Chapter 14

14

T hree short raps at the door followed by a series of faster knocks alerted Samantha to Isak's arrival. She crossed the rough wooden floor of the room she'd rented and threw the bolt so he could enter.

"Your quarry's been spotted on Bond Street. He stopped by The Gentlemen's Emporium." Isak greedily accepted the glass of lemonade Samantha offered.

She crossed her arms and waited while he drank.

"He was there for about an hour," Isak continued, "before he went home, collected a bag, and set off for Reed's with some other man. After that, he returned home again and didn't go out for the next three hours."

"Where is he now?" Samantha asked.

"At White's." Isak drank some more lemonade, then set the glass down. "I managed to sneak inside his carriage while he was there. Without gettin' noticed, mind. Spotted a book, I did."

Samantha waited for Isak to give her the title. When he didn't, she had to ask, "What book?"

"That'll cost you an ext—"

She had him by the throat in an instant. "Listen to me, you little good for nothing thief. I'm paying you daily, besides which I've been kind, and now you're trying to cheat me?"

Isak's eyes bulged as she raised her hand slightly, pulling him onto his tiptoes. He gasped and wheezed while grabbing her wrists to try and dislodge her grip. When she released him a few moments later, he sputtered and coughed and clutched at his throat.

"Well?" she asked.

Glaring at her, he retrieved a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. She took it and read the clumsy letters he'd copied, the wobbly lines suggesting he'd gripped the pencil with his fist while drawing each shape.

Even so, the word he'd written was clear. Herakles.

Interesting choice.

When Isak reached for the lemonade glass, she snatched it away. "Don't ever make the mistake of thinking you can take advantage of me. I'll break one of your fingers next time. Is that clear?"

He gave a defiant nod.

"On the other hand," she told him, "if you keep doing your job as well as you have thus far, I will reward you for it. So what will it be?"

"I'll keep providing the information you want," Isak wheezed.

"In that case, feel free to relax for a moment or two while you finish your drink." She returned the glass to him and considered her options.

For starters, she'd pay a visit to Hatchard's.

The bookshop, located on Piccadilly, provided her with the book she desired when she arrived there later. They were even able to bind it while she took refreshment at the small teashop next door.

When she arrived back at Clearview House around five, she went straight to Harlowe's study to tell him all she had learned.

He leaned back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, his fingers steepled in such a way that his chin rested on their tips. "Boxing is an excellent way for men to expel excess energy or work through feelings of aggression. If he visited Reed's today, there's a chance he'll return there either tomorrow or the day after."

Attuned to his line of thinking, she tilted her head. "My showing up there, in a place intended exclusively for men, will surely raise his suspicion."

"Your paths need to keep crossing somehow, yes?" When Samantha nodded, Harlowe said, "White's is out of the question. So are the streets near his house. The park could be an option if he goes for regular rides."

"My informant has made no mention of him having done so of late."

"Then Reed's might be your best bet at present. At any rate, you can give it a shot, and if he fails to show up, you can try something else."

"There's still the issue of explaining my presence there," Samantha reminded him. "It's a boxing club, not a sewing circle."

Harlowe chuckled. When he sobered once more he said, "There have now been four murders with the same signature, indicating they've all been committed by the same man. Who, if I may remind you, has yet to be apprehended. With that taken into account, I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Of course." Samantha gave him a wry smile. "I'll take Hazel with me."

The two women set off the following day after breakfast. Hazel was two years younger than Samantha and every bit as fierce as Harlowe's other foster daughters. With fire-red hair and moss-green eyes, her appearance owed nothing to her name.

"Remember, we have no combat skills," Samantha said as the carriage pulled up in front of their destination. "We're not as strong as we actually are, or as quick on our feet."

"We're untrained women whose exercise has been limited to quiet strolls in the park and the occasional morning ride," Hazel said with a grin.

"Precisely."

They alit and entered the white brick building marked by a sign that read: Reed's Boxing Club. Samantha led the way, cutting a path directly across the foyer and through a pair of steel framed glass doors that led to a large rectangular room.

She paused there for a moment to simply observe. Three fights were presently underway, though one appeared to be more of a training session. A few men looked on, perhaps in anticipation of it being their turn, while others practiced landing their blows against leather bags strung from various beams.

Samantha had practiced her punches on similar equipment. No doubt she'd feel comfortably at home in this place, besides actually having to pretend not to.

She took a step forward, only to halt once more when a man began shouting while storming toward her. Instinct compelled her to take a defensive position. She fought it, barely managing to make sure Hazel followed her lead, before he'd reached them.

