Daring the Duke (16 page)

"No, it doesn't matter who put us there. I will give you all the information you need after we rescue my sister."

"Someone went to a lot of trouble to coerce your cooperation. Sounds like someone we need to worry about."

She was struck by the use of "we" in his statement. "Well, then you know it is obviously not Travers."

Stephen picked up a pen and twirled it. "I suppose it could be." He shook his head. "We grew up together. He is a distant cousin. After my parents died I was shuffled between relatives. I lived with his family, the Canfields, for a few years. A number of their properties border the Marston holdings, land separated by the family in the past, before his branch of the family was given a title as well. Henry was always a nasty kid, trailing behind his brother, Brandon, tattling and getting everyone else into trouble. Never could keep up with all of us though, as hard as he tried. And he was such a malicious child that no one wanted him to."

Warning bells sounded in her head. They grew up together? Distant cousins? Dear Lord. She put Travers’s reactions into context and realized her extreme danger. Travers would move quickly after seeing them together tonight.

"You look like you could use some air. Come into the conservatory, and we’ll discuss your plan."

She nearly gasped for breath as he opened a set of doors at the end of the library. Cousins? Focusing on the doors and not on the buzzing in her head, she followed him from the room.

Extending back through two sets of open windows was the most amazing space she had ever seen. Audrey drifted, momentarily awestruck, into Stephen’s private sanctuary. Small gas lamps lit the space. The shadows of the night lent a magical air. Something about the room calmed and allowed her to tamp her panic.

She was overwhelmed by the variety of color and smell. Here in the midst of a city teeming with waste and grime was an oasis of paradise. The room was part conservatory, part study.

"Do you like my refuge?"

"It’s magnificent. I haven't seen anything more beautiful."

The room was a marvel of brick and glass, beautifully upholstered sofas, and a profusion of flowering plants. Although grand, it was lush and relaxing. Lolling hydrangeas lay across the Italian marble floor, and an abundance of variegated flowering clematis and wisteria vines framed the windows and doorways. Baskets and planters of geranium, petunia, lobelia, fuchsias, and impatiens were placed artfully throughout the room.

She remembered the names from their park visit.

"I added it after my uncle passed on. My uncle on my mother's side, no relation to the Marston side of the family."

Strange-looking tools dotted the workspace. She remembered their walk through the park gardens and his explanations on the different species. He already looked more relaxed as he walked through the room, in the midst of his passion.

She needed a break from thinking about Travers and Newgate. She pointed at the sofa in the corner. "That’s an odd-looking settee."

"I commissioned it from a German furniture maker who designs settees and sofas for comfort."

She noticed the blankets at the side. Did he sleep here? She continued her examination. A small spiral staircase was tucked into the corner. Stairs to his room?

"So what do you do with all of these plants?"

He smiled. "Study them. Grow them. Write about them."

"Write about them? What, in a diary?"

"No, I contribute to the
Botanical Register
."

Audrey had vaguely heard of the magazine. She had never been too interested in foliage except as a place to hide. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Since its inception." When she continued to stare at him, brow raised, he added, "Seven years. Ridgeway pulled me over from the
Botanical
Magazine
."

"Isn’t that a form of treason within your community?"

He laughed. "No, the
Register
has full support."

"So is that what makes the difference?" she murmured the question, but saw him tense.

He seemed to fight with himself, then shrugged, letting her comment go.

She was vaguely disappointed.

"We are trying to form a Botanical Society in London. Trying to convince George to have it in Regent’s Park."

"Perhaps in thirty or forty years when they finally complete the blasted thing. You’re going to be waiting a long time, Chalmers." She touched a leaf. "Although the park does have promise."

"Regent’s Park isn't open to the public."

She shrugged. "Guess you are right."

He shook his head. "No walls keep you out. So, when do you plan to go to Newgate? How do you plan to gain entrance?"

Audrey tried to keep Travers’s reaction to her breaking her sister out of prison from her mind. "You can get us in."

He nodded. "Yes, but I can’t just stroll back out with your sister in tow. "

"No, but my first goal is to locate her and assess the situation. If there is any way to bribe the guards, that would be the best plan. I have profiles on most of them. Their vices, bad habits, and a few dirty secrets. I'll use those if I have to."

Stephen touched a large leaf on one of the plants. "I thought you said there was going to be nothing illegal?"

"My sister was locked in there on wrongful charges. She isn't even listed under her real name. Nothing about her imprisonment has been legal."

"Although you both have stolen enough to be in there a hundred times over."

Audrey pressed her lips together. "But not this time. We left the business last year."

He surveyed her. "So tomorrow we take a tour of Newgate, locate your sister, and plan from there."

A hot current of fear ran through her. "Yes, tomorrow would be best.

Early morning. I’ll give you money, and if we can’t bribe anyone, then you will keep it as part of your fee."

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded. She had the feeling she had just insulted him, but that was the least of her worries now. Travers and Newgate. She had to avoid Travers tonight and somehow live through the visit to Newgate in the morning.

"We will have to leave early in the morning."

She worried her lip, still thinking about the other problems. She nodded absently to his statement.

"Might be best if you stayed here."

He walked to the door and called for one of the footmen. A man appeared at the door, and Stephen told him to have the servants ready a guest chamber.

She looked up. Staying here would be the best option. Travers could even now be prowling through her house. "I need different clothes for tomorrow. I can’t go like this."

He looked at her costume and a smile lifted his lips. "Are you sure? I bet we could bring your sister out easily using you as a distraction."

He closed the door and walked toward her. Or stalked toward her, it was hard to tell.

