Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Hart Street, Covent Garden

Office of the Order

As the master of a group of skilled enquiry agents, Lucius Daventry had witnessed many astonishing sights, yet he seemed most intrigued by Miss Darrow's unusual box.

"Can you describe the man who sold it to you?" Daventry said from behind his imposing desk. His dark eyes narrowed as he closed the secret drawer and placed his thumbs on the wooden appliqués.

"I'm afraid he was quite nondescript, sir."

Miss Darrow rose from the chair and showed Daventry how to open the drawer. The old blue pelisse she had found in Delphine's armoire hung loosely from her narrow waist, and she had spent thirty minutes this morning adjusting the hem and sewing a makeshift belt. The teal boots were too big, and she had stuffed the toes with old stockings. Still, she could wear a grain sack and still look exquisite.

"Think, Miss Darrow," Daventry said in his usual blunt way. "It may be a crucial piece of evidence. The villain who ransacked your shop may have deliberately targeted you."

"Targeted me?" The lady frowned. "I don't see how. It was my idea to deliver Lady Summers' notes. Had she held her tongue, I would not be in this predicament."

"Lady Summers knows how to use her title to her advantage. The subtle art of persuasion is her forte. And let's be frank, you have not been entirely honest, madam."

Theo suspected the same but had decided against forcing a confession. While he had persuaded Miss Darrow to face her fears, he knew she would rather leave London than tackle the culprit.

Theo leant across the arm of his chair and touched Miss Darrow lightly on the forearm. "We're here to help you, but you must tell us everything you know. Hearing half-truths will hinder our progress."

"Half-truths lead to flawed reasoning," Daventry added, though grinned when he heard a click and saw the velvet-lined compartment pop open. "I'll not risk an agent's life. And I'm sure Mr Chance wishes to avoid taking another shot to the shoulder."

A sad sigh escaped her. She stared at Theo, not Daventry, an almost apologetic look in her mesmerising eyes. "A man attacked me in the yard. It was dark. I did not see his face, but he grabbed me from behind and said if I did not deliver his letters, I would die."

A knot tightened in Theo's gut. There was nothing more despicable than a man who used his physical strength to suppress a woman.

His mind drifted to the night his mother died. Did she trip over her nightgown and tumble down the stairs? Had his father pushed her during another heated argument? Was it a coincidence that the devil's first wife had suffered the same fate? He would never know.

Daventry placed the box on the desk and gave Miss Darrow his full attention. "You said you purchased the box at the fair. I assume that was last summer."

"Yes, sir. In August."

"And when did you offer to act as Lady Summers' messenger?"

Miss Darrow tapped her finger to her lips as she considered her answer. Feminine vulnerability lay beneath her indomitable spirit. The contradiction proved more fascinating than seeing the hidden drawer in her sewing box.

"I cannot recall when exactly, but she instructed me to place the note in a bible and leave it on a certain pew in St Audley's Church. It must have been February during Candlemas. People were taking candles to church to be blessed."

"And you don't know what was written inside the note?" Theo said. Being suspicious by nature, he would have waited to glimpse the recipient. "You weren't curious enough to linger in church?"

"No. I assured Lady Summers I would deliver the note and leave. Besides, the less I know of her business, the better. A working woman cannot afford to anger her client."

It had been that way when Aaron first opened a gaming hell, but he soon realised the lords of the ton liked the exclusivity of a members' club. The night he refused Lord Bretton entrance was the most intelligent decision Aaron had ever made.

Once Theo had helped solve Miss Darrow's problems, he would give her some sensible business advice.

"Hence you agreed to deliver notes for a host of other society ladies." Daventry glanced at the three tiny missives visible in the secret compartment. "Have you ever opened a note?"

A blush touched her cheeks. "No, but the barrow boy has."

"The barrow boy?" Theo inhaled sharply. Everyone knew a child could not keep a secret. "Someone else knows about your lucrative exploits? Why did you not say so before? I presume it's the same barrow boy you were waiting for the day I was shot."

She nodded but was quick to defend her position. "I needed help. Jules is twelve and provides for his ailing mother and younger sibling. Curiosity got the better of him. I don't know why. He cannot read. Then he dropped it in a puddle. I had to forge Mrs Brampton's handwriting and begin again. Thankfully, she was none the wiser."

"What did the note say?" Theo was more than a little intrigued.

"Royal Oak. Seven. Wednesday." Miss Darrow waved her hand impatiently. "Or something to that effect."

Doubtless the message referred to an illicit liaison. If Miss Darrow wasn't careful, she might be called as a witness to adultery. No lady in London would dare purchase her gowns then. The only person crossing her threshold would be the bailiff.

