Lady gambit, p.8
Lady Gambit, page 8
“You’re hiding something from me.” Miss Chance’s intelligent eyes narrowed. “How did they die? What were their names? Why was I not sent to the workhouse?”
Aaron shuffled in the seat. “I don’t know.”
The lady downed a mouthful of brandy, almost choking as the fire scorched her throat. “I can forgive you for trying to protect me. But your reasons make no sense. How did I hurt my head? How do you know my parents are dead if you don’t know their names?”
Tense seconds passed.
“Why won’t you trust me?” she pressed.
Aaron gritted his teeth. “If one word of what I’m about to say is repeated outside this room, I’ll kill the man responsible.” He pointed to Daventry and Dorian in turn. “Before I reveal the details, I want your solemn vow, your promise to protect her. No matter the cost.”
Dorian glanced at Miss Chance, wondering what was so awful her brother would demand their fealty. “You have my word. I shall protect Miss Chance as if she were my own sister.” He would do an excellent job of convincing himself he should treat her as kin. Yet every time he looked at her mouth, his blood rushed to his loins.
Daventry gave his oath.
After a visible wrestle with his conscience, Aaron confessed to knowing how the lady had found herself in the rookeries. “When your parents died, a woman took you in. She fed you, clothed you, kept a roof over your head. You were with her for almost a year before you stumbled upon me.”
Hope sprang to life in her eyes. “Someone kind like Mrs Maloney?”
“Someone so cruel and selfish she would make Satan look like a saint.” The malice in his voice sent a chill down Dorian’s spine. “She hacked off your hair, dressed you in breeches and put you to work with her boys, determined you would earn your keep.”
Daventry inhaled sharply. “Her boys? Where was this?”
“Seven Dials.”
“Tell me she didn’t work in Mrs Haggert’s hen house.”
Dorian braced himself, praying Aaron Chance would correct the misconception. Most of the boys who worked for Mrs Haggert found themselves dangling from the hangman’s noose.
“Who is Mrs Haggert?” Miss Chance said.
“She’s a notorious criminal who uses children to line her pockets.” Dorian had encountered her during his time at Bow Street. Despite being an ageing woman of sixty now, she commanded an army of louts keen to do her bidding. “Her charitable work and the children’s fear of speaking out means she remains a free woman.”
Aaron Chance looked pained when he said, “The dress you wore when we met was probably stolen. It’s likely you were involved in criminal activity when you received the blow to your head.”
Miss Chance shook her head vigorously. “No! I would have remembered committing a crime. You must be mistaken. I can be terribly clumsy. I would have made a useless thief.”
Dorian listened intently.
All the rules and secrets made sense now.
They explained why Miss Chance was encouraged to remain at home. Why her brothers had not helped her to find her parents. It was a testament to the men’s dangerous reputations that their sister had not encountered trouble before.
“Mrs Haggert would not let you take one of her chicks without a fight.” Dorian had heard that Mrs Haggert would kill a boy if he threatened to leave. No one escaped the coop. Not when they were party to her wicked deeds.
Aaron clutched his hand to his chest. “I almost died fighting for Delphine. But I won the wager. Mrs Haggert agreed to let Delphine go as long as I agreed never to seek vengeance. Our blood pact has remained binding ever since.”
Miss Chance buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
It took every effort for Dorian to remain in his seat.
Aaron crossed the room and knelt before his sister. “Please understand why I didn’t tell you. The risks were too great.”
She rubbed her eyes and sniffed. “I do understand. And I don’t care where I came from. I care that you almost died to save me. I’ll never forget that dreadful night. We all thought we’d lost you.”
Dorian was forced to watch another outpouring of love. Despite a silent wrangle with his thoughts, he envisaged Miss Chance holding his hand, not her brother’s. She was stroking his cheek, telling him nothing would ever come between them, that they would always have each other.
Bloody hell!
He shot daggers at Lucius Daventry.
Damn the man to Hades.
