by Faye Hall
He needed more time.
“Duncan MacAllester?” a young man's voice called out to him.
Turning, he looked back at a shabbily dressed young man. “Do I know you?”
“Walter O’Loan said I might find you here.”
“Sshh!” Duncan hushed him quickly. “That name is not to be mentioned out loud! Do you understand me?”
The young man nodded.
“The Harrington Jewels are on the ship set for England,” Duncan instructed, his voice lowered. “The man holding them intends to separate the gems and melt down whatever gold there is into blocks. All is to be sold on the black market back in White Chapel, England.”
The young undercover officer nodded. “It won’t come to that, sir.”
He watched the officer run toward the ship, hoping upon hope he was the right man for the job. Hurrying for his waiting carriage, Duncan knew he had bigger issues at hand though. He had to get to his father and tell him the jewels were on their way back to England as he’d ordered, and also the unwanted attentions they should now be expecting due to the murder of the Porter’s.
Seeing his brother’s carriage out the front of his father’s townhouse, Duncan already knew whom to expect inside. Still this wouldn’t stop him. There were things his father needed to know.
Dismissing the butler who let him in, he walked straight down the hall and into his father’s study.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m surprised to see you so soon,” Gordon remarked, instantly standing from his seat near his father’s desk as Duncan walked in.
He smiled without humour as he walked toward his father and Gordon. “I bet you are, brother, but it seems the man you hired to follow me out of town met an untimely death at the end of his own rifle.”
“What?” Charles MacAllester roared, his direction of sight going to Gordon. “Is what he saying true? Did you send a hit man after your own brother?”
Gordon laughed nervously. “He’s paranoid, Father. Why would I do such a thing?”
“Why indeed?” he asked.
“Father, if Duncan has killed a man it will bring the police looking into our affairs,” Gordon tried shifting the blame. “He has jeopardized the company.”
“I didn’t kill anyone, Gordon,” he explained. “It appears though that the man you hired owed some debts to the men of Lochinvar Station for stealing several head of their cattle. They wanted payment...of his life.”
Gordon waved his hand in the air as if such a fact wasn’t important.
“Maybe you just aren’t cut out for this kind of work anymore, Duncan,” Gordon remarked. “If you were careless enough to allow one man to follow you, maybe you didn’t even notice if there were thieves following you? Or, indeed, waiting for your cargo on the ship?”
Duncan turned away from his brother, stepping toward his father. “I had the men that were waiting on the ship that Gordon speaks of taken care of. The jewels are safe and on their way back to England as you ordered. Is there anything else you want before I return home, Father?”
Charles handed his son an envelope. “There’s a function at the Norman’s town house tonight. Your mother and I will meet you there.”
“You can’t be serious, Father,” Gordon roared, getting up again from his seat, this time in anger. “There is no need for Duncan to be there. I told you I can handle it!”
“Enough, Gordon!” Charles yelled at his son, before turning back to Duncan. “There will be an Andrew Ross there tonight. He’s offering us some business back in Ireland; business that only you can handle. His wife and he are very interested in meeting you. These people are very important, Duncan, do you understand?”
He nodded, taking the envelope from the old man. “I’ll be there, Father.”
Leaving his father’s study, Duncan called for two errand boys. Ordering them to follow him, he stopped momentarily in his mother’s empty sitting room. Reaching for two sheets of parchment, he quickly penned two notes about the Porter’s and how they had been found murdered in the Inkerman Downs Station house.
Folding one note he handed it to one errand boy.
“Take this note to Phoebe MacAllester. Hand it to her and to her alone.”
Waiting until the young boy nodded and ran off to do his chore, Duncan turned back to the other piece of parchment. Picking up his pen again he quickly penned that though there were only two bodies found inside the house, there had been three settings at the table.
“You take this note to my father, boy,” he ordered the remaining errand boy. “You leave it with him and run. Do not tell him who wrote it. Do you understand?”
The young boy nodded nervously before grabbing the note and running it to the old man’s study.
As Duncan and his fiancée were travelling to the Norman’s town house that night, their carriage made a slight detour and stopped in front of the Burdekin Inn.
“I just need to see about some business, Carmen,” he explained as he quickly left the carriage. “I shall only be a few minutes.”
Quickly walking inside, he looked around the crowd searching for only one person.
“Excuse me, sir,” a young man’s voice could be heard from behind him. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
Duncan turned slowly, looking back upon the shabbily dressed young man with a few days growth on his face. “You look rather different than you do in uniform, sergeant.”
“Ssshhh!” the young man hushed him as he put his fingers to his lips.
His fingers gripping on Duncan’s jacket sleeve, he pulled him over to the side.
“Walter O’Loan said he would be too easily recognized in a place like this so he sent me in his stead,” the sergeant explained. “I certainly hope there’s a damn good reason for me being here, Mr MacAllester!”
“There is, sir,” Duncan whispered. “There is an Irishman I’m meeting tonight. His name is Andrew Ross. I’ve been told he wants to do business with my father.”
