Lady gambit, p.10
Lady Gambit, page 10
Dorian wasn’t afraid of this woman or her louts. She used gossip and intimidation to maintain her frightening persona. But what she knew about Delphine Chance might see the lady hanged. As such, he had every reason to fear her.
“Someone tried to abduct Miss Chance. In the process, the blackguard shot her youngest brother.” He was wasting his breath. From Mrs Haggert’s passive expression, she already knew. “I’m charged with solving a case of attempted murder. Miss Chance has also hired me to discover her parents’ identities.”
A strange emotion passed over the woman’s wrinkled face—something akin to dread or unease. “Aaron has many enemies. You’ve enough work to keep you busy for a month. Happen you feel more at home in the rookeries than in your father’s fancy Mayfair residence.”
He inclined his head. “You’re right on both counts, madam.”
“I hear he’s arranging your wedding.” She noted Miss Chance’s sudden gasp and grinned. “Ah, and there’s the truth of why you’re really here, Mr Flynn. You’re looking for an excuse not to marry the Marquess of Bexley’s beloved by-blow.”
His pulse quickened.
He was forced to acknowledge the problem he had been avoiding. “Forgive my coarse language, but it would take more than a pretty face and a large dowry to have me bend to that bastard’s will. I’m my own man, Mrs Haggert. I choose my own fate. As I’m sure you’re aware.”
Mrs Haggert turned to Miss Chance. “What do you say, Caterina? Should Mr Flynn marry for money and acceptance? Or do you think he prefers getting his knees dirty?”
The lady raised her dainty chin. “It’s not for me to say, Mrs Haggert. I am merely Mr Flynn’s client. He is hard to read and shares his private thoughts with no one.”
From the pained look in her eyes, Miss Chance thought he’d kissed her as part of a rebellion. A way of secretly objecting to his father’s demands.
“My father’s plans for me are irrelevant,” he interjected. “Hence I see no need to discuss a selfish man’s motives.”
Mrs Haggert shifted her weight to her left hip. “Age is a dratted curse,” she said, urging them to sit so she might relax in a comfortable chair, too. “Tell me what you want to know and what you have to barter.”
Daventry chose the leather chair, leaving Dorian to sit beside Miss Chance on the small velvet sofa. They exchanged glances as their knees touched. Mistrust swam in her brown eyes. It didn’t help that she believed he’d been avoiding her since sharing a magical kiss.
Daventry waved for Dorian to offer terms.
“We need to know where Davey found Miss Chance and what she told you about her family.” He made no mention of her parents being buried in a pauper’s grave. Nor was he foolish enough to suggest Mrs Haggert was involved in their deaths. “We need to know how she came by the injury that stole her memory.”
Mrs Haggert shook her head. “Why should I help you? When a chick leaves the coop, it’s dead to me. Aaron Chance won the wager. She’s his responsibility, not mine.”
Yet two facts revealed an inconsistency.
Mrs Haggert never took girls into the coop.
If Mrs Haggert had cut the girl’s hair and dressed her in breeches, why was she found wearing a dress belonging to someone named Delphine?
“Flynn spent the evening trawling through witness statements,” Daventry said, revealing the reason Dorian had not dined with Miss Chance last night. “He acted on information that led him to a missing person. A criminal leading a secret life to escape his wicked past.”
Mrs Haggert gripped the arm of the chair. “Who?”
“Someone stupid enough to cross you.”
Anger flared in the woman’s black eyes. “If it’s that spawn of Satan, you’d better tell me now.” She clutched her throat, blind fury making it hard for her to swallow.
Daventry nodded. “The information is worth a king’s ransom. I know of no other man who’s betrayed you and lived to tell the tale.”
“Your husband is not dead,” Dorian added, dangling the metaphorical carrot. “I happened upon his secret location at dawn this morning and can confirm he is alive and well.”
Miss Chance looked at him.
When they were next alone, she would demand to know why he had kept her in the dark. Why he’d let her think he was avoiding her when, in truth, he had been working. Emotions would run so high he’d be tempted to kiss her again.
