Secrets of a Duke's Daughter (The Duchess's Investigative Society Book 1)

by Samantha Holt

  “Oh pooh,” she muttered. “It might be the night watchman. We should dowse the light.”

  “If it goes out suddenly, he’ll surely know someone is in here.”

  Cassie’s eyes widened when footsteps approached. “The door is still unlocked.”

  “Bloody hell.” If the man tried it, they would be caught to be certain.

  She darted out of the room and Luke hastened after her. The mottled glass offered only vague shadows, but he spotted the outline of the man against the glow of his lamp. The doorhandle jiggled and Luke’s heart nearly slammed into his throat.

  He pushed past Cassie when she hesitated at the door, snatched her to the ground and pressed the full weight of his body against the door. The man tried again, this time pushing against the door and Luke used all his strength to stop it from budging. Cassie remained curled in his arms, her hair tickling his nose. Her breaths sounded as rasping as his own.

  He reached up and turned the key as slowly as humanly possible. He winced when the lock clicked into place. The door rattled against his back. He gripped the soft fabric of Cassie’s jacket in some attempt to remind her he was here, and he’d protect her—no matter what.

  After too many shuddery breaths, the light moved on and they heard footsteps retreat. He sagged against the door. “That was far too close.”

  “It was.” She tilted her head to glance up at him.

  The shadows offered him little view of her, but it was enough. He saw her parted lips, her wide eyes. He felt her body in his arms.

  He leaned down and kissed her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Again.

  Cassie had kissed him again.

  Or he had kissed her. Who could be certain when they had both been so active in said kiss?

  She pressed through the crowded street, Luke following close behind. At least he had not mentioned it. With any luck, they could forget it ever happened. And forget the one before that too.

  She grimaced to herself. She’d had one chaste kiss in her entire life and now she was up to a count of three and the ones with Luke had been far from chaste. It would not be easy to wipe from her mind.

  Stalls cluttered the sides of the road, offering everything from feathers to blankets to live chickens. Sellers shouted their deals while customers haggled—some quite determinedly so. Cassie had already passed an argument about the price of turnips and she overheard one old man somehow haggle a man’s hat from his head as part of the deal.

  “Stay close,” Luke called to her. “There are all manner of thieves in this area.”

  Not that she could stray far from him in the crowd anyway. She slowed her pace marginally and came to Luke’s side. He had yet to mention last night. In fact, were it not for the letter they had found containing an address for the shipping company, last night might not have even occurred.

  Yet it had. She could still feel the imprint of his body wrapped around her, his arms cradling her so, his fingertips grazing her jaw as his lips danced over her mouth. Blaming the crowds for her heated cheeks would be easiest but she knew better.

  What was she going to do about it, though? Dwelling on it did not serve her well. It seemed he wanted to forget it as much as she did. Now all she needed to do was pretend it never happened. He had made it clear what a mistake it had been when he’d broken the kiss and shoved hurriedly away from her.

  Cassie spied an end to the stalls where the horde began to disperse and headed toward that like a swimmer bursting toward the surface for much-needed air. Nothing about today was going to be easy, she imagined. Not finding this address and most certainly not spending time with Luke.

  Why could things not be like they used to be when she considered him no more than a friend—a potentially handsome friend—but a friend nonetheless. How much simpler those days were.

  “There’s the building.”

  She paused. Well, perhaps she was wrong on one part. The lack of signage in the area and the worn quality of the many of the buildings had fooled her yet there it was, number thirty-one. Nothing else indicated it might belong to a company.

  Cassie strode over to the building and peered up at the boarded windows. “If this ever belonged to a successful company, it was a long time ago.”

  “Indeed.” Luke peered through the wooden slats covering a window. “There’s no sign of any occupants.”

  “Blast.”

  He put a hand to her shoulder. “It was worth a try but there’s nothing here.”

  “No, we need to look inside.”

  He groaned. “Really, Cassie? More breaking into buildings.”

  “It’s hardly secure anyway. Look, that window at the side is accessible. It’s practically an invitation.”

  He shook his head. “Practically?”

  “Come on. I am not having last night be for naught.”

  He gave her a strange look that she could not decipher but she was not going to waste time analyzing the various looks of Lord Whitehurst. She had already squandered far too much brain power on pondering the man.

  It was odd really. For a rake, he seemed entirely regretful over their kisses, yet did he not kiss many women? Surely such a moment would hardly pass his notice?

  Oh. Maybe she had just been an awful kisser. It did not really explain why he’d let it happen again but perhaps he hoped she’d improve. How awful.

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  She moved past him to the side of the building and peered up the street. Perfect. The slats on this window were loose. She grabbed one and wriggled it until it gave way, then started on the next. Luke joined her and helped her remove the next two, creating a gap big enough to climb through.

  “I have no idea why I am allowing this to happen,” he muttered.

  “Help me up.”

  “Anton is going to kill me.”

  “Anton will never know. Now help me up.”

  Hands to her waist, he lifted her with ease, allowing her to grab the edge of the window and swing one leg in. She ducked her head and slipped in.

