by Laura Landon
Benton’s eyes narrowed, his thick brows nearly meeting in the center of his creased brow. “Curiosity isn’t usually a good thing, Hawkins.”
“I’ve been told that,” Jack said feigning a bravado he didn’t exactly feel.
Benton smiled. At least Jack took it for a smile. Perhaps that was a mistake.
“That’s right,” Benton continued in a voice that wasn’t exactly cordial. “I heard Miss Kingston accuse you of asking too many questions more than once.”
Jack pretended indifference. “The lady has an aversion to revealing more than the barest information about herself.”
“You know the saying regarding curiosity and cats,” Benton said in a flat tone that held an abundance of warning.
“Lucky for me, then, that I’m not a cat.” Jack took a moment to look around the stable. “Where are the horses?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“They were sold off years ago.”
“Is Kingston that desperate for coin?”
“Baron Kingston would never have gotten rid of his stable. The baroness sold them off.”
“Kingston allowed her to sell his animals?”
Benton stiffened. “I think you’ve asked enough questions. It’s time for you to divulge a few answers.” Benton shifted his weight to his right foot and leaned against one of the empty stalls. “What makes you think Baron Kingston is involved in something illegal?”
Jack searched for a quick answer that Benton would believe. Nothing came to mind. Benton lifted his weapon enough that Jack understood the threat.
“You might want to consider answering my question, Hawkins. Neither of us is going anywhere until you do.”
“I was given a reliable tip.”
“From someone you chose to believe without requiring proof?”
“His word was all the proof I needed.”
“So, because of some unnamed person’s claim, you assumed the role of a deserving, down-on-his-luck person in an effort to gain access to Kingston Manor and illegally search Baron Kingston’s home? Somehow I imagined it was Miss Kingston who’d captured your interest.”
“I can’t deny that there are several things about the young lady that interest me.”
“Really?” Benton asked in an accusatory tone of voice. “Or are you simply using her to gain information that will incriminate her father?”
“If Baron Kingston is involved in something that is not legal, I will do everything in my power to see him punished for his crime.”
“And Miss Kingston?”
Jack paused. “My interest in Miss Kingston is none of your business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Benton said.
Jack noticed the lift of Benton’s shoulders. Even a movement so slight gave evidence of a building anger Jack knew to be wary of. Benton’s next words confirmed Jack’s suspicions.
“I’ve warned you before, Hawkins. If you harm Miss Kingston in any way, you’ll answer to me.”
“My intent is not to harm Miss Kingston.”
Benton straightened in a quick, decisive movement. “Do you think destroying her father won’t cause her harm?”
“If her father has involved himself in some sort of illegal activity, there’s no way any of us can keep her from being harmed.”
Benton’s expression turned deadly. “Miss Kingston made the correct decision when she decided to send you back to London. I will personally see you are aboard the carriage when it leaves here in ten days. Until then, I’d be very mindful of the game you’re playing. I’ve allowed the...physical attention you’ve chosen to pay her to go as far as I intend. I will interpret any other advances you make toward her to be a threat to her wellbeing.”
Benton picked up his weapon and headed for the door. He’d paused long enough when issuing his warning for Jack to understand how serious he was.
Jack watched as Jenna Kingston’s butler and self-appointed bodyguard pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the darkness. From the shadows he said, “Now, I suggest you return to your bed, Hawkins. We have a long, hard day ahead of us tomorrow and you’ve already stolen enough of my sleep.”
With his last warning, Benton left the stable.
Jack watched until he was out of sight, then headed back to the manor house to catch a few hours’ sleep before his workday began.
He had ten nights to find the evidence he needed to link Baron Kingston to Sheridan’s murder. Ten nights...with Benton watching every move he made.
Jack increased his pace, his long, angry strides eating up the distance between the stable and the manor house.
Hell, he might as well invite Benton to help him. He’d probably be somewhere in the shadows watching him anyway.
Jack walked through the vegetable garden, not bothering to stay in the shadows.
During the war he’d enjoyed a reputation as one of Her Majesty’s most skilled spies. He’d prided himself on his ability to move about without being discovered.
In the last three weeks, he’d not only failed to keep his movements from being discovered, he hadn’t even realized Benton had been watching him. During the war such carelessness would have gotten him killed.
Jack stepped through the entrance that led into the kitchen and climbed the servant’s staircase. He couldn’t believe he’d become so lax. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed a common butler to best him so handily. Unless—
He paused before he reached the top of the stairs. Unless what? he asked himself.
Unless Benton wasn’t as common as he pretended to be.
Unless Benton wasn’t the butler he pretended to be.
Jack stepped into his room and stripped out of his clothes without lighting a candle. Finding the evidence he was looking for was only part of his mission. If Benton was who Jack sensed he might be, there was more to Baron Kingston than he suspected.
And someone in a much higher position thought so too.
