Risking the Detective (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 6)

by Ellie St. Clair

  “Maybe you are a bit more intelligent than I thought, Miss Castleton,” Treacle said lazily from the other side of the table before he yawned. “None of this, however, has anything to do with me. Now, were the two of you actually here with this so-called proposal, or were you only here to question me about the vandalism in your warehouse?”

  Madeline obviously did not appropriately hide her guilt, and Treacle guessed the truth before Drake could say anything otherwise.

  “As I thought,” he said with a smirk. “Well, as fun as this has been, I have other things to do.” He stood. “Good day, Miss Castleton, Mr. Smith. As much as I would not like to see a man like Powers win, I also must tell you that I cannot wish your business success, for that only takes away from mine. Farewell.”

  Madeline only nodded as Drake led her down the hallway and out of the building.

  Chapter 6

  “Thank you.”

  Drake turned to Miss Castleton’s soft voice, finding her looking up at him, with ocean-blue eyes wide beneath her white bonnet.

  He cleared the gruffness from his throat.

  “There’s nothing to thank me for. I am only doing my job.”

  It was the truth. He didn’t see why on earth she would thank him. He should have been firmer and convinced her to stay out of this and allow him to work alone. He could hardly imagine what she must have been thinking after all Treacle had said about her, and he felt like an utter lout that he had not been able to tell Treacle exactly what he longed to, which was for him to take his cheap shots and go straight to hell.

  But then they wouldn’t have gotten anywhere.

  “He should never have said such things to you,” Drake said, looking away from her, away from the wisps of her blond hair that had come loose and were waving around her face in the breeze.

  “What happened is what happened,” she said, her words stoic. “The past cannot be changed, and if I choose to stay and live and work in London, then I must accept that people will use the scandal against me.”

  “The scandal was hardly your fault.”

  “But it was, in a way,” she said softly. “I allowed it to happen. I will overcome it, though.”

  “Of course you will,” he said, his voice hoarse. He was not overly proficient in comforting women, although he was not entirely sure that was what Madeline wished for, anyway.

  “I thought he seemed surprised regarding the vandalism,” she said, changing the subject slightly, relieving him.

  Drake nodded. “I agree. Although it seemed he was somewhat suspicious that he would be approached for a project with Castleton Stone. Do you truly believe that Powers would ruin an entire business in order to obtain the land?”

  Madeline sighed. “I have never had many dealings with him myself, although my father has never had anything particularly kind to say about him. It seems somewhat extreme just to obtain land along the Thames.”

  Drake placed his hands in his pockets, jingling the coins within.

  “Miss Castleton…”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you thought about the fact that this could have been an accident? Or, perhaps, an employee who is not particularly pleased about something? An act that you will simply have to move on from?”

  Madeline stared at him for a moment before beginning to shake her head, and he had the impression that he was somehow found lacking.

  “You know what, Drake?” she said, ire in her tone, “You obviously feel that my little problem is not worthy of your time, so you are free to go. I will figure this out myself.”

  “Miss Castleton—” he began. He should have known that she would not take his suggestion well. She interrupted him, however, before he could say anything else.

  “I understand my case does not hold much importance. Except it is something of note — to me. I have offered you an out once before. Constable Marshall seemed more than happy to take on the job, and I would be pleased to offer it to him if he will promise to provide the time required. Now, for the last time, are you going to help me or not?”

  Drake couldn’t help but be surprised at her ultimatum. She seemed so fragile, and yet she had this quiet strength that surfaced now and then — a strength that he respected.

  “My apologies, Miss Castleton. Never meant to offend. I’ll refrain from suggesting such a thing again, although we must consider the fact that someone who works for you could have done this.”

  “I am aware of that, Drake, and my cousin and I are looking into it.”

  “Good,” he said. He was not overly confident in Bennett Castleton’s abilities and would therefore focus his investigation on their employees as well, but for now he would do what he could to determine if any outsiders had a hand in this. “Do you think Treacle would say anything to this Powers to warn him off?”

  He looked back to Miss Castleton, who tilted her head in consideration of his question.

  “I don’t think so,” she finally said. “He has no allegiance to him, and while he would like to see the downfall of Castleton Stone, I think he would want to see it at his own hands, and not by Powers. He wouldn’t want a stone business to succumb so easily.”

  “Fair enough,” Drake said. “I will make an appointment to see Powers. And, before you try to ask, no, you will not be coming along.”

  She just stared at him, and he had a feeling that even though she had chosen not to voice her disagreement, she was going to do as she wished no matter what he said.

  “Before you do so, why do you not come to the factory? I will show you more of how the stone is made and how it was vandalized. It could, perhaps, demonstrate to you that it is nearly impossible for this to have been an accident.”

  Drake considered her for a moment. There was much else he had to do — actions of importance that had been sent his way — but she was right. He actually should have thought of such a thing himself when she had first asked for his assistance, but he hadn’t been particularly invested in the case at the time.

