Page 18 of The Duke and Lady Scandal (Princes of London #1)

Once Allie had found Grendel and Ben had come, she’d realized that they’d need to keep the shop shut for the day, if not for the remainder of the week. Though Mr. Gibson insisted on staying to help tidy the mess, Allie insisted just as vehemently that he head home after a couple of hours.

He looked exhausted, and she sensed that the strain was wearing on him too heavily.

Now, a few hours after his departure, she’d mostly put the back room to rights. But she hadn’t worked alone. After speaking to Mr. Fitzroy and returning to Scotland Yard, Ben came back to the shop only an hour later, insisting that he’d secured permission to take the remainder of the day off to assist her.

They’d swept and dusted and refilled drawers that had been dumped for no apparent reason, and now there were only a few items that hadn’t been put back where they belonged.

“I’m missing a fountain pen and a book,”

she told Ben, who’d set himself the task of hammering a nail into the broken side of a drawer.

“Maybe under the settee?”

Allie got down on her knees to look. “Clever man.”

She reached back and retrieved the pretty pen that had been a gift from her mother. “That just leaves the book.”

“Do you know which one?”

“I do. One of the pirate histories. It was on top of the pile that usually sits at the edge of my desk.”

That gave her an idea, and she got up and walked over to look under the desk. Then she checked whether it might have gotten wedged between the desk and the wall. “Why would thieves take a handful of gems and one book when they’d managed to break a safe full of loose stones and finished jewelry pieces?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll let Baker know about the missing book. And be sure to tell him of anything else you notice that’s amiss over the coming days.”

Ben wouldn’t meet her eyes. He kept his focus on the drawer, and then he approached to slide it into place in her desk. “That looks right, doesn’t it?”

“It’s looks as good as new. Thank you.”

Allie reached up to stroke her fingers along the line of his jaw.

He caught her hand before she could withdraw it and laid a heated kiss against her palm.

They’d been together for hours and barely touched each other, and Allie had longed to reach for him. To soak in the comfort of his embrace. Now she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his middle. She was immediately soothed by the strong, towering warmth of his body.

He wrapped her in a tender embrace and kissed the top of her head.

Allie closed her eyes. “I’m warning you. I could happily stay here for a good long while,”

she told him in a voice raspy with exhaustion.

Rather than chuckle, as she expected him to, she felt his body tense and looked up at him.

“Is something wrong?”

His answer was a kiss. Though it was a quick one, a mere tantalizing taste. Not at all the way he usually kissed her.

“How long will you keep the shop closed?”

His eyes had darkened to a stormy green. “The remainder of the week at least, I’m assuming.”

“Yes, I think that’s likely.”

Allie cast a glance toward the broken safe in Mr. Gibson’s workshop. “I believe the insurance agent will wish to see the safe and perhaps do his own examination before we can see to any repairs. Though I’m hoping to replace it with something better.”

“Hoping?”

“The cost of reimbursing Holcroft for the loss of his diamond will be . . .”

A flutter of panic seized her and the next breath she drew was a sharp inhale. “We’ll have to see what his valuation of the stone is. But it will be steep.”

He dipped his head, and she could hear the grinding sound as he clenched his teeth. She felt that tension in the muscles of his arms as he held her.

“Ben, please tell me what you’re thinking.”

“While the shop is closed, I’m assuming you’ll remain at home.”

He reached up to cradle her cheek in his palm. “I’m going to ask a constable to stand watch over Manchester Square.”

Allie pulled back, her hands on his shirtfront. “Why? A theft from the shop doesn’t mean I’m in any danger at home.”

“I have reason to believe the theft is connected to . . .”

He hesitated, weighing his next words as he kept his gaze locked on hers. “Other crimes. All of them engineered by the same man.”

“Engineered?”

“He keeps his hands clean. Stays in the shadows.”

Ben dipped his head and swallowed hard. “But he has a network of minions who he pays to do his bidding.”

Allie shivered. “You fear what he’ll do next?”

“Of course. Especially now that it’s touched you.”

He drew her a bit closer. “If anything happened to you . . .”

He stopped and shook his head. “I will not allow anything to happen to you, so please remain at home and know that a constable will always be keeping watch.”

She felt his determination, and she believed he’d go to any length to keep her safe.

