Daring the Duke (15 page)

Stephen was moving swiftly and purposefully toward them. He shoved a man out of his way. Fury painted his features.

Travers gave a mocking little bow, but anger seethed from him. "This is your fault. Stay away from him or your sister will suffer the consequences." He slipped into the garden hedges.

"Where is he? Is he in the garden?" Stephen made to move past her, and Audrey had to put a restraining hand on his forearm. His eyes connected with hers, and she felt a rush. He really was acting like her rescuer.

She snatched her hand back, scorched. "He’s gone. It was nothing."

"Nothing, eh?" His eyes scanned the bushes before returning to hers. His voice was edged with steel. "What is Henry Travers to you?"

She wanted to say
A monster, a jailer and a cruel-hearted bastard
, but instead said, "A garden pest, nothing more."

"You have a past with him."

"No. We are only recently acquainted. But to cut him would be rude."

Stephen’s eyes narrowed. "Since when have you cared about being rude?"

Audrey shrugged, still feeling tense. "Wearing a gown makes me feel nicer."

He stepped back and looked her up and down. "Me too."

"Wearing a gown makes you feel nicer?"

"Only if you are in it too."

She fanned her suddenly warm cheeks. There was nothing to be done about Travers at the moment. Her secrets were unraveling at an alarming rate. "Would you care to go inside?"

Stephen scanned the dark foliage one last time, then offered his arm.

The action had become a bit rowdier inside. The attendees were feeling the effects of the free-flowing spirits. A knight lurched toward Audrey as one armored kneecap tangled in the other. Stephen plucked her out of the way, and the knight went crashing to the parquet floor.

The knight grabbed the hem of her dress and awkwardly pulled himself to his knees. Audrey tried to snatch the material from his hands, but the man swayed and lifted the hem from the floor, attempting to peer beneath. A startled gasp escaped her as she whacked him on his uncovered head. He thumped to the floor.

Stephen chuckled and pulled her through the crowd. The onlookers lost interest in the drama and left the knight prone on the floor.

Stephen was still laughing when they reached the front door. "You looked so outraged. And at a debauched party, no less."

"He was trying to peer up my dress!"

"I’m sure he will have sweet dreams of it."

His eyes were still warm as they glanced over her in that familiar way.

She suddenly felt emboldened.

Audrey lightly tapped him on the arm. "Sweet dreams, you think?"

Surprise shone briefly in his eyes before he moved closer. "Definitely."

"How can you be sure when the theory hasn’t been tested?" Dear Lord.

She was flirting with him. The rush of emotions over the past hour must have muddled her mind.

He considered her. He started to respond, when Liddendock interrupted.

"Off so soon, Marston?"

"Afraid so."

Liddendock gave her a waggle of his thin brows.

"She must be something special to take you away so early. Looking forward to better making your acquaintance, madam. Perhaps another day?"

Audrey leaned into Stephen, and he put an arm around her waist.

"Mmmmm, perhaps."

Liddendock leered. "Capital. Night then."

Stephen and Audrey escaped through the front door and waited for the carriage to be brought round.

As soon as it arrived Stephen helped her inside. Audrey checked the window shade to make sure it was still cracked open a bit.

"How long have you been scared?"

The muscles in her back tightened. "I’m not scared."

"Is it dark spaces or cramped spaces?"

She pressed her lips together, but there was no denying it. "Small, dark spaces."

"And yet you still find the nerve to crawl about other people’s rooms.

Rooms you’re unfamiliar with. Rooms usually dark and airless."

"Don’t patronize me, Chalmers. I do what I must."

"I'm not patronizing you, Audrey. I’m amazed is all. I’ve known fierce men who won’t do what you do after experiencing a time in the hold or a cell."

She jerked her head. "This is a childhood ailment."

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see him shake his head.

"No. If it were a childhood problem, you would have either overcome it or you would not put yourself in situations that would cause it to occur."

"Maybe I enjoy discomfort."

"Maybe. And maybe you are desperate."

Audrey snorted. "I’m desperate, all right. Desperate for this carriage to stop so I can vacate it."

"When did it happen?"

"I became desperate about two minutes past."

He ignored her comment. "Did you get accidentally locked in? You can't have been in jail, I would have heard of it. And it is hard to imagine someone keeping you locked up."

Bitterness swept through her. You couldn’t hear about something if a false name was used. "Yeah, I was accidentally locked inside a storage shed."

Silence met her statement.

She yanked the shade all the way down. She was horrified to feel weepy.

Stephen’s voice was soft. "Where did they hold you?"

"Oh, stuff it, Chalmers." She leaned her head against the back of the cushion. His understanding tone was giving her a headache and prompting waterworks in her eyes.

"Tell me, Audrey."

The soothing voice of temptation.

"Newgate."

"Oh, Audrey." He sighed. "Why do you do it? Why do you break the law?"

Emotion boiled in her. Hatred for Travers, loathing for Maddox, anger at Flanagan, irritation at Faye, resentment of Stephen. "What do you mean,

‘why’? I’m a thief. It’s what I do. What I was trained to do. It’s all well and good that you can raise yourself on your moral pedestal, but some of us have to worry about where the next meal will come from and where we will sleep."

Stephen’s voice lost some of its nectar. "Come now. You don’t expect me to fall for that old song? You probably have more money stashed away than l do. I have it on good authority that you’ve stolen enough to be quite wealthy."

Her lips tightened, and her face went white. "You have all the answers, Chalmers, don’t you? Why bother asking any questions?"

"So, you’re telling me that you can’t do anything else?"

"What’s it to you, anyway? Take your power and title and go play with your friends in Parliament. Go make up rules for the rest of us, while you remain above them all."

