Chapter Five

Ellie found Daisy as soon as she reentered the ballroom.

"Can we go home now?"

The two of them had shared a carriage with Devlin, one of Daisy's three older brothers, which technically satisfied the need for a chaperone and had the added convenience of him being the most inattentive of companions.

Daisy made a comical pout of displeasure. "But the night is still young!"

"It's after midnight. I need to send a message to Tess to tell her to meet us at the office first thing tomorrow. Mr. Bullock's coming at ten o'clock."

"You managed to convince him he doesn't need to see Mr. King?"

"Not exactly, but it's a long story. I'll explain tomorrow. Can you be there at eight?"

Daisy rolled her eyes in horror. " Eight? You just said Bullock's not coming until ten. Not even the birds are up at eight o'clock."

"Someone else is coming at nine, but I need to speak to you and Tess before then."

"Ooh, a mystery!" Daisy grinned. "Say no more. I'll go and drag Devlin away from the card tables." She disappeared into the crowd.

Unlike Tess and Daisy, who both lived in Mayfair, Ellie and her parents lived relatively close to the Lincoln's Inn Fields office, in Bloomsbury, near the British Museum. Her father, Baron Ellenborough, had eschewed the more fashionable parts of town in favor of being closer to the Royal Courts of Justice. The three girls had only met thanks to their common attendance at Miss Honoria Burnett's Ladies Academy.

As soon as she arrived home, Ellie dashed off a brief note to Tess that was guaranteed to pique her interest.

New job. Urgent.

P.S. Just kissed Charles King.

Tess's recent marriage to Justin Thornton, Duke of Wansford, had sent ripples through the ton , but the two of them were blissfully happy. Daisy, Tess, and Ellie had already arranged to meet for dinner tomorrow night, but Ellie sent the note to Tess's town house in Portman Square to urge her to come to the office in the morning. Then she went to bed, her brain whirling with memories of her unexpectedly eventful evening.

When morning arrived, she dressed with care and arrived at the office to find Daisy pacing the room with barely suppressed energy, and Tess seated calmly behind her desk, drinking a cup of tea.

Daisy's eyes grew wide when Ellie described the events of the previous night.

"He kissed you? Right there in the ballroom, where anyone could have seen?" Her tone was one of astonished awe. "No wonder you were blushing. What a risk!"

"And then he pretended to be Charles King to Bullock and accepted the case," Ellie confirmed. "Without even knowing what it was about."

Daisy shook her head in wonder, and all three of them stared at Bullock's gold watch, which Ellie had deposited on the desk. It was clear that "Henri Bonheur" had risen dramatically in Daisy's estimation: not merely a handsome rogue, but a capable thief too.

Daisy's criteria for what made a man attractive was incomprehensible.

"Well, apart from the fact that we don't know who he is," Daisy said, "his suggestion isn't bad. Having a man around is sometimes quite useful."

"For opening tightly sealed jars of jam?" Ellie snorted. "Reaching hard-to-access shelves?"

"I meant for solving cases. A physically intimidating specimen like him could be useful when questioning male suspects. And if you ever need personal protection, he'd make an excellent bodyguard."

Ellie's body heated at the memory of that particular hard body pressed against hers in the alcove. How had something that lasted less than three seconds left such an indelible impression?

"But he's a self-confessed criminal. The antithesis of everything we stand for: justice, order, and the rule of law."

Tess took a leisurely sip of her tea. "True, but haven't you heard the phrase ‘a reformed rake makes the best husband'? This is the criminal version of that: a reformed thief makes the best thief-taker."

"That's just what he said," Ellie groaned. "But wouldn't we be foolish to trust a man like that? How do we know he's not just using us for his own nefarious ends?"

"Like what?" Daisy scoffed.

"Tess is rich," Ellie said. "And so is your father. Maybe he's trying to inveigle his way into a position of trust so he can rob you both?"

"If he's as good as he claims, he wouldn't need to go to all that bother." Tess took another sip of tea. "He'd have already broken in and stolen whatever he wanted to steal."

Ellie frowned, reluctant to admit that her friend had a point. "Well, perhaps he means to ruin the business. Perhaps he's been employed by someone we've annoyed to close us down."

"Most of the people we've annoyed are either dead, in prison, or have fled abroad in disgrace," Daisy said with satisfaction.

"I think his explanation makes perfect sense," Tess added. "He's intelligent enough to stop thieving before he's caught, but too young to retire and sit quietly by the fire. Who can blame him for wanting a little excitement?"

"So you think we should agree to let him work on the Bullock case?" Ellie asked.

"Why not? We can tell him it's a trial. If he's useful, we'll consider letting him work with us on a more permanent basis."

"He's unpredictable, unethical—"

"—charming, confident, suave," Daisy finished with a chuckle. "Better to have him on our side, don't you think?"

Ellie gave a groan of defeat. In truth, the thought of seeing "Henri Bonheur" again made her heart beat strangely in her chest.

A sharp knock on the back door made all three of them jump. Tess stayed where she was, but when Daisy started for the door, Ellie waved her back. She took a steadying breath and went to open it herself, and found the man in question lounging negligently against the doorframe, looking just as handsome as he had the night before.

A navy overcoat hung from his shoulders, a matching top hat perched on his head at a jaunty angle, and a silver-topped walking cane completed the ensemble. It was tucked beneath his arm, however, since he held before him a large terra-cotta pot filled with a green, leafy plant.

"Morning, Ellie, my sweet." He smiled, and the dimples made an appearance. "You look rather studious."

Ellie cursed silently. She snatched the offending spectacles from her nose and thrust them in her pocket; she'd forgotten she was wearing them. Painfully conscious of the way her cheeks were heating, she swung the door wide to usher him in.

"I come bearing gifts." He thrust the pot and its leafy contents into her hands.