  Dust swirled about the air, lingering in the tiny streams of light let in by the gaps in the boarding. Luke followed after, grunting as he squeezed himself through the narrow gap. He straightened and came to stand next to her.

  “Empty.”

  “Yes.” The room offered no hint of what it used to be with only an empty fireplace to fill it. A damaged patch of wall indicated there had once been a mantlepiece around it, but it had likely been removed by unscrupulous characters at some point. Apparently they weren’t the only ones to have entered the building since its closure.

  “Let us search the building.”

  “Cassie...”

  “We are here now.” She stepped out into the hallway. “We might as well do a thorough search,” she called back to him.

  The man might be willing to give up at the first hurdle, but she was not. Their visit to the solicitors was not going to be for nothing.

  Cassie tried the handle of the door in front of her to find it loose but sticking. Perhaps something of interest was behind it. She jiggled the knob and used her shoulder to shove the door open. The door swung shut with a thud behind her as she entered the room.

  Nothing. Entirely empty. Not even a scrap of paper to hint at the occupants. She pinched the bridge of her nose. How could this be? Someone must have been here to accept the will’s bequest scarcely two months ago.

  “Cassie?” called Luke from the other side of the door.

  “In here,” she said. “But there's nothing.”

  She gripped the doorknob and yanked. The knob tumbled to the floor, clattering on dusty floorboards. “Oh.”

  “Cassie?”

  She put a finger into the hole created and tried to ease open the door but she achieved nothing but a sore finger.

  “Cassie?” The door thudded and she assumed Luke had tried to push it open from his side. But it did not budge.

  “Um, Luke?”r />
  “Yes.”

  “It seems I am stuck.”

  ***

  LUKE CLOSED HIS eyes briefly. He could be at Boodle’s. Or home. Or even in the arms of an attractive widow.

  Not that he’d been interested in such an assignation in some time but that was not the point. He could be anywhere, other than here, practically torturing himself.

  He bent to retrieve the door knob and shoved it back into the hole. “Can you put the other side in?” he called through the door.

  He heard a huff and a clunk. “It’s in,” Cassie announced.

  The doorknob fell away in his hand when he tried to turn it. He lobbed it to the floor with more aggression than warranted.

  “Stand back,” he ordered and waited a few moments.

  He took a few steps back and slammed his shoulder into the door. A groan escaped him when pain speared through his arm. The solid wood of the door barely budged as though the hard hit had been no more powerful than a puff of wind. He rubbed his arm and eyed the door.

  “I need something to pry it open with I think. Stay there.”

  “I can hardly do anything else.”

  A glance around told him there was nothing he could use in the hallway so he set about exploring the rest of the building, coming upon a room crammed with what could only be described as junk. Fine luck indeed. There would surely be something he could use here.

  He kicked an empty crate aside and peered at the carcass of a perambulator. Nothing about this building hinted at it being used by a shipping company. He had to admit, the more he allowed Cassie to drag him into this, the more he became convinced she wasn’t wrong—there was something odd about Parsons’ death.

  “Hurry up!” Cassie called from down the corridor. “There’s spiders in here.”

  He shook his head to himself, kicked aside another pile of debris and spied a length of scrap metal. As he went to grab for it, a floorboard behind him creaked. He stilled, straightened, but before he turned, an arm latched around his throat.

  A thick, muscular arm belonging to someone clearly much taller and larger than him.

  He grabbed the arm and tried to pry himself free. Blood rushed into his skull with the pressure on his neck, pounding hard, making his eyes feel as though they were bulging. He managed to croak out a protest as he struggled to break free. His assailant smelled of dung and smoke.

  “Your money,” the man demanded.

  Well, at least he was being strangled with good reason he supposed. “I can’t...” He fumbled to reach into his jacket pocket, his head swimming.

  “Luke, what is happening?” Cassie called.

  He felt the man stiffen. A chill ran down his spine, settling straight into his stomach. There wasn’t a chance he was letting his assailant get to Cassie.

  With all the force he could muster, Luke slammed his head backward. There was a grunt and a crack, and the man cursed. The arm around his neck loosened enough for him to break free and he dove for the length of metal then twisted it and brandished it like a sword.

  Towering above him and so wide Luke could not fathom how the man had fit through the window, his attacker lunged for him. Luke jumped aside and swiped at him with his improvised weapon but missed.

  The man chuckled. “Give me your money then I’ll rescue your little lady.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Luke replied through gritted teeth.

  The man dove forward and slammed Luke up against the wall, knocking the wind and his weapon from his hand. His hat tumbled to the floor.

  The door rattled.

  “She’s impatient. I should help her soon.” The man flashed a gap-toothed grin. “Now give me your money and your pocket watch and maybe I’ll only knock you senseless.”

  “Not a chance.”

  The words came out slurred, sticking to his thick tongue. He wriggled against the grip then thrust a fist into the man’s gut. His soft flesh gave way and he grunted, releasing Luke from the wall. He snatched up the metal, slammed it against the man’s head then added a punch to his jaw for good measure. The mountain of a man staggered a few steps backward, a hand to his jaw.

