by Adele Clee
“The people around here think I make a living selling my body to the sailors who come ashore. They know I’m a favourite of the crew on the Carron. My contact makes it known I’m not any man’s for the taking.”
And Daphne thought the life on an enquiry agent came with troubles. Why would a woman want to pass secret messages to the government at the risk of death, allow everyone to think her a whore?
“Has anyone ever tried to kill you?” Daphne asked. If the traitor knew that Thomas had confided in Lily then surely he would have come after her too? “As a government agent, the traitor must know why you were sent to France.”
Lily’s face turned ashen. “Thomas would never have betrayed me. He couldn't have, else I would be dead.”
Daphne shivered. The image of the horse charging towards her in Covent Garden flashed into her mind. The driver's intention was to run her down with the purpose of breaking bones, causing permanent injury. With her sudden interest in the case, it could not be a coincidence. Yet something didn't fit. Their business in Covent Garden had nothing to do with the investigation into Thomas’ death.
“But someone is watching me,” Lily continued, the slight tremble in her voice evidence of suppressed fear. “He has entered this room more than once though I have no idea how. The only access is through the shop.”
“You’re sure of this?” Deep furrows appeared between Thorpe’s brow. When Lily nodded, he said, “Did he move anything, take anything?”
“No, nothing.”
Daphne’s throat grew tight. She knew how it felt to discover someone had entered your private domain, touched your things, invaded your life. The churning sensation in her stomach, the bile burning her windpipe, the imagined film of dirt that clung to her skin, never left her.
“Have you ever seen this man?” Daphne swallowed. She’d pictured someone tall, thin, light on his feet with long nimble fingers and pointed nails. “Do you have a description?”
“I’ve seen him once.” Lily shook her head. “Well, I glimpsed him following me through the alley. But it could have been a drunken sailor, or someone looking to spend a penny for a five-minute fumble.”
Daphne sat forward. “Can you remember anything about him? Did he have dark hair? Was he plump or slender? Were his clothes that of a gentleman? Did he leave a—”
“Give her a chance to answer the first question.” Thorpe placed his hand on Daphne’s arm. The gesture brought instant comfort. This man could ease her fears with a single touch or glance.
“It must be good to have someone so strong to depend upon.” Lily stared at the large hand resting on Daphne’s arm, and Thorpe immediately broke contact. “In answer to your questions, I don’t know. It is like he’s a ghost ... there but not there.”
“When we arrived, the chandler said you were expecting us,” Thorpe said changing the subject. “It’s been three years since Thomas’ death, why would you imagine we would make the connection now?”
“In my line of work information is readily available. We learn every detail of our colleague’s background. I’m well aware you’re both enquiry agents, know of your connection to Thomas. When Bernard came up, described you both and mentioned Mrs Chambers, it was evident you’re working together. What is odd is that it took three years for you to find me.”
Thorpe looked to his lap. His shoulders sagged, and he sighed. “I’d always assumed Thomas’ death was an accident. There was no reason to suppose otherwise.”
“Then I presume you never found the evidence Thomas spoke of?”
“No,” Daphne said. “Perhaps he trusted the man he met. Perhaps he handed over the evidence to a person in authority.”
Lily tapped her lip as she contemplated the suggestion. “It is a possibility. Had it been with his belongings you would have come across it long before now. Even so, Thomas may have deliberately tried to conceal the information somewhere.”
“I can’t think of anywhere it could be.” When Thomas died, Daphne gave away his belongings — everything except his favourite book.
“Yet something has changed to force you to make enquiries now,” Lily said.
Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but Thorpe chose to answer. “Nothing has changed, other than Mrs Chambers and I have recently become reacquainted. She has always had concerns about her husband’s death, and I agreed to help her find answers.”
“I only wish there was more I could tell you.” Lily stood, which was their cue to leave. “If I remember anything else, where might I find you?”
“At the Museum Tavern on Great Russell Street.” Thorpe stood. “Tell the landlord you have ropes for sale, and we’ll know where to come.”
Lily inclined her head, escorted them to the door and held it open. “Please, I must insist that you do not come here again. Not unless I contact you. In my line of work, it is not wise to rouse suspicion. And would you purchase something from the chandler on your way out? It will account for the time spent in the shop.”
“Of course, but allow me to ask one more question before we go.” Thorpe turned to face the delicate beauty. “Did you not think to approach Mrs Chambers and tell her what you’d learned from Thomas?”
Lily paused. “Examine your question carefully, Mr Thorpe, and the answer is obvious.” She spoke with an air of confidence they’d not witnessed before. But then the lady was a spy. Somewhere within she had to have the mental strength one expected of a man. “To approach Mrs Chambers would mean discussing information about a government agent. I had no evidence. To betray those paid to protect the Crown is treason. Forgive my lack of empathy, but I was too late to save Thomas. And I value my neck more than I desire retribution.”
It was a reasonable explanation.
“I understand.” Thorpe narrowed his gaze. “So why tell us now?”
Lily opened her mouth, but it took a few seconds for her to reply. “Because I am tired of this life, Mr Thorpe. Because if I turn up dead in the Thames, I hope you’ll find the traitor and make him pay for what he has done.”
