Page 5 of The Duke Who Stole Me (Stolen by the Duke #4)

Chapter Five

“ T here you are, my friend.”

Vincent groaned, rolling his eyes as Elias Larson, the Marquess of Somerton, approached him with a wave of his hand.

Vincent had gone looking for liquor in the dead of the night to soothe his troubled mind and ended up in a tavern filled with dozens of people who smelled like ale and cigars. Though he could not quite pinpoint exactly what troubled him.

More so, he did not want to think of it, because he knew that behind the many issues he had, he would find a certain brown-eyed lady staring up at him as though he were a raging beast.

And perhaps he was—though that information seemed to be lost on Somerton, who still referred to him as his ‘friend’ despite all of his attempts to keep him at bay.

Countless times, Vincent had more or less warned Somerton, reminding him with harsher words that they were simply acquaintances who, by chance, found themselves working as spies for the Crown—which was how they’d met four years ago, when Vincent was twenty-seven and Somerton was twenty-six.

Certainly, some missions had ended with Vincent saving Somerton from the sharp claws of death, but that was expected of him as a spy anyway. Despite how much he hated being around people, his missions required teamwork and a certain responsibility to his work partner.

Still, Somerton had mistaken that for friendship.

But it was not friendship. At least Vincent did not think so.

He grabbed his glass of brandy, sending the hot liquid down his throat instead of dignifying Somerton with a reaction.

Somerton seemed undeterred by his response—or lack thereof. Instead, he pulled the chair next to him and sat down, raising his hand to catch the attention of a passing barman.

After ordering a bottle of brandy, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wooden table.

Vincent raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“I hear the constables have arrested a criminal gang—the Crimson League—for the attack at Ridgewell House,” Somerton announced.

Vincent scoffed, leaning back in his chair as a cloud of cigar smoke drifted over his head. “That is quite convenient,” he drawled.

The criminals hadn’t been any of his concern because all he’d cared for was fishing out information about Norfield. But he wouldn’t say he didn’t know about the attack before its occurrence. If anything, he had made sure to infiltrate the mansion right when the commotion happened, using the criminals as leverage to get what he wanted—which was how he’d always carried out his duties.

He seldom involved himself in the happenings of London, unless it was a threat to the Crown and the British Intelligence.

“What is even more convenient is Norfield’s disappearance from his country estate,” Somerton said with a laugh.

Vincent’s ears perked up at the news.

“A few people have said that he is away visiting his relatives in France—wishing to let things blow over before he returns.”

Vincent scoffed as he poured himself another glass of brandy. He swirled the amber liquid before downing it, a dark chuckle bubbling underneath.

“I wager Norfield is still in London, hiding in plain sight. He is not as stupid as I thought. He knows it is far too dangerous for him to leave London at this time, as he’s being followed.”

“But his attackers have been caught,” Somerton reminded him.

Vincent nodded. “I am aware, but you do not think for even a second that the Crimson Society?—”

“League,” Somerton corrected.

“—are the only ones looking for him. At least he doesn’t.”

Somerton nodded, draining his glass of brandy.

“I suspect he has also broken off his engagement to Lady Juliana,” Vincent added.

The bitterness in his voice shocked him, but he ignored it as quickly as it came. Thankfully, Somerton nodded his head, distracting him.

“It was reported to me that Lord Ridgewell was seen leaving the Ridgewell dower house in a distressed state earlier today. No other cause for such a reaction if it’s not the end of the engagement he himself had orchestrated.”

At that moment, Lady Juliana’s face flashed through Vincent’s mind. The fear and panic on her face when he’d warned her about Norfield and what he’d most likely do.

She’d been confident back then, thinking that Norfield cared about her enough not to discard her so easily.

Vincent wouldn’t admit it, but he had hoped—for whatever reason—that the Earl would surprise him by not fleeing and bringing scandal upon the Ridgewell family. But who was he deceiving? Norfield would never have done otherwise, even if he was compensated with lands and gold.

“Cowardly bastard,” Vincent spat as he grabbed the bottle to pour himself another glass.

However, the bottle turned up empty, only dispensing a little of the amber liquid into his glass.

“I agree.” Somerton nodded, raising his hand to call the attention of a waiter.

