No, the problem was how Drake made her feel.
Warm. Safe. Home.
Nothing that he would be particularly pleased to know.
“You seem… contemplative,” Rose remarked, tilting her head to the side, and Madeline had the sense that there wasn’t much that this woman missed.
“There has been much to contemplate,” Madeline said with a smile.
“Do tell,” Alice said, and Madeline began to share all new that had occurred since the dinner and billiards game, leaving out any mention of Drake besides his involvement in the case.
“Where is Drake now?”
“I’d like to know as well,” Madeline said with a sigh. “He doesn’t seem to be overly interested anymore.”
“In the case or in you?” Alice asked with a smirk, to which Georgie snorted, although she covered it with a cough when Madeline eyed her with warning. If Alice found out about what happened last night, Madeline would never hear the end of it.
“Drake is complicated,” Georgie finally said, and they all turned to the woman, who was receiving more than a few curious glances, dressed as she was in her breeches and jacket, a top hat covering her head, although she did not hide the fact that she was a woman with her hair in a low chignon beneath it. Madeline noted that while Alice and Rose hadn’t remarked upon her appearance, they were obviously interested in who she was and what she was doing with Madeline.
“Georgie works with Drake,” Madeline explained, and Alice’s eyes lit up.
“You’re a Runner!” she exclaimed, at which Georgie’s gaze somewhat darkened, and Alice held up a hand. “I’m sorry — a detective,” she said. “I had no idea there were women detectives.”
“There aren’t,” Georgie answered with a gleam in her eyes. “Understood?”
“Of course,” Alice said, although a smile danced on her lips, and Madeline was sure that there was already a story playing around in Alice’s mind — one that she would soon be writing. Alice wrote nearly everything that came her way into a story, and was one of London’s best-known novelists. “So, tell us about Drake.”
“That’s the thing,” Georgie said. “It is hard to talk about Drake, for it is hard to know much about him. He doesn’t say much about his past, although I am aware that he is still on the hunt for whoever killed his parents. But he doesn’t let anyone in — at least, not often.”
She eyed Madeline, who swallowed hard, aware that not much got by Alice.
“Madeline!” Alice cried, turning to her. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Madeline Castleton, something has happened,” Alice said, stopping in the middle of the street and running her eyes over Madeline from the top of her head to her toes, as though with such a perusal she would be able to ascertain whatever had occurred. “Tell me.”
“I will,” Madeline finally promised with a sigh. “But not here, not in the middle of the Strand.”
Madeline looked around, noting that no one was paying them particularly much attention. St. Mary Le Strand towered in the distance, the cross atop the church looking over all of them while small groups of people passed, a horse and carriage clopping by and providing some coverage over their voices.
“You’ve been intimate with him!” Alice exclaimed, her guess accurate, before Madeline placed a finger on her lips and shushed her as a woman selling flowers looked at them with surprise.
“Enough!”
“Oh, do tell!” Alice said as Rose watched them with wide eyes, and Madeline looked at her with apology.
“You are likely most shocked and horrified by the two of us,” Madeline said to her, raising her arms out to the sides. “I promise that we — at least I — was once quite respectable.”
“But isn’t it fun when you no longer are?” Alice asked with a laugh, and Madeline shot a dark look her way.
“Easy for you to say, married woman that you are now.”
“Well,” Alice said with a shrug, “perhaps you and Drake—”
“No.”
The word came from both Madeline and Georgie at the same time, and Georgie eyed her with a look of apology.
“I’m sorry, Madeline,” she said. “It is not my place to speak. But I’m glad that you are in agreement, that you are aware that Drake will never make a connection beyond anything fleeting and temporary. He is consumed by his work, and as much as I would like to see that change—”
“It won’t,” Madeline finished, caught by the way her very own words caused her stomach to fill with what tasted like bile, making her want to be sick. “I understand that. I have from the beginning.”
“Good,” Georgie said with relief. “I just… I like you, Madeline, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Thank you, Georgie,” she said, forcing a smile on her face, but when they began walking again, Madeline could see that Alice still seemed troubled.
“Are you sure—”
“I’m sure,” Madeline said, placing a hand on her arm. “Now, what do you say we stop by Twinnings for a cup of tea?”
“I think that sounds like a perfect idea,” Georgie said, and the four of them entered the shop, leaving all of their objections on the street behind them.
Drake stood outside the house that was more familiar than any other one in London, even his own. He flipped the pendant round and round in his fingers. His aunt and uncle would be home any minute, and he needed to speak to them. This time, he would get the answers he sought.
He had already been down to the timberyard once more in the light of day. It had been in full operation, with no one apparently the wiser of any goings on at night, nor any way to find out who was aware of what those might be. He had tried to find his way down to the small alcove on the bank, but without a partner to help him scale the side he could see no other way in, besides through the warehouse itself, and he wasn’t going to find his way surreptitiously through there.
