Chapter 12

The Duke in fact, many of the protesters left her alone as she passed them.

Victor frowned, wondering if perhaps she was an organizer herself or sympathizer of sorts. That would put her directly at odds with his line of work. He certainly could not marry and settle down with a woman who was an enemy of the Crown. He shook his head, wondering why that blasted thought even came to him.

Victor was startled when Lucas said beside him, "She has protection. That's why she is safe here." He had been so absorbed he hadn't even heard Lucas's return.

"Good grief, I am failing in my duty tonight."

"I agree. I think it's best we leave before the crowd disperses. I got what I came for, and I think it's safe to assume the lad you hunt is not here."

The brothers discreetly followed Briana from a distance to ensure she left safely. They watched from the shadows as she sprinted into an awaiting carriage. Victor was relieved to see her butler, Mr. Mason, at the helm and looking menacing. He recognized Renwick, her footman, at the rear keeping guard. As it rambled away, Victor felt relieved that she was not walking the docks alone. That relief soon turned to anger that the woman was unbelievably reckless when it came to her own safety.

He was about to make his way back to Mayfair with Lucas but changed his mind. Victor decided he needed to make sure Briana Walsh returned home safely and stayed out of trouble.

Stalkery

VICTOR HAILED A HACKNEY and proceeded to follow her at a discreet distance. This was beneath him, but it seemed the only way he would get anywhere with such a secretive, contrary woman. He took some comfort in knowing that Mr. Mason was with her. Thirty minutes later, however, Victor was seething with fury—he wanted to shoot the man in the kneecaps for taking Briana into the worst parts of London.

Victor had followed through the notorious St. Giles rookery in London, and now they were in Fleet Street. There was no reason for her to be this far from home. Dressed as she was, he was beginning to wonder about her intentions and whether he knew her at all. No meetings arranged in this abysmal part of London were safe for anyone, let alone a woman of the ton.

His hackney followed at a discreet distance, and he kept his pistol at the ready in case of attack. When she turned down a side lane, beside what appeared to be a workshop of some kind. He watched as Briana got out, keeping her hooded cloak over her head. She knocked on the door and waited. Victor continued to watch, his body stiff with worry and curiosity.

Pinchbeck

brIANA STOOD ON THE threshold of the small makeshift jeweler's workshop called Pinchbeck in Fleet Street. While at the rally, she had received a note from an elderly gentleman that Mendoza would meet with her here.

The door swung open, and a small, harried man wearing an apron and eye glass appeared. "Come on then. You're late. We don't have much time." No other greeting, just straight to the point.

Briana stepped inside the workshop as Mr. Mason kept watch from the carriage. The jeweler ushered her toward a workbench in the far corner. As she approached, a large man with a mask stepped out of the shadows.

Mendoza, in the flesh.

Briana stilled for a moment and watched him approach.

"You wanted to see me? Well, here I am," Mendoza said, raising his arms before placing his hands casually on his hips. His voice was gravelly, and he spoke with a slight lilt.

"I—yes, thank you. I am here to make a deal with you."

"Another one? You're making so many I can scarcely keep up. But do go on."

"I hear you are leaving, packing up shop so to speak."

Mendoza nodded. "Yes, my businesses are facing threats, and it's best we lay low for now."

"Does this mean you no longer need the services of my investigations business?”

"Alas, I will need to end our business together, however what you have discovered so far has been tremendous help. I shall compensate you fully for your work.”

“But I still have more investigating to do. I am close to finalising my search.”

“You still have access to Pinchbeck's for the jewelry, and as long as you continue to investigate discreetly, you'll not have trouble from anyone."

“But you’re my only client. If you leave no one else will trust me with their matters. I have a difficult time convincing people as it is.”

Mendoza studied her a moment then said, "Do you want to know why I hired you in the first place?”

Briana nodded.

“Because you set up shop in my territory and went about establishing yourself even when everyone laughed at you. So, I wanted to put you to the test. You have exceeded my expectations.”

“I have?”

“Yes, and you did it without me giving you anything more than a few simple instructions.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, if you want to be taken seriously as an investigator, if you want men to believe you can do the job, then you need to believe it yourself.”

Briana paused for a moment and took in his words. “I think I understand.”

“No, lass. You still don’t. I’ll put it another way. Find the clues until you get an answer. If you need approval and acceptance before you can be an investigator, then you best find another line of work because any job worth doing, does not require validation.”

Briana was floored. Mendoza was right. She did not need him at all. She had been building case notes herself. She just needed to believe she could do it because she already had the skills.

Briana nodded then made a decision. “I know where the Carthage is hidden?"

Mendoza stilled and gave her a shrewd look. "You lie."

"It is the truth. I have acquired information, everything you need to find the ship and the gold it carries."

Mendoza became serious. "No, it can’t be. The Carthage disappeared without a trace, years ago."

"It did not disappear—it went into hiding."

"What do you mean?”

"It has been well hidden. So well, in fact, that the captain left several coded notes setting out its exact location. I also have the code. It took a while to decipher, but it was staring me right in the face."

"And how did you come by these things?"

"I found them in Drury Lane."

"And you have all the information about its whereabouts?”

"Yes."

“What do you want in return? I suspect this is part of your new deal?

“If you find this ship, I ask merely for a small portion of its treasure upon your eventual return.”

"What if I find this treasure and never return? You will have nothing."

Briana said honestly, "I trust that unlike most, you are a man of your word, and you honor your promises once you make them."

"'Tis a dangerous thing to trust a pirate, X."

"It is not the pirate I trust, but the gentleman within."

Briana watched him flinch before he became contemplative. Then he moved closer, studying her intently. Briana fought hard not to cower under his gaze.

"You're not afraid of anything, are you?" he asked.

"I cannot afford to be afraid. Fear gets me nowhere."

He nodded then smiled. "Very well. We have a deal. But I want the diary and maps within the week."

"You name the time and place, and I'll arrange it."

"Covent Gardens. There's a masquerade ball this week. Meet near the vendor stalls at midnight. I will send further instructions, but it will be my man, Cuttie, who will find you on the night."

"Then we have a deal."

They shook hands, and Briana hurriedly left.

VICTOR HAD SNUCK AROUND to a back window to get a glimpse inside. He was fuming now. What the hell was she doing there? No wonder she had a short pistol in her garter. This was one of the worst areas of London; the stench alone was bad enough.

As he witnessed the transaction unfold, he wondered what on earth the woman was up to and why she was meeting with a masked man at midnight. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He whipped his head about, sensing someone watching, but saw no one. Victor gripped his pistol just in case. He then focused back on the woman who intrigued him like no other—he needed to get to the bottom of who she was and why she ventured out alone where no woman with a reputation dared go.

Briana was not the little wallflower miss he had initially thought her. The woman was bold, he would give her that—it was an impressive trait. But by the same token, it would not stand. He could not allow her to continue whatever this subterfuge was. Victor knew without a doubt that come the end of the week, he would make sure she never placed herself in this level of danger again.

By four in the morning, he had followed her carriage back to her home and was relieved to see her and her men go inside, remain safe and sound, and stay put. As he made his way home, he began fuming because Briana Walsh was becoming an all- consuming obsession he could not shake. Worse still, he could not keep his worry for her at bay. He knew he would not rest until he found out everything about her nighttime forays. The more he stewed on it, the angrier he became. The Lancaster Ball could not come soon enough. Because when he saw her again, he was going to extract all her secrets—even if he had to tie her naked to his bed for a week.