Olivia and the Masked Duke

by Grace Callaway

  Livy’s nape tingled at the flinty look in Charlie’s eyes. The lady reminded her of a bumblebee: golden elegance that housed a deadly stinger.

  “In the end, I took matters into my own hands. I acquired the necessary skills to conduct my own inquiries and decided to use those skills to benefit other women in need. I have assisted ladies who had lost all hope of finding answers, helping them when no one else would.”

  “Jolly good!” Approval shone in Glory’s hazel gaze.

  “The Society generates a handsome profit, but no woman is turned away because of financial hardship. I ask my clients to pay what they can afford,” Charlie said. “For instance, I assisted a dowager duchess by uncovering her nephew’s plot to lock her in an asylum and steal her wealth. She expressed her gratitude through a donation that covers the costs for women like Marie Jardine.

  “The demand has become such that it exceeds what I am able to do alone. I have agents—genteel spinsters, widows, and working-class women—who assist me, but I realized that I have another goal: to pass on my knowledge and legacy to a new generation of young ladies.”

  “Like a finishing school for female investigators,” Livy breathed.

  “Exactly. I want to teach exceptional young women to become the best that they can be, mentally and physically.” Charlie leaned forward. “Society uses the label of the ‘weaker sex’ to keep us from recognizing our true strength. I was once like you: a sheltered miss who was taught from birth how to be a lady. My worth was measured by my ability to make a good match. When it came to courtship, my looks and fortune were seen as my main merits. My spirit was deemed an inconvenience, my intelligence an even bigger flaw.”

  “But you did make a good match.” Fiona tipped her head, her red curls swinging to one side. “You married the Marquess of Fayne.”

  “Which is how I learned that entrusting one’s happiness to anyone but oneself is a mistake.” Charlie’s words were matter-of-fact. “Learn from me: independence, not love, is the key to happiness. Never give up who you are. For anyone or anything. And that is my ultimate goal for my Angels: to give them the ability to choose their own destiny.”

  For Livy, the words resonated like a church bell. After all, she had invested her dreams in another, and what did she have to show for it? Nothing but tears and a broken heart. Perhaps Charlie was right. Perhaps true fulfillment came from self-reliance and the power to determine one’s future.

  “Where do we sign up?” Glory asked.

  “There is one more thing. An inviolable condition,” Charlie said. “If you decide to become an Angel, you must take a vow of secrecy. You are to tell no one about the group—not your family, your friends, or even lovers—without my express permission. This is to protect the safety of all involved in my organization. Do you want time to consider my proposition?”

  Livy looked at her friends and saw her answer in their eager faces.

  “We do not need more time. We accept.” She drew a breath. “There is, however, a problem.”

  “Problems are merely solutions waiting to happen.” Charlie took a sip of tea. “Go on.”

  “My parents are taking me back to Scotland in a fortnight, and I will not be back in Town for several months,” Livy said glumly. “If you wish to start training us immediately, Fiona and Glory will be available, but I will not.”

  “We don’t want to start without you,” Glory protested.

  “We’ll wait for you,” Fi said simultaneously.

  Gratitude filled Livy. She had the best of friends…and she would not hold them back.

  “You mustn’t refuse the opportunity on my account,” she said firmly. “Perhaps I can join when I get back from Scotland—”

  “Would you like to stay in London and train to be an Angel?” Charlie asked.

  Livy’s nod was fervent. “More than anything.”

  Charlie smiled. “Then, my dear, leave it to me.”

  12

  The moon’s silvery glow limned the outline of the figure lying face-down in the alley behind the butcher shop. A chill snaked through Ben as he saw the unmistakable reddish gleam of hair. He’d hoped against hope that the urgent summons Chen had received had been a mistake.

  “Found ’im when I was tossing out the rubbish, Master Chen.” The somber tones came from the butcher, a man with a stained apron tied over his bulging midsection. “Thought you’d want to know. Poor sod were one o’ your students, weren’t ’e?”

  “He was,” Chen said quietly. “Thank you, sir. I will take care of things from here.”