“Anything said here is confidential,” Daventry assured Mrs Haggert.
Hungry for information, Mrs Haggert spoke quickly. “Davey was out stalking foreign coves near the Pulteney Hotel. It was a few days before the Jubilee. He saw her hiding in the shrubbery near Green Park and brought her home.”
Miss Chance hung her head. “I don’t remember.”
“And she told you her name was Caterina?” Dorian pressed.
“It was the only thing she did say. The poor mite was frightened out of her wits. It took days before she found her voice and begged me to keep her safe.”
Dorian suppressed a mocking snort.
No one was safe in the hen house.
“And so you cut off her hair and passed her off as one of your boys.” He was careful not to accuse Mrs Haggert of being a criminal mastermind. “Was she literate?”
“She could read, write and play a decent tune on the old pianoforte. It took months to rid her of her faint accent.”
Miss Chance spoke up. “What sort of accent?”
Mrs Haggert shrugged. “Foreign. I ain’t no expert.”
The snippet of information was like an elixir reviving her flagging spirit. “You told Aaron my parents died and are buried in a pauper’s grave. Did I tell you that? Is it true?”
“It was sixteen years ago,” the woman said impatiently. “Of course your parents are dead. Who’d leave such a sweet little treasure on the streets?”
Keen to ensure Miss Chance had the answers she needed, Dorian said, “I can do more than give you your husband’s address. I can tell you where he went when he betrayed your trust and disappeared like a dawn mist.” He paused. “But I shall say no more until you’ve told Miss Chance whatever she needs to know.”
The crone’s shrewd gaze turned sinister. “No one issues orders in the hen house. Lucky for you, you have something I want.” She demanded her louts leave the room and waited until the door clicked shut before speaking. “She said her parents were dead. That someone had hired a man to kill them. I told her if she wanted to live she had to forget where she came from. We never spoke about it again. She did what she was told and earned her keep like the rest of my boys.”
“And you didn’t attempt to discover her real identity?”
The woman chuckled. “I ain’t got time to go knocking on people’s doors. Besides, if she had any hope of surviving, I knew it was best left alone.”
Daventry was in complete agreement. “We won’t mention the year Miss Chance spent here. The truth may place you both in danger.”
The woman’s hard features softened. “Something spooked her the night she fled. I don’t know how she hurt her head.”
Dorian wasn’t sure why, but he believed her.
There was still one fact gnawing away at him.
“You have eyes and ears all over St Giles. Why give Aaron Chance the option to raise her as his sister? You had the power to take her back.”
The woman looked at Miss Chance and sighed. “Having her here would have put all our necks on the chopping block. She’d have brought trouble to my door, Mr Flynn. And when Aaron Chance offered to fight for her, the purse was large enough to keep my boys indoors that winter.”
Silence descended.
Miss Chance’s shoulders slumped. “Aaron is a man of his word. He knew the truth would hurt me and put me in harm’s way. He’s done everything he can to keep me safe.”
Mrs Haggert snorted. “I’d sooner cross the devil than Aaron Chance. He’s grown more powerful over the years. I’ve often thought it was so I’d be forced to keep my vow. Every sacrifice he’s made, he’s done for you, gal, and those other men you call brothers.”
Miss Chance took a calming breath. “Regardless of your motivations, I want to thank you, Mrs Haggert. You could have thrown me out onto the street. Had you not helped me, I might have perished that night.”
Tears filled the woman’s eyes but she blinked them away quickly. “Sentiment is for fools, Caterina. The world is ruled by cruel people. You join the pack or die. That’s the way of it.” She faced Dorian, her temper returning. “I want everything you have on Harold Haggert. It best be worth my while, or you’ll not leave here without a fight.”
Dorian explained what he’d learned by studying the witness statements from a spate of highway robberies on the Kent Road. The fool had made the mistake of stealing his last victim’s hat—a signature Harold Haggert had used as a footpad in his youth.
