Page 21 of The Duke and Lady Scandal (Princes of London #1)

Allie strode through the front door of Princes and smiled at the bell’s familiar chime.

For a moment, she simply stood and soaked it all in. The scent of old wood and aged book binding. Beeswax-polished shelves. The dark, enticing aroma of coffee.

As she ventured further into the shop, she danced her fingers over furniture pieces and fabrics. Velvet upholstery, intricate tapestries, the delicate edge of a silk fan.

The shop felt more like home than the expensive townhouse her father had purchased a few years before his death. Or even the upstairs rooms, most of which had been converted to storage space and Dom’s bachelor domain.

She felt useful at Princes. The most useful. Running the shop had fallen to her by default, but it gave her a purpose, even if it would never be as impressive to anyone as Dom’s and Eve’s accomplishments.

“Well, hello. I hoped it was you.”

Mr. Gibson emerged from the back room wearing a smile. “This place hasn’t been the same without you, Miss Prince.”

Allie was pleased to see him too. “I’ve missed you, Mr. Gibson.”

“And I you, Miss Prince.”

He ducked his head as if embarrassed by their mutual exuberance. “I have something to show you.”

When he scurried into the back room, she felt her first niggle of apprehension, but he soon emerged again with a small stack of papers.

He approached and spread them out on the main counter, and she could see that they were advertisements for various safes and vaults.

“I thought you’d want to have a look at these. Your decision will, of course, be the final say, but I think these two seem quite promising.”

He pointed to the two on top. “They’re the most updated devices. And the manufacturer of this one even claims that they guarantee their safes to be theft-proof.”

Allie perused the advertisements, noting the various claims and guarantees. She glanced at Mr. Gibson. “I wonder how many of these guarantees are legally binding.”

He chuckled softly. “As do I. Advertisers are bold nowadays.”

“They are indeed.”

She agreed with him about the two that he liked the best, and she was already leaning toward the one that seemed a bit more spacious than their current safe. They needed the extra space and had for some time. “This one, I think.”

Mr. Gibson smiled. “We’re in accord, and I will see to ordering it straightaway if you approve.”

“I do. We must have it in order to reopen.”

She dug in her bag before he could depart. “I noticed in the photographs the police took that there are bits of what appears to be a clock advertisement.”

She handed him the photograph. “Is this from a magazine of yours?”

He scanned the image with a quizzical frown. “No, not at all.”

“The bits of paper. You’d never seen them?”

“No.”

He tipped his head as he assessed her. “What do you think they mean?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Well, as I told the young detective, those pieces were not in the safe the night before. A true mystery.”

“One that I suppose Inspector . . .”

She couldn’t bring herself to say his name. She was being ridiculous, but it caught in her throat.

Mr. Gibson seemed to sense her hesitation and finished the thought for her. “Inspector Drake will suss it all out, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure he will,”

she agreed. Then a thought struck. She went behind the counter and pulled out the top drawer.

Lord Holcroft’s calling card was hard to miss with its bright crimson-red paper. She lifted it out and tucked it into her coat pocket.

“My goal today is to go and speak to Lord Holcroft about his lost stone. We need to know his valuation and then we can determine how to recompense him.”

“I take it Inspector Drake expressed no hope of recovering the gems?”

“I don’t think we can rely on that.”

Allie had rarely heard of stolen jewels being recovered. They were simply too easy to recut or place in new settings and resell. “We can hope, of course. And I’ll say as much to Lord Holcroft, but it will be a matter of whether he’s willing to wait for the resolution of the case.”

Mr. Gibson looked pensive. “If I’d lost a gem so valuable, I’m not sure I would be willing to.”

He chafed his hands as if ready to set himself a task. “Right, then if you’re going to Holcroft, I should visit Lady Dalrymple. Divide and conquer, so to speak.”

Allie smiled. “Yes, though in this case, it’s divide and smooth over. Which I’m not always good at.”

“You’ll do well, Miss Prince. I have every faith in you.”

“I truly appreciate that you do.”

Allie hadn’t yet taken off her coat, so she slid her gloves on and prepared to depart.

“Oh, just so you know, Constable Collier has been assigned to accompany me, so you may notice him lurking outside at times. At least until the case has been resolved.”

Mr. Gibson craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the young man who stood on the pavement outside.

“And Lady Josephine will stop by after she’s finished Christmas shopping. If I haven’t returned, will you ask her to wait?”