  The butcher nodded, making the sign of the cross before heading back into his shop.

  Crouching next to the body, Ben inhaled before rolling it over. Pete stared up into the heavens, his gaze a still pond that reflected the white crescent moon. Twin rivulets of blood were crusted beneath his nostrils and over his lips.

  Ben’s eyes grew hot and gritty. He didn’t know why he was so affected. He hadn’t known Pete long and yet…

  He was just a lad. It’s such a damned waste. If only I’d convinced him to leave the streets…

  Kneeling on the other side, Chen closed the boy’s eyes.

  “You were always running,” the healer murmured. “Now may you finally be at rest.”

  Grief swelled, and Ben fought it off by searching for clues to Pete’s death. He didn’t have far to look: clutched in the lad’s still-warm fingers was the familiar red box with the entwined “D” and “B.” Opening the box, Ben saw it was empty, and a sudden fury rose in him.

  “How did Pete get his hands on this poison?” he bit out.

  “Probably the way he attained most things,” Chen replied.

  The healer was going through Pete’s coat with methodical precision. He removed a golden disc from Pete’s inner pocket. A fob watch—an expensive one, Ben reckoned, by the exquisite filigree work on the cover.

  Chen opened it. “There is an inscription: To my husband and our everlasting love. P.”

  “Do you think Pete filched the drug and the watch from the same cove?” Ben asked grimly.

  “It is possible.” Chen’s features were stark. “The watch is a lead, and we must try to find its owner.”

  With swirling misgivings, Ben mounted the steps to the Strathaven residence a week later.

  What does Strathaven want? Did he find out about Livy and me? Coming here is a mistake.

  When he’d received the duke’s summons, Ben had debated putting the other off. However, he could not think of an adequate excuse, especially since his friend would soon be leaving for Scotland. If Strathaven merely wanted to say good-bye, then Ben’s refusal would not only be ill-mannered but would perhaps raise suspicion.

  Guilt mangled Ben’s insides as the butler greeted him and led him toward his host’s study. He felt as nervous as a damned schoolboy as he looked for Livy. He both dreaded and hoped that she would come dashing toward him the way she had in her younger days, her green eyes bright with welcome. Her presence had a way of banishing shadows, and given the darkness of the last week, he found himself craving her light.

  Today, however, Livy was nowhere to be seen, and her absence tightened the knot of longing, frustration, and confusion in his gut. Pete’s death had been a tragic reminder of how fleeting life could be…and how it should not be wasted. If Ben were to die tomorrow, he knew that his biggest regret would be not making things right with Livy.

  Yet how could he restore their special friendship when Livy insisted that she wanted to become his lover?

  Just thinking about Livy and the word “lover” in the same sentence sent him spiraling down a forbidden path. For an instant, he felt her curvy bottom rocking against his cock, tasted the sweetness of her lips pressed so innocently against his. Her whispered words emerged from his darkest fantasies: I wanted you to touch me, kiss me. To be with me the way you were with her…

  Simultaneously, memories of their friendship flashed through his head. Twelve-year-old Livy, wet and bedraggled, pledging her a
llegiance to him. Adolescent Livy, playing games and sharing her schoolmiss adventures with him. Searching him out at parties and making sure he was never alone. And Livy of just a year or two ago, keeping him company through her letters, easing his solitude in a way that only she could…

  His throat cinched. She was so damned precious to him.

  How could he lust after her when he should think of her as a sister? How could he even contemplate corrupting the one person who’d been determined to see the best in him? How could he wake up in the middle of the night, with his cock hard as a pike and his mind filled with torrid fantasies of claiming Livy?

  The answer to all of that was simple. He could not.

  It is good that Livy is leaving for Scotland, he told himself. The absence will help us both. If I am invited to visit, I will make excuses. Surely the months apart will help us both regain our bearings. By then, she will have moved on from her silly tendre and perhaps found a proper suitor. And I…

  I will be alone. His chest tightened. As I deserve to be.

  Arriving at the study, Ben was ushered in by Strathaven.

