A Scandalous Bargain

by Burke, Darcy

  That, and she rarely tried to steal away in the middle of the day.

  Navigating the lower level, she made her way to the front of the house where a door led to a small exterior landing at the base of a narrow flight of stairs up to the street. She breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried up the stairs.

  And ran directly into the cook at the top.

  “Oh! My goodness, pardon me,” the older woman said, clutching an armful of parcels that she barely managed to hold on to. Her gaze collided with Beatrix’s, and her eyes widened in surprise, followed by recognition. “Miss Whitford?”

  “Er, yes. I would be ever so grateful if you would pretend you didn’t see me.” She gave her an awkward smile. “Thank you!”

  Dodging around the woman, Beatrix hurried to Holles Street on her way to Oxford Street. There, she caught a hack heading east to Saffron Hill.

  A short while later, she walked into the dim interior of The Golden Lion, the receiver shop that had been, until recently, owned by Rafe. She and Selina had used it to fence some pieces of jewelry Beatrix had stolen a few weeks ago to keep them from losing their house. Selina, with Rafe’s assistance, had since recovered and returned all the items—anonymously, of course.

  Beatrix had never enjoyed taking things from people, but something about the act of stealing had always given her a surge of accomplishment, of excitement, of pleasure. Over the past decade, she’d used her skill when it was necessary. In hindsight, she regretted thinking that having a Season to prove herself to her father was necessary. It had been an utter waste of money and energy.

  The shop was tidy, with a counter at the back. Shelves bearing a variety of items lined the walls. A rough looking lad, perhaps eighteen or so, lounged near the door. He eyed Beatrix cautiously as she made her way toward the counter.

  A wiry man in his middle-forties rose from a chair behind the counter. His lined face formed more lines as he smiled at her in welcome. “Afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon.” Beatrix pitched her voice low. “I have some things to sell. The Vicar sent me.”

  That was the name by which Rafe had been known as owner of the receiver shops and as a moneylender. It never failed to spark a look of surprise, followed by a desire to please. This occasion was no different.

  The shopkeeper’s eyes rounded, then his lids fluttered. “How may I help you?”

  Beatrix opened the bag on her hip and removed the first item, a bracelet she’d stolen a few years before. “This is just one of many items.” She wanted to see what he would offer before she showed him the lot.

  He picked up the bracelet and held it next to a lantern set on one side of the counter. Reaching under the counter, he pulled out a magnifying glass that he used to study the piece. “These diamonds are real.”

  “Yes.”

  Lowering the glass, he blew out a breath and offered her an exceedingly fair price.

  Feeling confident, she removed the rest of her items, a few at a time. He bought every single one of them.

  After she’d tucked the money away into an interior pocket of her coat, she thanked him. “Do you know of a jeweler whom I could trust to make me a demi-parure of very convincing paste emeralds?”

  The man grinned. “I do indeed. My brother-in-law is the very best. No one will know they aren’t authentic. His shop is just up the street. Marvin’s. Turn right.”

  “Excellent, thank you.” Beatrix turned and left the shop, inclining her head toward the young man near the door as she passed.

  Beatrix went to the right up Saffron Hill and came across Marvin’s a short distance away. Tucked between a printer and a clothing resale shop, the jeweler’s space was narrow with a rickety door that Beatrix worried might fall off its hinges as she stepped inside. If she hadn’t been referred to this place, she would have likely turned and left.

  Instead, she continued inside. Several lanterns burned inside the shop and cast eerie shadows. There was no one in sight.

  “Good afternoon?” Beatrix again lowered her voice in an attempt to sound masculine. She strolled to a glass case that displayed several items of jewelry. A necklace with a large pendant of coral caught her eye. A flower was carved into the coral, which was a deep red.

  Her call was answered by the scuff of shuffling feet. Beatrix turned her head to see a tall but slightly stooped man come from behind a curtain hanging in a doorway. He squinted at Beatrix as he moved toward her.

  She straightened next to the glass case. “Your brother-in-law sent me. I would like to commission a demi-parure of paste jewelry.”

  “Paste?”

  She nodded. “To look like emeralds. A necklace, earrings, and a bracelet.”

  “I have something that will suit.” He began to pivot.

  Taking two large steps toward him, she held up her hand. “No, I need you to make the set to my specifications.”

  His brow creased as he studied her a moment. “All right. I’ll need you to describe what you want while I draw it.” He waved her toward a table on the left side of the shop. Two sconces burned over it, providing the brightest space in the shop.

  There were two chairs, and as she sat down, she realized it wasn’t a table but a desk. After he took the other chair, he opened a drawer and removed a piece of parchment and a pencil. Licking the end of the implement, he looked at her in expectation.

  Beatrix described what she wanted in exacting detail. As she spoke, he sketched the pieces, giving them form before her eyes.

  “Like this?”

  “Perfect, thank you. How much?”

  He gave her a price that was well within what she’d just gotten at the receiver shop.

  “When will they be ready?”

  “In a week.”

  She frowned. Reaching into her coat, she took out most of the money from the receiver shop and laid it on the table. “Can you have them for me tomorrow?”

