Page 3 of Love, the Duke (Say I Do #3)

C HAPTER 3

MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF

SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK

Determine if something has been stolen.

Was she fooling him? Hurst straightened fully, drawing in a deep breath, and refocusing on her face. “I don’t understand, Miss Stowe. It’s been at least two months. Hasn’t the new vicar already taken inventory?”

She continued her indomitable focus directly on his face. “If I could continue?”

He didn’t know what to do other than nod and wait to hear the rest of the story.

“The first new vicar arrived one day and took to his sickbed the next. After a couple of weeks, his illness worsened, and he decided to return to his former home. He never managed to do a proper accounting of the livings. When a different vicar arrived, he was most peculiar.”

Hurst rubbed the tension settling in the back of his neck. “What do you mean?”

“He is either a hypochondriac or superstitious. I don’t know which, but something.”

“A vicar?” That sounded incredible, but she looked as serious as a winter storm.

“An anxiety or perhaps melancholy of some disorder has him believing something is causing the vicars to get sick. First my brother, then Vicar Samuelson. Truth to tell, there was the absurdly short tenure of a Vicar Haroldsmiths that very few people are even aware of and now Vicar Morgan, who spends most of his time at a nearby inn refusing to move into the rectory yet, insisting it be cleansed, aired, and cleansed again. Consequently, he hasn’t inventoried the livings either. Now the parish is growing unhappier with him by the day and there’s talk of seeking yet another vicar. I must find the chalice before anyone knows it’s gone.”

Hurst scoffed again and held up his hands as if in surrender. “Miss Stowe. I still don’t see how I can help.”

“That’s because you won’t allow me to finish.”

“Then do it quickly and without so many vicars.”

She inhaled an audible breath. “I questioned the servants, and from one of the maids gleaned evidence that led me to believe the chalice was indeed stolen and brought to London. Now, with the mourning passed, I can finally begin my search to recover the chalice and save Winston from being wrongly accused of being a thief.”

He met her declaration with cynicism. “Is that all?”

The staunch set of her shapely lips told him she wasn’t happy with his answer. She trained those beautiful, bright eyes on him as if affronted because he’d said something wrong.

Her chin lifted again, and her features suddenly seemed filled with all the fortitude of a snow-covered mountain. The seriousness of her expression intrigued him once more. Damnation. It was unsettling that she fascinated him to the point he was now wondering how she would look with her face washed clean and dressed as a lady.

What was he to do with her? “Regardless,” he said. “What do you think I can do about it?”

“Help me find the thief. When we do, we’ll find the chalice. The maid who saw him didn’t get a good look as he donned his hat but thought he had a weak nose and chin.”

Hurst felt his eyebrows pinch and rise, but somehow, he managed to hold his retort.

“I’m sure the thief was a titled man,” she hurried on. “Possibly a duke or maybe an earl because of the crest on the carriage door.”

“What?” This was madness. “You probably think I stole the blasted thing.”

Her lashes rose and she glanced at his bookshelves with rising interest while saying, “I’m not discounting anyone. Perhaps you should remove your jacket and let’s have a look at you.”

“There is nothing weak about me, chin or otherwise,” Hurst grumbled at her cheeky comment. “You know I wasn’t at the church because I never went to see Winston.”

“Yes. True. You didn’t.”

She had the impertinence to peruse his bookshelves again. Her pluckiness had no boundaries.

With his gaze fastened tightly on hers, he candidly remarked, “A duke has no need for a church chalice, Miss Stowe.”

“It’s more than an ordinary sacrament piece and seldom used for that reason,” she explained. “There are collectors who hunt for such precious items. This one was saved from Cromwell’s theft and destruction of churches and monasteries. It’s priceless for its historical value alone.”

“Churches have been known to claim to have something that was saved from the Crusades or Cromwell’s wretched raids.” Hurst shook his head. She seemed sincere, but did she truly not know that there were claims not just in England but all over the world that small pieces of wood, tiny swatches of cloth, and even toe bones were said to be relics from biblical and other historical times? Not every claim could be legitimate.

“It’s probably not true,” he suggested. “There weren’t many items saved.”

“You are wrong, sir,” she said indignantly. “Chatham’s chalice has been well documented through the years by bishops, kings, and probably dukes as well.”

Resisting the urge to stay quiet, he answered, “I would venture to say that most owners of religious artifacts say that.”

“A sacred church relic isn’t something a clergyman would have lied about then or now.”

Hurst started to say more but decided there was no use arguing that point further. Her mind was set on the history of the chalice. Exasperation had him gritting his teeth as he asked, “Whatever the case may be, do you think me a seer who can find lost things?”

“Of course not,” she huffed unevenly. “But you are the only titled man I know.”

“You don’t know me.”

Her expression softened and for a moment Hurst felt he might have wounded her in some way.

“I feel as though I do,” she answered, taking a step back from him. “Winston always talked about you as if you were his best friend or brother he never had. He told me of the many days he spent roaming the woods and riding horses throughout the hillsides with you before your aunt took you away. He talked of them so often they must have been the happiest of his life. I know he loved you.”

