Chapter 24

24

Three days later,Calliope watched the team of construction workers in the sitting room using chisels to remove old, damaged parts of windows. A glass cutter lay next to the new windowpanes leaned against the wall.

Several men applied new plaster with trowels over laths, filling the cracks in the old walls and creating a new, fresh layer. Two more men crouched over the parquet floor and hammered in fresh tiles with mallets. It smelled like wet plaster, wax, fresh wood, and dust. The room was filled with the noise of repairs, and Calliope loved every moment of that.

Until a certain tall and broad-shouldered male figure appeared in the doorway and charged towards her like a bull.

“Calliope, what in the world?” he cried.

Calliope sighed. “I knew you were going to be angry with me.”

Nathaniel, striking in his navy uniform, came to stand by her side, gaping at the sitting room.

“Then why did you do this?” He swept his arm in an arc, helpless rage darkening his eyes.

“Because it’s a beautiful house and it deserves to be restored. I know you want to repair it as much as I do.”

“Yes, I do,” he declared. “With my own means.”

“But it’s also my house, is it not?”

He turned to her, eyeing her like a lion on a hunt. “Do not do this.”

“What?”

“Ask questions you already know the answer to. I told you I did not want you to spend your money on this. I have a contract with your brother.”

Calliope shrugged. “It’s my money, and I’ll spend it on whatever I want. Besides, it’s not just for me, it’s for your sisters, too.”

Nathaniel gave out a low grumble that made her tense for the first time.

“I cannot believe you,” he grated. “After what we agreed on about trusting each other, you go and do this against my wishes!”

Calliope frowned. “Nathaniel—”

But he didn’t listen. He marched into the sitting room in three large steps and looked around the room. “Who’s in charge here?”

“That would be me, sir,” said the man who was working on the window. “Is everything to your satisfaction?”

“Please come for your payment to me, and not to my wife,” said Nathaniel, chest heaving with what she knew was anger he could barely contain.

“Very well, sir.”

Nathaniel nodded and walked out of the room and passed by her. Guilt twisted Calliope’s gut, and she raised her hand to try to catch him by the elbow. “Nathaniel—”

He stopped without looking at her. “Calliope, I am the man of this house,” he rumbled in a low voice so that only she could hear. “Do you know how it makes me feel that I couldn’t provide a good house or proper life for my sisters? For years, we had nothing. And now I am being rescued by my wife who has everything but simple patience?”

Calliope’s cheeks flushed. “I was only trying to help. Are you truly so prideful that you can’t accept it?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Love, I could ask you the same thing when it comes to your investigation.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, and Calliope couldn’t say a thing as the simple truth of his words struck her right in her very core.

“I’ll pick you up later to go to Portside,” he said and left the house.

Calliope’s chest was still tight with worry over their argument when she and Nathaniel walked into Portside later that day, Argos at their feet, sniffing and wagging his tail.

“Stay behind me and let me do the talking,” said Nathaniel as he protectively moved her behind him with his large arm, looking around the tavern as though it was full of murderers, vipers, and bears all ready to charge at her and tear at her throat.

Calliope scoffed and pulled slightly at Argos’s leash to stop him from sniffing at something sticking to the wooden floor of the tavern, then walked around Nathaniel’s back to stand next to him.

“No, Nathaniel,” she said firmly, despite her regret about their earlier quarrel. “I am doing everything you asked of me. We’ve been training for three days until you were satisfied that I could shoot into the bull’s-eye three times in a row. I have your pistols right here, in my reticule. We have the dogs. You are with me. Now you must also do what I asked of you. Let me conduct my investigation.”

“That is exactly what I’m doing,” he said gruffly and pushed her back behind him.

Calliope let out an angry puff of air. For three days they had shot countless bullets at Hampstead Heath until she could reload the pistol in record time and shoot well. They’d also practiced boxing. At the end of their long days, they had spent time with the girls, who had been going out with Grandmama and visiting her for tea.