  He looked down at the money before nodding at her. “Come after five.”

  “Half now and half tomorrow.” She scooped up half the money and put it back into her coat before rising.

  He looked up at her, keen interest gleaming in his gaze. “What do you want them for, miss?”

  Beatrix exhaled and wondered if the shopkeeper at The Golden Lion had also seen through her disguise. If not, his brother-in-law would probably reveal her secret. “I just want them. For myself. I would have preferred genuine emeralds, but your brother-in-law assured me your pieces would look authentic.”

  “Aye, they will.”

  She glanced toward the glass case that held the coral pendant. “I want the coral flower too. Have that ready with the rest, please.”

  “Do you want to know how much it costs?”

  “No. Do you want me to pay for it today?” She was confident she had enough money.

  “Tomorrow is fine. It’s for you too?”

  She shook her head. “For my sister. It’s a wedding gift. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Feeling satisfied with her errands, Beatrix hastened to catch a hackney back to Holles Street. As she made her way toward Cavendish Square, she contemplated how to get into the house without drawing notice. And whether the cook had said anything to anyone.

  In the end, she went in the way she’d left and picked the same careful path through the lower level. This time, she was lucky enough to make it back to her chamber without encountering anyone. Now, she just had to duplicate that tomorrow when she returned to Marvin’s to fetch her set of jewels.

  Then she’d have to accomplish an even greater feat when she crept into the duke’s house. Over the past several weeks, she’d learned many things about him and his house. In addition to spying on him from Tom’s garden, she’d also spoken to one of his stable boys. For a relatively small sum, he’d provided her with the household schedule as well as the house’s layout.

  She just needed luck on her side, and she was due for a good dose of it.

  Chapter 11

  The house was quiet, a phenomenon that
had become more and more noticeable in the fortnight since Thea’s death. Baines had noted it earlier. There was a peace the household hadn’t known in some time.

  Thomas poured a glass of brandy in the sitting room adjoining his chamber before strolling out to the balcony. The events of the night Thea died knocked at his brain, but he refused to answer the call. Hopefully, when the investigation was over, keeping the memory at bay would become easier.

  Unfortunately, the inquiry continued. Dearborn had postponed the meeting they’d scheduled today with the nurse and footman. He planned to come by tomorrow afternoon instead.

  Thomas couldn’t help but look in the tree, but of course Beatrix wasn’t there. Not just because he’d told her not to come without notifying him first, but because he suspected she wouldn’t come again.

  As he sipped his brandy, a movement in the garden behind the tree snagged his attention. No, it couldn’t be… A dark figure moved in the shadows. Thomas set his glass on the railing and dashed to the trellis. Swinging himself from the balcony, he descended even more quickly than he had last time.

  He’d expected to meet her beneath the balcony, but she wasn’t there. He took off into the garden, his eyes working to adjust to the darkness. “Beatrix!” he called, using a loud, urgent whisper.

  He heard the gate and ran in that direction, catching up to her just as she moved through it. Extending his arm, he nearly pitched forward as he grasped her elbow. “Beatrix!”

  She stopped and turned to face him, her features unreadable beneath the brim of her hat because she kept her head down. “Yes, sorry.”

  “Why are you leaving?” He didn’t let go of her.

  “I… I came to see you, but then I was afraid you’d be angry that I’d come without telling you first.”

  He recoiled, jerking his hand away as if she might burn him. No, as if he might hurt her.

  She was afraid. She’d fled rather than prick his anger.

  Thomas fought to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest as his blood rushed loud and fast through his head. “I’m sorry. I just wanted you to be safe. I never meant to frighten you.”

  She looked up at him then, and he saw the concern in her gaze. “You didn’t frighten me—not like that. I didn’t want you to think I don’t care about your wishes that I not come alone in the dark.”

  Her words did more than relieve him. They touched a place deep inside him that had never seen the sun. “I never meant to control you,” he said quietly.

  “I know that.” She took his hand and drew it to her chest. He could feel her warmth, even through the layers of her clothing. “I should have told you I was coming. It was a spontaneous decision.”

  Thomas began to feel lighter. “Was it?” He gave her a half smile.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m glad I caught you. I would have hated for you to come all this way for nothing. Do you want to come up for a nightcap before I see you home?”

  She hesitated the barest moment before smiling. “How can I say no?”

  Had she wanted to? Thomas shook the thought away. He was being ridiculous. She’d come here to see him. Unless… “Did you come to spy on the duke again?”

  “No,” she responded quickly, and with a vehemence that clearly conveyed her thoughts on the matter. “I’m finished with him.”

  “I do think that’s for the best. And it’s his loss.” Thomas turned and opened the gate, gesturing for her to precede him.

  She led him to the balcony and up the trellis. When he joined her, she was sipping the brandy he’d left on the railing. “Convenient,” she said around the rim of the glass with a saucy curve of her lips.

  He couldn’t help but stare at her mouth. His body stirred with desire.

  Following her into the sitting room, he went to pour another brandy. She removed her hat and her gloves. And her coat.

  She’d never removed her coat before.

  Thomas froze in the action of raising the glass to his mouth. While she might wear something to flatten her chest beneath the men’s clothing, her curves were still visible.