“Of course, miss. Good luck with Lord Holcroft.”

Trepidation about the meeting had already begun to steal a bit of her pleasure at being back at Princes.

“Thank you. I suspect I’ll need it.”

Demming was proving as wily as a fox. Every time Ben thought he had a solid lead on where to find the man, he went to ground and disappeared.

So Ben focused on the other avenues of investigation. Via a partial watermark, the stationery in the Princes safe had been linked to a stationer not far from the shop itself. Ben had a constable go there to retrieve a list of all those who’d purchased the particular bond and shade of paper in the last year. It had arrived in his office an hour ago, and it contained five M names.

He considered calling on each of them until Riley rushed into his office.

“Sir, I’ve found what you’ve been looking for.”

Ben knew he didn’t mean M himself, but he flicked his hand to bid the young man to come forward and explain himself.

He immediately pulled a folded document from his pocket.

“The previous constable was onto the wrong house agent. This is the right one. He says the Bedford Square property isn’t let. It was sold three years ago, along with two other properties on the same square to the same man.”

“One man bought three London townhouses all in one go? What’s his name?”

Ben stuck out his hand, impatient to see the document.

Riley handed the crumpled sheet over, and Ben realized it was just the young man’s rather haphazardly written notes. He didn’t like straight lines, apparently, and words streaked across the page at various angles.

“What’s the man’s name, Riley?”

“As you see there, sir. Lord Thomas Holcroft.”

Ben dug in his pocket for a key, twisted it in the lock of his desk drawer, and pulled out his revolver from the dark recesses where he kept it unloaded and secured. He scooped up a box of bullets and shoved both in his pocket.

“Go. Take three constables, or as many as you can get. Surround the houses on Bedford Square, but don’t approach.”

He shot the young man a hard look. “Do you hear me? Don’t approach until you hear my signal.”

“Yes, sir.”

Riley stood ready, anxious.

“Now, Riley.”

Ben nearly overtook the young man as they both strode quickly from his office.

Ten minutes later, Ben had hailed a cab headed for Princes, his heart in his throat. He bridled his imagination and pulled the reins tight.

Monday. She’d said Holcroft expected his diamond on Monday.

Now he only hoped she’d gone to the shop today. He had to stop her.

If that bastard laid a finger on her—

“Faster!”

he shouted up when the cab slowed, snagged by midday traffic.

The vehicle was small, and the cabbie was an expert at maneuvering London’s clogged thoroughfares. He pulled alongside a growler and then shot past it. Only a moment later, they tilted wildly around a corner and were in the throngs near Bond Street.

When the cab slowed, Ben considered jumping out and sprinting on foot the rest of the way.

Miraculously, the cabbie found a path through and turned them onto Moulton Street. Ben tossed up twice the fare and darted through the front door of Princes.

Lady Josephine startled in the chair where she’d been reading, dropping her book onto her lap.

“Goodness, Inspector. You gave me quite a fright.”

“Forgive me. Where’s Alexandra?”

“She’s on an errand.”

She glanced at the row of antique clocks. “I’m expecting her at any moment.”

“She’s gone to see Lord Holcroft about his diamond, Inspector.”

Mr. Gibson emerged from the back of the shop, his brows peaked high in concern. “Is anything amiss, Inspector?”

“Yes, Gibson, it is.”

Ben strode forward. “Do you know the address she went to?”

Gibson gestured toward the front counter. “He’d left his card, but she may have taken it. Grosvenor Square. Number eight, I believe.”

Ben rushed back out into the street, eating up the pavement as he sought a cab.

One edged toward the curb to collect him, and he shouted up the address.

Nausea threatened as they made their way out of the busy shopping district, up Brook Street, toward one of London’s most fashionable squares. The distance was no more than a leisurely walk, and every time the carriage slowed, he wished he had headed out on foot.

When he spotted her, he banged the wall of the carriage to stop and jumped out. She walked along the pavement, safe and unharmed.

“Alexandra.”

She turned immediately, shock, a bit of tenderness, and then irritation flickering over her face in succession.

“What do you want, Inspector?”

He was next to her in a heartbeat, and he forced himself not to reach for her.

“I need you to listen to me.”

She lifted a brow in reply. “I’m here to take care of a business matter. What is it?”