“Ross?” the young sergeant asked. “He’s one of the biggest smugglers in Ireland. Word had it he was moving here to Australia. If that happens, the country will be full of guns and opium in a matter of months. Not to mention the many henchmen who work for him.”
Duncan nodded. “If he does business with my father he won’t have to move here. For the right price my father will smuggle whatever this man wants through the doors of The Lester Company. The police will be lucky to find any trace of contraband.”
“Then you must give us what proof we need, Duncan!” the sergeant ordered.
He handed the young officer a folded piece of paper. “That’s the address I’ve been told to be at tonight to meet this man. If there is any business transaction it will take place here.”
With that he left the Burdekin Inn and walked back out to his waiting carriage and fiancée.
Arriving at the Norman’s townhouse, Duncan walked inside with Carmen on his arm, nodding at several familiar faces as they walked past.
“Why are we here?” Carmen asked innocently.
Leaning into her, he kissed her cheek lightly. “It’s business, my dear.”
She smiled sweetly, a single brow raised. “And what exactly am I supposed to be doing while you carry out your business?”
Duncan couldn’t help but laugh slightly at her expression. “You can do whatever you please, my dear...or whomever.”
Leaving Carmen to her own fun, Duncan walked over to where his father stood.
“Good evening, Father.”
“The Porter’s are dead,” his father said. “Murdered in their own house.”
He nodded. “So I heard, Father.”
“We must move fast now, Duncan. With their deaths will come much unwanted attention from the police. We need to secure this deal with Andrew Ross now.” Charles MacAllester nodded to his right. “That man over there wearing the red vest standing next to the drinks table is Andrew Ross. The woman beside him is his wife.”
“What is it yo
u need me to do?” Duncan asked.
His father sipped his drink. “You go and do your job, Duncan. You woo this man into doing business with us. You do whatever it takes.”
He nodded, remembering what he had been needed to do in the past in such a situation.
“Will I have to sleep with his wife?” he asked, the mere thought making his gut crawl.
The old man shook his head. “You even hint at an attraction to his wife, and not only will Andrew not be doing business with us, but they will be finding pieces of you spread throughout this town for years to come.”
Duncan felt suddenly relieved, knowing he could no longer partake in such things now his heart belonged to another.
“You get him to sign this contract,” his father insisted, handing his son a piece of paper. “This will tie him to us no matter what else happens.”
Leaving his father, Duncan went over to introduce himself to Andrew Ross.
“So you’re the prodigal son?” Andrew asked as Duncan came to a stop before him and his wife.
He shook his head, slightly humoured by the older man’s comment. “I don’t know about that. But I am the chief executive of The Lester Company and my father seems very eager to be doing business with you.”
Andrew nodded. “So I have heard. How do I know, though, that your company has what it takes to handle my kind of business though?” he asked.
Duncan looked the other man straight in the eye. “You don’t, sir.”
Andrew laughed at this. “Isn’t it your job to woo me into signing some kind of contract to ensure your father gets what he wants?”
He shook his head. “I only do what I want, sir.”
“Which is?” Andrew asked.
Duncan pulled forth the contract with a pen for it to be signed. “I want you to sign this contract to say that whatever imports or exports you have, be they legal or illegal, they will be handled by The Lester Company. The cost to you is listed in the contract, as is our percentage of the profits we request, both of which I’m sure you will find quite reasonable.”
Andrew skimmed the document he held in his hands, before glancing back up to Duncan.
“Smuggling can be a nasty business, son. How can I be certain that if things get tough you and your men will be able to hold up your end of the bargain? How do I know that you are capable of doing what you are promising?” Andrew asked.
Duncan stared at him, knowing what this man needed to hear, knowing too that they were things he no longer wanted to remember himself capable of.
“Son, either you tell me or you can take this contract straight back to your father and I will do my business elsewhere.” Andrew prompted him.
“Have you heard of the Clive family that once lived here in Holme Hill? They once owned a shipping company,” Duncan asked.
Andrew Ross nodded. “I heard talk of one family with such a name, but they were killed...the whole family slaughtered...their stomachs sliced open...their hidden fortunes vanished.”
Duncan pulled forth the pocket watch from his vest pocket and handed it to the older man.
Andrew took it in his hand, reading the inscription that was facing him before looking back up to Duncan, his face quite pale.
“It was quite a fortune the Clives had obtained, skimming off the top of the profits they had promised to give The Lester Company. Shame it all had to be melted down and shipped back to England, though.”
Andrew eyed him carefully. “How can I be sure you’re telling the truth and not just taking credit for someone else’s barbarity?”
Reaching toward Mrs Ross, Duncan held her fingers in his hand, admiring the gold ring on her middle finger.
“Such a lovely piece of jewellery, my lady,” he commented. “Mr Shamis did do such a lovely job, did he not?”
Andrew grabbed his wife’s hand away. “Pray tell how do you know where I bought my wife’s ring from, sir?”
Duncan smiled. “Because the jewellers who bought the melted down Clive gold from us had to send us records of all they made...and all who bought them.”
