You Only Love Twice

by Bec McMaster

  Pulled the blow the second she recognized her assailant.

  "We have a problem," the Duke of Malloryn muttered under his breath, his shadow falling across her.

  Gemma gasped.

  "You nearly had an immediate knife-shaped problem." She glanced into the duke's unexpressive face as he gripped her elbow in the middle of Bond Street. "What the hell are you doing? I almost stabbed you between the ribs. Have you not heard the rules of going undercover? Never sneak up on a fellow operative when they're on edge."

  "I thought you saw me."

  She peered behind her, that uncanny feeling still rippling along her skin. "I knew someone was watching me." Someone had been watching her for weeks now, she was certain of it. Or maybe your nerves are just playing games with you? "But I thought I caught a glimpse of them on the rooftops. Just shadows in the fog, I guess."

  Malloryn stared into her face, reading her like an open book. A dangerously handsome man, it was his mind one had to be wary of. Thoughts ticked behind those chilling gray eyes, as if he could see right through her. "Are you completely recovered after that incident in the museum?"

  Someone had tried to kill her.

  And she swore another man had saved her life; she'd caught a glimpse of a tall, pale blur reflected behind her in the glass cabinet as she fainted from blood loss.

  Malloryn wasn't talking about her health, however. "I'm fine." He'd been somewhat skeptical of her claims of being followed that day, but Gemma knew what she'd seen.

  "Good. Come with me."

  Ahead of her, the quarry she'd been pursuing all morning began arguing with an orange seller. The Earl of Kylemore was allegedly a member of the Sons of Gilead, a covert alliance of disgruntled lords from the Echelon who were hoping to overthrow the queen. Last month the SOG burned down three of the city's draining factories before most of them were either shot or caught by the Nighthawks who protected the city. A few had escaped, and though she suspected Kylemore wasn't highly placed within the SOG, she'd been hoping he'd be able to lead her to the men who were. It was time to round up the last scraps of the SOG and end them.

  If Kylemore saw her here with Malloryn, she'd never get close to him again.

  The only reason Malloryn would risk breaking her cover was if something insanely important had arisen.

  Gemma shot Malloryn a saucy smile, not quite willing to destroy weeks of hard work. "Its a ha'penny a posy, if you're asking, milord."

  Eyes glittering, he tugged a handful of coins from his purse and pressed them into her hand. "I'll take the lot."

  Gemma blushed, accepting his arm and behaving like any flower girl who'd found herself propositioned on the street. "This had better be important," she warned as the Earl of Kylemore vanished.

  "It is." Malloryn strolled with her toward the end of the street.

  A steam hack was waiting there, though he hadn't brought his usual coach and four.

  The door opened abruptly, revealing Herbert, the Duke of Malloryn's butler-slash-spy-slash-assassin, depending on which day of the week it was.

  "Cheerio, Miss Townsend," Herbert said with a wink as he hopped out.

  "Herbert," she greeted with a flirtatious shrug of the shoulder. "He's got you driving steam carriages now?"

  "Got to keep my hand in," Herbert replied. "You never know when Malloryn's going to cast me to the curb, and then I'll still be able to feed my poor, misbegotten family."

  "You don't have a family," Malloryn said, kicking the step down for her. He didn't so much as smile, and Gemma exchanged a long look with Herbert. Once upon a time Malloryn had owned a sense of humor, though she saw it eroding day by day, year by year.

  Something had happened.

  "Get in. Now."

  Gemma got in. "Where are you taking me?"

  "The Ivory Tower. I need you to take a look at a body."