Suddenly, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t get his tongue to form words. She had not yet gone to number eight, and his heart flip-flopped in his chest at that excellent realization, but he needed a strategy, and quickly.

“I’ll accompany you.”

“What? Why? This has nothing to do with you, Inspector.”

She darted a gaze toward the green in the center of the square. “And I already have a shadow.”

Constable Collier sat on a wrought iron bench, giving Ben a quizzical look.

“You know how to use a revolver, yes?”

He reached into his pocket, considering whether to urge her to take it into the meeting with Holcroft.

“I . . .”

She huffed in frustration. “I have held one, fired one. A long time ago. Why?”

“Do you have a roomy pocket in that skirt?”

“I don’t. Why? I wouldn’t want a revolver even if I had enormous pockets.”

Ben moved closer, and she took a single step back.

“The man you’ve come to meet isn’t Holcroft. Or at least, he’s not the kindly aristocrat you think he is.”

“How do you know?”

“Too much to explain. But he either works for M or . . .”

The other possibility made his hand tremble against the revolver in his pocket. “Or he is M.”

Her mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. Then she set her jaw, and he could see the gears of her mind churning.

“If we go in together, there will be no subtlety to it, and he might do something drastic.”

She glanced down the row of townhouses. “Let me go in and draw him out.”

“No.”

He wanted her with him or away from this square entirely.

She sighed wearily. “It’s like with Grendel. I had to lure her with a bit of cream. I’ll see if I can draw him out of the house. Let me try.”

She licked her lips as if assessing the risk. “You and Collier will be close if anything goes awry.”

“If I see you step into that house, I’m coming in after you.”

“Good,”

she said in a breathy whisper. “If he’s what you say he is, I don’t relish being alone with that man.”

Ben took up a spot behind a tree, approaching as if he were merely a gentleman on a midday stroll.

Collier watched him from several feet away.

Ben scanned the area and gestured for the constable to proceed up the street, out of view of the front windows of number eight.

Allie shot one glance back at him before stepping up and lifting the door knocker.

Minutes ticked by, then she tried again.

An elderly lady in a mobcap opened to her a moment later.

“Hello, miss.”

“Hello, I’m here to see Lord Holcroft.”

“Who?”

The gray-haired lady sounded genuinely confused.

“Lord Thomas Holcroft. I have his card.”

Allie dug in her pocket and looked down at a crimson rectangle much like the one she’d brought to Ben. She stared down at the card in surprise, then rubbed her fingers together. “Does he not reside here?”

she asked the woman.

“I’ve never heard that name in my life, and I’ve served the Denbys some fifteen years.”

Ben heard a man’s voice echo behind the woman but couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Oh, Lord Denby. This young lady is seeking a Lord Holcroft and believes he lives here.”

The man strode forward, and the housekeeper receded.

“Is this some cruel joke?”

He stuck his head out and scanned the square. “Who sent you?”

“Forgive me, Lord Denby. No joke is intended. I was given a card with this address on it by a man I believed to be Lord Holcroft.”

“Well, he’s never lived here, and he does not live anymore at all.”

Allie glanced back toward Ben. “I beg your pardon, my lord. You knew him?”

“Barely. He was a child. A friend of my son’s. They both died. A boating accident.”

Allie dipped her head before looking up at the man again. “I’m very sorry, Lord Denby, and I hope you’ll forgive the misunderstanding.”

The man harrumphed and unceremoniously shut the door in her face.

Allie turned, descended the steps, and stood on the pavement looking bereft. Ben strode out of the park and drew her away from the Denby townhouse.

“What’s going on?”

she asked him. She didn’t seem angry or even truly confused. She looked sad, and he yearned to comfort her.

“We’re still in the game, Alexandra, and I don’t know all the answers. But I do know where to look next.”

He dared to reach for her hand and was glad she let him. “Go back to Princes with Collier. I need to know you’re safe. It feels as if I’m close. This could be over tonight.”

“I want to go with you.”

“Out of the question.”

She planted a hand on her hip. “If this is a chess game, then he’s made me one of the players too. Sent a man into my shop, or perhaps disguised himself. All to trick me. To draw me here. He expected a delivery today. He knew I’d go to this address.”

Raising her hands in exasperation, she demanded, “What is his plan?”

“I do not know. All the more reason that I want your involvement to end now.”

“I could be a lure.”

Ben laughed because she confounded him. Drove him mad.

