He made his way up the stairs, pausing at his door. Then he pushed it open and let out an angry breath.
Carin was gone, the tie he’d used to bind her lying on the bed in her place.
Chapter 4
Milord, Mr. Tristan Mallory is here.”
Tristan pushed by Dalton’s butler and stormed into his dining room.
“Good morning,” Dalton said. “Early morning. You’re lucky Charlotte is not up. Is something on fire? Is that why you’re acting like you’re storming the castle?”
“Did you, or did you not, send a courtesan to my home last night?”
Dalton laughed, and Tristan wanted to put his fist in his friend’s face. “Answer me!”
“Calm down,” Dalton said. “Pour some tea, sit down and tell me what you’re talking about.”
Tristan ran his fingers through his hair. He’d been on edge ever since he’d found Carin—if that was her name—gone from his bedroom. He knew he should calm down, but the more he thought about what she’d told him the more concerned he became.
He reached into his pocket and took out the silver key, which he put on the table.
“What is that?” Dalton asked.
“Well, I’m not sure,” Tristan said. “I’m going to pour some tea, help myself to some food, and we’re going to discuss it.”
Tristan heaped his plate with food, and sat down. He wolfed down quite a bit of it before Dalton said, “Tell me.”
Tristan started with the story of Mrs. Walker showing him the key, and ended with Carin’s spanking, and her disappearance from the bedroom.
“You thought I’d sent a woman to act out a fantasy with you?” Dalton said.
“Well, your wife has been introducing me to every single woman in England,” Tristan said. “I thought maybe you just wanted me to have good, hard sex.”
“With a member of the club,” Dalton said. “Have I ever offered you a courtesan?”
“No, but you have changed since you’ve married,” Tristan said. “I might have done it before. Maybe I should have at some point.” He wanted to laugh, but things were not funny at this point. “I don’t know how to figure out who she is.”
“Perhaps you should talk to the Inspector at the Metropolitan Police,” Dalton said. “I understand he is the one handling the situation. He talked with you when your home was first burglarized, did he not?”
“He did,” Tristan said. “But I’d rather not involve the authorities. I did spank a woman in my home last night, without her consent.”
“She broke in,” Dalton said. “When you find someone in your bedroom who’s not supposed to be there, you react, you don’t think things through.”
Tristan stared at his cup. “I need to figure out a way to talk to Kelley without going to see him, maybe a way where I can accidentally run into him. Where do police inspectors go when they are not at the metropolitan station?”
“Home, I’m sure,” Dalton said. “Or they do go out and question suspects. Perhaps you should confess to the burglaries and he’ll want to talk to you. Tell him you reported your burglary as a way to make yourself look like a victim.”
“You’re a chuckle,” Tristan said.
“Maybe you should hire a private investigator?” Dalton shrugged.
“And tell him what, that I want him to find a black-haired beauty with big breasts and a lovely bottom?”
“Who has a lovely bottom?” Charlotte said as she moved toward her husband.
Tristan had not even heard her enter the room.
“I’m glad you’re wearing more than a robe,” Dalton said before he gave her a kiss.
“The maid told me Tristan was here,” she said. “What brings about this early morning meeting? Are you planning something wickedly fun? Is there a surprise club meeting? Hopefully, I’ll get a good spanking out of it.”
Tristan looked at Dalton and then turned his gaze to Charlotte. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share his dilemma with Charlotte, but then he decided it would waste too much time to tell her nothing, and then watch her try to wheedle it out of them.
He told her the story. Her eyes widened as he spoke. “Well, you do have a problem,” she said when he was done. “What are you going to do?”
“I guess a talk with the inspector will get me started,” Tristan said. “Hopefully.”
He started to stand, and then sat back down.
“You don’t seem to be in much of a hurry,” Dalton said. “Something else you want to talk about?”
Tristan thought about it for a moment. How could he tell them about the conflicting feelings he had about last night. He wanted to find his unknown thief to get to the bottom of things, true, but he also wanted her because he—well because he wanted her—desperately.
“It’s nothing,” he said, pushing the feelings aside. He’d told himself just the other evening that he didn’t want a woman in his life anymore. He just wanted sex, good, hard sex. And this woman might provide just that.
He stood, and then sat down when a knock came at the dining room door.
“Milord,” Dalton’s butler came in. “There is a man called Seth at the servant’s door. He says he has a message for Mr. Mallory.”
“He’s one of my stable lads,” Tristan said.
“Bring him here,” Dalton said.
When Seth came in, hat in hand, he looked very nervous.
“What is it, lad?” Tristan said.
Seth held out a note. “A message for you, sir.” He held out a piece of paper. “The man who delivered it said it had to get to you immediately.”
“Is he waiting for an answer?”
“No, sir,” Seth said.
Tristan stood. He wanted to laugh at the up and down motion of his life in the last few moments. It felt much like the way he’d gone back and forth about his feelings in the last few hours.
He took the note and sent Seth home. After he’d sat back down he opened it and laughed as he silently read the missive.