Large, sweaty, and looking mighty annoyed, he stared them down with no small hint of disdain. "This place is off limits to women."

"Is it?" Samantha asked, feigning innocence. She glanced over her shoulder. "I saw no sign on the door to suggest as much."

"It being a boxing club should be indication enough," he told her gruffly, crossing his arms and leaning forward in challenge.

The air seemed to still and Samantha became aware of the silence now filling the room. Were she to glance beyond the oaf blocking her path, she knew she'd find the rest of the club's members staring.

She raised her chin and tightened her hold on the quilted bag she'd brought with her. It contained her reticule, a shawl, and the book she'd purchased yesterday afternoon. "I've come to speak with the owner."

"Be that as it—"

"Mr. Reed?" she hollered. "A word, if you will?"

"What on earth is…" The words faded as a stocky man strode from a room to one side. He frowned at the oaf and then he frowned at her. "I won't stand for any commotion. This club is for gentlemen only."

"In that case," Samantha muttered, "I'd recommend showing this fellow the door."

The oaf's face reddened. "How dare you?"

Samantha crossed her arms, rolled her eyes for the pure pleasure of vexing him further, and gave her attention to the man she believed to be the club's owner. "Are you Mr. Reed?"

"That I am," he said while assessing her appearance. "And you are?"

She smiled. The man was wise enough to avoid the risk of crossing a peer's daughter. Not that she could claim such status.

"Miss Carmichael," she told him. "My sister and I would like to acquire a membership please."

A second of stunned silence followed and then the oaf let out a howl of laughter that tested her every restraint. She wanted to wallop him just to show him this was no laughing matter.

"Um…" Mr. Reed looked more perplexed than amused. "I'm afraid rules are rules. Women aren't permitted to enter this place. Not even the current members' female relations are granted entry."

"That's quite a shame," Samantha said before taking a quick right step and hurrying straight past the oaf. She nodded toward the rest of the men, all of whom had halted their practice and either gaped or frowned at her as she headed toward the side room from which Mr. Reed had appeared.

Raised voices behind her indicated some sort of arguing. She ignored it, checking only to see if Hazel had managed to follow her into the room before planting herself on a plain wooden chair that stood beside three others next to a wall. She placed her bag in her lap. Hazel sat down as well once she reached her, and together they waited for Mr. Reed to join them.

It took a moment before he did so, his expression no longer as pleasant as it had been initially. It now showed hints of extreme frustration.

"Miss Carmichael," he began, choosing to stand rather than sit. "I do not appreciate having my hand forced in any way."

"I understand," she told him gently. "Please accept my sincerest apologies. I'm sure it wouldn't have come to this had I not been confronted by that rude individual out there."

"That man is the Duke of Wrengate," Mr. Reed hissed while sending the door a frantic look. "He and the rest of the members come here with every assurance that they may train in peace without female interference. As such, he has every right to be alarmed by your presence."

"I would have imagined they'd like to show off," Hazel muttered.

Samantha tamped down her humor and gave Mr. Reed a frank look. Having a duke stand against her was problematic, but she was determined to try and work around it. "While I understand such reasoning, I hope you will at least take a moment to consider my proposition."

"Granting you membership is out of the question."

"Why?"

"Because you're a woman," he told her as though there were something wrong with her head.

"And what? Women have no need to defend themselves?" She pressed her lips together and tilted her chin while pinning him with a sharp stare. "Need I remind you that there is a murderer on the loose and that not every woman is fortunate enough to have a brother at their beck and call?"

"Perhaps it would be prudent for you to remain at home until the murderer is caught," Mr. Reed suggested.

"That's a preposterous notion," Samantha told him, "and well you know it. Instead, we are prepared to pay you handsomely for any lessons you may provide."

"I'd risk losing the other members." He shook his head. "Can't quite see the benefit in that. So while I appreciate your interest, I really must ask you to leave. As it is, you've caused quite a stir, not to mention discomfort."

He wasn't making this easy. Then again, she'd not expected him to. The only remaining chance was appealing to his conscience.

"I would urge you to reconsider," she said as she stood. "Imagine if I too get murdered. How will you feel then, knowing I came to you for assistance and that you refused to help? Won't you always wonder if I might have lived had you shown me how to land an effective punch?"

Uncertainty finally flickered in his grey eyes, but anger drew his mouth into a tight line. "That's a terrible burden to place on anyone, Miss Carmichael. For that alone, I want you gone."

Accepting that there was nothing more left to be said or done, Samantha thanked Mr. Reed for his time and departed with Hazel in tow, past Wrengate, who sent her a glare. She answered it with a broad smile, just to annoy him, and yanked the door open.

