Dylan blinked as he attempted to picture this future. His house bathed in pink as cats swirled about his feet.
And his wife barely paying attention to him as she heaped affection on her pets.
He’d rather have his spouse off in America.
He let out a sigh of frustration. His gut clenched. He’d rather have Eliza.
Carmella was…not for him.
But Eliza had rejected him, and he wasn’t here because he’d ever had an affection for Carmella. He was here to save his marquisate.
It was just…that he thought he might rather sink into a hole than live this life.
His parents had never given him credit for a single thing done right. Even when he’d saved a farmer’s horse, they’d chastised him for getting dirty. A marquess’s son must always be ready to present a pristine and cultured façade. Who cared about a filthy animal?
This was his chance to prove he was more valuable than any of them.
And yet…
He sat straighter. Could he do it without a Carmella?
He’d been slowly digging himself out of debt. But some of his creditors were growing restless.
Would one of his friends give him a loan? The very idea filled him with shame.
Men married dowries when they needed money. It didn’t feel honorable but then again…it was the way the peers dealt with these sorts of problems. A division of assets. He brought the title, she brought the money.
But even referring to it as assets made him think of Eliza and the business proposition he’d suggested. Not like the beautiful, vibrant, intelligent woman she was.
“I’m desperate to find a male cat as wonderful as Tulip. I shall name him Buttercup and—”
“Buttercup?”
She gave him a sly smile. “Unless you’d prefer I called you, Buttercup?”
“No, I don’t think—”
“It has a ring to it, as a pet name.” Carmella set the cat down and leaned closer to him. Her hooked nose came within inches of his. “What do you say, Buttercup? Shall we get cats and make kittens?” She gave him a long sly glance, her lips curling into a thin-lipped smile.
The innuendo was not lost on Dylan and he had to applaud her veiled reference. In another situation he would have found it amusing.
“I’m more of a stallion than a buttercup.” He leaned back, putting distance between them. First this was a lesson on how a man wanted to be treated, talked to. Second, he was not interested in participating in Carmella’s game. “How do you feel about horse flesh?”
He was an avid rider. There was nothing he liked better than to ride breakneck through the park at dawn. But he already knew Carmella wasn’t the sort. Not that it mattered, really. Most men didn’t marry women who shared their interests. Still, he had the feeling Eliza would be an excellent horsewoman. And she most certainly was not planning a cat breeding program.
“Horse flesh?” She wrinkled her nose. “What’s cuddly about that?”
He suppressed a grin. He couldn’t tell her that what he really craved was the sort of tup that was short on cuddling. He wanted a wild ride and he knew where he’d find it.
Hell, Eliza had rejected him because, in her own words, she wasn’t interested in abstinence. That’s what he was pouting about? He ought to be celebrating.
But he needed a wife.
An answer to his financial problems.
And he got the impression that if he didn’t keep Eliza at an emotional distance, he’d lose his head entirely. Which always got him in trouble.
Tulip swiped at his boot again. “I suppose nothing, but then again, I’m not certain what’s cuddly about that?” And he gave Tulip a nudge with his offended boot.
The cat hissed and Carmella cried out. Quickly, she picked up the hissing cat and began stroking the beast’s back. “Don’t worry, Tulip. I won’t let the mean man anywhere near you again.”
Dylan rose. He’d managed to mangle a second courtship today, but he didn’t feel nearly as sorry about this one.
Without saying goodbye, he headed for the door. He wasn’t sorry to end his short relationship with Carmella, but Eliza was another situation entirely.
That, he needed to think on.
And this time he needed to come to her with a much more developed plan.
Chapter Ten
The next evening, Eliza stood on the outskirts of the Applegates’ ballroom, surveying the crowd.
By all accounts, she and her family shouldn’t be here. However, they’d decided it was less suspicious if they continued to socialize. They’d declined half their invitations but had decided to attend the other half, mostly smaller venues.
But this party they’d already agreed to, so here they were in a throng of dancers.
Dylan had attended with them. Even now, he stood several paces away, talking with Bash and Isabella.
She’d wanted to talk to him too, but she wasn’t certain what to say. I’m sorry I declined. Would you ask again? Can we clarify several points?
None of the words seemed quite right and so she’d said nothing at all and neither had he. Still, he was here and that counted for something. Whether out of allegiance to her or Bash she wasn’t certain, but before the night was over, she’d find a way to talk with him.
Eliza had watched all evening for anyone suspicious. Not that she’d been successful.
The men all looked like the usual suspects. Well dressed, slightly bleary in the eye.
She had seen neither her uncle nor Mr. Taber, which was a relief.
Her toe tapped but not to the music. Instead, it was a rhythm in her own head. How was she going to solve this mystery and discover who was endangering her family?