. . .
Jack had never spent such an uncomfortable week in his life. Not only had he gone with almost no sleep, but he hadn’t found one single bit of evidence in Kingston’s library, study, or private sitting room that might link him to any illegal activity.
To make matters worse, every night shortly after Jack began his search, Benton appeared. Some nights the butler simply sat in a chair or settee and watched Jack as he methodically went through Kingston’s private papers in his desk drawers. On other nights, Benton lounged in one of Kingston’s comfortable chairs and feigned sleep.
But last night had been the worst. The butler had the unmitigated gall to offer to help Jack search. Even when Jack had refused, Benton had rummaged through several bookshelves Jack hadn’t gone through yet, declaring them evidence-free.
Jack anticipated that there would be a hostility that would develop between Benton and himself, but he found just the opposite to be true.
Night after night the two men carried on an informative as well as enjoyable conversation. From several comments Benton made, Jack surmised that the butler had served in the Crimea too. If Jack were to make an educated guess, he’d even say that Benton had performed a job very similar to Jack’s. How else would he be such an expert at keeping his presence unknown?
Tonight when Benton appeared, Jack intended to ask him.
Jack lifted the last of three matching vases that sat on the mantel in the music room and tipped it over. It was as empty and unrevealing as everything else he’d searched. But that didn’t surprise him overmuch.
He held out little hope that he’d find anything in this room, which was why he’d left it to last, and he’d been right. There was nothing to indicate that Kingston was involved in anything—no ledgers, no shipping lists, and no receipts. No trail that hinted at anything illegal, not even an account book that showed any large increases in the Kingston assets.
All Jack had found when he’d searched the desk in Kingston’s office were two ledgers that proved Kingston was less than adequate
at keeping his accounts. Not only were the records haphazard and randomly kept, but there hadn’t been a single entry for several months now.
A clue that kept Jack from giving up was that the date of the last entry coincided with Shad’s death almost to the day.
Jack knelt on his haunches and stirred the ashes of the fireplace with one of the irons. Not only had Shad incriminated Kingston, but Jack’s gut instinct told him Kingston was responsible. Jack refused to give up until he found the proof he needed.
Sifting through the ashes was tedious work but Jack worked tirelessly for nearly an hour. This was the first night in days Benton hadn’t shown up to watch his every move. He was just beginning to enjoy his newfound freedom when he realized he was no longer alone.
“You’re late,” he said without turning around. “I expected you long before now.”
“Did you?”
The sound of the soft feminine voice rocked him on his heels. Jack gently lowered the small iron shovel and dumped the cold ashes back into the hearth. With a deep sigh, he rose to his feet and slowly turned.
This time he knew there was nothing he could say that would save him.
THE DEVIL’S GIFT by Laura Landon
Chapter 9
Jenna stared in dumbfounded bewilderment as Jack Hawkins emptied the small shovel the footmen used to clean the ashes from the hearth and dropped it to the marble hearth pad in front of the fireplace.
With the familiar grace she’d observed each time she’d been near him, he rose to his feet and faced her.
Jenna felt a surge of anger that turned to rage, and without fully comprehending her actions, she crossed the room and slapped him across the face as hard as she could.
He didn’t move to stop her.
She heard the sharp intake of his breath as his head snapped to the side. The muscles at the juncture of his jaw knotted several times before he slowly turned his head to face her.
Within seconds, Jenna noticed a red mark that matched the outline of her fingers. She was glad...and terrified at the same time. She’d never struck anyone before, never resorted to physical violence—a trait that was so common in her stepmother. But no one had ever enraged her like this before.
She unclenched her clamped teeth and glared at him. “My aunt’s carriage will be here in two nights. You will be on it.”
“I’m not a thief—”
“I don’t care what you claim you are,” Jenna interrupted in a voice much louder than she usually spoke. She did not want to hear any of his excuses. “Until then, you will remain in your room.”
“But there’s still—”
“Enough!”
Jenna took several steps away from him. She couldn’t risk being near him. Even though what he’d been doing was obvious, she still wanted there to be a valid reason he’d been searching her home. A legal reason. A believable reason. But she knew there wasn’t.
It was obvious he was a thief and she didn’t want him to be.
A lump lodged in her throat that she worked hard to swallow. She’d kissed a man—not once, but twice—who at his best was a pilferer. At his worst, a conniving, scheming, manipulative bastard who’d used her charity to gain entrance to her home.
She turned, eager to be gone from the room. Desperate to be as far away from him as possible.
She took one step toward the door, then another, using every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep from running out of the room and up the stairs. She lost her battle and took the last few steps to the door at a faster pace than she wanted him to see.
She needed to be far enough away from him that he didn’t realize how upset she was. Far enough that he wouldn’t realize how affected she was by his betrayal. She rushed even faster as she reached the exit, but was brought to a halt when his broad, muscled arm reached in front of her and barricaded the doorway.