But he knew. He knew it was a smuggling operation.
Now, he just had to find out what his father’s involvement with it had been.
While Drake had been at the docks, he had taken a moment to ask some of the workers about their pay, for guilt tugged at him for neglecting Madeline’s case, but he was so close to solving his parents’ murders, how could he stop now?
The workers had all told him the same — they had not received their paycheck for a couple of weeks until Madeline had been made aware and she had paid them herself. One of them had looked around, making sure that no one else could hear him, before he leaned into Drake, speaking quietly.
“There is something else.”
“Oh?”
“We actually have been offered to be paid much more.”
“By Castleton Stone?”
“No,” the man shook his head. He was young, and hadn’t seemed to have been working for the stone company for long. “We’d be paid if we didn’t show up for work. But most of us are fairly loyal. Castleton’s a good one, and we wouldn’t want to leave his daughter stranded. But it’s tempting.”
Drake frowned.
“Who offered you this?”
The man shrugged.
“Can’t be certain. It came as a letter to us all.”
“Do you still have it?”
The man shook his head. “No. We were told to think on it and then we’d be contacted again soon.”
“Thank you,” Drake said, his thoughts in turmoil. “And please, don’t go anywhere. Whoever is offering you this… it will not be legal nor long term. You’ve a good job here.”
The man nodded, although said nothing as he continued on his way.
Drake sighed. He would go see Madeline and straighten this all out. But at the moment, he had a visit of his own to make.
It was with a heavy heart that he knocked on his aunt and uncle’s door.
“Aunt Mabel,” he said when she opened it, almost wishing she wasn’t here for what he had to say to his uncle.
She surprised him, however, when inst
ead of inviting him in, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
“I know why you’re here, Drake,” she said, looking deeply into his eyes. “And I think your uncle is ready to share all.”
“How did you—” He tilted his head as he studied her face, which had become quite contrite. “It was you. You sent me the package.”
She bit her lip, finally nodding.
“Your uncle was adamant you not know the truth, and I agreed for a time, but when I saw that you would not let it go, I… well, I decided to help you.”
“I’m glad you did,” Drake said, relief washing over him that he would finally learn the truth. Before his aunt could let him into the house, the door swung open behind them and his uncle Andrew stood there with suspicion on his face, although he reached out and clapped a hand on Drake’s shoulders.
“Come in, Son,” he said, and led him into the sitting room while Mabel made herself scarce in the kitchen. His uncle let out a weary sigh as he eased his body into where it fit in its indent on the sofa. “You didn’t let it go, did you.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I couldn’t,” Drake said helplessly. “I can’t.”
His uncle rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “What do you need?”
“I need to know the truth,” Drake said, sitting across from him, his elbows on his knees. He felt as weary as his uncle looked, and it was not just from the lack of sleep the night before. “How was my father involved with smugglers at the Hawk Club?”
His uncle’s eyes widened, glistening with surprise.
“You know more than I would have thought possible.”
“Of course I do,” Drake said. “This is what I do for a living.”
His uncle sat back, gripping the arms of the chair.
“It was all so long ago now.”
“I know.”
“Your father…” his uncle began, his lips twisting in a grimace, as though he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to, “he always meant well. All he ever wanted was to provide for his family.”
“But—”
“He worked for the timberyard near the Strand. You know the one, by the Stone building? Of course you do. If you know about the Hawk Club, you know about the building. Anyway. He didn’t know it when he began, but the owner was a smuggler. The building company was a front, although they did some legitimate business as well. The man in charge, he would hire people, then assess their loyalty. If he approved them, he would bring them into his main business.”
“Smuggling.”
“Yes,” his uncle nodded. “Your father moved up through the ranks, and soon he was the owner’s second-in-command.”
“What was the man’s name?”
Drake kept his breathing even, steady, sure, not exposing just how much this knowledge was affecting him, not wanting to give his uncle any reason to hold anything back from him.
“Lee. Lee Fowler.”
“What happened?”
“You were born. Your father decided that he wanted out, that he was done with it all, that he wanted to live a clean, legitimate life. Didn’t want to put you in any danger, despite that the money he earned provided more than he could ever have imagined.”
“Let me guess — he told this man Fowler that he wanted out.”
“That’s what he told me he was going to do,” his uncle said, steepling his fingers in front of him. “I don’t know what happened next. All I know is that he and your mother turned up dead. You were with us that night already. And here you stayed.”
Drake couldn’t sit still any longer. He stood and began to pace the room, back and forth over the worn wooden boards beneath his feet.
“Why would he do such a thing?” he finally asked, stopping and staring at his uncle in supplication. Andrew shrugged, lifting his large, meaty hands.
“He thought he was doing it for the right reasons. Wanted to create a good life for you and your mother.”
“He could have done that without smuggling.”