  “Good afternoon, old boy.” The older man was dressed in a Prussian blue frock coat, his striped silk cravat fashionably knotted. His manner was amiable, with no sign of animosity in his pale-green eyes…thank God. “I have been waiting for you.”

  Ben followed the other to the wing chairs by the fire. As he settled into the soft leather, he recalled all the other times they’d reposed here, discussing business and other mutual interests. They shared a similar temperament, being reserved gentlemen who respected the need for privacy.

  Strathaven gestured to a cart of refreshments. “Will you take tea or coffee?”

  Ben’s illicit thoughts about Livy, coupled with the fact that he was now in her papa’s presence, made him long for something significantly stronger. Strathaven stocked the best whisky, sourced from an ancient distillery in Scotland, but Ben had sworn off drink since his hard-won recovery. Now was not the time to pick up his old bad habits.

  “Coffee, please.” Accepting the cup, Ben took a drink of the brew.

  “Haven’t seen you of late at the club,” Strathaven said in conversational tones.

  “I have been busy.”

  Working with Chen to trace the origins of the lethal drug had been a welcome distraction. Ben had spent the last week visiting countless watchmakers, trying to discover the owner of the watch found on Pete’s body, who might also be the source of the drug. Thus far, he’d had no luck.

  Chen had fared better with the snuffbox, tracing it to a jeweler on Pall Mall. The jeweler had recognized the box, minus the initials which had been painted on after he’d sold them. Apparently, he’d received a large shipment of the boxes from China several months ago; soon after he’d placed one in the shop window, a manservant had come by and purchased the lot. Unfortunately, the jeweler had no further information about the servant or his employer.

  The dead end did not deter Ben. He was determined to forge on in the investigation. To ensure that Pete’s death would not go unanswered for.

  Strathaven lifted his dark brows. “Anything of note?”

  “Just business.” Ben switched the subject. “How are the trip preparations for Scotland coming along?”

  “You know my duchess. She has everything well in hand.” Strathaven’s eyes held a glint of amusement. “My job is to stay out of her way.”

  “Is that why you are hiding in the study?”

  “Not hiding, my friend. Enjoying one of the many perquisites of marriage,” the duke said a bit smugly. “Emma excels at domestic management, and I am happy to let her have at it. In fact, she baked my favorite cake…probably to distract me and keep me out of her hair, but I have no complaints. Care for a slice?”

  Having sampled the lady’s culinary skills—which were highly unusual for a duchess—Ben did not turn down the offer. The cake was delicious, light and fluffy, layered with a citrus curd and whipped cream. Not for the first time, he felt a pang of envy. He wondered what it would be like to have a wife who cared about one’s preferences and made one’s life easier, not more difficult. A wife who was loving and devoted and who demanded the same in return from her husband.

  “Surely you did not invite me over merely to boast?” he asked mildly.

  Strathaven’s lips twitched. “Not to boast, no. Perhaps to lead by example.”

  “You forget that I’ve been married.” Hearing the bitterness seep through, Ben lightened his tone. “Marriage is an institution which I have no desire to be locked into again.”

  “Not all marriages are like Bedlam. But I take your point that it is not a decision to be made lightly.” Strathaven’s expression turned somber. “And that brings me to the reason I asked you here today: I would like for you to keep an eye on Livy.”

  Ben stilled. “What do you mean? She’ll be in Scotland with you, won’t she?”

  “There has been a change of plans.” Strathaven drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Livy has set her heart on joining some charity headed by Lady Fayne. Apparently, this group aims to help females in unfortunate circumstances, and Livy has decided she must start straight away. She asked to remain in London while our family sojourns in Scotland.”

  “Surely you are not going to allow it?” Ben asked in disbelief. “A girl her age, alone in Town unsupervised?”

  “Of course I would not allow her to be unsupervised.” Strathaven frowned. “She will be staying with Lady Fayne, who has offered to be her chaperone. And Fiona Garrity and Glory Cavendish will be part of this group as well.”