“Well? Is it from her?” Dalton asked.
“It is,” Tristan said. “She wants me to meet her at the Stake and Grub at nine tonight. And she wants me to bring the key.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Dalton said.
“You mean us,” Charlotte said. “If there’s a scheme happening I won’t sit back and do nothing. I want to take part in the fun.”
“I don’t think she’ll approach me if I’m not alone,” Tristan said. “We’ll set up a plan this afternoon. I feel for her, you know. She wants to find her father’s killer and she thinks I had something to do with his death. But I didn’t even know the man.”
“You said she mentioned a member of society had hired her father to steal from his friends. If the keys have something to do with it, perhaps we can help her get to the bottom of things,” Dalton offered.
“Maybe,” Tristan said. “The Stake and Grub is not in a part of town we’re used to visiting. We’ll have to dress carefully lest we become the target of pickpockets.”
“Oh, let me pick out the costumes!” Charlotte said, clapping her hands. “This is so much fun.”
She ran from the room and Tristan laughed. “I’m glad I could provide you with a bit of entertainment.”
“It’s always great to have a break in the day’s events,” Dalton said with a laugh. “Now, who do we think faces enough financial trouble that he would hire someone to steal for him?”
Carin stared at the crowded pub, willing her feet to move toward the entrance. But something held her back. She once again questioned her decision to send Tristan Mallory a message. She should have left well enough alone. She should have let the whole thing go.
Her aching bottom was proof that she was in over her head. She’d selected the Stake and Grub because it was far from her home. She didn’t want to lead Mallory to her neighborhood. Plus, the pub was crowded. She knew because this was the place she had always met her father. It was near his part of town—Whitechapel—and where he’d hung out with h
is friends, and fellow thieves.
None of her father’s associates knew who she was, or at least she didn’t think they did. He’d never introduced her to them, but he had brought her here for a pint, and some food that was, much to her surprise, very good.
She continued to stare at the façade. She wondered what time it was and pulled a timepiece out of her reticule. Her father had given it to her, and she’d been angry. She’d asked him whom he’d stolen it from. It was one of the only times she’d seen him sad, looking as if he might cry. His words flooded back to her as she looked at the face under the glow of the streetlamp.
“I may not be the best father, but I would never give you a stolen gift,” he’d said. “This piece belonged to my father.”
She had twenty minutes before Mallory would show up for their meeting. People were flowing in and out of the drinking establishment, but none of them were dressed as she would expect The Honorable Mr. Mallory to be dressed. As the son of a Baron, even a lesser son, he would not go out unless properly dressed. Everyone she’d seen entering the pub right now was not of Mallory’s station in life.
“Get a hold of yourself,” she muttered as she stepped onto the cobblestone street and made her way to the pub. “You’re the one who asked for this. You keep telling yourself to let go of the situation, but you know you won’t, and you know you need that key.”
The pub was smoky; the smell of stale beer and unwashed bodies assailed her nostrils. She wondered how long it had been since the floors had been washed. That didn’t deter people from coming in, and a quick look around the room showed that all the tables were full. Carin chastised herself for not coming in here sooner. Perhaps then she could have found a corner table where she and Mallory could sit and talk without being overheard.
Another glance around the room made her regret her decision even more, until, near the back, a man stood and waved in her direction. She glanced behind her to see whose attention he was trying to gain. No one seemed to notice him except her. She looked once more, and he waved again.
Chills ran though her. It was Mallory, dressed not in the eveningwear she usually saw him in when he was going out, but in clothes that looked as if they had seen better days.
He picked up a pint and held it in the air, as if he were offering it to her. Why hadn’t she figured out that he would get here early and be waiting for her? But how long had he been here?
Not that it mattered, she thought as she started toward him.
He stood near the table, waiting. When she was near him, he said, “Miss Carin, so nice to see you again.” He indicated she should sit on the same side of the table as him, but she ignored his offer and sat across from him.
“Very well,” he said as he sat back down in the booth. “I’m glad you contacted me.”
“So you can apologize, you mean,” Carin said. She waited, and when he shook his head she felt rage rise inside her.
“I’m not going to apologize,” he said. “I thought you contacted me about the key. You want it, and you want answers.”
Her heart raced at his words. Had she finally found the right person? Would he be able to tell her who killed her father? Or had he been the one to slit her father’s throat with a blade?
“Answers?” she said when she finally got herself under control. “Does that mean you did know my father? You do know who killed him?”
“I don’t have those answers for you,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. He held it up. She reached for it but he pulled it out of her reach. He held it aloft for a few moments, and then put it back in his pocket.
“That’s mine,” she said.
“So you say,” he countered. “How do I know you didn’t steal it from someone else and then lose it in my home?”
Carin fought the urge to bolt. But she stayed in place. She wanted that key.
“Tell me again what the key is for,” he said.
“Give it to me and I’ll leave your life forever,” she said. “But you have to swear to me, on your wife’s grave, that you are not involved in my father’s death.”