Thorpe remained silent, inclined his head and strode out into the hall.
Daphne lingered for a moment. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. Had Thomas spoken about their marriage? Did he enjoy his work with Lily? But now was not the time to delve deeper into the past, despite knowing the opportunity would never present itself again.
“I am truly sorry about Thomas.” Lily grabbed Daphne’s hand, squeezed it tight and pressed a small piece of paper into her palm. “He always spoke so highly of you.”
Daphne’s throat grew tight. Guilt flared. She’d thought highly of her husband too. She’d just not loved him as she ought.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us,” Daphne said, resisting the urge to examine the note. “We should have no need to trouble you again.”
“The contents of any missive can be misleading. One must endeavour to find the truth. One must delve deep to find the answers you seek.”
Chapter 13
The time spent waiting on the landing while Daphne spoke privately to Lily Lawson proved informative. From Daphne’s calm demeanour, warm handshake and bright smile, it was apparent she bore no malice to the woman who knew her husband far better than she did. The fiery flash of jealousy in Daphne’s eyes when Lily first opened the door had gone.
But Daniel was a cynical man and sensed Lily was not completely honest about the depth of her feelings for Thomas.
Daniel purchased a reel of twine from the chandler but waited until they were out in the alley before putting it in his pocket. Daphne placed her hand in the crook of his arm and guided him to the fire burning in the brazier a little further along the narrow street.
“Lily passed me a note as I left.” Daphne held up her clenched fist. “I should wait until we’re home before reading it but, as Betsy will tell you, I’m not one for patience.”
The secret gesture had not gone unnoticed. “The back alleys are not the place to stop and have a conversation.” Daniel glanced
back over his shoulder. “And you’re right. It must wait until we’re home.”
Just saying the word home caused his heart to pound. In an uncharacteristic moment of fancy, he imagined they were strolling back after a night at the theatre. Once there, they would sit by the fire and talk until the early hours, surrender to their wants and desires in bed.
He shook his head to focus, but the loss of his dream left a cavernous hole in his chest.
“Oh, it won’t hurt to take a peek.” Daphne unfolded the paper before he had a chance to caution her again. “The note’s so small it can’t contain that much information.”
Was she always so damn stubborn?
She stared at the scrawled words, six of them from what he could see over her shoulder.
Impatience got the better of him too. “What does it say?”
“Nothing. It’s just a list of names.”
“How many?”
“Three. Three gentlemen.”
No doubt they were the men Lily thought might be the traitor.
“Put it away,” he whispered, warming his hands over the flame as though that was their purpose for stopping. “We’ll discuss the contents once we’re away from here.”
Her curiosity sated, she slipped the note into her reticule.
“We must investigate the men on the list as a matter of urgency,” she said stopping again despite the fact they’d only taken a few steps. “But I’m to travel to Elton Park tomorrow afternoon and will be out of town for two days.”
“Elton Park?” he snapped, resisting the urge to tell her she wasn’t to go anywhere without him. “Why are you only telling me now? What business have you there?”
“Elton Park is Lord Harwood’s residence. Anthony and Sarah are to be married. Please tell me you remember. They insist the event would not have been possible without our intervention in solving their case.” Daphne frowned. “You did receive an invitation?”
“Of course I did.”
Lord Harwood had done his best to persuade him to attend. The letter mentioned muggings on the road, and concerns for Mrs Chambers’ safety if she were to travel alone. It was all a ploy to lure him there, nothing more, and so he’d not bothered to reply.
Why on earth would he want to go to a wedding?
Mingling with the aristocracy was akin to sitting on the muddy banks of the Thames sifting through the rubbish thrown from passing ships. A dirty task he wanted no part of. A complete waste of time and effort. Besides, making idle conversation was not his forte.
“Then you are coming too?” Daphne seemed eager for his company, which in itself should have prompted a change of heart.
“I don’t see how you can go when we have a job to do here,” he said bluntly. The lady took pride in her work and Daniel would use the fact to his advantage. “It is a matter of priority. You are not an heiress with the luxury to do as she pleases. You have responsibilities.”
She turned to face him. “There are more important things in life than work,” she said although appeared somewhat shocked that she’d vocalised the fact. “And I promised Sarah I would attend. Perhaps a couple of days away might help us to gain perspective on the case.”
“A couple of days!” He gave a contemptuous snort. “I’m not going.” Nothing would sway his decision.
She blinked rapidly. “But you must.”
“Why?”
“Well, because they’re our friends.”
“No, they’re not. They were our clients, nothing more.”
She gasped. “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true,” he shrugged.
Two drunken sailors hobbled past them and knocked on a door further along the alley. A buxom woman wearing a tall white wig and red rouge opened the door and beckoned them inside.
The alley was not the place to partake in a heated conversation. Daniel took Daphne’s arm and guided her past The Mariners Tavern towards the main street. “If you must go to Elton Park, then I shall continue the investigation without you. You can learn of my progress upon your return.”
Daphne stopped and pulled her arm free. “This is my investigation, and you will do nothing without me.”