Daventry drew a piece of paper from the desk drawer and took up his ink pen. "We will need a list of those who paid for your services."

Miss Darrow's head jerked up. "Why? They paid in good faith. I will be ruined if word gets out. Surely the focus of our investigation should be the devil who threatened me in the yard."

"In my experience, the obvious suspect is rarely the guilty party." Daventry dipped the nib into the ink pot. "Their names, Miss Darrow. Whatever you reveal shall not be spoken beyond these walls."

After mumbled complaints and an obvious wrestle with her conscience, she pulled back her shoulders. "Miss Fresson—though she has delicate sensibilities and won't take kindly to being questioned."

"I'm sure you will know what to say to her."

"Lady Chapman. Mrs Langdon." Miss Darrow mentioned three other names before pausing to catch her breath, but the list went on. "Lady Clementina Morley?—"

"Daughter of the Duke of Farnborough?" Theo almost fell off his chair. Did the lady not know she was dicing with danger? Farnborough would slay an entire village to protect his daughter's reputation.

Daventry's expression turned grave. "Then we will add the duke's name to the list of suspects. I shall need time to decide how best to proceed. The matter requires tact and diplomacy."

Theo's pulse rose a notch and he gestured to Daventry's list. "This is more complex than I imagined. If any of these women discover we know about their notes, Miss Darrow will be driven out of town."

Worse still, someone may seek to silence her for good.

One kind gesture had opened Pandora's Box. According to myth, the only thing left inside was hope. It would take a miracle for Miss Darrow to survive this mess unscathed.

"Let us focus on the blackguard who attacked you in the yard," Theo said. They would begin by questioning the barrow boy. A child desperate to feed his family could be easily bribed.

"There is another lady's name to add to the list." She met Theo's gaze, her verdant green eyes losing their sparkle. Then she bowed her head and revealed the name that made his blood boil. "I—I delivered notes for Lady Lucille Bowman."

Anger burned in Theo's veins. Why was he surprised? Lady Lucille was a devious devil who valued a prestigious title more than her fickle heart. What grated most was he'd made a damn fool of himself.

"You should have told me," he snapped.

"When? We've barely had time to breathe since I stole into your bedchamber last night."

"You could have mentioned it on the carriage ride to Covent Garden." Theo felt the weight of Daventry's inquisitive gaze but continued, regardless. "How are we supposed to work together if you insist on keeping secrets? Where is the trust?"

"It's not a secret. But I know how fond you are of her. You're all she spoke about during her last fitting. I was simply trying to find the best time to tell you."

"The only thing I feel for Lucille Bowman is disdain."

"Are you quite certain? Your actions at the Olympic last night suggest otherwise. You wanted to make her jealous. Was that not the reason for our intimate trade?"

Their kiss may have started as a means to bolster his defences, but the touch of Miss Darrow's lips made him forget anyone else existed. Time had stood still. Nothing else had mattered. Hell, he'd not stopped thinking about her since they'd parted.

He would kiss her now should the chance arise.

During their ride across town, his mind ran amok as he imagined dragging her onto his lap and settling her restless spirit .

"Do you know who Lady Lucille was writing to?" Daventry said, adding to Theo's discomfort. "Ladies of the ton like to gossip."

Miss Darrow released a sweet hum as she pondered the question. "No, though I got the impression she was annoyed with someone."

"Doubtless the lady is keeping another gentleman dangling by a string," Theo said but was quick to change the subject. "Perhaps you should explain the barrow boy's role in this debacle."

Daventry agreed. "We need to understand how your operation works. I assume you keep a record of every transaction."

"Yes, in a diary at home, though it may have been stolen."

Was the villain looking for the book or the box? Had a seamstress stumbled upon the information and used it to line her coin purse?

"We'll return to the shop when we leave here." He would not hide behind Aaron like a lily-livered fop. If men wished to attack him, they could try their luck. "We'll search for your diary, and you can pack a valise. I know you're eager to collect clean clothes."

Miss Darrow nibbled her lip. "Just the two of us?"

"Just the two of us." The lady had courage abound. Did she not say she wished to mop up her own mess? Was she not a woman of action? "I can give you a pocket pistol. Sadly, I don't have an iron skillet to hand. I'm told it was your weapon of choice when I was shot outside your shop."

Her eyes brightened. "I grabbed the first thing I could find. When used with force, a skillet is lethal. Though I confess, I cannot fire a pistol with any accuracy. "

Theo smiled. "All you need do is point it and cock the hammer."

"We must visit Jules," she said as if she'd only just realised the boy might be in danger. "I've not seen him for a few days. What if the villain discovered where he lives?"

Daventry pushed a piece of paper across the desk and offered her a pencil. "Note down the boy's direction. I'll have an agent visit him now and move his family to a safe location."