But at night…oh dear Lord, at night, when there was no shooting and no boxing and no investigation to think of, Nathaniel and she lit the world on fire. At least that was how she felt, like she was burning and evaporating high into that night sky. It had become her favorite time of the day. Sometimes it was fast and needy, to satisfy their shared hunger for each other. Other times it was slow and loving, and they couldn’t stop looking into each other’s eyes.

She was afraid to believe she was more to him than just the means to get his inheritance. But all evidence showed he may really care about her.

And that was terrifying.

Because he might hurt her no matter how much he wanted to protect her.

Or she might hurt him like she had earlier today.

Besides, he still had no idea what she had in mind for her future. He probably thought that all this danger would be over once they found Spencer… He had no idea she intended to start a business and take on other jobs as an investigator.

She’d enjoyed herself immensely learning how to shoot and was very grateful to Nathaniel for the lessons because they would be indispensable.

“Are you still cross with me?” asked Calliope as they kept moving through the crowd.

“Yes,” he said. “But we have a task to do, and I’m a man of my word.”

Rough-hewn timber beams overhead, darkened with age, seemed to shudder from the volume of raucous laughter and shouts. And the thick, heady mix of sweat and ale was almost overpowering. The patrons, a motley assemblage of dockworkers, sailors fresh off ships, and a few gentlemen slumming from other parts of the city mingled and jostled, each trying to get a better view of the spectacle that drew them all in tonight.

In the midst of this chaos, a makeshift ring had been set up, delineated by thick ropes and anchored barrels. The crowd pressed against it, some climbing onto tables and chairs for a clearer view, their bets shouted to bookmakers who hastily jotted numbers onto grimy paper.

Two formidable men, muscles slick with sweat and gleaming in the feeble light, exchanged blows in the ring’s center. Calliope’s heart clenched. It must have been a similar sight last September when Spencer was press-ganged.

Her husband stood like a tall column next to her, his beautiful eyes dark under his eyebrows, his golden hair shining in the slight glow of lanterns and candles.

“You are, Nathaniel,” she said as she stepped up next to him again. “But please stop shoving me behind you. We made an agreement, which we both are fulfilling. You’re being unreasonable with your overprotectiveness.”

His large chest rose and fell quickly as he glared at her. “Unreasonable?” he grumbled. “You have no idea what it costs me to let you stand here.”

“You’re not the only one making compromises. I would be much better off here by myself without a navy officer looming over me,” she said and threw her glance at the sparring men. “Is it always like this during the matches?”

He looked at the ring. “Yes. Welcome to the dangerous and illegal world of prizefighting. Stakes are high, and only the best fighters gather here. Legal gentlemen’s matches with no money involved are boring.”

“I keep imagining Spencer here,” she said. “I think that’s why he loved it here. The excitement, the challenge. Put a challenge or a bet in front of Spencer, and he just can’t let it go. Besides, his life as duke was full of duties, so I’m not surprised he was here almost every week.”

Nathaniel’s gaze softened, warming the middle of her chest. “We’ll find him.”

The gentleness in his voice made her melt. Being here, where she knew Spencer had spent so much time, brought the sadness right back, making her eyes burn. Did he have a brandy at that bar before he went into the ring? Did he have loyal people who came and placed bets on him and cheered for him? How often did he win? What did he feel as he stood before his opponent, his fists clenched tightly, ready to strike?

His absence was a painful hole inside her. “Spencer, hold on, wherever you are,” she whispered.

Nathaniel squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she smiled back to him.

His gaze followed one of the servants cleaning the tables. It was a young woman with dark hair.

“Come, let’s talk to Daisy,” he said. “She has worked here ever since I can remember.”

They moved through the crowd, the dogs leading the way.

“Daisy,” said Nathaniel when they approached her.

“Ah, the duke is ’ere.” She straightened with a wet cloth in her hand and placed her fist on her hip. “What can I do for you, luv? Last time you won me five whole pounds.”