He would have taken any case but this one. He would have repaid the debt tenfold to avoid the rush of unwanted emotions.
Then Daventry drove the metaphorical blade a little deeper between Dorian’s ribs. “If I might offer my expert advice.” He waited until he had everyone’s attention before making a shocking suggestion. “Aaron, you should establish if a peer was brave enough to arrange the abduction. I will visit Mrs Haggert with Flynn. We need to know if she is involved. Hopefully, she will tell us where she found Delphine.”
In the stunned silence, Dorian considered the plan.
The first task in finding a missing person was to trace their last steps. The second was to question anyone in the known vicinity at the time of their disappearance. For the right fee, Mrs Haggert might provide answers to many important questions.
“Agreed,” he said, knowing they should plan for every eventuality before venturing into the hen house. “We’ll need a bargaining tool. Something to appease Mrs Haggert.”
Mischief twinkled in Daventry’s eye. “I know just the thing. Meet me in Hart Street at noon tomorrow, and we’ll travel to St Giles together.”
Aaron Chance stood slowly. “I’m taking my sister home to Fortune’s Den. She’ll have no part in your scheme.”
“You cannot protect her while trying to solve the case,” Daventry urged. “I would trust Flynn with my life. No harm shall come to her while in his care. Who wouldn’t want their sister left in the hands of such a capable man?”
“Let me remain here with Theo.” Miss Chance spoke as if it were a simple solution, not a damnable inconvenience. “With his help, I can make a sketch of the man who shot him. I can help with the case while tending my brother.”
Dorian might have argued against such folly but they were going round in circles. The sooner he solved the case, the sooner he would be rid of them all.
“I shall have my coachman Gibbs act as her personal guard,” Daventry said by way of an incentive. Upon hearing a light knock on the door, and Miss Darrow’s faint call, he frowned. “Who else is here?”
Dorian explained before inviting the lady to enter. He made the introductions. “Miss Darrow has spent the last hour making a healing broth. She is quite the nurse.” A blind man could see the modiste held some affection for the patient.
Miss Darrow smiled. “Forgive me for snooping, but I was passing and heard raised voices. I should like to offer my services. I shall tend to Mr Chance and act as Delphine’s companion.”
“What about your clients?” The last thing Dorian needed was another guest at his dining table. On a positive note, it meant he would have no cause to be alone with Delphine Chance.
The modiste paled. “I won’t feel safe until the thugs are in custody.”
It made sense, but he suspected the lady was not being entirely honest. “Perhaps you fear they came for you,” he said, testing a theory. “They didn’t mention Miss Chance by name.”
The lady shrugged. “What would they want with a simple modiste?”
Somehow, he suspected the lady knew.
Determined to have his way, Aaron Chance said, “I’ll agree, but only if Gibbs and Mrs Maloney remain here with my sister. The woman is like a mother to me. I trust her implicitly. She took us into her home when we were mere street urchins and is firm of mind and opinion.”
“This isn’t Mivart’s Hotel,” Dorian countered.
“Those are my terms.”
He might have dug his heels in and refused the King of Clubs’ request, but Miss Chance looked at him through large brown eyes, her soothing voice like a siren’s song as she said, “I pray you agree, Mr Flynn. I know you were coerced into taking this case, but I cannot help feeling this is fated.”
He should have disputed the claim. Put paid to any notions of a mysterious force at play. But he could feel the hands of destiny guiding him on this treacherous journey. And though he longed for peace and solitude, an inner voice told him to hunker down and prepare for one hell of a storm.
Chapter Seven
Mr Flynn had dined alone in his study last night. He’d taken his breakfast a little after dawn before riding to Walworth to collect a tincture from Dr Skinner. He strode briskly through the corridors this morning, barely stopping to exchange pleasantries. While Delphine couldn’t help but admire how splendid he looked in his dark blue coat, he stared at the gilt-framed paintings and wall sconces, too preoccupied to hold her gaze.
Was he avoiding her?
One might think so.
