How terrible that she’d been so focused on his position as a duke and his considerable fortune that she hadn’t truly looked at the man or listened to him. She’d thought him perfect.
Richard had changed her taste in men.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t a good thing. Attraction might be a pleasant benefit but financial security was what truly mattered, at least to her.
“I heard it said that you’d become engaged.” The duke shifted to hold her gaze.
She waited a moment to see if regret filled her, but still it didn’t come. “Yes, to the Earl of Aberland.”
“Allow me to offer my sincerest congratulations.” He bowed his head briefly.
“Thank you.” She considered offering some sort of explanation, but what could she say?
“I must say I am quite disappointed at the news.”
“Oh?” She smiled politely, uncertain what would be an appropriate response. Did he realize how uncomfortable his comment made her?
“I’d thought we had an...understanding.”
Caroline felt the weight of her mother’s regard. No doubt she wondered of what they were speaking. Caroline didn’t know for certain. What was Wayfair about? While she’d hoped he’d propose, he hadn’t. His comments now didn’t mean he’d offer for her if she ended her engagement with Richard. The idea of having to consider that impossible choice had her swallowing hard. “Sometimes circumstances change unexpectedly.”
“They do indeed. More often than one anticipates.”
What did that mean? Caroline couldn’t begin to guess.
“Speaking of unexpected,” the duke continued, “I find myself in a bit of difficulty. I’m not certain who else I can trust.”
Though flattered at his comment, she grew more uneasy by the moment. Where was he taking the conversation now? Then again, she wasn’t certain she wanted to know.
“I wonder if you’d consider doing me a small favor.”
Asking a favor of a woman not a relative was inappropriate. She glanced at her mother, who was speaking with an acquaintance. “I’m sorry but I don’t think I could assist you.”
He stepped even closer, causing the scent of onions to drift her way. It took all her resolve not to place her gloved hand under her nose.
“I heard concerning news about your father.”
Caroline stared at the lord, confused by the sudden change in topic. The mention of her father sent a shiver of unease through her. “Of what sort?”
“Someone appears to be spreading the most terrible rumors.”
Her stomach dropped. “What sort of rumors?”
“That his mental fortitude is not what it used to be. It’s a shame, really. A man like him no longer able to run his business.”
“I don’t know to whom you’ve been speaking, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.” Caroline hoped her outrage covered the tremble in her voice.
“Calm yourself, Miss Gold. I mean no offense. I’m only sharing what I heard. Because of our friendship, I felt I owed it to you to tell you what others are saying.”
She turned to face him in full, her body shaking. If this was how he treated a “friend,” she had no desire to learn what he did to his enemies.
This was her worst nightmare. Before she could form a response, the duke gave her a knowing smile.
“I would hate for those rumors—or is it the truth?—to spread further. I understand there’s a certain offer from the East India Company involved.”
Dear heavens. To whom had he been speaking? She’d be horrified if word of her father’s failing mind spread. No one would do business with him. He’d lose all he’d worked so hard for. All chances of recovering some of their lost wealth would be gone. Heaven knew if the ton would find their position sympathetic or scandalous. Her family would truly be ruined. Her sisters might never make good matches.
She couldn’t allow any of that to occur. “What sort of favor do you need?” she asked at length.
There was that smile again. How had she never realized the cruelty it held? She’d had a narrow escape when she’d become engaged to Richard.
“It’s a simple task, truly. Nothing as unsavory as you seem to think. I need a rare book delivered to a bookshop and exchanged for another. I can’t trust such an important task to a servant who has no knowledge of such things.”
Doubt rolled through her. While it seemed a straightforward errand, his method of convincing her to assist him suggested otherwise. As if none of the men in his acquaintance would do it. She didn’t pretend to understand, but what choice did she have? She had to protect her family.
“When?”
He took her hand in his, and it was all she could do not to jerk it away. “On the morrow, if it pleases you.”
“Of course.” Now she needed to find out who was talking about her father’s health. That seemed as impossible as restoring her family’s fortune.
~*~
The sight of Wayfair speaking to Caroline sent Richard’s blood boiling. He drew a deep breath, then another. Still he didn’t calm.
It wouldn’t do to make a scene in public, but the idea of punching the man squarely in that confident jaw appealed on many levels.
Richard had eliminated Ruthford from his list of those he suspected of being Le Sournois after their lengthy conversation. Of the two men remaining, Wayfair seemed the most likely. If only he had proof, he could make certain the duke never spoke to Caroline—or anyone else—again. But until that time, he needed to act like a rational human being.
That didn’t mean he’d allow the man to touch Caroline. While he might not be certain if he wanted Caroline, he didn’t want Wayfair to have her. She was far too good for him.
He strode through the crowd, not looking at anyone, keeping his eyes on his fiancée. Perhaps if he focused on her, he wouldn’t draw blood this evening.
“Caroline.”
Her gaze swung to him. What he saw in the depths of her eyes confused him. If he didn’t know better, that was fear. What possible reason could she have to fear the duke?