Andrew eyed him carefully for a few moments, before lowering his gaze back to the contract.
“Should I break this agreement am I to assume that I shall befall the same fate as the Clives?” Andrew asked.
Duncan nodded. “You can be certain of it.”
Holding the pen firmly in his hand, Andrew Ross carefully penned his signature at the bottom of the contract.
Placing the signed contract in his jacket pocket, Duncan knew his work here this night was done. There was nothing else he needed to remain here for tonight, and in truth, he didn’t want to be here any longer. Mixing with these people, conducting business deals for his father, was all too familiar ground for him, and reminded him of the man he once was; a man he was now ashamed of.
Turning to find his fiancée and let her know he would send the carriage back for her, he prepared himself to leave. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he caught sight of his brother, Gordon, walking toward Andrew Ross. Though he knew it foolish to think to see Phoebe in public so soon after the death of her parents, Duncan still felt his heart skip a beat, and he found himself searching through the sea of dancers for her.
He wanted nothing more than to see her here tonight, to go to her and take her in his arms once more and make everything right between them once again. He would do whatever it took to gain this woman’s affections back again and even confess everything to her.
Catching sight of Phoebe through the crowd of dancers, her pink gown moulding to her curvaceous form perfectly, the narrow skirt luring him to want to feel the softness of her thighs beneath. Heat shooting through his body at the thought of lying with her again, Duncan knew he had to find a way to get to her without drawing too much attention to either of them. Waiting for the dance to come to an end, he stepped precariously toward her, taking her hand in his.
“Would you honour me with this dance, Mrs MacAllester?” he asked politely.
“Of course—” but her words stopped when she turned and her gaze rested on his. “Why are you here, Duncan?” she asked abruptly.
“Because I couldn’t stay away,” he told her truthfully.
He knew this wasn’t his reason for being here this night, but it was the reason he was standing here with her now.
“Do not try to flatter me with your bullshit, sir,” she spat at him, her words soft yet harsh.
His hand went to her wrist, stopping her from turning away from him. “Please, Phoebe,” he begged her. “You look so beautiful tonight. Your dress. Your hair.” He leaned into her slightly. “The scent of you has haunted me. Made me…”
“What do you want, Duncan?” she asked again, her tone cold.
“Please, Phoebe,” he begged her again. “I just want to dance with you.”
She held his gaze for what seemed forever before she finally nodded. Placing her hand in his, she followed him onto the dance floor.
“You really are beautiful,” his words were steady and unfaltering. “The most beautiful woman here tonight.”
She kept her stare lowered as she moved to the music.
“Phoebe, you can at least look at me.” he pleaded with her.
Slowly and hesitantly she raised her gaze to look at him and he felt his heart thud heavily in his chest, and his breath caught in his throat.
“Now I’m certain you are the most beautiful woman here tonight if not the world.”
Again she tried to lower her stare away from his. “Please don’t do this, Duncan, not again, not here...”
But he paid her no heed. He needed this woman to know just what she did to him, what she had been doing to him for months now. He needed her to know that she had in fact captured his heart, a heart no other had ever possessed.
“You felt so soft when last you laid in my arms, far more than I ever thought any woman could. I wanted to stay with you longer, to take you away from here, away with me.”
Finally she glanced up at hi
m. “I find that hard to believe, Duncan.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think I would lie to you about such a thing?”
She shook her head. “No, but I think you would say near anything to get a woman in to your bed, you bastard.”
He couldn’t ignore his annoyance at her accusation. “How dare you.”
She raised her brow. “I dare because I am not fool enough to believe I am the only woman you have lured away from their husband.”
His grip on her waist tightened.
“Lured?” he asked, slightly amused by her choice of words. “You begged me to take you again and again, Phoebe. You were practically like a virgin when I touched you. Christ, woman, I barely touched you and you started trembling in my arms.”
She couldn’t look at him. “Did you ever think I was trembling out of fear, Duncan?”
“Fear?” He couldn’t help his humoured laugh. “Of all things you felt that night I know for sure fear was not one of them. Not the first or second time I made love to you.”
They continued in silence until the end of the dance, their stares averted from each other.
“I didn’t think to see you here tonight, Phoebe. Not so soon after the death of your parents.”
“Gordon insisted I join him tonight,” she replied shortly, her stare still averted.
Duncan tried not to think too much on her comment, fully aware of his brother’s versions of coercion. Still a small part of him wondered if this was indeed the case, or had Gordon in fact appealed to her sensitive side and indulged the passion he was fully aware lived inside her.
Duncan was suddenly uneasy with the feelings stirring inside him as he thought of what Phoebe had been doing with her husband in his absence. After all, she was a married woman and he was just her…
He honestly didn’t know what he was to her.
When the dance finished, she tried to pull away from him but Duncan stopped her.
“Have you slept with him since our night together?” he asked, his words pained though he tried to sound casual.
She tried to avoid answering him, but he still held her to him knowing he must have her answer.