“I’ll carve out the guts o’ who’ever did this,” Grandpapa growled. “Use ’em to string ’im up!”
He’d been uttering such threats ever since he’d been summoned home to find that his fortress had been attacked. Two of his guards had been killed protecting the front gate. Thoughts of Ned and Josiah swelled Tessa’s throat. Both men had families, young children now left without a father. She and Grandpapa would go to give their condolences to the grieving widows, to assure them that their families would be looked after, yet no amount of money could replace a loved one.
An evening that had held such promise had ended in tragedy. In her marrow, Tessa felt the shifting tides, the dark and menacing undertow; when she glanced up at Bennett, the trepidation in her heightened. He seemed so distant that the few feet separating them might have been thousands. His expression was once again clad in steel, his gaze as opaque as wood. There was no trace of the passionate lover who’d held her and shown her such exquisite pleasure.
She told herself his reserve was due to the fact that he didn’t want to rouse her family’s suspicions, yet her instincts told her that wasn’t the reason. Bennett could be stoic, yes, but this was more than that. Since the fire, he’d withdrawn into himself, barely uttering a word to her, even while she’d bandaged the superficial burns he’d sustained from fighting the blaze.
Over the past several days when they’d been at odds, he’d shown little of his feelings, but she’d still sensed his focus on her. His attention. Now that was gone: snuffed out like a flame.
What she felt from him was…nothing.
She tried to calm herself. Perhaps it was the aftermath of the life-or-death situation he’d just faced. Or perhaps he was just exhausted from battling the fire.
Or perhaps he regrets making love to you.
Her anxiety burgeoned. She didn’t have the wherewithal to contend with that possibility on top of everything else. An enemy had attacked her family, and she needed to focus on how to protect them. It would be too much to deal with a broken heart as well.
She’d fallen in love with Bennett. That was the way it happened for Blacks: as sudden and powerful as a lightning clap. She’d been struck at last, and she knew, for her as for her grandfather and all the Blacks before him, that there would be no second time.
Inhaling, she twisted her head to look at Bennett again…and her midsection churned.
Steely composure. Eyes that didn’t even see her.
“Leave us, girl.”
Her gaze turned to her father, who waved a hand at her the way one might swat at a fly. He was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn at the baroness’ supper, which seemed like it’d taken place a lifetime ago.
“Got a crisis on our ’ands,” Father snapped, “and you’re in the way.”
She fought the surge of despair. Was this to be her destiny? To spend her life being unwanted?
“I have a right to be here.” I will not be shut out…by any of you. “I am a part of this family, and we face our foes together.”
Her father’s face turned florid. “None o’ your lip, girl, or by God, I’ll—”
“Stop your bloody yammering, Todd!” Grandpapa’s fist hit the desk, the iron tube rocking. “Ain’t got time for this shite. Got a pox-ridden bastard to find and all you can do is flap your gums.”
Tessa bit her lip; her father fell silent, scowling.
“Well, Ming?” Grandpapa addressed his right-hand man. “Who’s the blackguard behind this?”
Ming’s long braid swung slowly side to side. “Not know yet, Mr. Black. Still looking.”
“Well, look ’arder!” Grandpapa roared. “What am I paying you for? My ’ome has been attacked by infidels, and you’re of no more use than a bump on a bleeding log!”
Ming didn’t flinch at his employer’s show of temper. Tessa knew he understood that, beneath Bartholomew Black’s rage, lay the grief of a man who’d failed to protect his own. But seeing the furrows that deepened on the loyal manservant’s forehead, knowing that he, too, had lost comrades this night, Tessa spoke up.
“It’s not Ming’s fault, Grandpapa. Whoever is behind this planned the assault well. The villain struck right before the change of guards, when our security is at its weakest. If Bennett,”—her voice trembled as she said his name, but hopefully no one noticed—“hadn’t caught those villains in the act, they might have set off all their devices and blown up the entire house.”
As it was, only the drawing room had sustained damage. Bennett, assisted by the staff, had managed to put out the flames before they spread farther. He’d even saved the family portraits: they now leaned against the walls of the study, the faces looking out with reproachful stares.