Ellie backed up, careful to avoid contact with his muscular frame. "What's this?"

"A gift. For you."

The delicious scent of his cologne enfolded her in an olfactory embrace as he stepped past her, and she closed her eyes, praying for strength. The man smelled irresistible. Perhaps he was some kind of sorcerer—a genie, capable of bewitching unsuspecting victims into doing his bidding.

To protect herself, she sniffed the plant, trying to identify the scent, and frowned at his back as he preceded her into the front office and made his own introductions.

"Lady Dorothea, it's a pleasure to see you again. And I assume I have the honor of addressing Her Grace, the Duchess of Wansford?" He removed his hat and bowed to both Daisy and Tess.

Daisy sent him a pleased, intrigued smile, while Tess nodded regally and finished pouring a second cup of tea. "You do indeed."

"Henri Bonheur, your most humble servant."

Ellie deposited the potted plant on her desk with a thump.

"You've bought us a present?" Tess asked.

"I have. In Italy, it's traditional to give basil to bring good luck and ward off poverty."

"How kind." Tess smiled, delighted.

"Plus," he continued, "the name ‘basil' derives from the Greek word ‘basilius,' which means ‘king.' It seemed rather fitting, considering the name of your agency."

Ellie frowned. The man was already ridiculously handsome. Did he have to be considerate and well educated too?

As if aware of her silent irritation, he sent her a teasing smile. "Cut flowers only last for a few days. With this, you'll have a constant reminder of me."

Ellie couldn't decide if that was a blessing, or a curse. Daisy sent an envious glance at his silver-topped cane. The handle was modeled as a lion's head, with a shaggy mane and snarling mouth.

"Is that a sword stick?"

"It is indeed." He held it forward obligingly, and Daisy inspected it with obvious delight.

"I've been thinking about getting one of these. How do you release the blade?"

"There's a catch, beneath the lion's jaw. Press it."

Daisy did so, and revealed the slim two-sided blade that had been hidden inside the stick with a satisfying hiss. "How marvelous!"

He removed it from her avaricious grip and slid the dangerous-looking weapon away. "It's come in handy a time or two, certainly. The element of surprise is always useful."

"Ellie told us about your meeting last night," Daisy said. "I must say, it was extremely impertinent of you to pretend to be our Mr. King and accept a case. We don't usually investigate burglaries."

He shrugged. "It was a calculated risk. But one I'm hoping has paid off. Money is money, after all, and five hundred pounds is not to be sneezed at. Are you willing to let me be of assistance with Mr. Bullock?"

Ellie leaned against the edge of her desk and crossed her arms. Her father always berated her for the pose, saying it made her look like a fishwife, but she didn't care. "Henri Bonheur" made her feel extremely combative. She sent a silent look at first Tess, then Daisy, and noted their almost imperceptible nods.

"We are," she said firmly. "But only on a probationary basis. If you prove useful in this case we'll consider you for further collaboration, but if you do anything to jeopardize the investigation, we will end our association with you immediately."

His face creased into another of those devastating smiles. "Excellent. In that case…" He extended his hand toward Daisy in formal greeting, "Charles King, Esquire, at your service."

Daisy shook it with an amused chuckle. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. King."

Tess sent him a wide, genuine smile, the kind that usually had men tripping over their feet and forgetting their own name, but Henri, astonishingly, merely smiled back. Perhaps, since he possessed the male equivalent of Tess's beauty, he was immune.

Ellie ignored his tomfoolery, childishly determined to burst his bubble of confidence. "You're named after a dog, you know."

His brows shot up. "I thought you chose King because it sounded regal. Trustworthy. Capable."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. We chose it in honor of the one male all three of us adore: Daisy's dog, Montgomery. He's a King Charles Spaniel. King Charles. Charles King. Voil à ."

His face fell in comical dismay. "A dog. How very lowering."

"I'm afraid so," she said with mock solemnity. It was difficult not to laugh. "We'll call you Charles in front of Bullock, but you're going to have to provide us with a name to call you in private, when we're not on the case. I refuse to call you Henri Bonheur, or the Comte de Carabas. What do your friends call you?"

His lips curved at her echo of his own words from the previous night. "My old tutor called me Harry. You can call me that, if you like. It's as good a name as any."

Ellie gave a businesslike nod, and Tess rose from her seat.

"Perfect. Now, Mr. Bullock will be here soon, but there's no reason for all of us to see him. I've promised to go shopping with Justin. Ellie, you and Harry can find out what his problem is, and go from there." She shot Ellie a look so sweetly innocent that Ellie was immediately suspicious. "Daisy, my love, you can come to Bond Street with me. Ellie will be perfectly fine on her own."

Daisy, the little agitator, immediately nodded. "Of course, I adore shopping."

The shameless lie slipped effortlessly off her tongue as she shot Ellie a wicked grin behind Harry's back.

Ellie almost rolled her eyes at their monumentally unsubtle attempt to matchmake. She reached into her skirt pocket for her glasses, so she could glare at them both in perfect focus, but her hand clasped around nothing.

"Looking for these?" Harry asked cheerfully.

Ellie glanced up with a frown, and her mouth dropped open as she recognized her spectacles held aloft in his large, tanned fingers. How on earth had he managed to swipe them from her skirt pocket without her noticing? Had he done it when he'd passed her in the hall?

The man was a menace. Still, as Tess would doubtless say, he was their menace.

She plucked them from his grasp with a myopic glare, which he returned with a smile that reminded her of a well-fed crocodile.

Tess, on her way out of the door, gave a throaty chuckle. "Why, Mr. King, that is a remarkable talent. I look forward to seeing you employ your other skills on our behalf."

Harry grinned at her, but his gaze rested on Ellie when he answered.

"It will be my pleasure, Your Grace."