“Of course he could have,” his uncle said sadly. “But he wanted something better for you.”
“And instead, he left me,” Drake said bitterly, “and killed my mother in the process.”
“Now, Drake,” his uncle began, but Drake was already shaking his head, backing away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, anger that had been carefully tamped down for so long beginning to bubble deep within him. “What did you never say anything? All of those times I asked you, and you said nothing, wouldn’t tell me anything, and you knew all along. I trusted you.”
“I was trying to protect you,” his uncle said, standing himself now, his face wreathed in concern. “I knew that you would try going after him, and I couldn’t have that. I didn’t want you to end up like your parents.”
“That would be my own choosing,” Drake said, his jaw tightening. “I’m a grown man.”
“I know that,” his uncle said with a heavy sigh. “And there is nothing I can do about that now. I still would have made the same decision not to tell you. I know I cannot keep you from going after them, Drake, but I would ask you a couple of things.”
“Go on,” Drake said, wanting to say that his uncle had no place to ask him, not when he kept such information from him, but this was the man who raised him. He had to give him the chance to at least say what he needed to.
“Don’t go after him alone. And please, please, Drake — be careful.”
Drake nodded.
“I will try,” he said and then turned on his heel and nearly ran out of the house.
Chapter 20
Madeline tapped her pen on the table as she looked at the calendar in front of her.
Her father was going to return in a week’s time. She should feel joy at the idea, and part of her, deep within, most certainly did. He was her entire family and she loved him more than anyone. She had missed him terribly and could hardly wait to see him.
And yet if he arrived before this was all over… he would think that she couldn’t handle this, and would never give her the opportunity she desperately wanted.
She dropped her head into her hands, covering her face. Would anything ever start going right for her?
“Well, well, it looks like we are still feeling sorry for ourselves.”
Madeline jerked her head up and shot to her feet.
She must be daydreaming — or having a day-mare. Was that a word? Not that it mattered. For, she was afraid, this was all too real. She pinched herself. Yes, it was true. There he was, sitting in front of her, as though he had been conjured by some evil spirit.
“What are you doing here?” she bit out to the one man she had never wanted to see again. The one man she wished had disappeared from her life forever was here. In her office. No, her father’s office, she reminded herself.
“That’s hardly any way to greet one’s husband, now is it?”
Karl Maxfeld, the man who had pretended to be her husband in order to win her fortune, grinned at her with that smile that at one time had drawn her in, had tempted her and promised her everything she had thought she had wanted.
Now it sickened her.
“You are not my husband. You never were. You had another wife — or three — before me.”
“That I do,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel something for you.”
“The only thing I feel for you is disgust,” she practically snarled. “Now, get out.”
“Or else what?” he laughed. “You’re going to send the Runner after me? He’s not here right now.”
“No, but—”
“She’s not here either,” Maxfeld said, winking at her. “She was sent off on an…errand.”
“What did you do to her?” Madeline demanded, fear rising in her chest.
“Why, nothing at all,” he said, feigning innocence, “just told her about a scuffle down the way, over at the timberyard. We only have a few minutes until she returns, so let’s mak
e this count, now, shall we?”
“I shall not be happy until you are gone and out of my life forever — which I thought you were.”
“Oh, but I can be!” he exclaimed. “And I can actually help.”
“Never.”
“Not so fast,” he said, waving a finger back and forth in front of his face. “I hear you’ve been having a little trouble.”
She eyed him warily. “So you are behind it, then.”
He sighed. “Alas, I cannot take the credit, for I was in Newgate when this all began. But I hear things. And I know things. I know you need help.”
“I have help.”
He snorted. “Fat lot of good that is doing for you.”
He was right, although she had no desire to admit it.
“I’ll tell you what, Madeline,” he said. “If you pay me what I deserve — what I should have received — then I will fix everything.”
“What you deserve?” she exclaimed, unable to help the rise in her voice, “you mean what you would have received upon my death?”
She wished Drake were here. He would know what to do, could arrest Maxfeld, and get her out of this mess.
But he was otherwise occupied, with something much more important than her. And it was no fault of his own — she had been well aware of how he truly felt when she went to him last night.
Even though she was beginning to realize that she felt entirely different. She cared for him, far more than she ever should.
“Get. Out.” She pointed to the door. “Get out and stay out and never come back.”
“Very well,” he said with a sigh. “How about a kiss goodbye, to remember our past?”
She rounded the desk, drew back her hand, and before she even realized what she was doing, slapped him across the face.
His eyes darkened, then narrowed as he advanced upon her. “You’re going to regret that.”
A spark of fear sprang in her breast. She was in the middle of her factory, and if she screamed, she could only hope that someone would hear her, but—
“What do you think you are doing here?”
Her question was repeated, but this time by a new voice.
Risking the Detective (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 6) Page 15