  “Very well,” he said curtly. “I shall meet you at your factory.”

  “Would you like to travel with me?” she asked. “I have my carriage.”

  “You are traveling alone?” he lifted a brow.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding curtly. “I had no one else to accompany me, and I am old enough to make my own decisions.”

  “It is not at all safe, Miss Castleton.”

  “I have a driver.”

  “Even so,” he was already shaking his head, “I now have no choice but to escort you back.”

  “I didn’t realize it would be such a hardship.”

  Drake lifted an eyebrow. “I must say, Miss Castleton, you have much more spark than I had guessed.”

  “You must bring the best out of me,” she said wryly as the carriage came to a halt beside them and Drake helped her up into it, waving the driver away.

  “So tell me,” she said, as she sat across from him, trying to ignore the shiver of warmth that crawled through her whenever their knees brushed against one another, “how does one become a constable?”

  “I asked to join,” he said, looking away from her and out the window of the carriage. “It took some time, but I finally proved my worth when I captured a thief that had been targeting some of London’s jewelers.”

  “How intriguing,” she said, looking up at him, and he gathered that those blue eyes of hers caught more than she let on. “Have you always had such a sense of right and wrong, of wanting to pursue justice?”

  “I suppose,” he said cryptically, having no wish to tell her the full story of his past.

  “What does your family think of your profession?”

  “They are proud but worried at times.”

  “That is understandable.”

  She was playing with threads in her skirt’s embroidery then, and Drake realized belatedly that she was simply making conversation because she was nervous, attempting to fill the silence, and he was being a cold beast about it.

  “And y
ou, Miss Castleton?” he said stiffly, polite discussion foreign to his tongue. “How does a woman become so interested in her father’s stone business?”

  A small, reminiscent smile played on her lips. “It has always been just my father and me,” she said, her gaze faraway. “My mother died when I was young, and my father was so involved in his work that I spent a great deal of time with him, sitting in the very office that he still holds today or running around the factory, hassling the sculptors. He taught me everything about the business, and soon enough we both realized just how much I wanted to be a part of it. He is aware that it is not exactly what most young women would do with their lives, but he is supportive of my endeavor. He is, actually, supportive of anything I choose to do.”

  She was silent for a moment, but Drake sensed there was more she wanted to say and, like any good investigator, he waited, allowing the silence to spur on her words.

  “I know he was disappointed when I married Lord Donning and was no longer able to spend time with him at the business. But he understood. When one is married to a peer, she does not work at a stone business — or any business.”

  “You also had plenty of problems of your own.”

  “Which I didn’t realize until it was too late,” she said, softly, looking down at her feet, and Drake couldn’t help himself from reaching out and taking one of her hands in his. Hers were gloved, and yet it still felt as though her dainty, soft hand did not belong in his hardened one that had been dirtied more often than he cared to think about.

  “You survived, Miss Castleton,” he said. “We all do.”

  He dropped her hand abruptly when her eyes flew to his, apparently hearing what he didn’t say — that he had survived something himself.

  Fortunately, the carriage came to a halt with a jerk, but Madeline, having been looking across the carriage at him instead of out the window, was ill-prepared for the stop and went flying off the seat toward him. His hands instinctively came out to her, capturing her in his embrace.

  He should have immediately set her back on the seat behind her. He should have apologized. He should have asked if she was all right.

  But he did none of those things.

  Her face — her beautiful face — was so close to his, her lips red and pert and entirely kissable. He bent his head, knowing that he had no business even thinking about what it would be like to feel her lips on his, to know her taste, to capture her essence. But he was unable to stop himself.

  All the restraint, all of the control that led him through his life and made him proficient at what he did fled with Madeline Castleton in his arms.

  “Miss Castleton—”

  “Madeline.”

  “Madeline,” he murmured, his lips now but a breath away from hers. “I—”

  The carriage door opened, and Madeline flew back into her original seat.

  “’ere you go, Miss Castleton. I apologize for taking so long, but I—”

  The footman blinked as he looked back and forth between Madeline and Drake. They were a respectable distance apart, but her flushed face and bright eyes gave her away — gave them away — even though nothing at all had happened.

  “Well, shall we look at the factory, then, Miss Castleton?” Drake asked, but before they were even out of the door, a figure came running up to them from the factory beyond.

  “Madeline? Oh, Madeline, thank goodness!” her cousin puffed as he neared, out of breath from his short sprint. “We have been looking everywhere for you.”

  “I was helping Drake investigate Treacle,” she said, although Drake didn’t see any need for her to defend herself. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the stone,” Castleton said, still spitting. “We added the water to mix it, laid it out and fit it into the molds, but the formula’s off. The stone won’t set. It keeps cracking.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, panic storming her eyes, and she took off at a run as fast as she could with her skirts restricting her, following Bennett.