  There was something arousing about seeing her in a state of undress in a man’s costume. He’d almost certainly think the same thing about her in women’s clothing. He just liked seeing her undressed.

  She went to the settee and sat in one corner, which left enough room for him to join her. The invitation seemed clear, and Thomas wouldn’t ignore it.

  He sat down beside her and stretched out his legs. “You took off your coat.”

  She shrugged. “You aren’t wearing one, so it seemed appropriate.”

  That was true. “I’d wondered if you removed it for another reason.”

  Her eyes narrowed seductively—or maybe that was just his wishful interpretation. “Did you? Would you care to share that reason?”

  The temperature in the room climbed, and he was glad not to be wearing a coat. In truth, he wished he could remove the rest of his clothing—and hers—too. He had to clear his throat to speak. “Not just now.”

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind.” She took another sip of brandy and gave him a coy stare.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I will.”

  “I see.” She sat straighter and sobered. When her gaze met his, he saw a worry that gave him pause. “Harry told me you are still being investigated regarding your wife’s death. He said Bow Street had evidence that she was afraid of you.” A light flashed in her eyes. “Is that why you thought I was afraid of you?”

  Shit. He didn’t want to talk about this. Why couldn’t they go back to flirting? He took a rather large swig of brandy. He looked toward Thea’s chamber, silently cursing her. “She wasn’t afraid of me. I don’t think she was afraid of anything.” She’d certainly never been concerned with hiding her infidelity from him.

  Thomas returned his attention to Beatrix. “I’m surprised Sheffield mentioned this to you.”

  “It came up in conversation after church yesterday. And frankly, it was a welcome diversion from Selina’s curiosity about why I was talking to you.” She cocked her head and ran her fingertip along the rim of her glass. “Harry said your mother-in-law is the one who provided the evidence about Lady Rockbourne.”

  “She doesn’t care for me. She blames me for Thea’s death, and maybe she’s right to do so.” He inwardly winced after saying that last part out loud.

  Beatrix set her glass down on the table next to the settee and turned toward him. “Why would you think that?”

  “I didn’t make Thea happy.”

  “She didn’t make you happy either. I’d argue she made you miserable.”

  “We made each other miserable.” Finishing his brandy, he deposited the empty glass on the table to his left. He angled himself toward her as she had done to him.

  “But you tried, didn’t you?”

  “I did.” So damned hard. Until he’d given up. And maybe he shouldn’t have.

  “You can’t blame yourself,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “I saw what happened. It was an accident. She fell. There was nothing nefarious about it. Maybe I should tell them that.”

  He gently cupped her face. “No. You can’t do that. That would ruin you.”

  “I wouldn’t care if it was just me, but you’re right that it would be ruinous—to Selina. She’s about to become the daughter-in-law of an earl. I won’t jeopardize her standing.”

  “You are the very best pretend sister.”

  She laughed. “Thank you.”

  He reluctantly moved his hand to the back of the settee—close to her, but not touching. “The wedding is in the morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was invited to the breakfast. That was before.”

  “Are you coming?” she asked hopefully.

  “I shouldn’t. It’s one thing to steal into a masquerade or go to church with my aunt. It’s something else to show up at a wedding celebration.”

  She made a sound with her lips and tongue tha
t reminded him of something Regan would do. Except that seeing her tongue drove all thought of his daughter from his mind.

  She brought her leg up onto the settee, bending her knee as she fully faced him. “You should come.”

  He let his hand drift back to her shoulder. “You tempt me.” He trailed his fingertips along her collarbone. “In so many ways,” he murmured.

  “Is that bad?” She leaned forward and licked her upper lip.

  Was that an invitation? “Did you do that on purpose?”

  “I don’t know. It was unconscious.” She leaned toward him more and brushed her lips across his. “That was on purpose.”

  She didn’t retreat. Thomas clasped the back of her head and kissed her. It was a quick connection, but dazzled him all the way to his toes. He looked at her to make sure this was what she wanted.

  Her hazel eyes glinted with desire. She put her hand on his shoulder and tipped her head slightly to the left, bringing her lips nearly to his.

  “Beatrix,” he breathed before claiming her mouth once more. This time was not quick. Nor was it gentle. Their tongues clashed, stoking the fire that had been smoldering inside him practically since they’d met. He gripped her waist with his other hand and squeezed.

  She cradled his neck and clutched at his side. The kiss was electric. Her touch fed his soul. Her hand skimmed up over his chest and tugged at his cravat.

  Yes.

  He guided her back against the settee, coming over her as he deepened the kiss.

  “Papa, what are you doing?”

  Thomas and Beatrix jerked apart. Christ, he hadn’t even heard Regan come in. She stood in front of the settee. How long had she been there?

  “Well, I’m, ah…visiting with my friend.” Thomas moved to the opposite end of the settee from Beatrix and perched on the edge. “You remember her.”

  “Yes. She’s pretty.”

  Straightening her spine and scooting as far to her edge of the settee as possible, Beatrix blushed. Rather, she blushed more since her cheeks were already quite pink. “Thank you.”