A Scandal Most Daring

by Rebecca King

  “Yet the thieves make a fortune from re-selling the valuable pieces of jewellery,” Tahlia finished for him.

  Connor nodded.

  “Good Lord,” Tahlia whispered. She felt slightly sick. “Do you think that is what the two necklaces are about that were delivered here?”

  “Pardon?”

  She realised from Connor’s blank look that she hadn’t told him about the jewels that had been delivered earlier. Immediately, she went cold and turned to stare at Oscar.

  “The jewels,” she whispered in horror.

  “You don’t think that is what they were after, do you?” the butler demanded.

  “What jewels?” Connor’s voice was sharp with impatience.

  Oscar suddenly left the room, and returned moments later with two packages. Handing them to Connor, he stood back and watched the man swiftly open them and study the contents.

  “They arrived this morning, you say?”

  “Yes, but look at the packaging. I don’t think Bingham sent them both,” Tahlia replied.

  Connor shook his head. “Neither of them can be from Bingham Montague. He died a month ago.”

  Tahlia stared at him blankly. “He is dead?”

  Connor looked at her with eyes that were as cold as ice.

  “He was shot in the back of his head whilst out hunting,” Connor reported.

  “In London?” Cecily gulped.

  Tahlia rolled her eyes. Connor smiled grimly at her.

  “No, he was at his country estate. These couldn’t possibly have come from Bingham Montague. Do you know of any other Bingham?”

  He couldn’t ignore the surge of possessive jealousy that swept through him at the prospect of her having a suitor, and only relaxed when Tahlia shook her head.

  She turned her gaze to the pouches of gems and suddenly didn’t even want them near her.

  “It is safe to assume that these were delivered by mistake. Whoever mugged you, Tahlia, must have thought you had them on you when you left here. I need to get them valued to see if they are worth killing for. If they are not all that expensive then I think it is safe to assume they don’t want you being able to identify the deliveryman, or report to anybody that these gems arrived unexpectedly.”

  “They want to silence her,” Oscar sighed.

  “So they were shooting at me,” Tahlia gulped.

  Connor shook his head, and hastened to reassure her.

  “No, they were shooting at me. Whoever mugged you wanted the jewels back, I think. With your permission, I should like to take these for my colleagues to take to someone for a valuation.”

  “Do what you like with them,” Tahlia assured him. “As long as they are out of this house, I don’t care where they go.”

  Connor nodded and wrapped them back up. He then placed them in the safe alongside everything else. “We will keep everything in here for now. I will hide the key in the house somewhere they are not likely to find it.”

  “Where?” Tahlia demanded.

  Connor smiled. “It won’t be a secret if I told you, now would it?”

  She rolled her eyes again.

  “Tahlia, let me deal with the message to Tate,” Connor pleaded once everything was safely tucked out of sight with the carpet repositioned over it.

  “I can’t,” Tahlia replied sadly. “My uncle said that I was to do it personally and I intend to carry out his wishes.”

  “Tahlia.” There was a tone of caution in Connor’s voice that was completely lost on Tahlia who was already shaking her head.

  “My uncle would never put me in danger, Connor. There can be no danger in this, surely? I am just passing a message on; a message that doesn’t mean all that much to me.”

  Connor leaned forward and cupped her chin in his palm. Their eyes met.

  “What happened to you today then? How can you say that you do not face danger?” He pointed across the room to the door that led into the hallway. “What happened today with that man who took a shot at us? Can you be positive they weren’t firing at you?”

  Tahlia went cold all over. She shivered with apprehension but, even so, something deep within her refused to believe for a second that her uncle would deliberately risk her life. Not when he knew that Joseph was back in Rutland waiting for her.

  “Given that neither of us can be sure who they were firing at, it is my job to protect you now. Therefore, I cannot leave this house, and none of you are to go anywhere either.” When Tahlia opened her mouth to object, Connor lifted a hand to stall her. “Oscar cannot protect you in a house this size all by himself, and you and I both know it.”