  Drake couldn’t help but follow along, as though pulled in her wake.

  She stopped so quickly that he nearly ran into the back of her, and he stepped closer, peering over her shoulder to determine what it was that had so caught her attention.

  Madeline stepped past Bennett and the man who was currently working with the liquid in the vat before them, stirring it with a large stick. She held out her hand for it and then lifted and turned it so that the clay below streamed out in one long line of slop.

  “This has gone through firing?” she asked the man, who seemed young, eager, and quite worried.

  “Not this, ma’am,” he said, “but that over there. This hasn’t been molded or entered the kiln yet and we’re trying to see what went wrong.”

  “It should be much firmer than this,” she said, mostly to herself, although Drake wondered if some of it was for his benefit. “It should be hard… unbendable.” She dropped the stick and walked briskly across the room. “What happened once it fired?”

  “It was only in for a day before we checked it. Already it came out hard, flaky, and cracked,” Bennett said, rushing over to her side. “It turns to near powder on the touch.”

  “What do you use to make it?” Drake asked, but Madeline was shaking her head.

  “That, we cannot reveal.”

  “I have no one to tell,” he said dryly.

  “Unfortunately, Detective, I am not even privy to such information,” Bennett said. “Only Madeline and her father know.”

  “Is this true?” Drake asked Madeline, somewhat surprised.

  She nodded.

  “It is the only way to ensure it can never be stolen from us. There are other companies — such as Treacle’s — that have created a similar product, but none like this. We all know parts of it, but I finish it myself.”

  Bennett studied her. “You did finish it, did you not?”

  “Of course I did,” she said, lifting her chin with some apparent ire. “The last I saw it, it was like clay, ready to be molded. Not this… whatever this is.”

  She peered more closely at it, sniffing it.

  “I believe someone stole the actual product and replaced it with what’s here. This does not even resemble Castleton stone. Who was keeping watch overnight?”

  “There was a… misunderstanding,” Bennet said with some exasperation. “We missed appointing someone last night. It won’t happen again. But until then…”

  She rubbed her forehead before looking around the factory. All eyes were on her, waiting for a command from her, a decision, something to tell them just what they should all do next.

  Drake noticed her lip wobble slightly — he wondered if he was the only one who did — before she caught it in her teeth and took a deep breath, seeming to come to a decision.

  “Get rid of this,” she commanded. “And start a new batch.”

  “But—” Bennett began, but she whirled around and set her eyes on him.

  “What else would you have me do?” she hissed, perhaps so that others around them could not hear. “We cannot continue without any supply. We must try again.”

  “Only for it to be sabotaged once more?” Bennett asked, shaking his head. “Perhaps we best wait for your father to return.”

  She set her jaw. “We will not.” She turned to the other men. “Please tell me when we are near to finishing. I shall be in my office.”

  Then she turned around and strode off like a queen.

  Drake could only follow.

  “Do you believe me now?” she asked as they entered what he guessed was Ezra Castleton’s office. The walls were lined with bookshelves, but instead of holding tomes of literature, they held small sculptures that he could only assume were made of Castleton stone. A small table surrounded by four chairs sat in the corner, with a massive desk taking up the middle of the room.

  Drake sighed as he eased himself back in the chair across from her desk. He did believe her, although he didn’t want to readily admit it. “I su
ppose now I have no choice but to continue my investigation.”

  “You say that as though it is my fault. I would most certainly prefer to not have to deal with this.”

  Drake crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. “I am not accusing you of anything at all. But obviously there was some kind of switch, and it likely happened during the middle of the night, unless all of your employees were involved with it. Would you consider that as a possibility?”

  She was already shaking her head. “Absolutely not. Most of these men have been with us for years.”

  “I know you are loyal, Miss Castleton, but — are they?”

  She was still standing, looking out the window at the yard before her, land which extended from the factory itself. He watched the long expanse of her neck as she swallowed, before leaning over completely and resting her head on the glass.

  “I thought they were. But I don’t seem to know anything anymore.” She pressed herself backward and looked at him. “There only seems to be one person I can trust.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  “Myself.”

  His heart and his hope inexplicably fell as he realized just what he had been hoping she would say.

  “Therefore,” she continued, “if anyone is going to make this right, it will be me. Now, the question is — are you going to help me or not?”

  Chapter 7

  Drake had made plans for tonight. Plans which involved the package that was currently sitting on the middle of the sole table in his small home at the edge of Covent Garden; a package waiting for him to unravel its clues.

  But it would have to wait.

  For Madeline Castleton was determined to stand guard over her precious stone, with or without him.

  So with it would be.

  “Why didn’t you have your cousin help?” Drake asked as he joined her inside the darkened building, his voice harsh in the night, echoing off the empty vats and stone that remained, the building barren with the lack of supply.