But instead, all Drake could think about was his kiss with her. He should never have done it, of that he was well aware. He couldn’t accurately explain just what had convinced him that it was the right thing to do. Perhaps it was their proximity, her lips so close to his. She was a beautiful woman, of that there was no denying. There was something more, however… it could have been her vulnerability. She had opened herself up to him, allowed him to see that the circumstances had overwhelmed her. He had been honored that she had let him in, had listened to his words, had allowed them to calm her.
He had an innate sense of pride that he had been able to comfort her. He was not exactly the comforting type, but she seemed to respond to him.
Right before he had kissed her, he had remembered all she had been through, had realized that she was basically at his mercy, as trapped as she was by his body — and so he had asked for her permission. And had been so gratified and relieved when she had said yes.
It was everything he could have asked for, and yet he wished it had never happened. For now, he wanted nothing more than to do it again.
But he couldn’t. For that could lead to more, and more—right now—was not possible. Nor would it likely ever be.
Not with this in front of him.
A clue, at last, one for which he had been searching for over so many years now, the entire reason why he had dedicated his life to the search for truth and justice.
It was what had carried him on after a near-silent carriage ride home with Madeline, after he had left her at the door and continued on here, to his own residence.
It seemed rather ordinary. A satchel.
But his breath caught as his fingers touched the worn leather and he lifted it out to set it in front of him. It was so much more than just a satchel.
He would know this anywhere. It was his father’s. Whoever had sent this to him knew what happened to his parents. They had to. It was ripped, aged, smelled musty and not at all like the leather and parchment scent of his father that he still remembered.
But it was his. Drake was sure of it.
And then there was what was inside. The bundle of notes that was more money than Drake would make in a year as a detective. Had it been his father’s? Or was someone attempting some restitution for taking Drake’s parents from him?
He didn’t want to believe any ill about his parents, but the date on the notes told him that these were not new… they must have been earned years prior. Years around when he had lost his parents.
He sighed, running his hands through his hair.
Where did he go from here? He had decided years ago that he would leave this alone, that there was no mystery to solve, that he would let it go and would focus instead on righting the wrongs he could control, for the people who were still waiting for their answers and their vengeance.
But now, with this… it told him that there was someone out there who knew what had happened. There was a reason Drake was a detective, and now was the time he had to use all of his reasoning to determine the heart of the matter.
He lifted the satchel again, the soft leather brushing against his hands like a second skin. He ran his fingers over the outside of it, where the leather had nearly worn off. But there… what was that? There was a lump of some sort. Was it a defect in the leather? No…
There was something there. Something within. Drake’s heart began to beat rapidly as he realized, if he could only still his fingers long enough to search within, he might find something that would provide him answers, if nothing else.
He opened the satchel, his shaking hands nearly pulling the fabric apart in his quest to find whatever it was that was calling him.
There. It was barely noticeable, so well it had been stitched, but then, his mother had always been an excellent seamstress. He nearly tore the fabric apart, but then realized that doing so would destroy one of the only things he had left from his parents, an unexpected gift.
He looked around the room, his eyes lighting on the letter opener. He carefully worked it into the stitching, breaking it stitch by stitch until the satchel was open to him, and finally, there, within, was a small pendant.
Drake lifted out the circle, turning it around within his fingers, holding it up to the candle that was already wearing down next to him.
It looked like it was some kind of bird — a hawk perhaps? He was no ornithologist, that was for certain, but he wondered what the significance of it was.
Something about it seemed familiar to him, but he could not determine just where he had seen it before.
He would take it to Bow Street tomorrow. Maybe someone there would recognize it.
He could only hope.
The first thing Madeline did the next morning was review her correspondence to ensure that all had been well at the factory since she had left it last night.
It had been.
The second thing she did was greet her aunt, who had already eaten in her room and was now sitting in front of the fire with a book in hand — where she spent most of her days. Besides the dinner hour, when she was always interested in hearing Madeline’s activities of the day, this was where she could usually be found.
Third, she sent a note to Alice, requesting a visit. She desperately needed to speak to someone, and who else than her very closest of friends, who would understand better than anyone the conundrum she faced?
And so it was that two hours later she found herself on the doorstep of what had once been the Dorrington London House, but was now the home of Alice and Benjamin Luxington. Benjamin’s brother, now Lord Dorrington, had no wish to reside there after the death of his father and had gifted his house to Benjamin.
“Madeline!” Alice practically squealed as she opened the door and welcomed her.
Alice was never one for much formality, and she gave Madeline such a squeeze that she let out an “oomph.”
“Sorry,” Alice said with a bit of a bashful smile. “It’s just been some time now, and I am so happy to see you. I find myself at home far too often, what with feeling rather ill since I began expecting.”
“Well, you look better than you ever have,” Madeline said, with all truthfulness. Alice had always been beautiful, but now she was practically glowing.