Calliope didn’t like the woman’s hooded eyes when she looked at him. Not in the slightest. A stab of jealousy made Calliope’s nostrils flare. A slight smile on his lips made her wonder if it was only politeness or if they had ever shared more than that. The thought of him with another made nausea rise in her stomach.

“We wondered about one night last September,” she said before Nathaniel could say anything, her voice coming out quick and cold. “The night when there was a big raid here. Many men were press-ganged.”

Daisy looked her over from head to toe, one eyebrow rising. “Oh.”

“This is my wife, the Duchess of Kelford,” said Nathaniel.

The woman’s eyebrows practically crawled to her hairline. “Your wife?”

“Yes, his wife,” said Calliope.

“What is your wife doing in a place like this?” Daisy scoffed and returned to wiping the round table. Patrons lifted their cups from the surface, letting her clean.

“It’s her brother,” said Nathaniel softly. “He was taken during the raid to be press-ganged, and we wondered if you saw anything?”

She stilled, her gaze momentarily softening with sympathy. “I know what night you speak of,” she said as she picked up empty mugs and straightened. “I didn’t work that night.”

Disappointment felt like a heavy weight in Calliope’s chest. “Oh,” she said. “Have you heard anything about that night? Something that might be useful?”

“Who was your brother?” The barmaid narrowed her eyes.

“He was the Duke of Grandhampton. Spencer,” said Calliope.

Daisy’s eyes widened with understanding and a sly smile. Did the woman enjoy a special connection with both her husband and her brother?

“Spencer…” she murmured. “Duke Ironfist. I’m gutted ’e’s gone, luv.” Her sudden softness to Calliope was a surprise. “Ain’t ’eard nothin’ except he copped it that night, right there. Broke me ’eart, it did. Always had me back if a punter got too handsy. ’e was a good man.”

“Thank you. He still is a good man,” said Calliope firmly. “We’re trying to find him as we found out he didn’t die but was taken onto a navy ship against his will.”

“Right,” she said and turned away as she walked through the crowd towards the bar. They followed. “Mayhap, Harvey can ’elp. He is ’ere every night.”

“Yes, we should talk to Harvey,” said Nathaniel. “Come, Calliope.”

They made their way to a bear of a man in his fifties. Despite his age, he had hands that seemed capable of crushing stone and arms that had seen their fair share of labor. A dense silver beard covered his square jaw. He had something of a military stance about him. His eyes, deep-set and sharp as a hawk’s, missed nothing as they surveyed his establishment. There was an unmistakable aura of authority and respect that clung to him.

“He is a veteran of the American War of 1775,” Nathaniel whispered to her.

“Ah, Noble Knuckles,” said Harvey, glancing up at Nathaniel with a smile as he wiped the smooth wooden surface of the bar. “Are you fightin’ today?”

“No,” said Nathaniel.

“He wants to ask you about the night of the press-gang last September,” said Daisy. “And this one’s hitched now,” she added with a quick glance at Calliope.

“Many ’appy years,” said Harvey, his eyes scanning Calliope with estimation. “What about that night?”

“Do you remember it well?” asked Nathaniel, leaning over the bar to hear him better as the crowd roared at something that happened in the ring.

The man’s gaze darkened. “Hard to forget the night when every bloomin’ thing I ’ad got smashed and a duke copped it ’ere.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Right. That is exactly what we’re after.”

“The duke is my brother,” Calliope added. “And we now know he’s not dead.”

“Duke Ironfist is not dead?” demanded Harvey.

“No. And we’re trying to find where he is. Do you remember a man being undressed by someone?”

Harvey nodded. “As it ’appens, I do. Legged it outta the buildin’, tryin’ to stop some of the blokes bein’ dragged towards the ship. In the alley between Portside and that old warehouse, I saw some lads yankin’ someone’s shirt off. I reckoned it was just some of the ruffians usin’ the ruckus to rob someone. I couldn’t ’elp as I was too busy scrapping with them press-gang lot. Why do you ask?”

