly likely Fitzsimmons either discovered something he was not supposed to or outlived his usefulness, and Beezle was paid to dispatch him. Only the promise of more blunt than the gang made cracking houses would entice Beezle to cut off his revenue source. Whoever paid Beezle to do it must have been wealthy.”

“Which means I am still in danger,” Lila said, twisting her hands together.

“You saw the murder, and that means Beezle was sloppy. He’ll want to eradicate any proof of his mistake before the man paying him realizes he might be vulnerable. It’s true what they say.” Brook looked from Lila to her father. “There’s no honor among thieves. Beezle will snitch on the man who hired him—not because it will save him, but because he’ll want that man to go down too.”

The fire crackled in the hearth, and the duke’s chair creaked as he sat down. “Then I need you to protect my daughter.”

Brook shook his head. “That’s not what I do.”

“I’ll pay you whatever you ask.”

Brook stood. “It’s not about compensation. I’m not a guard dog. There are men who—”

“I don’t want some hulking brute of a man in my home or near my daughter. Not only that, but I have no intention of announcing to Society we’ve hired a protector for my daughter. The Season will be upon us soon, and God knows her prospects are slim as it is.”

Lila made a small sound of offense.

“Have you thought of the ramifications of having me as her constant companion?” Brook asked. “You think tongues won’t wag?”

The duke clearly had not thought of that. He sat back and seemed to consider. Brook imagined he was weighing the benefits and disadvantages of such gossip.

Brook suddenly felt as though he were on the auction block. “As you made quite clear years ago, I am not a suitable match for your daughter. I seem to recall something being said about my
lowly status
.”

“Oh, now, I don’t think I ever said that.”

Brook paced in front of the desk. He remembered every single word of the brief interview, and the duke had said far worse. “In any case, I understand your desire to have a gentleman in charge of your daughter’s protection. I am not that gentleman, however. I fear circumstances could occur whereby our association might be misconstrued. At which time, I would be forced to marry Lady Lila, and I have no intention of ever marrying Lady Lila.” Brook glanced at her, sitting tight-lipped. “No offense, my lady.”

“I see.” The duke stood now.

“I do beg your pardon for bringing you such deplorable news.” Brook gathered his hat. “I must insist, however, that this be the end of our association.”

“You insist?” the duke said, his tone one Brook had not heard before. The hair on the back of his neck stood up in warning.

“No need to call the butler. I will see myself out.”

Without waiting for the duke’s leave, he opened the door and stepped out, heading straight for the vestibule. The house was quiet and dark. Brook supposed the brooding Franklin was about somewhere, waiting to be summoned, but Brook imagined the man could wait just as well in his quarters as in the vestibule.

He reached the door when he heard the slippered steps on the marble. He resisted the instinct to turn and closed his eyes instead. “Go back to bed, Lady Lila. You and I have nothing to discuss.”

“I just need a moment, Sir Brook.”

A moment he did not want to grant. He did not want to look at her again, with all that lovely black hair flowing down her back, and those large, honey-brown eyes pleading for him to save her.

She was not his to save.

Because he did not turn, she stopped behind him and placed her hand on his coat. He could not feel the heat of her skin, but the pressure of her touch burned him just the same. He turned abruptly, making her hand fall away.

“Am I really in danger?” she asked.

“In my opinion.”

Her head tilted up slightly so she might look him in the eye, and he could imagine cupping the back of her neck, feeling the slip of her hair against his bare hands, and lowering his lips to hers.

“What shall I do?”

“If I were you, I’d disappear.”

“For how long?”

“Until this is resolved and you are safe again. If you’d like, I can send word to your father when it’s safe for you to return. The fewer people who know where you are, the better.”

But she was shaking her head. “My father won’t send me away. I’ll miss the Season.”

“Forgive me, but you’ll also miss the Season if you are dead.”

She gave no indication of being shocked at his words except a small intake of breath. “I understand,” she said. “I couldn’t care less if I miss the Season.”

“That’s not true.” He stepped forward, inadvertently inhaling her sweet scent. He remembered that she’d smelled of lily of the valley all those years ago. At one time, the fragrance had all but obsessed him. Little had he known then that the woman was much like the flower—poisonous.

“No, it’s not. I’m five and twenty. This might be my last chance to make a good match, and you know as well as I that I am nothing but a burden if I don’t marry.” Her eyes implored him, but his heart was immune. “Couldn’t you—” she began.

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

“You want me to guard you in the guise of courting you.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes. You can attend all the events of the Season without anyone questioning your presence.”