“As to that, missy,”—her grandfather’s eyes burned into her like hot coals—“what in bleeding ’ell were you and Bennett doing together at that time o’ night?”
Her breath wedged in her throat. Beside her, Bennett went still. With all the chaos, the two of them hadn’t had time to work out a story. One thing she knew for certain: there was no way she could tell her grandparent the truth. She would never endanger Bennett.
“It was a coincidence,” she said in a rush. “I was playing billiards because I couldn’t sleep. Bennett heard something and came to investigate. That was when we heard the attack.”
None of this was a lie. She’d just skipped over a few parts. Like Bennett’s scorching kiss, the way he’d touched her, shown her incandescent pleasure…
“If it weren’t for Miss Todd’s swiftness in alerting the others and ringing the fire bell, the damage would have been far worse,” Bennett’s deep voice said.
At the unexpected praise, she sent him a startled look. Bennett’s expression hadn’t changed all that much. Yet the approval in his eyes made her pulse throb with hope. She shot him a tremulous smile; was it her imagination, or did his stern features thaw a little?
“My Tessie shouldn’t ’ave been put in that dangerous position,” Grandpapa barked.
Grabbing his cane, he got up from his chair. He went to the portraits, his proud gait betrayed by its visible unevenness. He stopped in front of Grandmama’s proud visage, reaching out to touch the burnt edge of the frame. Some of the paint had melted, red dripping down the velvet curtains behind Althea Bourdelain Black. Thankfully, Grandmama herself remained preserved: beneath her pearl-studded coronet, she gazed out with serene green eyes, untouched by time and fire.
“No one in my family should e’er feel anything but safe and free,” Grandpapa said.
Although his back faced Tessa, she heard the emotion roughening his voice. She went to him, placed a hand on his sleeve. “Grandpapa, it’s all right.”
“Soon it shall be.” He straightened, turned. “Leave us, Tessie.”
“I will not. I can help. I’ll disguise myself, go to the taverns frequented by our enemies and spy on them—”
“Shut up, you stupid girl!” Her father sprang from his chair like a predator who’d been biding his time. “Or, so ’elp me God, you’ll get a whipping you shan’t soon forget.”
Anger got the better of her. “Seeing as God is more likely to take notice of me than you are, I suppose the whipping ought to come from him.”
“You insolent little bitch—”
She stood her ground when her father came at her, but both Bennett and Ming moved like lightning. Bennett shoved her behind him while Ming restrained her swearing father.
“Todd, control yourself,” Grandpapa said sharply. “Bennett, take Tessa upstairs.”
Frustration beat against Tessa’s breastbone. Her grandfather’s expression was as unyielding as a mountain. He wasn’t going to allow her to help her family in its most dire hour of need.
Resolve filled her. Good thing I don’t need his permission.
* * *
As Tessa stormed past her still-restrained father, Harry slowed, his hands fisting. He was sorely tempted to give Malcolm Todd a thrashing. The bastard’s treatment of Tessa was desp
icable: all she’d wanted to do was help. Only Ming’s shake of the head and the fact that the other had Todd subdued made Harry move on. He wouldn’t hit a man who couldn’t hit back.
Moreover, as satisfying as pummeling Todd would be, Harry couldn’t afford to be dismissed from his job. He had to stay by Tessa, to protect her…from the demons rising from his past.
He followed her as she stomped down the hallway in a fit of pique. In spite of the darkness that threatened to swamp him, he felt a spark of amusement. This was Tessa: part brave, passionate woman, part adorable brat. He could no longer deny his illogical and ill-fated attraction to her. He didn’t know where it would lead, where it could lead given the tangled mess of the situation, but he did know one thing.
He would do anything to keep her safe.
“Oof.”
Tessa had come to an abrupt halt, and he’d run into her, pitching her forward. His hand shot out, yanked her back by the waist. Her softness hit his hard edges, and, despite his inner turmoil, desire flared. An awareness of how perfectly they fit together.
