A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  “Wait here,” he ordered after leading her around the back of the building.

  She glanced around the empty alleyway. A thrum of apprehension ran through her, but she could not say why. There was no one around and it was not like she had not spent plenty of time alone during her life. Her mother had disappeared many a time since she was a young girl, most likely passed out from the drink.

  “I can come in with you.”

  “I think it best you are not known to these people.”

  Nodding, she clasped her hands together and leaned back against the whitewashed wall. Reed had said little of who this contact was but a spy like himself likely had many men in his pocket who were not the nicest or the kindest but knew of all untoward dealings.

  “I will not be long,” he promised.

  She waited, the cloying scent seeming to grow steadily more suffocating. The hairs on her arms pricked and her heart pounded faster when a shadow flicked by the alleyway. She was hardly a fortune teller, but her senses were trying to tell her something was amiss.

  Drawing in a breath, she eased away from the wall and stepped carefully across the ground toward the opening of the winding alley. The buildings were close here, their clay roofs nearly touching. It would be easy for someone to slip in, do her harm and never be seen.

  Back flat against the wall, she peered around the entrance.

  Nothing.

  Yet she was sure there had been someone there. Could it have just been someone strolling by? She glanced up and down the street, but no one seemed suspicious. They were all going about their day with no clue as to her eyeing them up as though they were the very murderer they were looking for.

  “Orelia?”

  She screamed and spun. “Reed.” Giving his arm a light tap, she pressed a hand to her beating heart. “You scared me.”

  “I told you to stay where you were.”

  “I think there was someone following us.”

  He scowled. “You saw someone?”

  “Not exactly. It was more of a feeling.”

  “A feeling?” He lifted a dark brow. “Well, there doesn’t appear to be anyone following us now.”

  “There was. I’m sure of it.” She pressed her lips together. “Did you find anything out?”

  His expression grew grim. “My contact is in the local jail. For theft.”

  “Theft?”

  He grimaced. “At a wine merchants.”

  “You think this has to do with our investigation?”

  “I know so. The wine that was poisoned was of a very specific variety—Vin de Constance. It’s the only wine Napoleon can tolerate with his current state of health.”

  Orelia snorted. “Why not give up the wine altogether?”

  “Because old Boney cares more about wine than almost anything.”

  “So what are we to do?”

  Reed took her arm and led her out of the alley and away from the waxy smell. “It might be best if you return to the inn.”

  “I do not think so. You are paying me for my services, are you not? I should like to be of use.”

  “If Ambrose was locked up for theft of the merchants, its likely someone is watching it. We too could end up in some strife.”

  She tilted her head and eyed him. “You believe this is the place that sold the wine to the people who poisoned it?”

  “It seems likely. It is local and one of the few places that stocks the French wine. It is not so easy to get a hold of these days.” He took off his hat, pushed a hand through his hair and replaced it.

  “Is it not likely that your contact simply grew greedy and decided to earn some extra coin while he was serving you?”

  He shook his head. “Ambrose is not a bad man. Down on his luck, to be sure, but not bad. I met him when he was smuggling French goods into the country. He helped me get to France once.”

  She glanced back at the chandlery. “Yet he spends time with dangerous men?”

  Reed’s lips quirked. “Were you not defending the bad choices people make only moments ago?”

  She opened her mouth then closed it.

  They strolled along the street, her arm still tucked carefully in Reed’s as though they really were husband and wife, or a courting couple having slipped their escort. They might look no richer than the average merchant, but they were respectable and thus, respected. A few gentlemen tipped their hats to them, a couple of ladies offered meek smiles. It was astonishing what being on the arm of a man could do for her. Had she been on her own, everyone would have been making bold movements to avoid her.

  “I will need to slip into the merchants to get a look at his purchase receipts,” Reed murmured. “From what Ambrose’s acquaintances said, the man guards his records carefully. Likely because he’s dealing with expensive and likely smuggled wine.”

  “Slip in?”

  “As in, enter unnoticed.” He flashed a grin.

  “You’ll end up in jail like your friend. You just said it was likely under observation.”

  He shook his head. “Yes, to persuade you to return to the inn.” He hefted out a sigh. “Orelia, I have slipped into French encampments. Do you really think me incapable of sneaking into an unguarded building?”

  She shook her head at his smugness, unable to resist smiling. “I think you capable of many things, Reed. How sneaky you are remains to be seen, however.”

  ***

  Reed supposed he couldn’t blame her for doubting him. This investigation so far had been him stumbling around, searching for a loose thread and not being at all like his usual smooth self. But the fact was, he was practically alone on this. It was too dangerous for the whole of the government’s spy network to be on this. If word got out that there had been an attempt on Napoleon’s life, they’d be on the edge of war again and they’d lost enough men as it was.

  He motioned to the entrance of the building on the opposite side of the road. “Keep an eye out for me. I’m going to see if I can climb in the back.”

  While they had been talking, he had been scoping out the building. There was a small window at the side of the building, tucked under the eaves. The wooden window frames were flaked and chipping. It would not take much to force it open.

