Masquerading The Marquess(14)

The puzzle was solved. Stephen finally had answers, but it was too late. He coiled his remaining strength.

The tall man gestured to a burly ruffian wielding a club. "Leonard, y0u know what to do."

Stephen waited for the thugs to make a swath large enough for the man called Leonard to advance, and then he launched himself over the railing.

"Bloody hell!" he heard from the street above before he plunged into the cold, dark waters of the Thames. His last thought before all went black was a prayer that Calliope had left the townhouse, and that James had received his hastily scrawled message.



Calliope began to worry. It was growing late, and Stephen hadn’t arrived or sent a note. Normally, he was annoyingly punctual, so when he hadn’t arrived at nine she had to wave off a feeling of unease. When he hadn’t shown by ten she began pacing. When he hadn’t arrived by eleven she was ready to go searching.

The mantel clock struck midnight.

Anxiously, she peered through the front window but could see nothing amiss. The street looked empty. The nearly moonless night made it difficult to see. A prickling on the back of her neck made her close the drapes. If she weren’t feeling so skittish already, she would have sworn she was being watched.



Things hadn’t gone as planned, the man reflected as he watched the pretty face disappear from the window. His employer hadn’t been pleased with the outcome. Who would have thought Chalmers would be crazy enough to jump?

The man shrugged. Let the others search for Chalmers in the filthy waters. He alone would find the ring and be rewarded.

A hard, cold-eyed smile crossed his harsh features.

He would find it right after he found out if the lady knew its location. He hoped she did. The spirit he had glimpsed in her would serve him well. Dragging the information out of her slowly would be quite pleasurable.

They didn’t call him Curdle for nothing.



Calliope walked to her wardrobe, intent on packing her overnight things and heading to the Dalys’. She sensed something was wrong, could almost taste it in the air. She had a number of things out and ready to pack when she heard another squeak. The creak in the front door hadn’t been fixed yet, and she was suddenly glad. Her glance flew around the room and settled on the beautiful gold and mahogany cane she always kept nearby. She grasped it and padded softly to the bedroom door, her stomach clenched tightly. She heard footsteps ascending the stairs. She wiped her cold brow.

A door opened down the hallway and closed half a minute later. Another door was opened and closed. Her door was next.

Calliope raised the heavy rod above her head as the door to her room slowly opened. A man’s boot was thrust into the doorway, and the rest of his body followed.

She pulled the cane down with all the strength she could muster, but the rod was easily caught in his hand. She pulled the cane back to jab the intruder in the side, but he yanked her forward.

Calliope found herself hauled unceremoniously against the hard chest of the Marquess of Angelford. He looked down at her, expressionless. Her mouth hung open, she panted slightly. His eyes turned molten and suddenly she was brilliantly aware of every place where his body pressed against her. He continued to melt her with his eyes and for a wild moment she thought he might kiss her. Instead he roughly picked her up and dumped her on the bed.

Her voice came out a little more shrill than usual. "What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to frighten me to death?"

"The next time you want to do harm, might I suggest you employ the second technique first? Sidestepping an unseen jab is more difficult than catching a falling object."

Her heart started to beat at regular intervals again and her initial relief gave way to anger. "And might I suggest that simply calling out a greeting or knocking at the door, which is the proper way to enter one’s house, might save us both the trouble?" She caught her breath and puckered her brow. "Why are you here in the first place?"

He ignored her question and looked around her room. "Going somewhere?"

She resisted the urge to bean him with the cane, not that she would succeed in inflicting any damage to his stone head. "That is none of your business. I repeat, why are you here?"

"Where is Stephen?"

She threw out her hands. "I don’t know. He’s not here."

Angelford remained silent, but his narrowed eyes continued to scan the room. Her emotions were so riled she couldn’t quite separate all the feelings, but she recognized irritation. She jerked the coverlet on the bed. "Not here." She stomped over to the closet and yanked it open. Sarcasm dripped from her voice. "Not here either. "

He walked over to a chair and sat. She couldn’t credit his gall but decided humoring him a bit might speed up his late, uninvited visit.