  “Connor,” she protested when Cecily gasped and sidled closer to Oscar. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but it isn’t necessary. I can go to Mr Tate’s house now, and then spend the rest of the day going through my uncle’s things. As soon as I have decided which items to keep, they can be packed, and we can leave London. I have an appointment with the solicitor in the morning. After that, we can leave, and stay away until this Sayers person is behind bars where he belongs.”

  The anticipation in her voice unnerved him. The last thing he was going to do was sit back and let her leave again. Not now that he had found her after three long years of searching. He mentally cursed when she made her way to the door.

  “Tahlia,” he called.

  When she appeared intent on ignoring him, he raced after her. Thankfully, neither Oscar nor Cecily followed. Slamming the door closed behind him he caught her elbow as she was about to open the door.

  “I will not let you do this, Tahlia,” he snapped.

  Tahlia heaved a sigh and dug deep for her patience.

  “I don’t believe it is your place to give me permission to do anything,” she declared waspishly.

  “I am trying to make sure you are safe.”

  “I am safe,” she said bluntly. “It is strange that things only start to happen to me when you enter my life again. I mean, I have gone through all of my life and have never been mugged. You turn up and, in the same morning, I am attacked twice. Not only that, but you are standing next to me when I am shot at by a total stranger. If you wish me to remain safe, I suggest you let me take this message to Mr Tate and stay out of sight.”

  “Tahlia, wait.” He placed one palm on the door to prevent her from leaving. Leaning toward her, he stared her in the eye. “I will come with you. You can’t wander into this stranger’s home unannounced. You are a single woman. It is too dangerous for you to go out alone. Oscar can’t protect you. He can’t fight attackers like I can, and Cecily is absolutely useless in the smog. She has no idea where she is. Look at how easily she wandered off last time. You need me, and you know it.”

  He wasn’t entirely certain he was talking about just his escort to the Tate residence. He wanted her to need him, the man, as well.

  Tahlia hesitated. She knew that Oscar wouldn’t be able to hold his own against determined muggers the way Connor had. She looked at him. There was something intense and watchful in his gaze that drew a shiver down her spine.

  Strangely, it had nothing to do with fear, or foreboding, it was desire. She was so in tune with him that she was acutely aware of the very air he breathed. When he stood so close to her it felt as though he was drawing the air right out of her lungs. Startlingly, she became acutely conscious of every muscle, fibre, and bone in his muscular body the longer they stood together, and she found herself succumbing to him whether she wanted to or not.

  “Alright,” she replied softly. “Just keep your face hidden. I don’t want anybody to realise it is you.”

  Connor nodded and heaved a sigh of relief. Before she could move, he slammed his lips onto hers to seal the agreement, and stole her breath in the process. She could find the will to do little more than moan deep in her throat and allow him to take whatever he wanted. It was scandalous. It was shocking, and embarrassing that she had such little self-control around him. He only needed to look at her in a certain way and he stole her willpower.
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  The sudden rattle of the library door broke them apart. By the time Oscar appeared in the doorway, Connor was pulling his cloak on and moving away from the door.

  “Come on,” he murmured gently to Tahlia. He tugged her cloak hood over her head and arranged it so it covered most of her face. “Let’s go.”

  Dragging the hood of his own cloak over his head, Connor slid the bolt home and led her through the house.

  Shaken, Tahlia followed.

  “Why this way?” She asked curiously as he led her through the sitting room to a door at the side of the house.

  Connor grinned. “Because someone might be watching the front of the house. We need to go out across the gardens at the rear of the property.”

  Intrigued, Tahlia followed him.

  “How did you learn all of this?” she asked as he unlocked the door and took a look outside before he stepped across the threshold.

  Connor threw her a rueful glance. “There are some things I need to keep to myself. Let me just say that things like this are a less than salubrious part of my job.”