He had sent a note saying he was leaving to meet Mr Daventry in Hart Street. That he would return with Mrs Maloney and Gibbs but had other affairs to attend to this evening.
Perhaps Mr Flynn was used to dealing with timid women.
Perhaps he had forgotten she’d been raised by Aaron Chance.
The gentleman had one foot inside the carriage when he noticed her sitting demurely in the seat. “Miss Chance?” He froze, his shock evident.
“Good morning, Mr Flynn.” Had she been wearing gloves, she would have tugged them firmly to show she would not be intimidated. But Mrs James was attempting to remove the bloodstains, and Aaron had failed to bring a clean change of clothes, believing she was returning to Fortune’s Den. “I wasn’t sure what time we were leaving and thought it best to wait in the carriage.”
He inhaled deeply but said nothing.
“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t dare make a house call without gloves and a bonnet.” She had lost her hat in the scuffle with the blackguards outside Miss Darrow’s shop and hoped someone in need had found it. “Though I don’t suppose Mrs Haggert cares about etiquette.”
“Mrs Haggert? What the devil? If you think I’m taking you to the hen house, you’re sorely mistaken.” The determination in his voice said he was not a man to cross. “You should remain at Mile End and tend to your brother, as we agreed.”
“Theo is sleeping, and Miss Darrow barely leaves his bedside.”
“You have the library at your disposal.” He stepped down onto the gravel and gestured for her to alight. “There’s paper and ink in the desk drawer if you’d like to see to your correspondence.”
A hollow chuckle escaped her. “Who should I write to, Mr Flynn? Besides Miss Darrow, you’re my only friend.”
“You’re my client,” he corrected, though his tone lacked conviction.
She bit back a smile. “Do you make a habit of kissing your clients?”
Perhaps he was worried his coachman might hear their intimate conversation, because he climbed into the conveyance and slammed the door shut. The vehicle rocked on its axis as he dropped into the leather seat. “I’m not in the habit of kissing anyone.”
Oh!
How strange that he should find her lips irresistible.
“Yes, I took you for a man in control of his appetites.” So why had he been unable to tear his hot mouth from hers? “As you never kiss your friends or your clients, it makes our encounter yesterday a little confusing.”
He removed his hat and dragged his hand through his dark hair. “Forgive me. I cannot explain the desperation that came over me, but there is no excuse for my—”
“Display of unbridled lust?”
His gaze fell to her buttoned pelisse. “For my ungentlemanly manner.”
“Is that why you’re avoiding me?”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“You let me dine alone last night.”
“I needed time to think.”
“You cannot think when we’re together?” Her mind and body did odd things in his presence. Her heart skipped beats. Blood pumped wildly through her veins. Erotic daydreams pushed logical thoughts aside.
“My unforgivable actions yesterday would suggest so.” A knot formed between his brows. “I pride myself on being nothing like my father. It came as quite a blow to discover I have inherited his disregard for propriety.”
She could sense his internal struggle. The disgust he felt for surrendering to his desires. He had probably spent the night whipping himself with a birch as punishment for succumbing to a whim.
“You’re mistaken. You had every regard for propriety.” The need to soothe him overcame the need to prove a point. “You were honest and gave me fair warning. But one cannot fight fate. And if we’re being pedantic, I kissed you first, Mr Flynn.”
“I was a breath away from kissing you, madam.”
Her pulse skittered. If only she had been patient. “Trouble yourself no longer. It’s not the first time I’ve been kissed. I pray it won’t be the last.” Surely that snippet of information would settle his war with his conscience.
Strangely, it roused his temper.
“You rarely leave Fortune’s Den. Who dared to take advantage?”
He sounded desperate to know.
“Aaron permitted me to visit Bath with Mrs Maloney. It’s the only time I’ve been allowed to leave London. A dear friend of hers was sick.”
She had not cared that they’d gone to nurse an ailing woman, to clean and prepare food and run errands. The rare moment of freedom had nourished her soul like the warmth of a summer sun.
