Nate dreaded to think what Brodford’s peers would think of such a proclamation. Some might even take it as a form of mutiny. Either way, in the strictest circles, it would hardly be tolerated.
As he happened to agree with the man, Nate dipped his head in acceptance of the request.
The serving staff brought out the soup and the conversation quickly changed.
“How was the school today?” Brodford ask his daughter.
“Delightful.” Lady Annabel turned to Nate with a glint in her eye. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Frederickson?”
Damn chit! She was perfectly aware from his perspective there had been nothing delightful about it. She also knew, while sharing a meal with her father, he had no recourse but to begrudgingly agree.
“It is a very fine school. Your daughter is a rare find.” He shot Lady Annabel a challenging look.
In return, her expression softened to one of pure innocence and virtue. Infuriating princess.
“It was very generous of Mr. Frederickson to devote so much of his day accompanying me while I dealt with such trifling matters. Why, his dedication could easily be compared to that of a loyal lapdog. I’d never felt safer.”
Nate held in the urge to snarl at her. Given her retort, she clearly disliked his double entendre. Too bad. She’d started it.
Oh, hell. Now he sounded like a child. What about this woman, with her turquoise eyes and flashes of red fire aflame in her hair, stole his good nature and replaced it with a churlish boy? He needed to get himself under control.
“Glad to hear,” Brodford said, clearly more focused on enjoying the beef creation that had replaced the soup course, than deciphering the multi-layered undercurrent between his daughter and Nate.
Which fell in Nate’s favor. His current behavior nowhere near reflected the level of professionalism he normally employed. He hadn’t become so accomplished in his field by sparring with an upper crust brat. It was time to rein in whatever was playing havoc with his commonsense and return his attention to the thefts.
Set on ignoring her, Nate addressed the earl. “After returning from the school, I gave the property a more thorough perusal. There are a few vulnerabilities I noted but nothing to indicate how the intruder entered the house. Until the perpetrator strikes again, our best bet to uncover him would be to follow the stolen items.”
The earl ignored his meal as Nate spoke and he once again wondered if the older man was more astute than he appeared.
Brodford’s avid interest had Nate revealing more of his plans than he normally would. “I’ve already sent a description of the items to my supervisor in London. He’ll have our people on the trail in no time. I also inquired if the agency has anyone on retainer who specializes in the antiques you deal in.”
“Good, good.” The man returned to his meal, ending all discussion. Maybe not so shrewd after all.
“What of you, Mr. Frederickson?”
The firm feminine voice from across the table kept Nate from enjoying the beef sitting before him. He couldn’t very well ignore her with the earl present. With a sigh of regret, he met her questioning eyes.
“What about me, Lady Annabel?”
“I was wondering what you will be doing while others are searching for the missing items.”
The implication started a slow burn in his middle. Though he’d be damned before he’d let her know how her words struck him.
He flashed her his most wicked smile—the one he employed when he wished to prevail over a lady’s better sense. “I’m touched by your concern, Lady Annabel, but I plan to be preoccupied keeping you out of harm’s way. In fact, I envision countless hours spent in your company over the next several days.”
The corners of his lips twitched and he caved to the impulse to smile in triumph when her mouth pursed and her eyes narrowed. The dainty miss was definitely not happy to be reminded he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Unfortunately, her displeasure didn’t have her scurrying in retreat. He almost admired her tenacity. Almost.
With her father still devoted to occupying himself with his food—the very food Nate was certain had turned cold on his own plate—she continued to address him. “Your devotion should be commended, Mr. Frederickson. Most men in your situation would have opted for a manlier assignment. Here you are, content with spending your days flittering about with a lady.”
He shot a hooded glance to Brodford to ensure he remained engrossed with his meal before he silkily replied, “Some of my best work just so happens to be when I'm flittering about with a lady.”
Her fair skin flushed scarlet. With a smirk of satisfaction, Nate turned his attention back to his food.
The man is insufferable, Anna grumbled to herself as she fidgeted in her room, waiting for the house to quiet for the night.
She’d been so flustered by his admission of spending many pleasurable days in the company of women—and she could all but imagine what that entailed—she hadn’t gathered any valuable information as to how he planned to catch the intruder.
Worse, she was out of time. If she didn’t acquire one of her father’s artifacts tonight, she could say goodbye to her mother’s legacy.
Without payment, Mr. Rollins would call the debt, a deed which would destroy more than her hopes for the school.
Her only choice was to do her best to avoid the unbearable Mr. Frederickson.
And to pray for some luck.
She’d seen his determination as he’d vowed nothing would stand between him and catching the thief.
Right before he’d called her an overindulged, spoiled brat.
She refused to think on why his claim had caused an unrelenting fire within her. Could it be that as much as she’d protested, she was afraid he was right? Was she perhaps a tad overindulged and maybe a bit spoiled?
In her defense, she never asked or expected to be treated as such. Being the only child of a very caring family man, a little spoiling and some overindulgence was to be expected.