"l suppose we could alter your garment." He trailed a finger through the shoulder strap and followed the flow of the material down her side, lightly brushing her breasts. "But it might take all night." He traced the sash with his fingertips, then ran his fingers up her arm.

Her heart urged him to continue, while her brain screamed to stop.

"I’m not sure there is enough material."

"Oh, there is plenty of material to keep us busy." He reached into her hair and loosened the pins. Tendrils fell down her back as each pin was removed. The slow pace of the movements made each brush of hair a wicked sensation. He slowly pulled the ribbon from her hair, the satin whispering against her skin.

His lips lightly caressed her neck, soft as the satin had been. "You should never rush a masterpiece."

He didn’t stop touching her, just the barest of touches with his lips, his fingers feathering her skin. She started to touch him, but he stepped away, looking down at her. His lids lowered, his eyes burning beneath. "Advice I should follow. "

He touched the strap of her gown once more. "You can borrow one of the maid's dresses. I’m sure Grimmond will find it odd when l ask, but a day barely goes by when he doesn’t find a request from me odd."

She bit her lip and moved away from him, wanting nothing more than to bury her head against his chest. "l will see you in the morning then. Good night, Stephen."

"Good night, Audrey." He ran her satin ribbon through his fingers. She could feel his eyes on her as she left, but nothing more was said. She walked as slowly as she could manage to her room.

Remember the mission. Remember the rules. Remember the pain, Audrey.

But nothing could help the ache that had started in her heart. She tugged the edge of her costume; it had started to chafe more than her skin.

Morning light seeped through the shades as Audrey watched Stephen dip the nib of a quill into an ornate inkstand. An assortment of steel and gold pen points was splayed across the table. Flashes of light reflected from the mother-of-pearl onto the walls as he twirled the pen, his brow creased in thought. He had said the series of notes would be their secondary plan if something went wrong.

Feeling uncomfortable from studying him for so long, she wandered around his library. lf a man’s wealth was measured by the quantity of his books, Stephen was extraordinarily blessed. Two long mahogany-paneled walls were filled floor to ceiling with shelves of leather-bound volumes.

A fireplace dominated the exterior wall, and huge windows on each side bathed the room with light. It was grand, yet because of the wide variety of trailing plants and hanging baskets, unpretentious and relaxing.

She touched a book by Voltaire that she hadn’t yet read. She skimmed her fingers across others on the shelf and sighed. To possess so many books .

. . And he was supposed to be in debt.

It was all unreal. Considering the previous night’s escapade, she had awakened remarkably refreshed. Stephen’s housekeeper knocked then entered, arms laden with durable garments. Audrey changed into the dowdiest brown serge that was cut in the most unflattering lines. The dress hung from her slight frame. The serviceable garments made her feel invisible and comfortable in the morning light. Useful. More real.

She touched another volume and turned to find Stephen watching her. An imperceptible smile curved his lips. He looked down and picked up the list, as if not wishing to be caught staring. She found the thought comforting. She was not alone in her confusion.

"Are we ready to leave?"

He nodded. "Yes. Cook packed several berry scones for us to eat on the way. Gather your belongings and let’s be off."

She tied the unremarkable bonnet in place. One thing to be said for servants' garb, it was practical. Not quite as comfortable as her custom outfits, but more serviceable than dressing as a lady. `

Stephen walked to the door, but Audrey found her feet rooted to the floor.

She grimaced and awkwardly pushed forward. If he noticed her struggle, he was gracious enough not to mention it.

They entered his carriage and headed east. Her stomach started churning, and her legs felt weak. Perhaps she should eat something. In her current condition, she doubted she would have enough energy to exit the carriage and stand on her own feet.

She dug a scone from her pocket and chewed on it. Her throat was dry and coarse. Swallowing proved difficult. She finally managed to force the pastry down, but her legs, at odds with her throat, felt watery. What was wrong with her?

Stephen was assessing her agitation. "It’s nerves. Try not to pay them any attention."

She drew herself up in the seat. "I don’t get nervous, Your Grace.

Cautious, yes, but not nervous."

"So you say. Forgive me if I don’t believe you. It is not a sign of weakness to admit anxiety."

"Dammit, I’m not nervous."

"So you say."

"Chalmers, so help me--"

"Are you certain you will remember the way once we’re inside?"

Audrey sat back and closed her eyes to visualize the passage. Her legs still felt buttery. "Yes. We were housed next to those facing the noose.

It’s just a short walk from there to . . Memories turned ugly, and she gripped the homespun skirt.

He reached across and kneaded the muscles in her neck. "Is that why she isn’t under the Matron’s guard?"

"Yes, we weren't held in the women's quarters. They were too nice for Tr-

. . . for our purposes."

"That’s going to make our task more difficult. Only prison staff and the Ordinary are allowed there. And neither of us is going to pass for a guard or the chaplain. I will have to work around that. You just need to identify the cell."

She cleared her throat. "I can do that."

"Good." He continued to rub her shoulder blades until the carriage pulled up in front of the cold, imposing structure.

Audrey took a deep breath and securely grasped Stephen's hand. Stepping onto the cobblestones confirmed that her legs were going to buckle. She stumbled, and Stephen supported her until she found her footing.

He didn’t look at her as they walked toward Debtor’s Door. She was glad he was with her. His reassuring presence and understanding was a blessing, but for their plan to succeed, she needed to pull herself together and concentrate on the task at hand.

She couldn’t rely on him for everything. It was essential that she play her part. Luckily her part was best played as a meek, weepy-eyed maid.

She averted her eyes from the scaffold and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. She looked at the stone wall construction and focused on the colors and grit, and not the imposing facade. Stephen exchanged a few words with the guards, and they were admitted.