“During a walk in the garden, the lady’s nephew lost his wits and kissed me on the lips.” It had left her aghast, her hands trembling, her stomach churning. She’d been repulsed and hadn’t devoured him the way she had Mr Flynn. “I informed Mrs Maloney, and she had a discreet word with him.” Though she had probably whacked him with her walking stick.
“Ah, now I know why your brother insisted Mrs Maloney act as chaperone. I understand you lived above her bookshop when you were children.”
Her heart softened as she recalled the loving bond they shared.
“Mrs Maloney has never married and has no family. She’s been like a mother to us all.” She was always there with caring words and sound advice, a pillar of strength when their faith crumbled.
A darkness passed over Mr Flynn’s rugged features. “I assume you mean she is kind and loving. Not all mothers are so inclined.”
Those brusque words held a hint to his own troubled past.
Indeed, the icy chill of loneliness clung to the air.
“I have no recollection of the woman who nursed me, sir, but I assume instinct encourages a mother to love her child.”
A heavy silence fell over them.
Keen to lighten the mood, she said, “I mention it merely for comparison, but kissing Mr Harper was like being assaulted by a wet fish. It was nothing like the kiss we shared.”
It hadn’t fired her blood. It hadn’t left her with an undeniable ache. It hadn’t stolen precious hours of sleep or had her yearning to feel the heat of his mouth again. The memory of kissing Mr Flynn stirred something sinful inside her. A desire to cast off her restraints and indulge in every wicked pleasure.
Perhaps he was plagued by the same salacious thoughts because he said, “I’ve not felt tempted to kiss a woman in years. Work has been my only focus.” He glanced out of the window at the manor’s elegant facade, the reward for his efforts, and gave a satisfied sigh. “Securing my independence has always been a priority.”
“It’s a beautiful house.” Despite the plush furnishings and an abundance of exquisite paintings, the rooms felt empty and cold. Mrs Maloney’s home was littered with paper and books, but love lived within the pages.
“It’s mine. That’s all that matters.” His proud tone reminded her of Aaron’s speech when he’d saved the money to purchase Fortune’s Den.
It told her everything she needed to know.
Like Aaron, Mr Flynn hid behind a robust persona, a barricade to keep people out. He thought happiness lay in acquiring possessions. That love was fickle, and security soothed the soul.
“The kiss we shared was quite exceptional.” So exceptional it had fed her obsession and left her wanting more. “But in the interests of the case, let us credit your lapse in judgement on the strain of saving a man’s life.”
“That seems the most probable cause,” he agreed, though the flash of hunger in his eyes said otherwise.
“You were merely seeking comfort after a harrowing few hours.” She straightened her skirts and smiled. “Good. Now we’ve established I am merely your client, I instruct you to take me to Hart Street. I want to discuss the case with Mr Daventry.”
That knocked the wind out of his sails.
He stiffened. “You’re no longer my client but a witness in an attempted murder case. As Daventry said, this is no longer a personal matter but one of public safety. Therefore, I must insist you remain here.”
She had sat nibbling toast this morning, anticipating his response. “Mr Daventry did not hire you, nor did he pay your fee. He merely persuaded you to take my case. Sybil Daventry paid you to find my parents. In that regard, nothing has changed. I am your client. If you decide to conduct an investigation for Bow Street, that is a separate matter.”
She arched a brow, challenging him to argue.
He did not.
“You’re a man of honour, Mr Flynn, a man of your word. Will you renege on an agreement made in good faith? Will you ignore the wishes of my benefactor?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. He seemed impressed and annoyed in equal measure. “Your brother put paid to any enquiries I might make on your behalf.”
“My brother is not your client. But I will have the same conversation with Mr Daventry.” She tapped the roof twice. The flick of the reins and the coachman’s gruff command preceded the carriage rolling forward. “Forgive me, but we mustn’t be late for our appointment. As Mr Daventry is overseeing the investigation, he can instruct you to ignore his wife’s request.”