  “Oh.” She nodded and pretended she understood what he was talking about.

  “Before we go, I just need to check on one thing. Wait here a minute,” Connor ordered.

  His sigh was loud when he stopped in front of the first window, and Tahlia slammed into his back.

  “What?” she demanded when he threw her a dirty look.

  “Do you ever do as you are told?” He asked wryly.

  “What are you doing?” She glanced around the gardens only for Connor to study the window for a moment before he moved on to the next aperture.

  “Scratches, marks, any tell-tale sign that someone had tried to break in,” Connor murmured.

  Stunned, Tahlia glanced furtively around the gardens as she followed him from window to window, and waited for him to finish his inspection.

  She had once spent many hours in this garden. Now that her life had been thrown into turmoil, it didn’t seem quite as tranquil as it once had been. She would be glad to be away from the place.

  When they finally did leave the gardens, Tahlia felt as though she was stepping out into a whole new adventure. Unfortunately, she wasn’t entirely certain she was ready for it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  To her surprise, rather than trying to walk the several miles to Mr Tate’s house they stopped at a busy main road several streets away and hailed a carriage. After several bogus addresses, and a fresh carriage or two, Connor was finally satisfied that they hadn’t been followed. He then gave a new coachman the proper address to Jeremiah Tate’s house.

  Minutes later, he handed the carriage driver several coins and nodded his thanks.

  The residential street was quiet but, rather than being welcoming, it had an air of watchful expectancy about it that was unnerving. It didn’t help that their boots echoed hollowly around them as they walked toward number 3.

  “Are you sure we should be doing this now?” Tahlia whispered, suddenly having second thoughts. “I mean, he isn’t expecting us.”

  Connor smiled reassuringly at her, seemingly unperturbed by their surroundings.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” he teased.

  He wouldn’t mind if she was. He would be happy to escort her back across town and leave her in Oscar’s safe keeping. To his disappointment, she shook her head. While he was annoyed, he had to admire her for her determination to brazen it out. He had half-expected her to tell him she wanted to go back once they had reached the second address, but she hadn’t.

  She has courage, I will give her that much, he mused thoughtfully as he rapped on the door and stood beside her to wait for it to be opened.

  Tahlia shivered as she waited, and was extremely grateful for Connor’s presence.

  “I am sure it will be fine,” he reassured her when he became aware of her nerves. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Inwardly, she wasn’t entirely sure this was a good idea, but she owed it to her uncle to get this done anyway. Meeting this Mr Tate person as quickly as possible released her from any and all obligations to her uncle, and meant she would be able to return to Rutland a little quicker.

  When the door opened, however, and a rather stooped elderly woman appeared in the entrance, Tahlia wished she hadn’t bothered to make the journey.

  “Hello, I am here to see Mr Tate?” She began only to stop when the old woman left the door open and disappeared into the house.

  Tahlia stared blankly at the empty doorway for several moments, unsure what to do.

  “Hello?” she called when the woman didn’t immediately re-appear.

  “Hello?” Connor prompted, and pushed the door open when he received no reply either.

  He studied the empty hallway.

  “What do we do?” Tahlia asked quietly.

  “I think she wants us to enter,” he muttered in disgust.

  “Hello?” she called when the door swung silently open.

  “Well, don’t just stand there,” the older woman snapped rudely when she suddenly appeared at the opposite end of the hallway. She made broad, sweeping motions toward the room beside her with one arm. “Come in, come in.”

  Tahlia did as instructed and clasped the warm hand Connor wrapped around her chilled fingers. Her eyes were still adjusting to the gloom when the elderly woman suddenly pointed to a room at the back of the property.

  “He is in there,” the housekeeper grunted.

  Rather than announce them, or ask her for her card, the old woman left them to enter the room on their own.

  “Hello?”