“Let me go this instant,” she hissed with as much vehemence as she could utter.
“Not until you calm down.”
“I’m as calm as I can be around you. Now step out of the way.”
He didn’t move, but took a step forward so it wasn’t his arm barricading the doorway, but his body.
Jenna evaluated her options and knew escaping was not a possibility. Neither was moving him. With a flash of anger she knew he couldn’t mistake, she glared at him for a long second, then spun away from him and stepped back into the room.
He stepped in behind her and closed the door.
“What do you want?” she asked, keeping the tone of her voice as hostile as possible.
“I want to explain what you think you just saw.”
“Oh, this should be rich.” Jenna feigned a haughty laugh and glared at him. “Do you need a little more time to think up a believable lie?”
“This isn’t a lie.”
“Then I can’t wait to hear your explanation.”
Jenna crossed her arms over her middle. She wasn’t dressed for being in the same room with a man, but she had on enough clothes so she didn’t feel self-conscious. Her heavy cotton nightgown and the thick robe she wore hardly presented an enticing picture.
“Please, sit down,” Jack Hawkins said, pointing to the settee that angled to one side of the piano.
“I prefer to stand.”
“I prefer that you sit,” he answered, the anger in his voice a sign that his temper was building.
“By all means, Mr. Hawkins. Anything to assist you in telling this tale of yours.”
“It isn’t a tale.”
“Of course not. It’s the truth.”
“Yes, it’s the truth. And you aren’t going to like it.”
“Do you mean I’m going to like it even less than I like finding a man I’d trusted enough to bring into my home to help improve his station in life stealing from me?”
“I wasn’t stealing.”
“So you’ve said.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“I was searching your home.”
Jenna sat straighter. “Searching, for what?”
“For any evidence that might prove what your father is involved in.”
Jenna clamped her fingers around the edge of the cushions on the settee. The room suddenly shifted and she felt as though she were a very tiny boat being tossed about by some very large waves.
“My father? What can you possibly think my father is involved in? You don’t even know my father!” She bolted to her feet and turned on him.
“We’ve never met,” he admitted, “but that’s not important.”
“Not important!” She took one step toward him, then another. “You have the nerve to stand in my father’s home and accuse him of being involved in something underhanded, yet you don’t think it’s important that you meet him first? How dare you!”
Jenna took another step toward him and stopped when she reached him.
He reached out and grabbed both her wrists. “If you’re considering striking me again, I’d suggest you think twice,” he said in a voice so soft and threatening it sent shivers down Jenna’s spine.
Jenna did think twice. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to beat her fists against his chest until he apologized to her and admitted he’d made a terrible mistake, but she didn’t. Instead, she pulled her wrists from his hands and faced him. “Who sent you?”
She waited and when he didn’t answer immediately, she repeated her question. “Who?”
He released a sigh. “No one.”
“You expect me to believe you chose my father’s name out of thin air and decided to investigate him?”
“I’m investigating your father because I have reason to believe he is involved in something questionable.”
“What reason? Who could possibly have told you that my father was involved in anything illegal? And of what did they accuse him?”
“I can’t say.”
“You can’t say because there is nothing.” Jenna paced the room in angry frustration. “B
ecause whoever hired you only wants to destroy my father’s good name. Who hired you to do such a thing?”
Jenna stared at him long and hard. He showed no sign of answering her. In fact, his countenance hardened and he took a threatening step toward her.
She took a step backwards.
“What business did your father have that took him to London?” he said, taking another step toward her.
“London?”
She was confused. Why did he think her father was in London?
“Yes. The day I arrived your father and stepmother unexpectedly left for London. What business did he have there?”
Jenna tried to hide her surprise at his accusation. And her relief.
He thought her father had gone to London with her stepmother. He didn’t know. Her father was still safe.
“What business did he have in London?” he asked again, taking another angry step toward her.
Jenna shook her head. “How should I know? My father has never involved me in his business.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“Because you are so desperate to find any scrap of information you can use against my father that you wouldn’t recognize the truth if it hit you in the face.”
“I believe I’ve already experienced a slap in the face.”
“That was nothing more than you deserved.”
“Really,” he said, taking another step toward her.
Jenna took a step back but stopped when her hip came up against the corner of the piano.
“Perhaps you’ll listen to me now,” he said, anchoring his hands on either side of her waist.
“I don’t want to hear more lies. That’s all you’ve told me since you arrived. Do you even know my aunt?” Jenna asked, suddenly realizing it was possible he’d lied to gain entrance to her home and had never met her Aunt Chloe.
“Yes, I met your aunt just as I said. I rescued her from some footpads as she was leaving the theatre and she offered to repay me by sending me here.”
“But you decided to betray the faith she put in you by falsely accusing my father of being involved in some illegal venture.”
“I used the opportunity she provided me to—”