Calliope’s heart drummed so fast she thought she would swoon. For the first time in days, she had heard something concrete that might help her find out more. She could feel it. “Because the body we believed was Spencer was dressed in his clothes.”

“Ah. I am chuffed to hear Duke Ironfist may not be dead. But I didn’t see who it was that they were strippin’. It was chaos. One moment, it was like this—two men boxin’, a crowd watchin’ them, drinkin’, enjoyin’ the match. The next, an army of men dressed like Noble Knuckles here barged through the doors, yelling, ’ittin’ men, draggin’ them outside. No one was safe. People legged it. The whores tried to leg it. The place was ’eavin’ with bodies movin’ everywhere.”

Calliope looked at Nathaniel, who shot a worried glance at her.

“Navy men beat everyone, dragged ‘em outside by their shirts. Those who put up a fight? Knocked ’em out cold. I’d bet my last penny some of those wealthier folk who like to come ‘here and bet got their pockets picked in all the kerfuffle.”

Calliope could feel it—the information was right at the tips of her fingers. She clutched the edge of the bar to stop them from shaking. Nathaniel’s body next to her was as rigid as a tree.

“Did you, by any chance, recognize the men who undressed him?”

Harvey’s hand, which was rubbing the surface of the bar, went still. “Um…”

“We wouldn’t prosecute,” Calliope hurried to add. “We’re just looking for my brother to try to save him.”

Harvey’s eyes lingered on her like two dark cherries. “As it ’appens, I remember.”

Calliope couldn’t breathe. “Who was it?”

He sighed deeply. “I didn’t know ’e done that to Ironfist, or I wouldn’t ’ave let the bloke back here. I knew ’e was a ruffian, but all kinds of folk come here.”

“That’s all right. Just please tell me who the man is.”

“He comes here every Wednesday to watch the women boxing.” He chuckled. “We got our regulars, don’t we?”

For the first time in months, a lightness filled her stomach. They had never been this close to finding Spencer. She felt Nathaniel’s hand move to her lower back, warm and reassuring.

“Today is Thursday, so it’s another week,” she whispered. She looked again at the owner. “Thank you, thank you! Do you happen to know his name?”

“No.”

“What does he look like?”

Harvey shrugged. “Tall, slouchy. A black eye patch.”

“How old is he, would you say?” Calliope asked.

“About forty.”

“Any accent? Distinguishing features? Anything that stood out to you?”

Harvey narrowed his eyes. “Yes. He did yell somethin’ about his brother being from the rookeries of Whitechapel once. Reckon ’e was givin’ someone a warnin’.”

“Whitechapel…” Calliope murmured.

She could ask Thorne Blackmore for help. He was Jane’s brother and Richard’s brother-in-law. That made him family. She’d try to find the man that way first, and if she didn’t manage, she’d have to return here next week.

Harvey leaned against the bar with both arms. “If you dare to tell ’im it was me who told you, you won’t be steppin’ foot in ’ere again. And no one else will talk to you. I don’t think whoever it is would take kindly to it.”

“Of course,” Calliope answered.

Hold on a little longer, Spencer, she thought. I swear, we’ll find you.

As they walked away from the bar, she squeezed Nathaniel’s hand, bubbles rising in her stomach and playing within her. “Nathaniel! Thank you, thank you!” she whispered.

“I’m so glad, love,” he said as he looked at her so gently. “I can ask that man next week. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Calliope had just opened her mouth to say she could do it perfectly well by herself, that she would need to do this work regularly in her sleuth agency.

But he still didn’t know…

She should tell him. He deserved to know what he had signed up for… When she’d made the deal with him, he had promised her she would have the freedom to do anything…and yet her anything was one thing that would crush him.

How in the world would she ever tell him when, clearly, he was terrified of her being in mortal danger just like his mother had been?