No matter how her father treated her, it had no bearing on the woman she wanted to be. The woman she had striven to become since the day she’d taken control of the school. The woman who would see all her struggles pay off. The students at the school were depending on her.
Fairly confident everyone had turned in for the night, Anna slipped from her room, tiptoed down the hall, and proceeded on silent feet down the stairs to the parlor where her father housed his collection.
Before he had gone on alert regarding the missing artifacts, acquisitioning items hadn’t been a challenge. With his vast collection, it wasn’t until two months after she’d made use—so to speak—of the first one that he’d noticed anything missing. She’d tried to keep what she selected to something that appeared unimportant and wouldn’t be missed. Consequently she'd underestimated the value he placed on every item and his commitment to get them back. Papa would do anything.
Even hire a rather cocky and entirely too handsome Bow Street Runner.
Anna reached the parlor, half expecting to find Mr. Frederickson standing guard outside the door. Annoyance still burned deep in her chest to admit she’d failed at uncovering how the man plotted to catch the thief.
If armed with that particular knowledge, she wouldn’t be so on edge.
As usual the door to the parlor was closed. Her father only left it open while he worked. Anna took hold of the knob and gave it a twist, pushing the door wide soundlessly. A feat only manageable due to the oil she’d applied to the hinges after her initial nighttime trip to the room. During her first attempt, she’d been so filled with terror of being caught, the eerie creak the old door had emitted had scared the wits out of her. She’d ensured it would never happen again.
Unlike that night, Anna crept silently into the room, closing the door all but a crack so she’d be alerted to anyone
’s approach. Though she carried more than anxiety at being caught. Like all the other nights, her conscience refused rest. No matter what she called it, she couldn’t pretend her actions weren’t wrong. If her father found out before she could replace the items—though how she would replace one-of-a-kind items she had no idea—he would be more than disappointed in her. Never before had she earned his displeasure. She wasn’t sure she could withstand it.
To keep her night exploring as brief as possible, she always decided on a piece beforehand. This time it was an uninteresting talisman. She hoped its lackluster appearance meant it would be a few days before her father noticed its absence, yet held enough value to keep Mr. Rollins appeased.
Not wasting a moment, she ignored the objects between her and her goal and inched across the room, careful to avoid knocking over the many bits and pieces littering her path. If luck was with her, her father had been focused on the rest of his collection and the talisman would be where she’d spied it earlier.
Just as she reached her destination, a solid thud of footsteps rang out in the hall. Her fingers froze mere inches above her target.
An unsteady breath squeezed between her lips as she swallowed her panic . . . along with the urge to flee.
Be reasonable. Pause and think. It was most likely a servant tending to one last chore before retiring. And maybe if she repeated the scenario over and over, she’d start to believe it.
Since reasoning with herself wasn’t working, she resorted to her secondary plan. Hide and hope the person would pass by. Forcing her fingers to move, she grabbed the talisman and shimmied between two sizable pieces of her father’s collection.
In an effort to complete her deed undetected, she relied on the moonlight so she needn’t worry about a flicker of light catching the passerby’s attention. Even so, the slightly opened door might be her downfall.
The household knew the door remained closed when unoccupied. Despite his devotion, it had been several years since her father had worked through the night. Anyone familiar with his schedule would find the open door peculiar—even if only a crack. Especially now, with everyone from the footmen to the scullery maids on alert for whoever was absconding with the pieces.
Tucked behind a broad statue of some long deceased individual, Anna felt as safe from discovery as possible. Though she’d rather be tucked securely in her bedchamber. Hopefully if someone entered the room they’d never pick her out from the various forms of clutter. She huddled closer to the statue as the footfalls trod louder.
Silence rang through the room when the invisible person stopped outside the door. Paralyzed with fear, her breath caught in her chest, unable to pass her compressed lips.
At the soft brush of the door opening against the carpeted floor, her head began to spin. Thankfully, the wide statue at her back kept her from falling over in a dead faint. Through it all, a tiny voice of reason demanded she escape before her well-intentioned plans were ruined. Sheer will alone kept her from breaking for the door.
Around the edge of the statue, she spied her unwanted visitor. In the muted light, with only his dark frame visible, there was no mistaking who stood between her and freedom.
Mr. Frederickson.
She suspected he’d be a challenge but she hadn’t envisioned him standing between her and her task. If she somehow managed to make it out of the room undetected, she vowed to find a different method to repay Mr. Rollins.
Providence had definitely abandoned her when, instead of retreating, the dratted man advanced further inside. What thin breath managing to escape her lungs stuck in her throat when he peered around the room . . . before pausing in her direction. She could almost feel his unfairly handsome blue eyes burrowing through the statue to espy her.
She amended her thoughts on fate when he finally turned and exited. Only to shut the door and muffle his retreating steps. She couldn’t be sure he didn’t stand guard outside.
Talisman in hand, she had no alternative but to wait, crouched in silence, and ensure he’d gone before making her escape.