No sooner had she stepped onto the pavement than she spotted a tall figure striding toward them.

Mr. Croft was returning here and as luck would have it, she was no longer inside. But maybe that didn't matter. Maybe crossing paths here would be more effective. Maybe…

"Miss Carmichael?" His voice was firm, though not without an underlying hint of surprise.

Samantha cleared her throat. "Mr. Croft. A pleasure to see you again. Please allow me to present my sister, Miss Hazel Stevens."

"The pleasure is entirely mine," he murmured, in response to which Hazel's cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

Samantha sent her gaze skyward and sighed. When she looked at Mr. Croft next, she found him studying her with a puzzled expression.

"I wouldn't have thought to find you here." He jutted his chin toward the building from which she'd just been expelled.

"An unusual venue for any woman, I'll agree," Samantha told him. "I'm ashamed to admit my reason for coming. It seems so ridiculous now, but since you asked, the truth is we're frightened."

His expression hardened. "Frightened? Of what?"

Samantha knit her brow and widened her eyes to affect concern. "Four women have been killed, Mr. Croft, yet the culprit remains on the loose. We just thought… If we could defend ourselves somehow, perhaps we'd be safer."

"While I agree with that theory in principle, I should warn you that my sister knew how to throw an effective punch, yet she still perished." His eyebrows dipped and it was as if a dark shadow fell over his brow. "However, there's no denying the merit of such training."

"My thought exactly," Samantha said. "I tried to explain as much to Mr. Reed, but he insisted on seeing us out on account of our sex."

"Hmm." Mr. Croft glanced at the door. "Allow me to speak with him, will you? If you'll wait here a moment, I'll see if I'm able to change his mind."

"I hate to impose," Samantha told him.

He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "No imposition at all."

"You should have warned me," Hazel said as soon as the door closed behind him.

"About what?" Samantha asked, turning to her while adjusting her hold on her bag.

"About his looks," Hazel hissed. "That man is handsome as sin, Samantha. I'm glad he's not my assignment."

Hazel wasn't wrong, though it was a point upon which Samantha refused to linger. She could not allow Mr. Croft's appearance to muddle her mind. And she wouldn't. Looks were just looks. They had no bearing on who the man was at his core - a high-class criminal whose prosecution hinged upon her.

"You're focusing on the wrong thing," Samantha said. "According to what I've been told, he's a merciless villain. That is what I see when I look at him. Nothing more."

The sorrow shrouding him as he'd delivered that rose to the spot where his sister was murdered and the anguish marring his features during her funeral didn't change that.

Mr. Croft had inherited his father's position as head of the Croft family, an organization reputed to deal in blackmail, to sell information in exchange for favors, and which was also rumored to have arranged the escape of several high value prisoners from Newgate. The rumors surrounding him were extensive.

The problem was there was no proof, and considering the power the family wielded within Society, proof would be required if the court was to gain a conviction. A challenge, to be sure.

The door opened and Mr. Croft appeared, his steely gaze landing upon Samantha at once. "Mr. Reed has extended a rare invitation to you and your sister. Please come with me."

"But what about the other members of the club?" Hazel asked in dismay. "They were very upset by our presence."

"All have agreed to tolerate it just this once," Mr. Croft informed her. He stepped aside and gestured toward the door.

Samantha wasn't sure what sort of deal he'd struck to make this happen, but she reckoned it to be the underhanded sort that ended with an ‘or else'. By all that was holy, he'd just trumped a duke.

Unsure whether to be impressed or terrified, Samantha re-entered Reed's Boxing Club with caution. She almost expected one of the men there to launch an attack as some sort of test.

But no. All remained calm and quiet, the members this time continuing their exercise without paying Samantha or Hazel any mind. Including Wrengate. It was the strangest experience. And it got stranger still when Mr. Reed approached.

"I hope you can forgive my lack of hospitality earlier." His cheeks were ruddy, his eyes a touch wary. "I didn't realize you were Mr. Croft's friends."

Samantha managed a smile. "As I understand it, you were merely enforcing the rules."

Mr. Reed expelled a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, but as Mr. Croft has reminded me, there is room for some leeway now and again, under the right circumstances."

Really?

"You told me you came here in order to get a few pointers on how to defend yourselves," Mr. Croft said coolly. "If that remains the case, I'm happy to assist you."

Samantha thanked him while wondering what he was up to. Few people would be so helpful toward a person with whom they weren't well acquainted. There had to be an angle. She just hoped it didn't include him being on to her ruse.