In an instant, it was gone, leaving him to wonder if he’d been mistaken. His protective instincts had him taking her hand to tuck it under his arm, keeping her firmly against his side.
“Wayfair.” He leveled a look at the duke to clearly tell him he wasn’t welcome near Caroline.
“Aberland. Congratulations on your recent engagement. I must say it was a bit of a surprise.”
“To you, perhaps. I was delighted when the lady accepted my proposal.” Richard held Caroline’s gaze for a moment before glancing back at the duke. “He who hesitates...” With a lift of one shoulder, Richard turned and walked away with Caroline.
“I’m very pleased to see you, my lord,” Caroline said, the tension in her body easing as they moved toward the refreshment table.
“What was that all about?”
She bit her lower lip, a sign of her uncertainty. Didn’t she know she could trust him? Then again, why would she? He’d done little to prove his worthiness to her.
“I’m not quite sure, but I didn’t care for it.”
He paused mid-stride to study her closer. “Do I need to have a word with the man?”
“No need.” She offered a forced smile. “All is well now that you’re here.”
Something tugged deep inside him at her comment. Did that mean she felt some kind of affection for him?
He mentally berated himself. One moment he told himself to shift his focus away from her and remember his mission. The next he was convinced she had no reason to trust him. Then he wondered if she had feelings for him. He felt as though he’d spun in a circle, uncertain which direction he should go.
Was it any wonder he’d set aside emotions years ago? They only clouded one’s judgment.
“Tell me, my lord. Do you know anything about timber?”
He retrieved two glasses of lemonade and handed one to her. “Timber? In what respect?”
Again she bit that lower
lip. He wished he’d earned her trust enough that she’d tell him what held her thoughts.
“Never mind. I was merely jesting.”
But he didn’t think she was. Though he remained determined to find vengeance for Dumond, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would take for her to share some of her secrets.
What caused him concern was how much he wanted her to realize she could rely on him.
Chapter Eleven
Caroline studied the package that had arrived earlier, unable to curtail her anger at the sight of it. The helpless feeling that accompanied the anger was unwelcome and only made her resent the duke’s request more.
Though wrapped in brown paper, it did indeed feel like a book. No personal note accompanied it, nothing to express the duke’s gratitude. Only the name and address of a bookshop, along with a time. That only irritated her further.
According to Barkley, a young lad had delivered it, which made no sense to Caroline. If the book was so important, why wouldn’t Wayfair have had one of his servants deliver it to ensure its safe arrival?
He’d explained he was leaving town early this morning, which was supposedly why he needed assistance with the exchange. After she traded the book, he’d instructed her to hold the new one until his return home.
It was all a puzzle—an annoying one—but regardless, she still had to complete this errand. If the duke decided to tell others of her father’s incapacity, her family’s lives would go from bad to worse.
She’d decided against telling her mother and sisters of what the duke had said or his request. Nothing good could come of upsetting them.
The temptation to tell Richard about it had been nearly overwhelming. The way he’d looked at the duke, as though he’d rather strike him than speak with him, had shocked her. She’d recognized it as she felt the same way. There was no ignoring the animosity between the men.
But depending on Richard held far too much risk, mainly to her peace of mind, not to mention her wayward feelings. He might very well be a temporary addition to her life. No purpose could be served by growing dependent on him.
She gathered her things and popped into the drawing room to advise her mother that she was stepping out for a time. Their only maid, Lizzie, accompanied her. Caroline felt guilty for taking her away from her other duties, but she didn’t want to bring either of her sisters for fear they’d ask too many questions she didn’t care to answer.
Fog lingered on the ground and a fine mist fell, giving the air a damp chill as she and Lizzie walked to the hackney cab stand several streets away. The atmosphere suited her mood perfectly. She felt as if she were a character in one of Annabelle’s stories, neck-deep in intrigue, rather than simply visiting a bookshop.
She drew her cloak tighter then showed the address on the paper to Jack, the burly man who often served as their driver.
Jack shook his head, a frown crinkling his brow. “That ain’t a good neighborhood, miss.”
The comment gave her pause. How dare the duke send her into an area that might be unsafe. Yet what else could she do? The duke was gone, but his threat still rang in her ears.
She hated feeling so powerless.
“Perhaps Jack would be willing take it by hisself, miss,” Lizzie suggested.
“No, I was asked to do this. I must see it through. I’m only exchanging one book for another, which shouldn’t take long.”
Jack reluctantly opened the cab door, assisting her and Lizzie into the conveyance.
The traffic was modest, giving Caroline hope they’d complete this errand and return home quickly. Yet the farther they travelled, the more anxious she became. As Jack suggested, the area had seen better days. Or perhaps this was the extent of its heyday.
The people who lingered on the walk were far different from those shopping on Bond Street. By the look of their rumpled, dirty attire, some of them might have spent the night on the street.
Caroline shared a look with Lizzie, who swallowed hard, her brown eyes wide with concern. At last the cab drew to a halt, and Caroline looked out the window.
