Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

“ D uncan, you dog.” Ambrose chuckled darkly, shaking his friend’s hand heartily. “I have been waiting for your response for nearly two weeks, and then you suddenly come home?”

“Please,” Duncan groaned, motioning for him to sit down, “do not let Helena know we have returned yet. As far as she knows, we are heading straight to the country and will be there in two weeks.”

“Is all well?” Ambrose asked.

Last he had heard from Helena, the lovebirds were enjoying their honeymoon immensely, and now not only was it cut short, but Alice was requesting time away from her friends?

“More than well,” Duncan replied with a confident smile. “My wife is eager to see her friends, as am I, but we… must get a chance to settle in. You see, you are to be an uncle. Or rather, the closest thing.”

Ambrose smiled broadly as he pulled his friend into a hug and clapped him on the back. “That is fantastic news, old boy,” he said emphatically. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Ambrose,” Duncan replied heartily. “We shall celebrate properly when we all arrive in the country, but for now, let us keep the joyous news between us. Traveling has not been kind to my poor wife, and she needs to rest before she is swarmed with our family.”

That’s what they were. Family. All of them were orphans in some way or another, yet their bond was thicker than blood. Alice had become loved by all four dukes immediately and was now an honorary member.

“Of course,” Ambrose agreed, bowing his head slightly toward Duncan as he took a seat. “Please tell her that I hope she recovers quickly, and that we’re all looking forward to seeing her in the country.”

“I shall,” Duncan agreed, taking his seat.

His mask, as always, sat perfectly across half of his face, covering the scarred flesh left by the fire that had made them all fatherless. Now, however, Duncan’s blue eyes glittered with happiness, not sorrow. He was a man restored.

“Now, tell me about this news you wrote of—you were most vague,” Duncan urged with a grin. “Is it that you are to be married? Or Helena?”

“Bite your tongue.” Ambrose chuckled bitterly, shaking his head at his friend’s fiendish smile.

“Yes, I figured as much,” Duncan drawled, then gave him a look as if to say, ‘So tell me.’

Now knowing of his friend’s joyous news, Ambrose felt a surge of guilt for wanting Duncan to return so quickly. Alice had been able to help Duncan stop his obsession with the fire, but now Ambrose was dragging him back into it. It was too late to hide the truth now though, and he had to tell Duncan what he knew.

“Your constable friend found his way to me,” Ambrose began, leaving out the exact location of the interaction. “He said that the medical examiner’s original report had been misfiled and then replaced. Apparently, in the original, there were five bodies found that day, not four. A body that was never identified, it seems, and then soon after, it disappeared.”

The joy on Duncan’s face bled out along with his golden complexion, and Ambrose felt a twist in his gut. He had to continue though, so he drew in a steadying breath, suddenly wishing for a whiskey, and did so.

“I had a man of my own look into the death certificates of everyone who died that day in London. Not a single other person died by flame or black lung, nor was the location of anybody within the vicinity of the docks. Someone took that body, Duncan, and made it disappear.”

Duncan’s eyes grew glazed as he leaned his muscular back into his chair, and Ambrose watched as his friend retreated into himself. Having seen the look so many times, tension spiked through Ambrose as he rose from his seat and went to his friend.

“Listen, mate, you do not need to worry about this,” he stated firmly, grasping his friend’s shoulders.

Duncan looked up at him, his eyes suddenly clear. His brow furrowed, then he leaned up and clapped Ambrose firmly on the shoulder. “You are right, Ambrose. I do not. I am expecting a child with the love of my life. I have Baxter to return to and a nursery to set up. I am sorry, old friend, but I cannot pick this investigation up again.”

“Yes,” Ambrose agreed readily. “Yes, that is exactly what I was going to say. Let me handle it.”

“You should not either,” Duncan warned as he rose to his feet. “Seriously, brother, if you and the others have taught me anything, it is best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Oh, if only I could, Ambrose thought.

The image of Barbara; lips parted, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed continued to flicker through his mind over and again, like it had for several weeks now. Nothing could pull his mind from it. Not his work, his friends- not even Helena, could keep him from his distraction. But- perhaps, looking into their fathers’ death another time could offer a reprieve.

But Ambrose only nodded. “Noted,” he replied. “I shall leave you to your rest, old friend.”

After another round of cordial goodbyes, Ambrose stepped out of Duncan’s house. At his carriage, he instructed his driver to head home, insisting that he needed the walk. The moment he began to walk, thoughts of Barbara began to flood his mind. He was rather proud of how he had mastered his thoughts long enough to have that important conversation with Duncan, but he had been relieved when he had agreed to keep it short.

After five minutes, his head had begun to throb from the pent-up thoughts. So much so that when his friend wanted to drop the subject, Ambrose was all too happy to pick it up and take it on his own. He needed a distraction. Something, anything, to quash the growing erotic thoughts in his head.

Now though, even as he tried to focus on his next move in the investigation, his mind did nothing but flash fantasies and memories in his head brighter and more vivid than any painting he had ever seen. The look of her dewy, bruised lips after he kissed her. The twinkle in her forest-green eyes. The moment he was on the edge of fury and desire, right before he lost his senses and kissed her.

And both times, she had tasted heavenly, felt heavenly, smelled heavenly. Her scent was that of crisp autumn apples and nutmeg —both sweet and biting. He pictured himself running his tongue along the delicate column of her throat, and before he could stop himself, he let out a guttural, low growl that anyone nearby could hear.

A furtive glance around confirmed his solitude, however, but knowing that he’d just lost himself so much only further annoyed him.

“Focus,” he hissed to himself, willing his intrusive thoughts to disperse.

He had to figure out where this fifth body went—had to figure out how such a supposed open and closed case had been fumbled so badly. He had to stop thinking about how badly he wanted to sink himself inside Barbara.