  “Reed,” she gripped his arm. “Be careful.”

  “I always am.”

  He noted the worry in her eyes. There was something mildly appealing about it. No one had ever worried for him. Certainly not his superiors and his mother mostly worried about finding him a wife, what with her being in ignorance as to his activities. His brother was too busy to be concerned.

  Shaking away such ridiculous thoughts, he glanced up and down the street and paced boldly across the dirt road. The merchants was small with two curved windows. A shabby sign hung over the door.

  He moved around the side of the building after a quick glance around and eyed the various wooden crates stacked at the back. A hasty look over his shoulder told him Orelia was watching out for him. He shifted a crate on top of another and clambered onto it. It gave him enough height to loop his fingers over the window ledge and push hard against the frame. The window creaked open an inch.

  His arms burned as he heaved himself up and used his body weight to push the window all the way open. He winced at the loud crack of the wooden window frame. Reed fell through head first and rose rapidly to standing, ready to defend himself if needed.

  Taking a breath, he peered around the dark attic room.

  Perfect.

  It was the merchant’s office, as he suspected. Stacks of papers were piled high on a table. A quick glance at them and he saw they were arranged by month. He grinned. It was a shame Ambrose hadn’t succeeded in gaining entry or else he might have been further along in his investigation but hopefully this would be the lead he needed. If the wine had been purchased here, they might well have their would-be killer’s name.

  He snatched up three piles—the recent months. He had to assume the wine was bought only recently. Surely whoever wanted Boney d
ead would not have been willing to wait around?

  His heart gave a bounce when he heard voices. He neared the window and listened. It was Orelia and a man. Was she in trouble?

  No, it sounded…He scowled. It sounded as though she was flirting with the gentleman. What the devil was the woman up to?

  Stuffing the papers into his jacket, he leaned out of the window. She had to be in front of the merchant’s because he couldn’t see her, but he could hear her clearly enough. In fact, she seemed to be talking quite loudly.

  “As an expert in wine,” he heard her say. “Where would you say the best wine comes from?”

  He could not hear the man’s response, but his pulse quickened. It had to be the owner and she was trying to distract him. He went out of the window backward, climbing out until only his fingers clung onto the ledge. He dropped onto the crate as quietly as possible.

  Easing his head around the edge of the building, Orelia’s gaze connected with his. If she was at all panicked she made no show of it. She gave the merchant, a short man with shabby clothing, a beautiful smile and touched his arm lightly just as he was about to turn. The man’s attention remained glued on Orelia allowing Reed to slip out from the side of the building unnoticed.

  He took several quick strides along the street then crossed. He crossed again and greeted Orelia with a broad smile. “Ah, there you are, sister. Have you found the ribbons you wanted?”

  She shook her head and took his offered arm. “Not yet. I was just speaking with this gentleman. I was explaining that you were looking to purchase a few special vintages. It seems you stock quite the variety, do you not, Mr. Winchcombe?”

  The short man, whose top lip was beaded with sweat—either because he was talking with a beautiful woman or at the prospect of gaining a new customer—nodded quickly. “I can acquire almost anything you need.”

  “Well that does sound promising. I think I may have to stop by again whilst I am in town, Mr. Winchcombe. But for now, I must get my sister these wretched ribbons she so desperately desires.” He gave the man a you know how women are look and tipped his hat.

  “Good day, Mr. Winchcombe,” Orelia said sweetly.

  The man tipped his hat and color ran into his cheeks. Apparently, despite the shabby condition of himself and his business premises, he wanted Orelia more than he wanted customers. Reed could not decide whether to be ridiculously proud or strongly jealous. A mixture of both perhaps.

  “He was just about to bring a crate around the back,” Orelia explained.

  “So you struck up conversation.”

  “Yes. Thank goodness he was willing to talk. I’m sure it must have been clear I knew nothing about wine.”

  “That was probably your charm, Orelia. He was hoping to teach you a thing or too.”

  “I have charm?”

  He grinned and shook his head. “You have charm. Too much, I fear. There’s nothing more dangerous than a woman entirely unaware of her charm.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The piles of paper Reed had pulled out from his coat once they’d retreated to their room made Orelia’s stomach heavy.

  “What are those?”

  “These are the purchase notes for the three months leading up to the attempt.”

  “And you think this will lead us to our man?”

  “I hope so. They could well have purchased elsewhere in the country but so far nothing has turned up and it’s a very specific French wine. Not easy to come by since the start of the war.” She swallowed and placed herself on the bed, watching as he laid out the papers in a pile. “Makes more sense to have purchased in the same town as the docks.”

  “So why did you go for the gypsies first? Why not go straight to the merchants?”

  He secured her with a look. “Because we wanted to move fast, and they were the most likely suspects. I’m sorry to say it, Orelia, but you know why.”

  “Because no one trusts us.”

  “No one trusts outsiders. Nor do your people. But the Romani have a history of causing trouble.”