Gilbert Bigley’s Book Emporium fit the neighborhood perfectly. The sign hanging over the door was faded and dirty. Soot coated the windows, hiding the interior of the narrow shop from the street. It wasn’t anything like the bookshops she’d previously visited. She was well aware some shops didn’t permit women to enter them, let alone purchase anything. She hoped this wasn’t one.
“We’ll stay close together and be in and out of the shop in short order.” Caroline hoped this errand would truly be that easy. But the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise.
~*~
Richard ducked behind a cart that rumbled slowly along the cobbled street. His quarry, Alban Taylor, had made two stops already and didn’t seem to be done yet. The information he’d been briefed on from Whitehall suggested the man, aged three and thirty, had ties to known spies. They suspected him of gathering information from various sources then sharing it with his counterpart in France.
Whitehall agents had been watching Taylor for the past week with Richard and several of his associates taking turns following him. Their surveillance hadn’t provided any solid evidence as of yet, but Richard had high hopes for today.
He’d watched the man’s lodgings this morning as intelligence suggested he’d be collecting updates from his sources soon. Sure enough, the man had emerged and begun making several stops around the city. Rather than confront him now, Richard intended to follow until Taylor returned home so those from whom he retrieved messages could be identified.
Progress came rarely in this business and only in fits and starts. Days like this made all the waiting and watching worthwhile. Bringing down an entire network of spies would be an excellent outcome.
Richard had dressed for the task with coarse wool trousers and a worn jacket, anything to avoid drawing notice. The journey thus far had been a combination of walking and a few hackney cab rides.
Richard stepped away from the cart in time to see the man turn onto another street ahead. Taylor was cautious, pausing to look around often. His movements made following him a challenge.
Richard eased around the corner only to realize Taylor was staring directly at him. He forced his gaze to move past the man, acting nonchalantly as he continued walking. Without pausing to look, he opened the door of the shop before him and stepped inside, turning to watch Taylor, whose gaze had shifted elsewhere, much to Richard’s relief.
“May I help you?”
Richard glanced over his shoulder at the feminine tone, realizing he’d entered an undergarment shop. The women perusing the offerings stared at him with disapproval.
He muttered a quick, “Terribly sorry. Wrong shop,” before hurrying out.
Luckily, Taylor had turned away but remained in clear view, crossing the busy street ahead. Richard followed and moved behind a man carrying barrels when Taylor again looked behind him.
Was the spy always this cautious or did he sense someone followed him? No wonder Whitehall agents hadn’t had any luck in trailing him before.
Richard paused at the entrance of an alleyway as Taylor slowed his pace then stopped in front of a shop. The man leaned against the storefront as though prepared to wait for something or someone. Richard studied the area, trying to determine what that might be but saw nothing obvious.
Minutes ticked by slowly. The stench of the alley began to overwhelm Richard, making him wish he’d picked a more pleasant place to hide. Heaven knew what filth was under his feet. He only knew he slid slightly each time he shifted.
Shouts from several cart drivers echoed on the street, drawing his notice. A hackney that had blocked the busy street eased forward at the shouts, obstructing his view of Taylor.
But Richard no longer worried about Taylor because the hackney revealed a glimpse of someone who did not belong anywhere near this street. He hurried forward, a terrible feeling of dread gripping him, hoping he was mistaken.
What wa
s Caroline doing here?
As Richard crossed the street, Taylor moved as well, entering the shop just behind Caroline and her maid. Just when Richard had become convinced Caroline played no part in the espionage world, this terrible twist of fate occurred.
A glance at the sign above the shop declared it Gilbert Bigley’s Book Emporium. He opened the door and stepped inside, hoping he was wrong. But he didn’t believe in coincidences.
After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. The long, narrow shop held shelves from floor to ceiling filled with books. The dustiness of the place nearly overwhelmed the musty scent of old books. Apparently, Mr. Bigley didn’t believe in cleaning.
A wooden counter stood near the front window but no clerk lingered behind it. Nor was there any sign of Taylor or Caroline. He listened carefully but the shop was eerily quiet.
As silently as possible, he eased forward, listening as he went. The muffled sound of voices could be heard from the back. No other customers browsed the tall shelves. Richard’s nerves stretched taut as he neared the rear of the shop.
“I’d like to exchange this book, please.”
His heart sank at the sound of Caroline’s voice. What possible reason could she have to be in the very shop Taylor had entered unless she was some sort of spy?
He waited, listening closely, but couldn’t understand the muffled reply of the man who answered.
“It’s supposed to be ready for pick up.” Her voice held a tightness, suggesting she was uncomfortable with the situation.
“I’ll take that.” The authoritative male voice left no room for argument.
“You certainly will not,” Caroline responded. “Who are you?”
Richard remained hidden in the shadows but now had a narrow view of the rear room. He eased closer still and could see Taylor and another man with a waxed moustache who must be the shop owner, but he couldn’t see Caroline. A small gasp alerted him to the maid’s presence outside the rear room. She must’ve recognized him. He held a finger to his lips, requesting her silence, and she nodded in response.
Romancing the Rogue (Regency Rendezvous Book 9) Page 11