  “That hurt,” he muttered.

  “So will this.” Luke brought the rod down on his head again. The giant toppled to the floor, a cloud of dust and debris kicking up around him.

  He edged over to the man and nudged him with a tentative foot. His eyes were closed but his chest moved up and down as though in deep slumber.

  Luke rubbed a hand over his face, tucked the metal rod under one arm and retrieved his hat. At least he did not have to add murder to his list of crimes this week. He brushed off the grime from his hat then headed back to the locked door.

  “Luke?”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” He pressed the rod into the gap of the door and used it to pry open the door. It inched open then gave way abruptly. He dropped the metal as Cassie tumbled into his arms.

  “What took you so long?” she demanded and straightened, forcing him to release her.

  He gestured to the man still slumbering in the room at the end of the corridor. “Someone wanted to have a fight.”

  “Goodness.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I told you this was too dangerous.”

  “Well, what did he say?”

  He eyed her for a few moments. “Say? Cassie, the man tried to strangle me.”

  She peered at his neck. “It was likely just a robbery.”

  He tugged off his hat and pressed a hand to the back of his head. His fingers were sticky and he spied the stain of blood on his fingertips even in the gloom. Apparently he’d struck his head quite hard when the man had slammed him against the wall.

  “Oh yes,” he muttered. “Just a robbery.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  As Cassie ushered Luke back to the carriage, guilt wound its way inside her. Though he tried to act tough, welts were forming on his throat and she saw him wince when he clambered into her father’s vehicle.

  She took his hat from his hands and urged him to lean forward. “Let me take a look.”

  Blood clung to the dark strands of his hair, but she could not tell where the cut was. Even after dabbing it with a handkerchief, blood continued to well.

  She pressed the fabric to the wound and lifted his hand. “Hold it there.”

  “Head wounds bleed like the devil but I’ll be perfectly fine.”

  The carriage jerked forward, and she pressed a hand to his chest then swiftly removed it. She did not need to be reminded of how firm his body was.

  “That is why we are going to my father’s house. It is closer and I can care for you there.”

  He offered a lopsided smile. “And here I thought it was just a robbery.”

  “Well, yes, it likely was, but he was a brute of a man. However did you get the better of him?”

  “Turns out long metal rods are quite useful, though I feel like I should take to carrying around a gun.”

  She shook her head vigorously. She loathed pistols. The things fired most erratically and had even been known to blow off the hands of whoever held it. Cassie wished neither her father nor Anton owned one. As far as she could tell, they were more dangerous to the owner than anyone else.

  “Did the man say anything?”

  “Wanted money and my pocket watch.” His jaw flexed. “And you.”

  “Goodness.” She offered a quick smile. “Well, at least we know it was most certainly a robbery.”

  “Or someone following you again and pretending it was a robbery.”

  “The last man was explicit in his threats. Why try to pretend anything now?”

  “I do not like this one jot, Cassie. I may have to make good on my threats of locking you up and throwing away the key.”

  She fixed him with a look. If anything, these threats only made her more determined. If someone wanted her away from this investigation, it meant something truly nefarious was taking place.

  “Do not think you can ch
arm me with those beautiful blue eyes, Cassie.”

  “I’m not certain charm was what I was going for.”

  He smirked. “Somehow, even when you are shooting barbs at me, you are charming.”

  “I think I shall take that as a compliment.”

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Take it however you wish.”

  “No! Do not go to sleep.”

  “I’m not,” he grumbled.

  “We are nearly there anyway.” She jostled his arm. “Let us get you inside.”

  He hobbled out of the carriage and she led him to the door, an arm through his. Mrs. Lamb greeted them with wide eyes. “My lady?”

  “Viscount Whitehurst was robbed,” she explained. “Where is my father?”

  “In the library.”

  “Do not tell him a word. I do not want him worrying.”

  The housekeeper hesitated.

  “Mrs. Lamb?” Cassie pressed.

  The woman nodded, her round features softening into the sort of matronly concern that belied the firm hand with which she ran the household. One would never believe Mrs. Lamb capable of giving a stern rebuke, given her rosy cheeks and short stature but Cassie had overheard her give many a scolding. A housekeeper did not come to run a duke’s house with a soft hand.

  “Do we have any ice?”

  “Davies brought some up from the ice house just today.”

  “Good.” She glanced at Luke’s wan appearance. “And, um, some cloths I suppose.” She had never really had to look after an injured man before.

  “Perhaps some tea too,” the housekeeper suggested. “A little broth if he can manage it. Does he want some laudanum for the pain?”

  “Certainly not,” he snapped. “I am perfectly fine.”

  “I shall take him through to the parlor if you can bring it there,” Cassie said, ignoring him.

  Mrs. Lamb hastened off and Cassie urged Luke through to the parlor. She stilled when she spied Aunt Sarah holding the cat and swaying to a hummed tune. “Oh, forgive me. I did not know you would be here.”

  Aunt Sarah spun wildly, cat in arms. The poor creature struggled to free himself and she finally let him go. “Simon is only annoyed that he did not get to attend the ball the other day. It was quite a wonderful night.”