“As do you,” Alice said, but Madeline waved a hand in the air, well aware that Alice was just being kind. She knew she was still so wan that she looked rather sickly and she had become far too thin. Which was why she had been shocked that Drake would have any inkling to come close to her, let alone to kiss her.
“Now,” Alice said as she perched on the edge of one of the red parlor chairs and settled her skirts around her legs. The sun was beautiful today, shining in through the glass panes to reflect on Alice as though she was a goddess.
Madeline moved over on the sofa to allow the sun to more thoroughly warm her back.
“Tell me all that has happened. Have you determined who is sabotaging you? Has Drake been of any help? What do you think, is he not strikingly handsome?”
Madeline laughed at the barrage of questions, holding up a hand to stop her friend.
“Which question would you like answered first?” she asked, but before Alice could respond, there was a knock at the door and the butler soon showed in another woman.
“Rose!” Alice exclaimed, standing to greet the young woman who stood at the entryway, a warm though somewhat hesitant smile on her face. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were in London!”
“I’m back for a short visit,” Rose said, following Alice into the room and sitting next to Madeline on the sofa. “I apologize. I didn’t realize I would be interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Alice said, shaking her head. “Do you remember Madeline?”
“Of course,” Rose said with a nod of her head. Madeline had met her briefly at Alice’s wedding, and while she seemed quite lovely, Madeline was somewhat embarrassed, for she was aware that Rose had been privy to her situation last year.
Rose was an i
nteresting woman herself. Madeline was aware that Rose had discovered the bones of a previously unknown creature on the shores of her hometown of Lyme, and a woman with such intelligence must think her a fool.
“How are you?” Rose asked her now, and when she looked at her, her dark-brown eyes full of care and concern, Madeline’s worry over her supposed judgment lessened some.
“I am well now,” Madeline said truthfully.
“We have a new mystery!” Alice pronounced, and then proceeded to tell Rose all that had been occurring at Madeline’s factory.
“How very interesting,” Rose murmured. “What do you suppose to do about it?”
“We have one of the finest detectives on the case,” Alice said. “I’m not sure if you remember Drake from the wedding.”
“I do,” Rose said, nodding. “He is a hard man to miss.”
“That is what I was just saying!” Alice exclaimed. “So tell us, Madeline. What is it like working with him?”
“He is…” she struggled, unsure of how much to say. While she was not afraid of sharing her thoughts with Alice, nor even Rose, it was as though putting her attraction to him out into the world somehow made it more real. Her face must have given her away though, for Alice interrupted her musings with an “Aha!”
“What?” Madeline asked, taken aback.
“You feel something for him.”
“I do not!” Madeline protested, even though it seemed that she very much did. “He is… intriguing, yes, but I do not consider him at all beyond the assistance he is providing.”
“No?” Alice arched an eyebrow, and Madeline dipped her head. She didn’t want to keep anything from Alice, and yet—
“Although there was an… incident.”
“Oh?”
“We were at the factory last night — that is an entirely different part to this story — and he, well… he kissed me.”
“Oh!” Alice’s hands flew to her cheeks as her mouth rounded into an O. One could always count on Alice to provide the most appropriate reactions. “He did? How was it? How did it start? What was it like?”
Madeline chuckled at the questions again. “It was… somewhat unexpected, although he did ask permission, which I more than appreciated. And it was… nice. Sweet, actually, which I never would have supposed.”
It also had a twinge of passion, but Madeline decided to keep that to herself.
“How delightful,” Alice said, tilting her head to the side with a dreamy smile.
Madeline narrowed her eyes at her. “You were hoping for something like this, weren’t you?”
“No—”
“Alice, it was a lovely kiss, but nothing is going to come of it.”
Alice’s smile dipped somewhat. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because… because there will never be a man for me. After everything that happened with Steph— Kurt Maxfeld, I have realized that my own feelings are not to be trusted. My intuition is not to be trusted. I know that I am an intelligent woman, but apparently only when it comes to numbers and ledgers, not when it comes to actually dealing with people. Which is likely precisely why I am also in the situation I am in regarding the business. For businesses are more than ledgers and accounting. It is about relationships. About developing trust and loyalty, with which I have clearly struggled.”
“Oh, Madeline, that is not at all true.”
“You are just saying that because you are my friend.”
“I am not your friend.”
They both swiveled their heads to the side to look at Rose, who had been sitting in silence listening to their conversation.
“At least, I am not your friend yet, although I would like to be,” she smiled softly. “You seem like a wonderful woman, Madeline, and I would very much like to get to know you better. However, from what I can tell so far, you are quite intelligent, and you have a tenacity that few possess. Why, if you didn’t, you would have succumbed to the situation that you were left in. You would allow your business to fail without fighting for it. But, even though you may not outwardly be as… assertive as some others—”
“Like me,” Alice said with a sigh.