Releasing her, he muttered, “Pardon. I didn’t see—”
“Keep your voice down.” She kept her gaze averted. “And walk as quietly as you can.”
Puzzled, he watched as she tip-toed back the way they’d come, all signs of temper gone. Had her tantrum been for show?
What is the minx up to now?
She turned into the billiards room, crooking her finger at him. Brows lifting, he followed her inside, and she closed the door with obvious stealth. She padded over to the bookcase on the wall that separated this room from Black’s study; kneeling, she began to pluck volumes off the middle shelf.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“If you want to stay, be quiet.” Her voice hushed, she kept at her task.
Curiosity got its hooks in him. He knelt, stacking the books she passed to him on the floor. She reached to the back of the emptied shelf and extracted a small, cut-out piece of wood.
“Hell,” he murmured. “You made yourself a squint?”
In answer, she placed a finger to her lips. The peephole into Black’s study wasn’t big, and its view was limited. Nonetheless, the voices of the room’s occupants came through clearly.
“…one o’ the dukes is behind the attack,” Malcolm Todd’s voice was insisting. “Only they would ’ave the power.”
“I know it’s one o’ ’em. Didn’t get to where I am by being an imbecile,” Black’s voice shot back. “Question is, which bloody one? Ming’s been working on this since that bastard tried to off me at Nightingale’s last month.”
Someone tried to assassinate Black before this?
Frowning, Harry wondered if Inspector Davies was aware of this fact. His certainty in his mission had already suffered a blow when Tessa had explained about the medallion last night—that it was used as a symbol of protection rather than vendetta—and now to learn that someone had tried to kill Black twice?
Harry’s gut told him something wasn’t right. Yet as he took in Tessa kneeling beside him, her full pink skirts spread like petals around her as she spied like a naughty schoolgirl, he also knew his objectivity had been compromised. He wanted Black to be innocent because he wanted her.
“The assassin named John Loach.” That was Ming, succinct as always. “So far find connection between him and three of the dukes. Don’t know which one ordered shooting at Nightingale’s.”
“Who are the three suspects?” Todd demanded.
There was a pause; Harry guessed the loyal manservant was looking to Black for permission to answer. And he knew he guessed correctly when Black muttered, “Tell ’im.”
“Loach frequent visitor to tavern in the docklands. Owned by Francis O’Toole.”
Tessa’s hands balled in her lap.
“Loach has brother,” Ming continued. “Brother is one of Severin Knight’s men.”
Harry was not familiar with Knight. Seeing Tessa’s sharp intake of breath, he leaned closer, whispering, “Who’s Knight?”
“The Duke of Spitalfields,” she whispered back. “He oversees and gets a cut of most of the trade that happens there.”
“Finally, Loach owe money,” Ming said. “Five hundred quid to Adam Garrity.”
Garrity was a name Harry knew. The infamous moneylender was married to his sisters’ friend, Gabriella nee Billings. Harry had met Gabriella once, years ago before her marriage, and had the memory of a plump, redheaded chatterbox.
He’d never met Garrity, but he knew his sisters did not approve of their friend’s match. According to them, Garrity was a shady character, and they bemoaned the fact that they’d seen little of Gabriella since her marriage.
“Garrity is the Duke of the City,” Tessa murmured. “He’s a moneylender, and men from all strata of society are indebted to him.”
“Make me a duke,” Todd said suddenly. “With John Randolph dead, you need someone to take over Covent Garden. Give me that territory, and I’ll stand with you against all your enemies. I’ll mount an attack on O’Toole, Knight, and Garrity.”
“These ain’t men to cross, you stupid bastard,” Black growled. “Which is why I ’aven’t made my move yet. Got to ’ave evidence before I strike back. As to your allegiance, I gave you my Mavis. Made you part o’ my family. Ain’t your fealty already sworn to me?”
“Yes, o’ course. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Steely warning threaded Black’s voice. “I ain’t making no decisions about Covent Garden until my enemies are vanquished. If you want a dukedom, then you’d best show yourself useful.”