  She huffed. Yes, there were those of them who would do what they could for coin, safe in the knowledge that in a few weeks they would have moved on and avoided trouble, but they were not all bad.

  “Show me any element of society that does not have their troublemakers. We are simply easily scapegoated, and you well know it.”

  He sat on the floor and spread out the piles. “Well, let us dig through these and unscapegoat your people.”

  She swallowed and hesitated.

  “We’ve a long night ahead, Orelia.”

  “I-I cannot read.”

  Reed grimaced. “Forgive me, I forgot.” He picked up a piece of paper and motioned to her to come and sit next to him. She did as he bid, all too aware when her leg brushed his as she sat. He lifted a piece of paper and pointed to some scribbled writing underneath several lines. “This is where the wine is listed. This letter here,” he pointed, “is a ‘C.’”

  She eyed the curled figure and nodded.

  “I’m looking for wine that begins with a C. Once I find the one I want, I’ll show you the full word. Can you set aside any that begin with that letter?”

  Nodding, she picked up a piece of paper and stared at the jumbled mess. There were several Cs that she could make out but none at the beginning of the words. A pang of frustration tore through her. How was she ever going to make a future for herself in business if she could not read?

  Reed took her hand suddenly. “Orelia?”

  She glanced at him to find her vision blurry. Her chin trembled.

  “Many people cannot read,” he told her. “Don’t be ashamed.”

  “I…” She sniffed. “I suppose I realized that having my freedom will not be so easy without such skills.”

  “I am sure you can pay someone to help you. You’re a quick learner.” He swiped a thumb under her eyes, leaving a trail of hot sensation behind it.

  She peered through the welling tears into his dark eyes and found herself sinking deep. How she longed to lean forward and press her lips to his again, to remember what it felt like to be kissed by such a handsome, enigmatic man.

  A line appeared between his brows and he dropped his hand from her face. “Come now, it will take some time to get through these. I have faith in you.”

  The words warmed her from the inside out. No one had ever had faith in her. Not her mother or her people. Regardless of having been raised with the Romani, her gadje blood tainted her.

  Reed lit some candles as the light waned and they remained on the floor, surrounded by paper, saying little to each other. There was something wildly intimate about it. When he finally found the first invoice with the wine listed on it, he helped her understand the shape of the letters that she was looking for and she kept it to compare it to every note that she looked at.

  The candles shortened, and the evening wore on. Orelia suppressed a yawn. Her eyes and head were sore from concentration and her back hurt from sitting on the floor. She glanced at their pile of suspects. Two so far.

  “Not many left,” she murmured.

  “No. Hopefully this will be it.” He motioned to the two notes with the wine orders. “Should be nice and easy to hunt them down and find out if they were involved.”

  “How will we do that?”

  Reed flashed her a grin that made her stomach twist in excitement despite her exhaustion. “We shall have to be very, very sneaky.”

  She chuckled. “You sound as though you relish the chance to snoop.”

  “I do. A far more interesting way to spend my days.”

  “Meanwhile your estate and people are neglected.”

  He frowned. “My brother has it all in hand. Just because he is deaf, does not mean he is incapable.”

  She opened her mouth then closed it. Then put a hand to his arm. “I meant no insult, but does he not find it too much?”

  “Noah is smarter than I and far more capable, but unfortunately cursed with being the second
son. Being deaf has afforded him little opportunity but my absence has enabled him to step up to the mark and prove himself. No doubt there are many who will be lamenting he was not the heir after his time looking after the estates.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  He chuckled. “Not at all. I always knew Noah needed a chance to show what he could do. Few people would give a deaf man a chance but what choice did they have when I began neglecting my duties?”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “Did you neglect them on purpose?”

  “It was not exactly a plan but once I saw how well he did, and how respected he was becoming, I made a point of taking as many missions as possible.”

  She eyed him. “So you put yourself in danger, so your brother could succeed?”

  He shrugged. “I was not in that much danger.”

  “Why is it I do not believe you?”

  “I have no idea.” He smiled benignly. “Now back to work. It is past midnight and I am looking forward to going on the hunt tomorrow.”

  Orelia turned her attention back to the remaining papers. What an enigma this man was. The more she learned about him, the more she liked him. Under that playful, bold exterior beat the heart of a good and caring man. She could not help but like all facets of him.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed. “Another.” She handed him the letter she was holding.

  “Well, it is only one more. Let’s hope we can have this wrapped up quickly and get your friends out of the frame.”

  “You are admitting you do not think they are guilty.”

  “I admit nothing.” He gave her a tilted smile. “I am, however, never one to jump to the easiest conclusion.”

  She laughed. “Somehow I imagine you never do anything the easiest way.”

  “And why would I? When the most complicated way can be the most fun.” His grin expanded. “Why, had I decided to simply barrel in and ask questions, I might never have met you.” The look in his eyes shot through to her core. She glanced away.

  “And you would likely have been kicked out on your arse,” she said dryly.

  “That too.” He leafed through the last few papers. “Looks like we are done.”