“He’s working at The Bell coaching inn on the Kent Road.” He explained that the landlord had moved from Peterborough, where there had been a spate of similar robberies.
“Working?” Mrs Haggert turned up her nose as if she’d smelled something foul. “What’s he done with the jewels he stole from me?”
He shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him yourself. I checked his likeness against the sketch Daventry sent with the statements last night. Your husband may be a partner in the business but wishes to remain incognito.”
Mrs Haggert gritted her teeth and hauled herself out of the chair. “If what you say is true, Mr Flynn, I’ll be in your debt.”
He merely inclined his head.
The crone whistled for her louts. “Gather the men. As soon as the sun sets, we’re going out.” She ushered Miss Chance out of her seat. “Time to go. Just one thing before you do. I heard Lord Meldrum ain’t got the funds to pay his gambling debts. He’s been spouting nonsense. He said if he married you, it would solve all his problems. He might have hired the men who tried to snatch you off the street.”
Miss Chance gripped the woman’s gnarled hand. “Thank you. I’m grateful for any information that might help me find the man who shot my brother.”
“You mind yourself. They’ll be slinking out of the shadows now they know you ain’t invincible. When your life’s on the line, you remember what I told you.”
And with that parting message, Mrs Haggert shooed them all out into the alley and slammed the front door shut.
During the subdued five-minute walk back to Hart Street, Daventry suggested they visit Nora Adkins again. “Dig deeper. There’s some truth to the woman’s mad ramblings.”
Miss Chance walked silently beside them, lost in thought.
Dorian wasn’t sure which piece of information had affected her most. The fact she should be in fear of her life. That, in all likelihood, she was the mysterious Caterina who had been told to run and hide in the darkness. That men were scheming to see them both married to people they didn’t love.
“I forgot to ask Mrs Haggert if she’d told Aaron my name was Caterina,” she said softly when they entered Daventry’s study. “I never asked why I was wearing a dress belonging to a girl named Delphine.”
Daventry gestured to the row of decanters on the drinks table. “Miss Chance requires a glass of sherry. I must visit Bow Street but will be no more than twenty minutes. There’s paper and ink at your disposal. Make a list of suspects and potential witnesses. When I return, we’ll devise a plan.”
He left them in the study and closed the door.
Dorian’s fingers trembled when he tugged the stopper from the decanter and filled the lady’s glass. Nothing fazed him but his desire to ease this woman’s troubled mind and the knowledge he would kiss her again in a heartbeat.
“I’ll make a note of any relevant questions,” he said, handing her the glass. “Do you remember anything about your time with Mrs Haggert?”
She sat in the chair and sipped her sherry. “No, but when she spoke to me directly, I wasn’t afraid.”
He perched on the desk beside her. “You don’t remember her. Perhaps life wasn’t so bad there.” Despite everything Mrs Haggert had said, he was convinced she had omitted certain aspects of the story.
“Some people come into our life for a reason. To teach us a lesson. To help us grow.” Like a lover’s sensual caress, her gaze fell slowly from his face to his thighs. “After the trouble I’ve caused you, a simple existence is all you’ll long for.”
He knew where this was going. “I live a simple existence.”
He rose at dawn each morning and worked until dusk. Until the last vestiges of daylight disappeared beyond the horizon. He dined alone, the clatter of cutlery on china the only sound. He slept alone in a cold bed and kept to the same routine daily.
“Mr Daventry once explained the importance of balance. By day, he walks through the bowels of hell. By night, when he returns home to his beloved wife, he said it’s like bathing in the splendours of heaven.”
Dorian had tasted heaven once. When he had dared to grasp Miss Chance’s wrist and make a scandalous suggestion. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he needed to sup from her heavenly lips again. “What has that to do with me?”
She struggled to meet his gaze. “Perhaps you should consider your father’s proposal and marry a woman befitting your station. I cannot help but feel something is missing at Mile End.”
What could be missing?
He’d catered for every comfort.