"So you’ve lumped us all together in the same pot and called us stew?"

Her eyes narrowed, but she held silent.

"I’ll tell you what my problem is. When I was eleven my parents were killed by street thugs. They were left to die in the gutter. Murdered for fifteen pounds. And the villains ran free, escaping into the maze of the Seven Dials." His tone was conversational, but a steel edge lay beneath.

"That’s a good story, Chalmers." Pride and bitterness held her straight. "I suppose you hunted them down and punished them justly once you were old enough."

"Yes, I did." His voice was soft again, but cold.

"Thus began Stephen Chalmers’s great vendetta against the rogues of society. The wretches in the gutter. The beggars on the street."

He didn’t answer.

"And what type of stew are we?"

He turned to the window, tugging the shade up. "Lawbreakers."

"Ah, so the woman who steals a loaf of bread to feed her hungry son, should she be thrown into Newgate?"

He shook his head, but didn’t turn back. "What about the baker she has stolen the bread from? What about his family? Or maybe he is wealthy?

Does that make it better? Easier? I would give her the bread myself. But stealing is against the law, and laws are in place for a reason, Audrey.

Society is a pact between its members."

"Well I didn’t sign up for this society. Where was my say?" Her face was hot. Her palms hurt from her nails digging into them.

He pushed away from the window and looked at her for a long moment, then sighed and reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes, where is your say? Would you value it even if you had it? It’s hard being responsible, so much easier to be a member trotting along."

She didn’t pull away. She wanted to lean closer. Even through all the anger, all the pain, she desperately wanted to lean closer. "Only if you are a valued member."

"Yes."

He pulled her onto his seat, and she didn’t protest. She was running across a ragged rooftop, and if he were to let go, she would surely fall. As long as he held on she was safe.

He smoothed her hair. "I’m sorry you were in prison."

A tear slipped from her eye. She was thankful he couldn’t see it. "Thank you."

He lifted her chin and kissed her. Gently this time, unlike the frenzy of the kiss in the wardrobe. His lips softly pulling hers. Coaxing them open.

Something blossomed inside her chest. Like she had raced across London, but without the associated pain.

His hand was gentle on her neck. Skimming and stroking the area where her neck met her hair. Her whole body relaxed against his. Stephen could wash away the pain. He could keep her warm. Always.

She broke contact and rested her head against his shoulder. He rubbed her arm, as if understanding her need for withdrawal. His action only made her feel more alone.

She needed some perspective. There would be no always. Not with this man. She needed him to save Faye. She could not risk needing him for more. The plan was straightforward. In the end she could have no relationship with Stephen other than one of cat to mouse.

Their path was clear as day. She needed to get her head out of the soft, comforting clouds that were muddling it.

The carriage pulled into the drive and in front of his house. Stephen offered his arm, and they walked into the house. It felt good to be back on sturdy ground.

"Would you care for a drink?"

"Yes, that would be nice."

They walked into the library and Stephen poured brandy for himself and Madeira for her. She sat on the comfortable couch and sipped the flavorful wine.

"Audrey, maybe we should talk."

She fiddled with her glass. "What do you want to talk about?"

"How did you become a thief? You are gently bred. Your words and actions speak for themselves."

"Good actors can fake breeding very well."

"Yes, but I don’t think you are faking it. When in distress your speech is impeccable, with no signs of a street accent."

She hesitated and watched the liquid swirl in her glass as she twisted it.

"My mother and father were gently born."

"What happened to your parents?"

She pushed away from the couch and walked to the window, drawing back the heavy velvet curtain.

He persisted. "Maddox is your stepfather."

Audrey grimaced and let the shade fall. "My father succumbed to a fever.

My mother married Maddox, but died soon afterward."

"How long between their deaths?"

"Not even two years."

"How old were you when your mother passed?"

"Ten."

"Where did you live?"

Audrey felt restless. She walked to the desk. "Not a week after burying her, Maddox moved us to London."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Maddox left you, didn’t he?"

"No, he didn’t leave us."

"How did you end up with Flanagan?"

Audrey stared into the liquid in her glass again. It didn’t matter if he knew how she had grown up--at the end of their partnership she would be an ocean away. But it was still a hard admission. "He bought us."

Silence greeted her statement.

She restlessly twisted the glass again and watched as the edges of the liquid clung to the sides before slithering back into the pool.

"Your stepfather sold you?" There was no shock in the statement. Stephen had to know it happened all the time.

"Yes. He would never have just left us. There would be no money in it."

"He sold you to a criminal and left?"

"Flanagan was better than the alternative." She remembered the woman with the heavily rouged lips and aged eyes that her stepfather had also approached. And the terrified feelings she had prompted when she had looked the girls over. Thank the Lord Flanagan had bought them. But oh how she yearned for the innocence of the girl she once was. The girl who hadn’t understood any of it.

Stephen lightly touched her hand, and she was surprised to find him at her side. His eyes were angry, but not at her. His anger on her behalf was . . .

nice.

"Where is your sister?" he asked in a soft tone.

"She’s still in Newgate." The admission wasn’t as wrenching as she expected. Something had changed, Instead of just needing his help, she now
wanted
his help.

"You want to free her. " It was a statement. "That is why you have a map of the prison and the names of the guards."

"Yes." She knew that showing him the guards' names had been a calculated risk. It was a sure bet he could list them for her right now.

He straightened. "I had my suspicions. I checked the registry and didn't see your sister listed."

"We weren’t being held under our given names." The bitterness clutched at her.

"Who put you in there? Travers? I wouldn’t have thought the lackwit had the skills or connections."

Audrey looked at him sharply. Stephen’s off-hand comments revealed a great deal about why Travers hated him. To be so dismissed was galling.