“What do you want me to do?” Todd said sulkily.
“Give Ming your best men. ’E’s got a watch on the three bastards and could use extra sets o’ eyes and ears.” Black paused. “Whoe’er is behind this will feel the fire of my vengeance: ’e’ll pay for what ’e did to my guards this night. And to those under my protection at The Gilded Pearl.”
The truth plowed into Harry. Black had been protecting the bawdy house. The medallion found on the victim had been a symbol of his protection…just as Tessa had claimed.
“This enemy not fight with fire, Mr. Black,” Ming said somberly. “He use hellfire.”
“’Ellfire?” Todd let out a derisive laugh. “Your Chinaman’s got a screw loose.”
“Between you and Ming, one man knows what e’s talking about, and it ain’t you.” Disgust dripped from Black’s voice. “’Ellfire is what we’re calling this shite on my desk. Ming found the same bloody stuff at The Pearl.”
“Found one device not blow,” Ming clarified. “Same material inside.”
“Don’t know ’ow this shite is made, but it’s twice as powerful as gunpowder. Ming and I tested it.” Black’s voice was stark. “Stuff burns cleanly and through everything in its path. If Bennett ’adn’t stopped those buggers from lighting more tonight, they would’ve razed this place. Just like they did The Pearl.”
Harry’s gut coiled. All the properties Black described were those of the explosive material he’d accidentally created in his laboratory. The one that had been stolen from him by fellow scientist Aloysius De Witt, Celeste’s father.
“I can keep track o’ gunpowder by tracking its components. No sales o’ saltpeter ’appen in the underworld without my knowing. But this ’ellfire is different,” Black said grimly. “We don’t know its ingredients. Some bastard might be making it right beneath our noses.”
Harry swallowed, thinking of the volatile compound he’d produced out of nitric acid, oil of vitriol, and cotton. When Aloysius De Witt had learned about Harry’s discovery, he’d wanted to produce and sell it for industrial purposes. Harry had argued that the substance, which he’d named “explosive cotton,” was too volatile and dangerous to market.
De Witt had proposed a partnership. He’d funded Harry’s attempts to produce a safer product, but then he’d grown impatient. Even though the explosive cotton wasn’t ready, he’d insisted that it was ti
me to bring it to investors.
Harry had refused, and his decision had cost him his future. Yet his shattered ambitions paled in comparison to the present threat. Had De Witt managed to stabilize the compound? Had he turned it into a useable weapon of destruction?
“On top o’ all this, the Peelers are bloody thorns in my side,” Black raged on. “Their spies are everywhere, so watch your backs.”
“I ain’t afraid o’ the police,” Todd scoffed. “I’ll slit the throat o’ any spy that dares set foot in my ’ouse.”
“No, you’ll bring ’im to me.” Black’s decree was cold, as final as death.
Harry’s pulse thudded. Obviously, revealing his identity was not an option.
Beside him, Tessa gave a start. She scrambled to cover up the peephole.
“Grandfather was walking toward the squint,” she said urgently. “He might have seen it.”
Wordlessly, Harry shoved the books back in place. Tessa ducked her head out in the hallway, looking this way and that before gesturing to him. Numbly, he followed her down the empty corridor and up the stairs, his mind consumed by all he’d learned.
By hellfire…which he might have inadvertently unleashed on the world.
14
Filled with agitated energy, Tessa entered her sitting room. She dismissed Lizzie, who’d been tidying up her watercolors. The lady’s maid pointedly left the door wide open, and Tessa didn’t gainsay her. If Grandpapa stopped by, the closed door would rouse his suspicions. Despite the less than private situation, Tessa was determined to gain clarity on two points.
First, would Bennett help her family in their time of need?
Second, what were his feelings toward her?
Her heart palpitated. Since their spying session, Bennett had withdrawn even more, and she didn’t know the cause of it. Whether it was the looming threat of the hellfire that absorbed him…or his regret over their passionate encounter.
The Duke Identity: Game of Dukes, Book 1 Page 12