A mocking chuckle burst from his lips. “An illegitimate son has no station. My father means to see me elevated from working man to lazy lout. He’s happy for me to repeat his mistake and marry for money. The man knows nothing about love.”
Miss Chance swallowed hard. “Is she beautiful?”
“Who?”
“The lady he wants you to marry.”
“Miss Montague? Most men think so.” Though he doubted his heart would ache if he kissed her. He didn’t wake at night wishing she was sprawled naked beside him in bed. He didn’t long to gather her close, keep her safe and chase her demons away. “It’s not enough for me.”
“Perhaps you should kiss her the way you kissed me. Beneath your stony facade, you’re a passionate man. You might be surprised to find you share a similar connection with Miss Montague.”
He stared at her, wondering why she would suggest he lock lips with another woman when it was obvious they wanted to kiss each other. “Our kiss was unique. As you said, I was suffering under the strain of having saved your brother’s life. It’s the reason for my fervent attentions.”
“Yes, it’s doubtful we would share such a powerful experience again.” Her tongue grazed her bottom lip, the sight firing his blood. “And I cannot help but wonder if you kissed me to defy your father.”
Everything he did was to show his disdain for the Earl of Retford’s schemes. Everything except for that one unbridled moment when he’d lost sight of the war. When he’d dared to surrender to the curious whispers of his heart.
“We were alone. My father thinks I live above the Old Swan.” And by God, it had better stay that way. He would rather call Mrs Haggert a liar than deal with the earl’s unwanted visits. “We’re the only ones who know what occurred in that bedchamber. The only ones who know what it meant in that moment.”
The pleasure of that memory was evident in her gentle sigh. “The unconscious mind has its own agenda. Perhaps yours is seeking to reclaim control.”
“And yours is on a quest for freedom.”
She placed her empty sherry glass on the desk before her eyes found his. “Or perhaps I see a hero in you, Mr Flynn. A quality I find as attractive as your handsome visage.”
What happened next would leave him baffled for hours.
Why did her simple statement have him reaching for her?
What made her jump to her feet and fall into his arms?
Why had their mouths clashed with a force that defied logic?
They were kissing so rampantly they could barely catch their breath. He was perched on Daventry’s desk, Miss Chance’s hips wedged between his open legs. She gripped his thighs, her dainty hands mere inches from his throbbing cock.
Touch me!
The words echoed in his mind. Words that would shock any man who had built an impenetrable barricade. He didn’t need affection. He didn’t need love. He didn’t need a tender touch or the warmth of a woman’s lips.
But by God, he needed her.
A growl rumbled in his throat as he drank from her like a dying nomad at an oasis. He couldn’t drink deeply enough to quench his thirst. His blood pumped too quickly through his veins. He ached to cover her body and plunge long and hard into her wetness.
Saints and demons!
He was a master at guarding his emotions.
So what in the devil’s name was this?
If they didn’t rein in their lust, they’d be making love on Daventry’s desk, Themis, the goddess of justice, looking over them.
“This is madness,” she breathed when he found the strength to break contact. “The most exquisite form of torture.” She slid her hands into his hair, her mouth finding his again.
He was lost.
Lost in the softness of her lips.
Lost in her natural scent, as potent as any aphrodisiac.
He’d likely pay with his life for this. Even the prospect of death by Aaron Chance’s powerful hands proved a feeble deterrent.
Then the front door opened and slammed shut.
Daventry called to his housekeeper.
Dorian dragged his mouth from hers. In a frantic few seconds, they straightened their clothes and tried to calm their ragged breathing. Even then, they kissed briefly, like it might be their last.
When Daventry entered the room, Miss Chance was sitting demurely in the chair before the desk. She held the empty sherry glass as if they’d not moved a muscle since Daventry had left.
But the skilled investigator spotted every insignificant detail, and perhaps the sweet scent of arousal still clung to the air.
“I see the sherry hasn’t helped to calm your pulse, Miss Chance.” Daventry gestured to the lady’s trembling hands. “It’s only natural you would feel the cold chill of fear after visiting Mrs Haggert.”