Chapter 8
Nate had considered the previous night uneventful in regards to the investigation until a mighty roar from the earl’s parlor broke into his morning meal. Convinced the man was in the midst of a dire emergency, Nate rushed to the room. What he found upon entering was a version of the earl Nate had thought nonexistent. Gone was the composed, reserved, almost oblivious gentleman. In his place stood a man incensed.
The earl’s fury was such that Nate resorted to using proper address. “My Lord?”
“When I requested the best Runner on the force, I was under the mistaken impression I would be allowed such a simple boon!”
Nate wasn’t sure what held him more immobile, the earl’s seemingly uncharacteristic outburst, or him blatantly impugning Nate’s capabilities as a Runner. Something not even his enemies dared.
Lady Annabel brushed by Nate as she entered, leaving the scent of something floral as she rushed to her father’s side and led him to the sofa. “Papa? Are you hurt?”
Her presence seemed to calm the older man. At least to a point where he no longer hurled insults at Nate’s head.
“Of course not, dear,” he answered with a pat on her hand, restored to his composed self, discounting the extra color still staining his cheeks. “I’m sorry to have worried you.”
Brodford turned his gaze from his daughter to level his attention to Nate. Fully prepared to be berated further, Nate was once more baffled when the earl spoke. “My apologies, Frederickson. My words were uncalled for and overwrought.”
When Nate’s father managed to acknowledge the existence of his bastard son, his words held nothing but contempt and disgust. Never before faced with an apology from a nobleman outside of his brother, Nate could only mumble his acceptance.
“Why the shouting, Papa?”
A hint of anger returned to the older man’s eyes but Nate was no longer the recipient of his rage.
“Another item has been taken!”
For Nate, two things happened simultaneously. First, his certainty in his ability shifted, knowing the earl had been robbed under his well-trained eye. Quickly followed by a vow to make sure it never happened again. He’d been sent to do a job, and even though he had no desire to be dealing with a noble and his princess of a daughter, Nate had never let his personal feelings affect his job. He sure as hell wouldn’t start now.
“You are sure? Maybe you misplaced it,” Lady Annabel suggested with what seemed to be a touch of desperation in her voice. On his behalf? Probably not.
“Never in my life have I misplaced one of my artifacts. Even with my advancing years, I’m not about to begin.”
Damn! Nate could have sworn the house had been secure. He’d checked all the exits and windows himself. He’d even stayed awake half the night patrolling the hallways. There was nothing leading him to believe another theft would occur. He needed to find a way to turn the situation around.
With reluctance Nate interrupted the earl—knowing it might shift the man’s ire in his direction once again. “I’ll need a description of the piece taken. It might not appear so but the latest theft may actually work in our favor. The thief will be looking to unload the item and if we work it just so, he might play right into our hand.”
“Yes. Yes. Excellent idea, Frederickson,” the earl replied with upbeat vigor.
Brodford’s turn of attitude would have sent Nate’s head spinning if he hadn’t already been familiar with the man’s shifting nature. At least he’d moved past the point of ringing a peal over Nate’s head. Even though it had been well-deserved.
As Brodford meandered to his desk to scribble down the details of the item, the sight of Lady Annabel, quietly wringing her hands, pulled Nate’s attention. Her head was hung so low he couldn’t see her expression, only the tightness of h
er shoulders. Could she be overly worried about her father?
Despite her being a hindrance in his investigation—and a general annoyance—he softened toward her. If he disregarded her lofty status and demeanor, she couldn’t be wholly unpleasant. Could she?
Maybe. Most likely not.
An undefined need to comfort her propelled him in her direction. “I promise to do everything in my power to capture the criminal,” he quietly uttered, his hand poised to pat her shoulder.
She snapped to attention at his soft vow. Instead of bringing her the reassurance he expected, her eyes seemed to flash a stormy blue-green before the turbulence passed and calm seas prevailed. Once again, the refined society miss.
As he studied her look of innocence, a twinge of something begged for his attention. A troubling unknown seemed to plague Lady Annabel.
Nate wouldn’t rest until he determined what it was.
Would the infernal man stop inspecting me with his all too assessing—and frustratingly attractive—eyes? It wasn’t enough she feared her father’s reaction to her latest incident of borrowing would overexert him to the point of affecting his health. She now had to contend with a potentially dangerous investigator. For there was no denying the piercing look in Mr. Frederickson’s eyes was nothing short of ruthless determination.
While feverishly wishing the seat of the sofa would open into a secret escape hatch, she had no option but to forge ahead and hope one day to be forgiven for her sins. She must remember her reason for starting the entire mess. Without her continued borrowing, the school would cease to aid the very young ladies who needed her help.
“No one appreciates your continued devotion to the cause more than my father,” she replied to Mr. Frederickson’s guarantee, staying as close to the truth as possible. She couldn’t concur she valued his nosy intrusion into what would most likely be her eventual downfall.
The Runner's Enticement (Men of Circumstance Book 2) Page 4