  Tahlia hesitantly entered the snug candle-lit room. Her gaze immediately fell on a small, bespectacled man seated behind a desk. She was aware of his careful scrutiny as she crossed the room, and smiled becomingly in an attempt to ease the cautious watchfulness. When he didn’t respond, Tahlia squared her shoulders and stuck to the reason why she was there.

  “Please accept my apologies for calling by unannounced,” she began. “It is horribly ungracious of me, I know. However, I came at the request of your friend, Mr Tate.”

  The man pierced her with a hard stare and waved toward a chair on the opposite side of the desk. While Tahlia sat, he nodded Connor into a chair next to it.

  “Who?” It was a singular word full of impatient demand.

  “Henry Gillingham.”

  The man sat perfectly still and studied her. “Henry Gillingham is dead,” he declared flatly.

  “I am his niece. This is my associate, Mr Connor Humphries.”

  Mr Tate nodded politely.

  Connor sat back and allowed Tahlia to take the lead. It gave him the opportunity to study the room. While he did so, he slowly became aware of Mr Tate’s careful scrutiny. Connor knew, without question, that he had been judged, assessed, and labelled within seconds, but had to wonder why.

  What was Mr Tate hiding? Was his wariness anything to do with Henry Gillingham, or the mudlark diamond?

  “I went to the solicitors yesterday and was given a letter my uncle wrote to me before his demise,” she explained.

  She didn’t go into further detail because she suspected Mr Tate wasn’t interested. There was just something about the rudeness of this man that made her question how he came to be a friend of her uncle’s. The two were so vastly different in behaviour that Tahlia couldn’t see them even wanting to spend any time together.

  Connor studied the man carefully. There was something about his face that warned him the elderly man was not as old as he was pretending to be. He was also worried about something. This man had a sneaky, almost furtive gaze that kept flickering around the room almost nervously. It was as though he was searching for something, or trying to find a way out.

  At first glance, the room was an ordinary sitting room. A little small, maybe, but well stocked with books. It was quite cosy. So, what was it about this entire situation that made Connor so deuced uncomfortable? He didn’t know, and boldly met Mr Tate’s challen
ging gaze for several moments in an attempt to provoke the man.

  “Mr Tate?” Tahlia prompted when the man didn’t answer.

  “Well?” Mr Tate snapped rudely.

  Tahlia’s mouth fell open at the abruptness. Her first instinct was to lambast him for being so offensive, but then she reminded herself that she hadn’t actually made an appointment to see him. Still, that didn’t give him the right to be so ill-mannered.

  “I am sorry to arrive unannounced like this, but my late uncle informed me that I was to pass a message on to you as soon as I received his note.”

  “Well, what is it?” Mr Tate interrupted.

  Connor’s ears pricked up. He listened attentively to the words and knew immediately that the man was indeed trying to hide something. Was that an accent in his voice? Was that why the man was trying to shield his brogue with terse words and rudeness? Connor moved toward the fire. He moved slowly and casually to mask his tension, and felt considerably safer now he didn’t have his back facing the door. Curious, he watched Tahlia try to engage the man in conversation.

  “Henry said that I was to tell you face-to-face, and that I was to do so as a matter of urgency,” she prevaricated.

  In reality, while Tahlia was pretending to remember the message, she was in fact studying the contents of the desk. It was strange that the room, largely as neat as a pin, had piles of papers on the desk which had been rifled through. Copious amounts of parchment had been left in alarmingly tilted piles which looked ready to topple over at any moment.

  Tahlia surreptitiously watched his face turn ruddy and wondered if he intended to ask her to leave. Now that she was sitting in his house she realised how ridiculous she sounded, but was quite enjoying the part she had chosen to play. It was a relief that Connor hadn’t chosen to interrupt her. She flicked a glance toward him and read the steady reassurance in his gaze. It was all she needed to see to know that he too suspected there was something not right about this.

  “Well?”

  There was something in Mr Tate’s stillness that warned her he was dangerous.