“I’m not entirely defenseless, you know. I have a basic understanding of how to use every weapon we carry in the shop—pistols, swords, knives. Mama insisted.”

If they were going to handle antique weapons or display them for customers, she believed they should be familiar with their use. Papa had relished teaching Allie and her siblings while also delivering a history lesson about each piece.

“It won’t come to that, but promise me, Alexandra. You’ll stay at home for the next few days.”

Allie pushed gently at his chest before stepping out of his embrace. She began pacing. “I’m not sure I like the idea of being caged up at home.”

“Only for a few days.”

“You’ll catch him in that time?”

“I have to.”

His jaw was so tight now that she was shocked he could speak. The more he said, the more tension seemed to rise in him until he was like a coiled spring. She had the sense that he wished he could leave her now and begin the hunt.

Then realization dawned, and the pain of it nearly stole all the air in her lungs.

“I won’t see you while I’m to remain at home, will I?”

He shoved a hand through his hair and then faced her. His expression had become that same cool mask he’d worn the day they met. “It’s safest for you if we remain apart.”

Allie was momentarily dumbstruck. The day was turning out to be one of the worst of her life, and she still didn’t understand why.

“There’s a great deal you’re not saying. Perhaps you think you’re protecting me, but I won’t be left behind and left out of things anymore.”

She approached but kept her arms crossed.

If she reached for him, or if he touched her, she feared tears would come. She didn’t want to be clouded by emotion at this moment. She wanted to understand what he was wrestling with.

For a moment, his unyielding expression softened. He was no longer the formidable Inspector Drake. He was Ben, who she’d come to care for— No, it was more than that. Ben, who she’d come to love.

“Do you not understand that if I could take you away from the city, I would? Believe me, Alexandra, there’s nothing I want more. To take us both off to some seaside village. I dream about that.”

“Then let us go,”

she said impulsively. Though as soon as the words were out, trepidation and guilt rushed in. Leaving the shop at such a crucial time was not ideal. Yet she couldn’t imagine anything sweeter than a few days alone with Ben, just the two of them.

“I cannot,”

he told her with biting finality. “I will not. There’s a man somewhere in this city planning his next act of mayhem, and I must catch him.”

He was back to the man she’d met at Scotland Yard—fierce and grim-faced.

Allie hugged her arms around herself, feeling further from him than she had since that first day.

“He’s been toying with me for months.”

“Toying with you?”

“This is a game to him, Alexandra. One of his men said we’re like chess pieces to be moved about.”

His eyes had gone stark, his mouth tight. “And now he’s dared to cause you harm.”

“I still don’t understand. Why do you think the theft is connected?”

“Because the theft makes no sense and because he left a calling card of sorts. Scraps of paper with an initial that I believe indicates his name. Or perhaps his rank.”

He disheveled more hair, then reached up as if to tug at his necktie, apparently forgetting that he’d shed it an hour ago. “I’ve already said too much.”

In two steps, he was in front of her again. He touched her hesitantly, carefully, a hand against her arm. Not holding her but creating a point of contact that somehow instantly warmed her insides.

“Now do you understand why I must be single-minded in this? I’ve underestimated him, and I cannot do that again.”

He ducked his head to catch her gaze. “So will you promise me? I cannot be distracted. I need to know you’re safe.”

Allie drew in a long breath and sighed. “I’m to have lunch with Jo this week.”

“Can she not come to you?”

“Perhaps.”

She drew her lower lip between her teeth and considered all that she’d planned to do in the next few days.

“I must speak to the two customers whose gems were stolen. Lady Dalrymple and Lord Holcroft. He’s expecting his cut gems to be delivered on Monday.”

“Could you write to them?”

Allie arched a brow. “Their valuables were stolen while in our possession. They deserve more than a letter.”

“Can they both wait until next week?”

“I’m not sure they can.”

Holcroft was the most pressing case. She doubted word of the break-in would spread to him, but she wanted to alert him well before his expected delivery date. “I can speak to Mr. Gibson. Perhaps he can make a visit to both customers.”

It didn’t sit well with her. She was responsible for Princes, and losing customers’ property wasn’t a matter to be dealt with lightly.

Ben stroked his hand along her arm, attempting to soothe or perhaps persuade her.

“Let’s get you home,”

he said quietly.

Allie bit her lip and then dared to ask, “Will you stay with me tonight?”

He closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t, but I hope you know how much I wish I could.”

It was just what she’d been afraid he’d say.

“But you will see me home yourself?”

He glanced toward the front of Princes, and it struck her then that he hadn’t even planned to take her home. No doubt, a constable was outside already, waiting to begin his watch over her.

She could also tell that it cost him something—the thought of parting from her tonight. For days.

“I’ll see you home.”

He held out his hand.

When she laced her fingers through his, Allie couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be until she could touch him again.

The next morning, Ben summoned two of his most promising detective constables to his office. If he was going to catch M in the next few days—and every minute the man was free to wreak havoc seemed like too much—he needed to divide the investigatory load.

He emphasized the discretion needed for the case and also made clear to each man that late hours and extra diligence would be demanded of them. Each was ambitious and hardworking, and both had readily agreed.

With the two new cases he’d begun reassigned and reports collected from the detectives he’d had making inquiries that might help lead him to M, he sat down with Gates and Riley for the focused hunt he planned for the coming days.

On his office wall, he’d pinned facts he knew and also cordoned off a section for hypotheses about M that he’d not yet been able to prove, such as the suspicion that he may be a noble or military man with a grudge against the royals.

“Gates, get to the bottom of the Bedford Square address. Others have made inquiries that led nowhere. Track down the previous owner. A leasing agent. Someone had to have conducted the sale of the property at some point. Speak to neighbors in the square too.”

“I’ll see to it immediately, sir.”

“Riley, you’re going back over everything collected so far. With special attention to the pieces of paper.”

Ben glanced at the photograph of the newspaper clipping found at the jeweler’s. “I know it’s tedious, but it’s the details that matter most. Somewhere, there’s a thread that will lead us to him.”

The young detective didn’t seem a bit daunted by the pile of documents in front of him.

“One file seems to be missing, sir.”

Riley ran his finger down a page of notes he’d made. “The last case you worked?”

“I still need to clear it with Haverstock, but a good deal of what’s on the board emerged in that case.”

The chances of Haverstock allowing the two detective constables access to the details of the attempted blackmail of the prince of England were slim, but Ben intended to make a persuasive argument. Connecting the cases would make the whole picture clearer. The two young detectives only knew that they were seeking an unnamed mastermind known as M who was likely behind the attempt on the Crown Jewels and the break-in at Princes of London.

“And the list of Demming’s associates, sir?”

“Leave them to me,”

Ben told Riley.

Both young detectives exchanged a look.

“Do you really think any of them will name this puppet master pulling their strings, Duke?”

Gates asked.

Riley followed up. “They’ve protected him thus far. And they have the example of what happened to Amos Howe to dissuade them.”

“Demming is angry,”

Ben told them. “He may still be in M’s pocket, but he wants vengeance for his brother. A single detail dropped in a drunken rant could be the key we need.”

“Understood.”

Riley tapped a pencil on the table. “Maybe the best strategy is getting Demming drunk and talkative.”

“Agreed.”

Ben nodded. “Or one of his allies.”

Ben was on the verge of closing the meeting when a knock sounded at his office door. “Come in.”

Ransome stuck his head in, his eyes widening at the sight of the assembled detectives. “Haverstock wants to see you, Duke.”

Ben didn’t have to ask when he was expected. When Haverstock summoned you, an immediate response was required.

“On my way.”

Once Ransome withdrew, Ben confirmed with each detective that they knew their next steps. “I want a report at the end of each day on your progress. This case is confidential and urgent.”

Both men offered a nod of understanding, and Ben left them to proceed.

Two minutes later, he was outside Haverstock’s office and rapped twice before the chief bid him to enter.

Haverstock didn’t make him wait to be addressed this time.

He stood behind his desk, arms crossed, and stared Ben down. His white brows were drawn so tight, they formed a single bushy line, and the skin above his whiskers had taken on a ruddy hue.

The last time he’d seen Haverstock so unsettled had been in Wellingdon’s drawing room when Alexandra wouldn’t be cowed by him.

“Sir?”

“Brief me on your recent . . .”

He hissed the last word and seemed to take a moment to collect himself. “Activities.”

“I’ve assembled a small team to continue the investigation into M’s whereabouts and identity.”

“Those men have not been cleared to attend to Special Branch matters, and you know that.”

“I have not given them access to any delicate case files, but I’d like to.”