Once again Hurst felt the piercing burden of guilt. “That was a long time ago, Miss Stowe.”

“But Winston never had any close friends. Perhaps that’s why he always talked about you.”

He and Winston had enjoyed a good friendship, but they grew up and went their separate ways. Hurst’s life moved on when he went away to school and made different friends. Their lives took different directions.

“According to what the maid said,” Miss Stowe continued, seeming satisfied he wasn’t going further into the past, “there is a titled man in London who has a shelf in his book room where he keeps artifacts. I am hoping you will agree to search the book rooms of peers for me and—”

“Wait. Wait just a—blasted minute,” he grumbled, unable to restrain his grievance about her suggestion. She was unbelievable. “What nonsense are you spouting? You want me to go searching for this revered chalice in the homes of peers? I’ve never heard such an ill-conceived contemplation.”

“Perhaps it is outrageous,” she maintained earnestly.

“It is beyond outrageous,” he answered sternly. “It’s wrong.”

She seemed to reconsider before replying, “I’m not seeing it that way.”

“There is no other way to see it,” he insisted. “Besides, you don’t know how to go about looking for a thief. Neither do I, and I don’t believe you realize the number of clandestine maneuvers it would take to accomplish what you want to do.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Her eyes flashed with sparkles of conflict even though she seemed to be in complete control. “My brother saw to it I was well-read and studied in all subjects of learning just as he had been.”

She hesitated, then gave him the most impish smile he had ever seen. His stomach did a slow roll that tightened his lower body.

“I have read a book on how to catch a thief,” she announced proudly.

Hurst didn’t think he could be more surprised had the young lady who was dressed as a man pulled a pipe from her pocket, put it to her enticing lips, and started puffing. But he was. Surely, he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“A book?” He could only stare at her for a moment. “You’ve read a book?”

“Man’s Practical Guide to Apprehending a Thief.”

A chuckle whispered from his throat. “Right. It says ‘man’ and you are a lady. And you think that will help you find a thief? Throw that thing away before you get yourself in trouble.”

“I will not. I paid good money for it and it’s been useful.”

“How?”

“Well,” she hedged. “I’m not quite sure yet because I haven’t started trying to catch the thief.”

“You don’t have a chance in Hades, Miss Stowe.”

She seemed to be trying to burn him with her eyes she stared at him so hard. “I will clear Winston’s name with or without you. Your help will make it easier. And quicker. I don’t have much time given the vicar situation, but the clock is ticking.”

Surprisingly, she looked sane and sounded sincere. She was strong, defiant, and blessed with a beauty that couldn’t be hidden by her disguise. There was no doubt she was passionate about this, but it was unachievable in his estimation. Hurst gave another short snort of laughter.

“How do you plan to do that with no assistance from me, Miss Stowe? Do you plan to use some secretive measures you learned from a book or the extreme tactic you used tonight to sneak into every titled man’s home in Mayfair?”

A flicker of unease flashed across her eyes. She glanced away from him and stared into the lowering fire for a moment again before saying, “I’m not sure of it all yet. Because my brother considered you such a fine man and dear friend, I have been hoping for your assistance. No matter. I will find a way. Time is short, but I am determined to succeed.”

Her shining eyes were steady. She was serious. She actually thought she could find this thief in a place as big as London.

This idea was foolish, but Hurst found himself asking, “Why not just hire a runner from Bow Street to find this chalice for you?”

“You sound as if you think I have unlimited funds to do with as I please as you do, sir. The trustee for my inheritance and Maman’s holds on to every penny as if it were our last. He wouldn’t even release enough money for me to buy Debrett’s Peerage and Baronetage of English peerages. He said it was too expensive and, as a lady, not something I needed. I couldn’t tell him why I wanted it. If I could get my hands on that book, I could look at the crests for the coat of arms and possibly narrow my search to the one that was on the thief’s carriage door. Besides, how could a runner get into such homes of earls, dukes, and viscounts?”

“Probably easier than you, Miss Stowe.” He purposefully mumbled the words with a breath of frustration, knowing he could have handled this better if he weren’t so attracted to her.

“But not you?” she responded pointedly. “With your title, you can be invited into their homes and into their book rooms. While you were there, no one would think it odd for you to look over the bookshelves to see if there was one filled with artifacts, and maybe a chalice.”

“And then what would I do, Miss Stowe?” he asked, his voice growing louder at what he considered absurd reasoning. “If I saw the chalice you are referring to, would I just grab it and run like a thief myself? I don’t think you know what you are asking.”

A wave of surprised innocence flashed in her eyes. “Did you raise your voice to me?”

“What?” Did he? “No. A little. Maybe. What you want me to do is preposterous.”

“Is that any reason to show anger in your tone?”

“Anger? No. Frustration.” He shifted his stance as regret gathered in his chest. He didn’t want to scare her. For some insane reason he was drawn to her and wanted to protect her from this ridiculous idea. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes I might raise my voice a little when I’m irritated with unreasonable people.”

“My brother never elevated his voice to me no matter the subject we were discussing or how angry he was with me.”