“You use cream to catch a cat. Cheese to draw a mouse.”

She was warming to her argument and her eyes began to sparkle. “And sometimes in chess, you dangle your queen to draw the opponent out.”

“I’m not dangling you anywhere.”

“Because I’m a woman.”

Ben took her arms into his hands. His self-control was frayed by exhaustion and the effects of whiskey, and she would not hear him.

“Because I love you, Alexandra. And I cannot see any harm done to you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and he pulled her into his arms. She tucked her cheek against his chest, and he didn’t even care that the feather on her fancy little hat tickled his chin.

He didn’t care about anything but keeping her safe.

“I love you too,”

she murmured. Then she tipped her head up. “That’s why I’m coming with you.”

He’d lost his mind. It was really the only explanation. He’d lost his heart to her and now he’d lost his mind, as well.

As the carriage wheeled toward Bedford Square, she sat beside him, bristling with energy. Eagerness.

God help him.

He knew he was a fool for allowing this. Derelict in his duty too. Christ, he’d left the man he had personally selected to guard her behind and ordered Collier to make his own way to Bedford Square since a hansom couldn’t contain all of them.

The only thing tethering him was the feel of her hand against his knee.

“There will be constables there already, though I’ve directed them to hold back. None of them will have approached the houses yet. Though I trust that they’ve surveilled them and determined exits.”

Ben groaned at the memory of his last visit to Bedford Square. “He’s fooled me with this gambit once before. I went in the back of the house while he was escaping out the front.”

“You agree to my plan?”

“Frankly, love, I hate your plan.”

He wanted her away from all this madness. “But it may work,”

he conceded.

Turning to her, he reached up and cupped her cheek. “But if it does not work, you are to depart with one of the constables. Understood?”

She pressed her lips together, then nibbled her lower one.

“Alexandra. Do not ignore me this time. We try it your way, and then we try it mine.”

He reached up with his other hand, cradling her head. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

It was the first time she’d ever agreed to do as he asked of her, and he hoped she intended to keep her word.

“Try that house first.”

Ben pointed to the vacant one he’d searched last month. Back when he’d thought it was M’s only house in the square.

As directed, the carriage made a trip around the square and then stopped near the house in question.

Alexandra alighted and strode straight up to the front door.

Ben watched from the shadows of the carriage. While she tried knocking, he scanned the square and spotted a few of his constables. One walked the green at a leisurely pace. Another was tucked into a passage near M’s side-by-side houses.

To his shock, someone opened the door to Alexandra.

Ben didn’t recognize the man, but judging by the way he was dressed, he suspected it was one of Demming’s men.

“Must ’ave the wrong ’ouse,”

the man grumbled.

His accent confirmed Ben’s suspicions.

Alexandra turned and headed back out onto the pavement. She was careful not to look his way or to take note of any of the plainclothes men positioned around the square.

She strode toward the green and Ben expected her to approach and speak to him, but she veered off the other way instead.

He gritted his teeth.

An old man stood, cane in hand, waiting while his fluffy white dog sniffed at the grass.

“Excuse me, sir,”

Alexandra called to him. “I’m looking for Lord Holcroft’s home and seem to have been given the wrong address.”

The old man cupped a hand around his ear. “Beg pardon, lady?”

Alexandra stepped closer. Ben considered how long it would take him to sprint to where the two of them stood. Everyone seemed like a threat to him now. Even decrepit old men.

“Holcroft,”

she repeated.

The old man mumbled something that Ben couldn’t hear, then lifted his cane to point at one of the houses he knew to be owned, at least on paper, by Lord Holcroft.

Alexandra nodded and then turned to make her way toward the townhouse on the other side of the square. She climbed two steps and knocked using a golden knocker in the center of the house’s red door.

Ben began a walk around the square, intending to position himself closer. He shot a look at one of his men and gestured with his chin toward the house in question. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another of his men head around into the mews behind the house.

A tall oak would provide perfect cover and keep him in good aiming distance. He made his way toward the tree and heard a door open.

Alexandra stood talking to someone, but on this side of the street with thick tree cover, he couldn’t make out the person in the shadows.

He darted toward the trunk of the tree, and once he was concealed, he cast a glance around it to see if she’d succeeded in drawing someone out the front door, as had been their plan.

Panic clawed its way up his throat.

The red door had shut, and Alexandra was nowhere to be seen.