“I’m sure you would.”

Haverstock attempted a semblance of a smile. “If this case is too much for you—”

“It is not, sir.”

“But suddenly you’ve called in reinforcements.”

Haverstock tipped his chin up as if attempting to look down his nose at Ben. Of course, it failed entirely since the man was several inches shorter. “I hope this has nothing to do with a break-in at an antique shop in Mayfair and your dalliance with its proprietor.”

Ben held his breath a moment. It was the only way to stifle the urge to offer a scathing reply.

“The cases are connected,”

he finally bit out. “And it’s an escalation in—”

“An escalation because your mistress has been inconvenienced?”

“She’s not my mistress.”

Now Ben was the one hissing, and he was certain his own cheeks were flushed. His blood was boiling in his veins, and he wasn’t far from the compulsion to toss the man out his own window.

“Then you’ve proposed to the girl, have you? Does she know your history?”

Haverstock’s brows arched, one after the other, as if he was relishing these questions most of all. Questions that had nothing to do with his professional abilities and everything to do with what Haverstock thought was his trump card—his knowledge of Ben’s father.

“That, sir, is none of your business.”

“Ah.”

He uncrossed his arms and strode the two steps to his desk, lifting an envelope from the top. “Someone has decided to make it my business.”

Ben noted that there was no return address on the envelope and no address for Haverstock either, as if it had been hand delivered.

The envelope was flat, but the glee in Haverstock’s eyes told him whatever was inside was as toxic as an adder’s bite.

Ben reached inside and slid out two photographs, and bile rushed into his throat. He swallowed it back, fighting the scarlet at the edge of his vision. He willed his hand to hold the photographs steady.

They were grainy, one a bit blurred, but he remembered the moment they were taken.

He remembered every moment he’d spent with Alexandra.

One was of them standing on the pavement together in front of Princes. The day after they’d met. He hadn’t even kissed her yet, but he had already wanted to. The next was of them on his doorstep, in those early morning hours after a night of bliss in her arms.

He resisted lifting his gaze to Haverstock’s, not because he felt an ounce of the guilt or shame the old bastard clearly wished to stoke. But because he was an adversary now, and the worst part was that he likely always had been, and Ben had been too ignorant to see it.

“I cannot keep you on this case, Drake.”

Haverstock swung his hand toward the images in Ben’s hand. “You’ve been compromised.”

“No.”

Officially, Haverstock’s decisions trumped Ben’s, but he would pursue this case unofficially if he had to.

“Unless you’ve ended matters with Miss Prince, you are compromised and in a position of authority on a case in which you have a personal interest.”

Ben bit down so hard, the coppery taste of his own blood filled his mouth.

“Have you put the lady aside or not?”

“I have.”

Haverstock had no right to any detail regarding his relationship with Alexandra, but Ben would tell the wily old bastard what he wished to hear.

“And yet you spent hours at her shop yesterday rather than attending to your duties here.”

“There was a break-in—”

“And Detective Constable Baker was on hand to see to that.”

“As I said . . .”

Ben did finally lift his gaze and looked at the chief directly. If he had any currency to use with the man, if there was a shred of allegiance left between them, he meant to leverage every speck of it. “The cases are connected, and I won’t be removed.”

Haverstock rocked back on his heels, almost looking amused by Ben’s vehemence. Usually, that preceded a moment when he intended to revel in his own power.

“You may continue on the case if—”

Haverstock lifted a finger and somehow stretched an inch taller. “If you set aside Miss Prince and give your entire focus to it.”

Set aside Miss Prince. It’s what his own logic had dictated as soon as he saw that scrap of paper with the letter M on it in her safe. M intended to strike fear in him, and judging by the photographs, he wanted him off the case.

But logic was no longer his lodestar.

Somehow, Alexandra had excavated his heart, and his love for her had made it louder than whatever logic he’d leaned on before.

He no longer had any illusions about Haverstock, and so the man deserved no access to his innermost thoughts. He would play by his rules. For now.

“It’s already done.”

“It had better be. If you fail and those photographs are exposed, what shall I say to the superintendent?”

“I won’t fail.”

He couldn’t. Not because of any bloody promotion, but because of Alexandra. M had dared to bring harm to her shop, and if Ben thought too long about other ways the madman could harm her, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate long enough to do his job.

“See that you don’t.”