Giving a relieved sigh, she did as instructed. "Jules delivers the notes to a place of the client's choosing. He collects them from the same place. Sometimes, I'm required to hide them in a seam or tucked inside a hat or glove and deliver the garment to an address. The process is different for every client."

"What about the fiend who attacked you?"

The lady shivered as if the beast had trampled over her grave. "He leaves them in the yard, slipped inside a leather-bound book which he hides in the coal shed. I have delivered three in total, though there is never a reply."

Theo pointed to the three tiny letters on the box's velvet tray. "One of these must be from the man in question. You seem so certain he was responsible for the damage to your shop."

With shaky fingers, she pointed to the note sealed with black wax, a colour typically used for mourning. "That is the note I was supposed to deliver two weeks ago. But you stole the box, Mr Chance. I had no way of informing my client. He was waiting for me the night I returned from Delphine's wedding."

While a gnawing sense of remorse filled Theo's chest, Daventry said, "Did he hurt you? "

Miss Darrow winced. "A little."

Theo shot out of the chair. "You should have told me." He ripped off his hat and thrust his hand through his hair. "I would have returned the box and helped you defeat this devil."

She looked up at him with a sad expression, her eyes glistening like dew on a meadow. "I'm used to fending for myself. It's hard to know who to trust." Her gaze fell to her lap, a silent testament to the trials she must have endured.

Though the situation was not as harrowing as seeing Aaron hurt as a child, it pained Theo to know Miss Darrow had suffered while he'd been sleeping peacefully in his bed.

"I promised to deliver the note this evening." She looked at the mantel clock and seemed relieved it was only midday. "He insisted I bring it personally and said there must be no more mistakes. I'm to place it inside the book he left in the shed and deliver it to the travelling library at six o'clock."

"The travelling library?" Daventry narrowed his gaze. "You speak of Mr Pickering's elegant wagon? Only the wealthy can afford to pay for his services."

"Pickering used to call at Fortune's Den before my brother Christian moved to Ludgate Hill." Theo returned to his seat. From his recollection, Pickering would move mountains to please his prestigious customers. "The fellow sourced rare books on Ancient Egypt. It saved Christian endless hours of research."

"Do you always deliver the villain's notes to Pickering?" Daventry said.

Miss Darrow nodded. "I hide them beneath a paper bookplate I glue to the inside cover."

Theo found that odd. "Why does the villain not hide it there himself? Then you would have no need to handle the note."

"Because he has been known to change his mind." She paled and clutched her hand to her chest. "I woke to find he had been in my bedchamber. He left instructions to say I must deliver a different note. So I can only imagine he does not wish to deface the book."

"The devil broke into your house?" Theo could barely sit still. When he caught the miscreant, he would wring his damn neck. "When?"

"A month before you were shot outside my shop."

He could understand why Miss Darrow thought the armed thugs had come to kidnap her and not Delphine. The lady was up to her neck in the mire. Now it was up to him to ensure she didn't sink.

"You have an obvious problem," he said, though it was one of many. "I see no sign of the book. How are you supposed to deliver the note at six this evening?"

"I pray it is still at the shop."

Daventry stood abruptly and snatched the paper with the barrow boy's direction. "I'll catch D'Angelo before he leaves and have him visit the boy. While I'm gone, decide if you wish to open the letters or use them as bait."

Daventry departed.

Barely a second passed before a subtle intimacy enveloped them, one born from their shared goal. This unspoken connection prompted Theo to reach out, his hand finding hers, offering a reassuring squeeze that spoke of their newfound bond.

"We will fix this, and you will dress the ladies of the ton again. I give you my word." He looked at the box and the three letters resting on the burgundy velvet. "Who do the other notes belong to? You must tell me the truth. You mustn't be afraid to confess your darkest secrets."

Miss Darrow glanced at their joined hands. He expected her to tug hers free, but she did not. "It must be comforting to be part of a large family. There's always someone there to ensure you remain on the right path. Someone to tell you your decisions are foolhardy."

Yes, his brothers did not mince words.

"Is there anyone I might contact on your behalf?" Was there someone in the world who cared about her? A parent or sibling? "A person you trust enough to help you with this matter?"

Her gaze rose to meet his. Though she smiled, he knew the look of loneliness in a woman's eyes. "There is no one, Mr Chance. My parents are dead." There was a tinge of guilt in her tone, as if she had been the one to slay them. "It's just me, battling the world alone."

"No. We are battling this fiend together."

She swallowed deeply and pursed her lips like she might cry. "Which goes to prove one cannot foretell the future. I'll never forget how you looked at me all those weeks ago when you stormed into the yard. I pray I never disappoint anyone like that again."