  Unease prickled through Ben. Since when had Livy been interested in genteel charities? She was not the pamphlet-writing, handkerchief-sewing type.

  Suspicion brewed in him. “And you trust this Lady Fayne?”

  “My wife has entertained Lady Fayne several times and is quite taken with her. Says the lady is a ‘modern woman’…whatever that means.” Strathaven crossed his long legs. “I, myself, have made discreet inquiries into Lady Fayne’s background. Although she has not been in London long, the sticklers sing her praises. Even the Dowager Duchess of Moncrief vouches that Lady Fayne is a woman of great virtue, and that old harridan does not like anyone. Lady Fayne appears to be what everyone says she is: a wealthy, independent widow with a penchant for doing good.”

  Ben set his jaw. “Regardless, I do not trust her with Livy.”

  “You sound like me.” Strathaven’s smile was wry. “Her Grace informs me that I have a tendency to be overprotective and overbearing…and that is just as a husband. She says when it comes to being a papa, I am even worse.”

  “Your caution is justified.” Leaning forward, Ben chose his words with care. “Livy is not an ordinary sort of female. While she is undoubtedly clever and capable, she needs someone to look after her. To make sure she is acting in her own best interests.”

  “I wish you had been there during my argument with Her Grace. I could have used the support.” Strathaven dragged a hand through his dark silver-threaded hair. “The truth is it wasn’t just Emma who convinced me, it was Livy herself. You know my daughter, Hadleigh. All her life, she has been a spirited girl full of purpose and zeal. She has always treated life as an adventure.”

  Nostalgia warmed Ben’s chest. He had always loved Livy’s natural exuberance. She explored life the way a child looks for seashells upon a shore: with tireless delight. No one—not even a jaded bastard like him—could be bored in her presence.

  “Of late, however, my daughter has lost her shine,” Strathaven said in concerned tones. “According to my wife, Livy hasn’t been herself since her birthday ball, and I have noticed it too. Perhaps it is a normal part of the maturation process, of coming into womanhood. But I do not wish for Livy’s spark to be dimmed…by anything. When she asked permission to join this Society of Angels, she had that gleam of excitement in her eyes again. And I could not say no.”

  Ben understood the difficulty of saying no t
o Livy. Yet he also understood the necessity, at times, of doing so. Perhaps more than her own parents did.

  “When she is not volunteering, what of her free time?” he pointed out. “Do you trust Lady Fayne to keep a close eye on Livy, especially with Sheffield and other suitors milling about?”

  “Not entirely. Which is where you come in.”

  Ben stilled, his heart lurching. “Me?”

  Strathaven sat forward in his chair, his expression intent. “You were there when Livy needed you most, my friend, and I am asking you to look after her once again. There is no one I trust more with my daughter. She listens to you, insofar as she listens to anyone, and I know with you she is in good hands.”

  Ben flashed back to the last time he’d had his hands on Livy. The plump curve of her hip beneath his palm, the torturous bliss of her bottom rubbing against him…

  “This is a lot to ask, I know.” Apparently mistaking Ben’s silence for refusal, Strathaven said earnestly, “It would be for a few weeks only, at which time I will return to fetch her. I would consider it a personal favor and would be in your debt—”

  “There will be no talk of debt.” Ben gathered himself. “I would be happy to keep an eye on Livy in your absence.”

  You will keep your eyes on her, he lectured himself. And your bloody hands off.

  Relief softened Strathaven’s features. “You have my gratitude. She looks to you like an older brother, and despite her desire for independence, I am certain she will find your presence a comfort. In fact, it is strange that she has not burst in on us the way she has always done.”

  You want me to stay away? Livy’s voice rang in Ben’s head. You’ll never have to see me again.

  Livy could hold a grudge as well as anyone…which was why Ben had used cruel words to drive her away. Knowing that he’d done the right thing did not quell the hollowness in his chest. Although he lived a life of privilege, he possessed few things of true value. And now he had lost something dear…something that could never be replaced.

  “She is probably otherwise occupied,” he said gruffly.