“I swear it to you,” he said. “I don’t know your father, and I don’t know why you would think I would.”
Should she believe him? Even in the murky darkness she could see the truth on his face. He wasn’t the man she sought. Unless he was a very good actor.
“Let me help you,” he said.
“Why?” she asked. “Would that be so you can assuage yourself of the guilt you feel for spanking me last night. It still hurts, by the way.”
“It’s supposed to,” he said. “It was punishment for breaking into my home.”
“You thought I was a whore,” she said, her words coming out angrier than she’d planned. But she couldn’t stop herself from continuing. “You enjoyed it. You thought I was there for you to beat. You’re a sick man.”
He didn’t respond, and Carin held out her hand, palm up. “Please, just give me the key.”
“Are we too soon?” Carin jerked her head to where a man and woman stood. She didn’t recognize them, but it was obvious they were here with Ellington.
“What is this?” she asked. Carin glared at Dalton. “Are you with the police? Are you here to take me into custody?”
“Should we be?” Dalton asked.
“I’m leaving.” She wanted out of the booth, but it sat against the wall on one side, and the newcomers were blocking her exit on the other.
“No one is here to arrest you,” Tristan said. “We are here to help.”
Carin turned her glance toward him and stared.
“You look like a rabbit caught in a trap,” Tristan said. “I promise, no one wants to hurt you. I want to talk to you about what you told me last night. These are my friends, Dalton and Charlotte. They are here as support.”
“For you,” she said. “You’re ganging up on me, three against one. If you think I’m going to spill my story to people I don’t know you’ve lost your mind.”
“You told me last night,” he said.
Carin tried to remember exactly what she’d told him. The whole thing had been so horrible that she couldn’t remember what she’d told him. Did she tell him the truth? And if she did how far did it go? Last night was all such a tumble to her, except for the spanking that she still felt today.
“If you think I’m going to sit here with the three of you, with my back literally to the wall, you’re mistaken.” Carin turned to Ellington. “Give me the key and I’ll leave.”
“Tell me what you were looking for in my house and I’ll let you go. If not, I’ll call Inspector Kelley. He’s the man handling the break-ins, correct? Perhaps you’d rather speak to him.”
Carin felt as if all the color had drained from her face.
“Yes, I can see that you’ve already spoken to him,” he said. “Carin—is your name really Carin?”
“Yes,” she said.
“And your surname?”
Carin shook her head.
“Very well,” Tristan said. “For now, anyway. Carin, it’s obvious to me that you’re facing something that is very difficult for you. I do feel rather, well, shall we say bad, about last night. I did think it was a joke that my friends had set up. But since it wasn’t, I would like to make it up to you. Let me help you. Let us help you.”
He sounded so sincere that Carin thought he might actually be telling the truth. Could she trust him? Did she have a choice, really? If he turned her over to Kelley for being in his house without permission she would most assuredly spend time in prison, and she couldn’t have that happen. The thought scared her out of her mind.
She really had no choice, did she? It was dropping that stupid key that had brought about this trouble.
“You have a decision to make,” Tristan said.
“I know that,” she snapped back at him. “But if you think I’m going to sit in the back of the booth, surrounded by the three of you, you have lost your mind.”
“Very well,” T
ristan said. “I’ll join you over there and you can sit on the edge and I’ll take the back seat. Dalton and Charlotte can take this side.”
“As long as I’m not boxed in,” she said.
They stood and did a little dance of trading places. When Carin was seated next to Tristan she made sure to keep to the farthest edge of the bench, so she didn’t touch him. She was still angry with him about what happened last night.
“May I have my key, please?”
“Not yet,” Tristan said. “Last night you talked about your father. You said he was killed and you were doing the break-ins to try and figure out who had murdered him.”
“The police don’t care,” she said. “But I do.”
“Of course, you do,” Charlotte said. She patted Carin’s hand, and Carin hated to say that it made her feel better about the situation.
“Tell us from the start, in your own words,” Dalton said.
“It’s a very private thing. I only—” Carin stopped speaking and turned an evil glare on Tristan. “I only said those things because of the way you treated me last night. It threw me off my mark. I was confused. I said things that were—not for everyone to know.”
“If the police don’t believe you then you need help to try and find your father’s killer,” Tristan said. “Tell us how he died, and why you have the keys, and what they mean.”
“He was killed in Hyde Park,” Carin said. “Someone cut his throat.”
Charlotte gasped. “I’m so sorry. That is horrible.”
“Thank you,” Carin said. It sounded to her as if Charlotte really meant what she’d said, which calmed Carin’s nerves even more.
“You said he was a burglar,” Tristan said.
“He was,” Carin replied. “I’m not proud of what he did for a living, but I did—do—love him. It angers me that Kelley does not take his death seriously.”
“I can speak to him,” Dalton said. “After all, I am the son of an Earl.”
“Not now, dear,” Charlotte said. “Let’s try and keep things on the same subject. Please continue, Carin.”
His Disobedient Thief (Rakes of Mayfair Book 2) Page 5
