The Perfect Temptation (43 page)

breath.
"If
we
weren't just a half
-
block from the bank ..
.
"

Alex smiled and looked out the
window, wondering how

long
it
took to set
up a trust and hoping she didn't lose her

courage somewhere in the lobby.

In the distance, a bell chimed
the half hour. Aiden grinned as

they headed back to their waiting
carriage yet again. Half

past noon. An auction attended,
the Westerham silver recovered,

a trust established, and Alex on
the verge of surrender.

It was amazing what one could
accomplish if one really tried.

The only disappointment so far
was in spending all that

time surveying Whitechapel Road
and not seeing so much as

a hint of the Indian stranger. It
would have been nice to have

that end neatly tied up before
the day was done, but he

wasn't willing to abandon his
plans for it. Let the bastard try

to get into Haven House.

"Terrell!"

His hand on the door, he turned.
"Hawkins," he said
,
handing

Alex in as the man rushed
forward, his hand extended.

"Good to see you again. It's
been a long time," he added as

they shook hands.

"Talk about divine
intervention!"

"Were we?" Aiden
chuckled.

"Crumb's out with a broken
leg. Fell off a ladder last

week. Which leaves us short a
right wing three-quarter back

for the annual Off -Season
Challenge
.
Would
you play?
"

"I'd love to," he
admitted. "When is it?"

"One o'clock at Pritchard's
Field. I'm on my way there

now. Running late, as always. And
here you are.
If
I'd left my

office on time, I'd've missed you
entirely. It's a sign from

God."

''Today?'' Aiden repeated,
realizing that he'd fairly well

backed himself into a corner.
''I
 
couldn't even begin to guess

where my uniform might be."

"I'll go by Crumb's on my way
there and borrow his. It

should fit you well enough
.
"

Oh, God. His afternoon with Alex
... "I haven't played

in ages."

"It doesn't matter,"
Hawkins assured him
.
"One never forgets

how. Say you will, please.
If
you don't,
we'll have to take

the field a man short
.
And we're
up against Blackthorn this

year. Please, Terrell. Just once
I'd like to send Blackthorn

home humiliated. We won't have a
chance
if
you don't play."

Blackthorn. Damn
.
If
ever there was a game worth playing,

Blackthorn was it. He turned back
to the carriage and

poked his head inside.
"Alex, would you mind a diversion?

It'll take the better part of two
hours."

"What will?"

"A rugby game."

Hawkins poked his head in to
contribute, "And Blackthorn

tends to think they're cut from a
better cloth than anyone else.

It's an old, old rivalry. We
desperately need your man to play."

She smiled softly, ever so
patiently and understandingly.

"I can see that you're drawn
to the prospect of getting yourself

mangled. I wouldn't dream of
standing in your way."

"I could go with Hawkins and
have the driver take you

home," he suggested, trying
to be magnanimous. "I know

you have other things you want
to
do."

She arched a brow and he could
have sworn she intended

to say something wicked,
something other than, "And who

would see that you're hauled to a
doctor in the aftermath?

I'll go along."

Aiden straightened and met
Hawkins's gaze. "One o'clock

at Pritchard's Field. We'll be
there."

He instantly bolted off, shouting
over his shoulder as he

went, "You're a good man,
Terrell!"

Aiden smiled weakly and nodded,
then looked up at Barrett's

driver.

"I heard, sir," the man
said. "Now it's Pritchard's Field. If

you are to arrive there by one,
we will have to hurry."

The carriage rolled forward
before he got the door closed

behind himself
.
He fell
into his seat, feeling conflicted and

more than a little frustrated.
"I'm so sorry, Alex. I committed

myself without thinking. I really
should have-"

"Don't apologize,
Aiden," she interrupted gently. "Life

has its own rhythm. All things
come in their destined time."

"I suppose so," he
reluctantly agreed, staring out the window

as the carriage slowed for
traffic. There, just behind

them, standing on the walkway,
his hand raised in hailing a

cab, was the stranger.

There wasn't time to leap out and
confront him. And the

financial district wasn't the
place to do it, either. Aiden did

the next best thing. She landed
on the seat beside him with a

startled squeak and was still too
stunned to resist when he

turned her, slipped his arm
around her waist, pulled her back

against his chest, and laid his
other arm over her shoulder

and pointed. "Over there.
Climbing into that cab. Do you

know that man?"

"No," she supplied
breathlessly as their coach picked up

speed and the other disappeared
from sight. "I've never seen

him before."

Still holding her close, he
sighed and began. "I've seen

him three times, Alex. First at
the window of the Blue Elephant

the day you were almost
kidnapped. And twice today."

"All I can tell you is that
he looked to be Kshatriya."

"Explain, please."

"There are four castes in
India." Holding up her hand, she

ticked them off on her fingers.
"From high to low and in the

most simplistic terms ... The
Brahmins who are the teachers

and the religious leaders. The
Kshatriyas who are the

warriors and the rulers. The
Vaishyas who are tradesmen and

businessmen. And the Shudras who
are servants and do menial

work." She paused and then
added offhandedly, "Well,

and then there's the
Untouchables, but they're considered so

low that they have no caste
status at all. Mohan's family is

obviously of the Kshatriya
caste."

"How do you know by looking
who belongs to what

caste?"

"Generally speaking-and
always aware that there are

exceptions-by skin tone. The
lighter the color, the higher

the caste. That and the
occupations in which they're engaged

and how they dress. That man
looked Kshatriya on all apparent

counts."

"Why would he be following
you?"

''To find Mohan?"

"I don't think so," he
gently disagreed, his mind turning

over all the puzzle pieces he'd
collected.
"If
someone

wanted to find the boy, all
they'd have to do is ask around the

docks either here or in India.
You receive regular shipments

of goods. There are countless men
who could tell them

where the crates are delivered
and wouldn't know the danger

in sharing that
information."

"Mohan's uncle's men are
very loyal," she countered, relaxing

into him. "Whether because
of family ties or fear

doesn't matter. They wouldn't
talk to strangers about such

things
.
"

"I've had Mohan out riding
in the
city
for the last three

days, Alex. From sunup to
sundown. In plain sight of anyone

who wanted to find him. No one
has come out of the shadows.

But I take you out and about just
once and there he is.

It's you, Alex. You're the prey.
Why?"

"I think you're imagining
dangers that aren't there, Aiden."

He wanted to think that, but
couldn't. "Mohan tells me

that there are some in his
father's court who oppose your

presence. Is that true?"

"He's far too young to fully
understand such things."

Aiden closed his eyes for a
moment, then kissed the top

of her head before shifting her
around to face him. "We've

come too far together, my darling
duchess," he said softly,

taking her hands in his,
"for you to go back to evading my

questions. Talk to me, Alex. I
can't protect you if I don't

know where the danger's coming
from."

Her smile was bittersweet.
"One of the most central realities

of life in the royal court is
that you're never absolutely

certain from which direction the
danger will come. Intrigue

is an art, Aiden. Those who
aren't very good at it die early in

the game. Those who are left to
plot and scheme are the very,

very best at disguising their
intent and hiding their allies."

"Why would someone want to
harm you? Jealousy?"

She blinked and a genuine smile
spread over her face.

"For heaven's sake, Aiden.
Why would anyone be jealous of

me?"

"Because," he supplied
crisply, "you're a Brahmin and

they envy your status?"

"I'm not a Brahmin,"
she countered, chuckling. "Some

would tell you, if they were
willing to stretch the caste system

enough to include me at all, that
I'm Vaishya because my father