“Did you not hire me to solve your problem for you?” he said with an air of arrogance. “As no money has changed hands, I may do as I please.” Perhaps he sounded dramatic, but the thought of her travelling alone scared the hell out of him.
Hands braced on her hips, she glared. But the sudden eerie silence proved distracting. He scanned the alley but saw no one, heard nothing.
“Mr Thorpe,” she began as though about to offer a scathing reprimand.
“Hush.”
“No. I will not hush. A heavy-handed approach will not work with me.”
Daniel ignored her. The feeling of dread swamped him now. With keen eyes he scoured the darkness. He heard the click of the hammer, the sucking sound of a ball discharging. A flash of orange and a puff of white smoke confirmed his worst fear.
With no time for an explanation, he pushed Daphne to the ground as the loud bang echoed through the alley. Distant squeals and Daphne’s cries of protest reached him before the ball hit his upper arm.
“Bloody hell!” He dropped to his knees, more from the shock of the impact than from sustaining injury. “You’d better blasted run as I’m coming for you,” he called out into the darkness. Well, he was as soon as he found the strength to stand.
He glanced at Daphne, his heart beating so fiercely he could feel it thumping in his throat. Her face was pale, her eyes wide as she crawled to his side.
“Did he hit you?” She ran her trembling hands over his chest, his face, examining her palm as she searched for evidence of blood. “Tell me, Daniel, where does it hurt?”
“My arm … but it’s just a graze.” He dabbed at the hole in his coat sleeve, relieved to find it was not saturated with blood. Even so, he could feel the damp shirt sticking to his skin. Damn. He knew better than to linger in an alley at night. One way or another, Daphne would be the death of him before the week was out.
“Tell me you’re all right?” Her anguish soon turned to anger, and she jumped to her feet, thrust her hand inside her pelisse and withdrew her pistol. “He’s escaping. Wait here. I’ll be but a moment.”
Daniel staggered to his feet as the woman with pea soup for brains darted back down the alley.
“Daphne! Wait!” Of all the foolish, idiotic things to do. Despite the dull ache in his arm, he chased after her, charging through the group of drunken sots stumbling into The Mariners in a bid to find a safe place to hide. “Move,” he yelled, trying not to punch those who bumped into him and knocked his wound.
With the advantage of large strides, he was able to catch up with her.
“What the devil?” she cried as he scooped her up off the ground with his good arm and held her tight to his chest. “Put me down. He’s getting away.” She kicked her legs, the heel of her boot hitting his shin.
“Damn it, woman. Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder.”
“Quick, Daniel. It’s him. It’s my mysterious intruder. I’m sure of it.”
“Let him go, Daphne.” He squinted in the gloom but saw no one of interest. “We’ll not find him here. But rest assured, we’ll not stop looking until we do.” Damn. His arm throbbed, and he needed a drink. “If I don’t tend to the wound, it may become infected.”
At that, she gasped. Daniel released her, letting her slide down his body slowly until her feet touched the cobblestones.
“Forgive me.” She turned to face him, her frantic gaze falling to his arm. “I don’t know what came over me. All I could think of was that my silent stalker had finally made his move. I should not have left you.” She shook her head and glanced over her shoulder. “We should go to Lily, see if she can help.”
From the lack of light in the chandler’s up ahead, and the absence of ropes hanging from hooks on the wall, it was evident the fellow had heard the commotion and shut up shop.
&nb
sp; “No. We cannot risk hindering her work for the government.”
“Then come. Let me help you to the street, and we can hail a hackney.”
Daniel snorted. “I can walk, Daphne. I’ve been shot in the arm, not the leg. And I’m confident the lead only grazed the skin.” His attention moved past her shoulder, to the few people who’d found the courage to venture out of The Mariners. “As I said before, the alley is not a place where one lingers.”
“A graze to you is probably a gaping hole to someone else.” She took his hand rather than his arm and guided him back through the narrow walkway. Another man may have taken umbrage at being treated like a child, but the caring, intimate gesture roused hope in his chest where he’d dared never hope before. “If you’re hurt, I’d rather you were honest with me.”
“Very well. It might be a little deeper than a graze.” Until he removed his coat, he could not give a more definitive answer.
She sniffed numerous times and cleared her throat.
“It’s all right,” he said as they exited the alley. “There’s no need for tears. I’m not going to die.” It was said in jest, but she failed to appreciate his humour.
“Don’t even joke about such a thing. Of course you’re not going to die.”
“Would you miss me, Daphne?” Now he’d started, he couldn’t help but tease her. Besides, it kept his mind off the pain pounding in his arm. “Would you miss my constant complaining, my constant need to prove this is no work for a woman?”
“Well, I’d not miss that. But I would miss your logical approach and your undeniable courage.” She cast him a sidelong glance and her gaze softened. “I’d miss the warmth in your voice when you lose yourself for a moment and forget to be angry with the world.”
He stopped walking, stood rigid on the pavement and considered what she’d said. She was right. Only in her company did his troubles seem insignificant. Only in her company was he able to glimpse true happiness. Suddenly, the pain in his arm was nothing compared to the ache filling his chest.
The urge to kiss her took hold.