"Would you like some tea, my lord? Crumpets, cakes, sandwiches?"

She thought she might have seen the beginnings of a smile, but it was a fleeting impression.

"I need to find Stephen as quickly as possible. Your help would be greatly appreciated." His voice was soft but direct, a voice used to being obeyed.

Calliope was suddenly weary. "My lord, Stephen was supposed to arrive here at nine but hasn’t shown. l don’t know where he is, and quite frankly I’m worried."

James surveyed the room. "Why are you packing?"

Calliope couldn’t explain the irrational drive to leave the house as soon as possible. "It seemed a good idea."

James strode to the window and looked out at the street. "Have you had any other visitors tonight?"

.

"No, you are the only unwanted guest this evening."

This time she was sure she caught a brief glimpse of a smile.

"Where is your staff?"

"I gave them the evening off. "

He frowned. "Then I will leave my man with you. Don’t be so foolish again."

He strode from the room, forcing her to run to catch him. "Excuse me? I didn’t ask for your assistance or advice. So you can take 'your man' with you."

He ignored her, and she felt like a small dog nipping at the heels of a mastiff. They reached the front hall. A giant of a man with a scar running down the left side of his face stood at the entrance.

"Finn, stay with-" He looked back at her."-Miss Esmerelda tonight."

She sputtered as he walked out the door.

Calliope looked at the burly man who strongly resembled a tree trunk. "I don’t suppose I can convince you to leave?"

Finn’s only response was a raised brow.

The weight she had carried since nine o’clock lifted from her shoulders. Damn Angelford. She shook her head. "Well, might as well get you settled. Would you like something to eat?"



Curdle swore.

He had just managed to melt back into the shadows when the carriage arrived. A fancy and a bruiser had gone inside. Only the fancy had come out. He decided to leave the bruiser unchallenged for the lady and the ring. Patience was not his strong suit, but he would not be able to secure help tonight.

There would be another time.

Soon.



James poured two fingers of scotch and settled into his favorite leather chair. He frowned and took a drink. He had been vaguely uneasy all night, sensing something was wrong. He had been at the club half-heartedly taking money from the other card players when Stephen’s cryptic note appeared. James’s senses had gone on alert.

James had quit the table and headed straight for Stephen’s townhouse. The butler had reported that Stephen had left at noon and had not returned. James then headed to Stephen’s second townhouse, the one currently inhabited by that exasperating girl. The frantic look on her features had inflamed his own alarm.

James examined Stephen’s note. Unlike his usual small, neat script, the handwriting was large and appeared hastily scrawled:

Come to the house. Matter of utmost urgency.

It was common for Stephen to disappear into the night; as one of England ’s best spies he was often called to action. But never like this. Not after leaving a note calling to meet. James was worried. The two of them had fought back-to-back day after day as new recruits in the Peninsular Campaign, saved one another on several occasions and developed a sixth sense when something wasn’t quite right with the other. Although the last few years had seen them in separate assignments, the sense had never faltered.

Where did the girl fit into this mess? An image of her with her hands on her hips, staring at him defiantly in naught but her shift flashed in his mind. His body responded and he ruthlessly pushed the image aside.

She had shown up with Stephen right after he returned from his last mission. James knew she had haunted the ton as a lady’s companion, but why? What secrets did she possess? What did she know?

And where in hell was Stephen?

He hadn’t talked to Stephen as much as usual in the past few weeks because of the girl. He was alternately trying to avoid and nettle her and it was hard to do either when Stephen was around. It was a damn inconvenient time to need information from him.

The girl appeared as concerned and agitated as he. She was a hell of an actress if she was directly involved. His instincts told him her distress was real.

James had left Finn with her as much for her protection as to make sure she didn’t escape.

Tomorrow he would have answers.





Chapter 5




Calliope woke at daybreak. Gray light sifted around the drapery panels, casting ghostly patterns on the floor and walls. She pulled the heavy damask fabric aside, and peered across the manicured lawn and into the street. The neighborhood was silent. No birds chirped. The street seemed ominously empty.