“Yes, like Alice,” Rose said with a nod and a smile. “That doesn’t mean that you do not hold the qualities of someone who can come through the darkness and emerge into the light on the other side.”
Madeline allowed the words to resonate deep within her. She appreciated them more than Rose would ever know, and yet, she wasn’t sure if she was quite ready to accept whether there might be any truth to them.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“So, does that mean that you will see if you can make something with Drake?”
Madeline laughed softly. If there was ever a definition of tenacity, it could certainly be summed up in Alice.
“I don’t think so,” she said quietly. “I will fight for the business, but I cannot risk allowing my heart to open like that again. For if I do, and if I am broken or rejected once more… I’m not sure that I would ever be able to recover.”
They were all silent for a moment, the other women apparently understanding the truth to her words.
“Very well,” Alice said softly. “I understand. But just… do not turn your back on happiness forever — can you promise that?”
Madeline wasn’t sure she could.
“I promise that I will try.”
It was the best she could do.
Chapter 9
“Drake, how lovely to see you! And so soon after your last visit!”
Drake smiled, although he was somewhat vexed. He should do a better job of being there for his aunt and uncle. That they would be shocked by two visits within just over a week said something about the lack of time he spent with them.
“Stay for dinner?” his aunt asked, a spark of hope gleaming in her eyes as she wrung her hands together.
“Of course,” he said, never saying no to a meal cooked by his aunt. Not only was it the best he ever ate, but he knew how much it meant to her, to ensure that he was well fed.
“Good, good,” she said, before she bustled off to the kitchen, leaving Drake alone with his uncle.
“Well?” his Uncle Andrew said, eyeing him with his intense stare from within his weathered face. “Out with it. Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
His uncle raised one of his generous eyebrows, not needing to say anything else.
“Fine,” Drake said with a sigh. “I needed to ask you about something. I’m just not sure how.”
His uncle leaned forward, the chair creaking as his weight shifted and he settled his elbows on the tops of his thighs. “If there is one thing I hope I have taught you, Drake, it is how to be straightforward and forthright. Now, tell me what’s on your mind, son.”
The honorific was not lost on Drake, who mulled it over in his mind as he considered his Uncle Andrew and how to put the question to him. His uncle and his father—brothers—had always been close, and his uncle had nearly been as lost as Drake after his father’s death. But Uncle Andrew was right. There was only one way to approach this.
“It is about my parents.”
Andrew let out an audible exhale as he pushed himself back against the chair. “What about them?”
“About their death.”
His uncle shook his head slowly. “You just won’t let it go, will you?”
“I tried to,” Drake said, throwing up his hands, as exasperated as his uncle was. “But just when I think I’m able to move on, I’m called back to it, again and again.”
“Drake,” his uncle said, his voice hard, gruff, serious. “Enough. It’s finished. Your parents are gone. Let them rest in peace.”
Drake stared at his uncle in shock, the wall around his heart hardening. “How can you say that?” he asked, hearing the ache in his voice and swallowing it back down. “He was your brother.”
“He was,” Andrew said. “But he’s gone. People come and people go, Drake. Don’t ruin
your life chasing after what you might never find.”
“Uncle,” Drake said, not listening to his words, refusing to allow them to enter into his consciousness, “do you know anything about what happened to them?”
“Let it go, Drake.”
“But Uncle—”
“Drake.”
His aunt stood in the doorframe between the kitchen and the small drawing room. Her face was drawn, her eyes sad.
“Andrew and I… we are just worried for you. We do not want to see you hurt. We want to see you live a full life, a life in which you find someone you love. Have children. Start a family. Work hard. Be happy. Do it for your parents.”
The thought of a woman, of a wife, a family, sent an image of Madeline into his mind. It must have been because that was what she had wanted in life. She had thought she had found the man for her, and then it had all been taken away from her, as well as nearly her life along with it.
He wondered if she would ever trust in love again, would ever try for what she had obviously wanted, or if she had propelled all of that love into her business.
Drake sighed as he looked back and forth, between his aunt’s pleading face and his uncle’s set, resolute one, knowing he was not going to get anywhere with them. Yet his intuition told him, deep within, that they did know something. They just didn’t want to tell him. Why, he had no idea, but he had the sense that this concern was more than the two of them watching out for him. They didn’t want him to find the truth.
But he wouldn’t stop until he did.
Madeline clutched the letter between her fingers as she practically ran to the study in her home to open it. She had been desperately waiting for another letter from her father, and here it was.
She had been rather vague when writing him, not wanting to worry him while he was away for the first time in what had been years. Her poor father. As much as Madeline had been through, he had been through it all with her.
Ezra Castleton was more than a typical father to Madeline; he was her mother, too. Everything he did was either for Madeline, or for the business, and finally he was doing something for himself.
Risking the Detective (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 6) Page 7