“The least he could’ve done was separate himself from her before the engagement ball,” Vincent continued.

Somerton paused, narrowing his eyes at him. “You seem particularly frustrated about Lady Juliana’s predicament,” he noted in a patronizing tone.

“I am not. It is an overall frustrating situation.”

Vincent spoke in a manner that suggested he could not be bothered about the Ridgewells, but Somerton wouldn’t let it slide.

“Oh, of course. I didn’t want to assume it had nothing to do with Lady Juliana’s most unusual visit to your residence the other night.”

Vincent stilled for a moment, watching the marquess with narrowed eyes. “You’re spying on me?” he asked, his annoyance flaring.

Somerton chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t I be a fool not to? It’s not as though you do not have men watching my every move, Your Grace.”

Vincent seethed, raking his fingers through his hair.

Somerton was right. It was not uncommon for spies to spy on each other because there were often moles among them. Spying on one’s partner wasn’t frowned upon, but Vincent was rather shocked that Somerton had worked up the nerve to do it.

“Fair enough,” he muttered, grabbing Somerton’s bottle and pouring a measure into his glass. “Though I do not appreciate the violation of my privacy.”

Somerton laughed, then shrugged. Then, as though recalling something, he leaned forward again.

“Do you think Lady Juliana knows anything about Norfield?” he asked.

Vincent considered the question. He’d been under the impression that Lady Juliana knew about her betrothed’s antics. He’d attended the ball that night mainly to extract answers from her, and even though he’d left that night without the answers he had been seeking, he had his doubts.

At first, he had thought she was a wonderful liar. Until she showed up at his house later that night, unchaperoned.

No other lady would be quite so bold as her.

He had been shocked beyond words to see her at his residence. At first, he had thought his eyes were deceiving him. Perhaps he’d imagined her face on the body of someone else because he’d thought of her more often than he cared to admit. But she had been there in the flesh, her brown eyes boring into his.

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought.

“She knows nothing.”

Somerton leaned back and closed his eyes, rubbing his hand over his face as he let out a sigh. “Our search must go on,” he groaned.

Vincent said nothing. Instead, he downed what was left of the brandy in his glass.

“I believe there is only one way we can cover more ground and get as much information on Norfield as possible,” Somerton added, sitting upright. “But you will not like it.”

Vincent furrowed his brow at that.

“We must attend more events before the Season ends,” Somerton stated.

Vincent shook his head firmly.

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Somerton asked.

Vincent remained quiet. He didn’t.

The last time he’d thought of a perfect plan to infiltrate a noble’s residence, he’d ended up not finding anything useful.

“It is settled, then. Coincidentally, Lord Hawthorne is throwing a garden party in celebration of his wife’s birthday in two days. You were also invited if I remember correctly.”

“Do you also search my mail?” Vincent asked with a roll of his eyes.

“I hardly need to.” Somerton laughed. “You are the Duke of Blackmoor.”

“All right then. We shall meet there in two days.”

Somerton nodded. But then a wide grin spread across his face, and Vincent knew that whatever the man was about to say, he wouldn’t like it.

“Perhaps this garden party will be an opportunity for you to meet with Lady Juliana again,” Somerton said, his eyes twinkling. “She will also be in attendance, in case you weren’t aware.”

Vincent’s lip curled. “Whatever is that supposed to mean?”

“Merely that it will help our investigation, of course,” Somerton replied sweetly, which ratcheted up Vincent’s annoyance.

“I have nothing more to gain from Lady Juliana, Lord Somerton,” Vincent gritted out. “Therefore, it would do you a lot of good to lay that matter to rest.”

The Marquess chuckled. “Whatever you say, Your Grace.”

It took every ounce of patience within Vincent’s body not to punch the childish grin off Somerton’s face.

Still, a part of him was looking forward to encountering those lively brown eyes one more time.

“Julie!”

Juliana whipped her head in the direction of that voice, and a smile instantly spread across her face when she spotted her good friend, Portia.

“Oh, Julie!” Portia closed the distance between them, taking Juliana’s hands in her own.