“I’m not your brother, Miss Stowe,” he said quietly. “My upbringing was different from Winston’s. Every time my father came home from being out all night and I discovered he had gambled away all his allowance again, I was upset. Time and again we were left with nothing to eat in the house but old bread and cheese and in danger of having no place to lay our heads until payment of his allowance came around again. So yes, sometimes we raised our voices to each other, and I need no reprimand from you about it.”

“Oh, I see,” she said softly, seeming reluctant to meet his eyes, but clearly understanding why he argued differently. “Yes, I suppose all families are different.”

Hurst struggled, suppressing the need to say more about her outlandish idea, and wishing like hell he hadn’t revealed so much as a nugget of his past to her. That wasn’t something he usually revealed to anyone no matter how angry he got, and why he had to her he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t something she needed to know. He didn’t talk about his father to anyone, and he had no idea why he had blurted anything about his unsavory past.

He shoved thoughts of the days with his father out of his mind and concentrated on the lady in front of him.

“There’s no one else I can go to, except—”

She looked deeply into his eyes and Hurst felt as if he heard the breath swoosh out of her lungs. He felt a strong pull toward her once again. The passion inside her was almost palpable. She spoke with such fervor and courage that he wanted to help her but couldn’t possibly consider what she asked. To make matters worse, he hadn’t been able to shake his attraction to her.

Miss Stowe hesitated and Hurst could tell that a sudden thought had come to her. That she studied over it so carefully worried him. “Except what?” he asked, pushing down the sense that he wasn’t going to like whatever it was that just entered her mind.

“I suppose I could try other peers. It’s possible one of them might be more agreeable than you even if they didn’t know Winston.”

Her brows furrowed slightly as if she were truly considering that idea. Her mettle was extraordinary.

“That would be useless,” he answered tersely. “If I thought you might seriously consider contacting someone else about this madcap scheme of yours, especially in the same manner in which you came to me, I would alert your trustee to put a stop to this madness.”

“How dare you be so unkind.”

“For your protection against such a scheme I would do it. I owe it to your brother.”

“You owed it to him to come see him,” she responded quickly.

“But I didn’t,” he snapped back.

Her hands jerked to her waist, flaring the coat away from her body and emphasizing the gentle roundness of her hips. “Just because you don’t want to help me is no reason others of the peerage can’t judge my circumstances for themselves. I came to you because I thought you might have a soft spot in your heart and want to help your old friend.”

Hurst had enough of her placing guilt on him. Deserved or not. He advanced on her. “What I will do for you, Miss Stowe, is agree not to tell your maman, guardian, trustee, or anyone else about this impromptu meeting, your reason for it, or how you presented yourself as a man. I suggest you don’t tell anyone about it either.”

She remained quiet, but her gaze held fast to his. That worried him. “Who else knows about your quest?”

“No one. I pinned all hope on you and your long-held friendship with Winston. You are the only one I’ve trusted with my plan to search book rooms. You don’t seem to comprehend the urgency of how short my time is to find this vessel before the livings are inventoried.”

Hurst felt her words deep in his chest. He was the only one she trusted. A good way to stir a man’s need to protect and defend the weaker sex was to hear her say she trusted him. Was that the truth or had she said that on purpose to appeal to his masculine instincts?

He searched her face for false feelings and found none. Why, he had no idea, but the truth of it was he wanted to help her. But he couldn’t let that sway him or encourage her on this wild and unattainable quest of hers. It was nothing short of madness.

That truth didn’t keep all his earlier impatience from melting away at the disappointment he could see she felt. Hurst swallowed down the surging impulse to relent and agree to aid her in some way. What the devil could he do? Buying her Debrett’s book, hiring a couple of runners from Bow Street to investigate the theft, or anything else he could think of seemed no better plan than the flimsy one she had devised in that beautiful head of hers. All of them would be almost impossible for anyone to accomplish with success. It would be best for him not to encourage her in any way concerning this impractical scheme.

“Wanting to help your brother is admirable, but ill-fated for multiple reasons,” he said with all honesty. “When you are ready to accept this, I will pay for the loss of the chalice and ask that Winston be absolved from any involvement in the theft. That is all I can do for you.”

A flicker of despair passed over her features. “The sacrament is too valuable to be replaced so easily, Your Grace, even without its history. It is hammered gold with small rubies surrounding the middle. In monetary terms the silk bag to store it in might be worth more than the chalice. It’s embroidered in stunning South Sea pearls and the drawstrings are made of spun gold and silver. It’s not only that, I don’t want the memory of my brother’s name to be ruined or even touched with scandal for all time. I also can’t bear the thought the relic will be hidden away in some greedy old man’s book room, its history forgotten about, and all it will do is gather dust and silverfish to nibble on the bag.”

Hurst had never heard an impassioned voice so soft or seen eyes so beautifully saddened. Her plight went straight to his heart, making him feel like the worst kind of rake for casting her feelings aside.

She inhaled deeply and seemed to accept defeat admirably well, but then as she turned away, he caught sight of her expression as it shifted, and he, as sure as he knew his own name, realized that she had no intention of letting this go.

Exasperated, he turned and pulled the bell cord for Gilbert. When he turned back, she was gone.