I can tolerate many things, Miss Darrow, but never deceit.

I'll not trust another word from your lips.

The crux of his anger had stemmed from his fears for Delphine.

"You proved yourself my match when you barged into the theatre box, threatening to use wicked means to overthrow me." And she had. One kiss had left him craving another. He would wring every last whimper from her lips if she'd let him. "I think that makes us even."

"I always hoped we might be friends before tragedy struck as it did. You were amusing company."

"I'm still amusing company. I see no reason why we cannot be friends now." Hell, he had told her the one thing he'd never revealed to another living soul. "I heard you used to find me charming."

She laughed. "Who told you that?"

"Delphine."

"Your sister exaggerates. Although the way you came to her rescue was rather gallant."

"Does that mean you'll consider kissing me again?" He couldn't help but tease her, though the answer mattered more than it should.

"Why would I? You have nothing with which to barter."

"Trust me. I shall find something."

"That sounds like the beginnings of a game, Mr Chance."

"Perhaps it is, Miss Darrow." While her rosebud pout held him captive, her gaze traced the breadth of his chest. "A game of seduction. Let us see who submits first."

A spark of intrigue flashed in her eyes. It was the happiest he had seen her in weeks. "Very well. But there is only one rule."

"Which is?" Why did he find a simple challenge so arousing? They had troubles abound but this proved the perfect distraction.

"Honesty. Lies result in a forfeit."

Theo couldn't help but grin. "Agreed. I've said it before, but you're my kind of scoundrel, Miss Darrow."

"Let's pray you're as magnanimous when you lose. "

He couldn't lose. There was pleasure to be had in playing the game. "When do we begin?"

She shrugged. "There's no time like the present."

"Very well." He released her hand and captured her chin, stroking her soft skin gently with his thumb. "It's good to see you smile again."

Suspicion flashed in her eyes as she attempted to determine if he spoke the truth. "Why?"

"The world seems brighter when you do."

"I might doubt your word and force you to cluck like a chicken."

"But you won't because you know I speak in earnest."

Daventry returned, though he lingered outside the door, giving Theo the split second needed to release Miss Darrow.

"D'Angelo is leaving now. I'll inform you of the situation once he has visited the barrow boy." Daventry pointed to the notes in the secret drawer. "Well, are you opening them or using them as bait?"

"Miss Darrow must decide what's best."

"Agreed." Daventry picked up the note sealed with green wax. "I'm confident when I say a gentleman's wife or daughter sent this. Green wax is reserved for the clergy and members of government."

Miss Darrow cast Theo a nervous glance.

That's when he knew the sender's identity.

"Lady Lucille wanted the note taken to an address in Finch Lane, Cornhill," she said. "I was supposed to deliver it weeks ago. When she came to the shop last Friday, I lied and said I had delivered it myself."

Theo didn't grit his teeth or silently curse the deceptive Lucille Bowman. It amused him to know she manipulated Wrotham like a virtuoso did a tuned fiddle. "If you agree, Miss Darrow, we may as well open the note."

Daventry handed it to her.

Without hesitation, she broke the seal. A frown marred her brow as she squinted to read the small writing. " Hyde Park. Noon Wednesday. At the Achilles statue ."

Theo recalled the times the lady had sent him secret letters. They had met on the Row early one morning, met one afternoon at the British Museum to observe the exhibition of Tantric objects. He would not hear from her for weeks, and then another letter would arrive.

Aramis was right in his observations.

Theo was more in love with the idea of besting the aristocracy than with the lady herself. He was more annoyed at being treated as an inferior than of losing something precious.

"It's as I suspected." Theo couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. "Lady Lucille has another fool dangling like a marionette."

"It would appear so," Daventry said.

Miss Darrow retrieved the letter sealed with red wax. "The image of the laurel means this belongs to Mrs Langdon." She opened it carefully. " Same place Wednesday evening . That's all it says."

Most people used Miss Darrow's service to conduct illicit liaisons. If they wanted a note back, they merely had to ask. The theory meant there was but one line of enquiry to pursue—finding the villain who attacked her in the yard, made threats and turned her shop upside down.

"We will focus on Pickering," he said, resisting the urge to break the black seal and read the scoundrel's missive. "As all the notes are passed through him, we will persuade him to give us a name."

Daventry's gaze flicked between them. "Have a care. Something tells me there's wickedness afoot, and I'm not talking about the immoral exploits of the ton ."

"What is there to fear?" Theo would keep Miss Darrow in his sights until they had the devil in custody and she could return to her shop.

"You'd do well to remember one important fact." Daventry's tone carried the weight of his warning. "Only the dead keep secrets."