It was a fine afternoon at the renowned Hawthorne Garden. The sun shone beautifully through the ribbons and bows hanging from every angle of the tents that Lord Hawthorne’s staff had put up. Guests were milling about, smiling from ear to ear.

Juliana had arrived at Hawthorne House with her mother and her uncle as her chaperones. They had arrived a little later than necessary because her mother had been hesitant about attending the party.

“I can’t help but feel like the whole of London knows about it. It is best we stay at home today and attend an actual ball,” her mother had pressed.

“It was you who was worried about Juliana’s reputation just days ago, My Lady. I am afraid we cannot stay at home today. We must attend the party!”

For the first time ever, Juliana had agreed with her uncle. There was no reason for her to stay at home and not attend the party. So, with a little coaxing on her part, her mother eventually agreed.

“I haven’t seen you since that night!” Portia said as she gave Juliana’s hands a little squeeze. She pulled Juliana to the refreshments table, since no one was there.

“It was a horrible night. I was so worried when we got separated,” Juliana cried, and Portia nodded. “Worse things have happened since then.”

“What do you mean, Julie?” Portia asked, concern evident in her hazel eyes.

Juliana scanned their surroundings, making sure they were truly alone before she spoke.

“Lord Norfield broke off our engagement,” she whispered. The last thing she needed was to be overheard.

Portia’s mouth fell open. “How come?” she sputtered, seeming to have found her voice.

Juliana took a deep breath, and when she released it, she did so with the story of how it had happened, making sure to leave out all the details concerning a certain tall duke with a dark beard and blue eyes.

“Damn that man to the seven gates of hell!” Portia hissed.

Juliana flushed instantly at her friend’s use of vile words in public.

“Where in France has he gone? I shall find him and deal with him as I ought to have done since you told me about your engagement,” Portia seethed, her round face crunched up in a cute frown that could be deceiving if one didn’t know that she had a hot temper.

“My uncle suggested we hide it until I have found myself a new match. I fear that might be more challenging than traveling to France to find Geoffrey,” Juliana whispered.

Portia nodded. “You should have written to me, my dear Julie. Perhaps we would have found a way to stop him from traveling until after the marriage.”

For some reason, the thought of being married to Geoffrey appalled Juliana.

“How could he, a man with a face only a mother could love, throw you under a carriage like this?”

“He is history now, Portia. The more urgent matter is finding a match before Uncle Francis does.”

Portia nodded her head and plastered a comforting smile on her face as she declared, “I have no other choice but to help you find a better match. It is all I have preached since your engagement to Lord Norfield, but it is also not lost on me that you might’ve felt hurt by the sudden turn of events.”

Juliana nodded, feeling grateful for her friend.

“Lord Norfield is hardly worth it. For his sake, I hope he does not return to London ever again. Because the moment I see him, I shall break his nose so that he looks more beastly than he already does. No woman will agree to marry him henceforth.”

Juliana burst into soft giggles, and she pressed the back of her hand to her lips to muffle the sound as Portia’s expression turned somber.

“This must be why I heard some whispers about Lord Norfield when I arrived with my mama.” Portia pursed her lips.

Juliana froze.

Already? There were whispers about Geoffrey already? She could not believe her ears.

As if she could read Juliana’s thoughts, Portia took her hands again. “Do not worry. I doubt anyone knows about it, and they won’t!”

Juliana nodded her head, letting herself believe her friend.

The duke had been right about everything concerning Geoffrey except for one thing. He’d said that she would lose nothing because of her broken engagement.

Unfortunately, he was wrong, because as she rejoined the party with Portia, she heard a female voice say from her right, “I don’t suppose Lord Norfield fled London because he did not wish to marry Lady Juliana. It seems unlikely, but nothing explains his sudden disappearance.”

Juliana swallowed.

“I hear he found himself in deep waters. I am amazed by Lady Juliana’s gall to show her face in Society after what’s happened,” she heard another lady whisper.

“Maybe he has not traveled to France. Maybe he was arrested by the authorities. Lord knows the heinous crime they are trying to cover up with these tales,” a third lady chimed in.

“All will be well,” Juliana mumbled to herself.

No one would find out about her broken engagement. She would find a new match soon to save her family from the claws of the ton.

No matter what happened, she had to make sure all was well.