She huffed a breath as she pushed away from the wall. Mr. Taber was part of the crime ring and his interest in her had been clearly stated. Perhaps she should allow him to court her after all.
But the very idea made her shiver in revulsion.
Swiveling her head, she saw her sister, Abigail, with Aunt Mildred while Emily danced with the major they’d met a few nights ago. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. Was he one of the thieves?
Then another figure caught her notice out of the corner of her eye. Mr. Taber.
His normally hunched shoulders were drawn down even lower as he talked with another man that Eliza didn’t know.
Then the two, still deep in conversation, began making their way out to the terrace.
Eliza watched them for a moment, unsure of what to do. Their conversation could be about nothing. Then again, they could be discussing the very topic on which she was searching for answers.
Without another thought, she started after the two men. She slipped out of the ballroom, just in time to see the two men start down a path. Here in the quiet night a few words filtered toward her ears. “I’ve found the warehouse. Cheapside.”
More whispers she couldn’t hear.
“Fennington Street.”
She slipped down the path, following them. They left the terrace and started down a tree-lined path, bushes closing off the lights and noise of the party. She could hear better but could hardly see. “He knows about us. He’s shut down several of our lines. But if we can get the goods at the source, from his warehouses, it doesn’t matter how many lines he eliminates.”
“We could drive him out of business. Then what?”
“He’s driving us out of business. And we need to deliver. Our lives depend on it. If we have to, we’ll kill him too.”
“But the sisters. They own most of the company. Malcolm, the fool, saw to that.”
“He’ll pay too. That’s already been arranged.”
How would Uncle Malcolm pay? But she’d forgotten all about him as the two men stopped and Eliza stopped too. Had they heard her?
For a few seconds, she stayed motionless, afraid to breathe. She hadn’t seen them for some time, she could only hear them.
And now, she was in the deep, dark part of the garden where no one could see her either.
Then Mr. Taber spoke again. “And the sisters are easily dealt with. Plans are already in place.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. If they were still talking, they didn’t know she was there. Then his words penetrated, and she stood straighter. Plan. What plan?
Suddenly, a hand reached out and clamped over her mouth. Before she could even scream, she was being dragged against a large man.
This was not Dylan. She’d know the feel of him anywhere.
First, this man smelled disgusting and while his arms were hard bands of steel, his middle was…squishy.
She pushed, trying to wriggle away but he held her firm.
“Well,” Mr. Taber cackled. “If my little doe didn’t step right into the middle of the hunt.”
She pushed all the harder, trying to bite at his hand but he held firm, nearly suffocating her his arms were so tight. “You’ve eluded me for far too long, Eliza. But now you’re mine.”
Sick dread filled her stomach as she attempted to get her hands between them to push at his chest. But he started dragging her deeper into the garden and suddenly her back slammed into the thick trunk of a tree, bark scraping her bare shoulders.
She cried out but he only laughed louder, the sound both excited and triumphant. Her stomach rolled and vomit threatened to rise from her gut.
He used his body to press her tighter to the trunk as he dragged up her skirts. She tried to push his hands back down but she could barely breathe and then…
Just like that, a loud thud filled her ears and Mr. Taber was gone. He slid to the ground in a heap, her eyes following his descent as she continued to lean against the tree for support. She could barely catch her breath as she stared.
“Eliza.”
Her name snapped her out of the trance, and she looked up to see Dylan in front of her.
She threw herself at him, nearly tripping over Mr. Taber but Dylan’s strong arms lifted her up and with a speed she thought impossible, especially in the dark, he carried her back down the path. But he didn’t take her inside. Instead, they went through the garden gate and out into the alley where a line of carriages waited.
“What are we doing?”
“You can’t go back into the party, love,” he whispered in her ear, still carrying her.
“I can’t?” She blinked, looking up at him.
He stopped for a minute and gently pulled a twig from her hair. “I don’t even want to know what your back looks like.”
She gasped in a surprised breath. He was right. She must look frightful. And she was so grateful he held her in his arms, once again providing a strength she desperately needed.
Finding his carriage, he yanked open the door as he called to the driver. “Find the Duke of Devonhall and bring him here. Quickly.” He slid into the carriage, still holding her against his front. Sitting on the bench, he settled her on his lap. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, burying her head into his shoulder. “I am now.” Then she curled into him. “I have tried to tell you that I am independent and able to take care of myself, but you keep proving me wrong.”
He gave a small chuckle, wrapping his arms tighter about her. “I saw you leave. I wasn’t actually attempting to follow you. I just wished to talk.”
She nodded against his front. “I don’t care in this moment if you were following me. I’m just glad you came.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Me too.”
She lifted her head. “Besides. I’m beginning to realize I was never as independent as I believed. My sisters. They bolster me regularly.”
His eyebrows rose at that. “I find that admission…surprising.”
“That I said it or that I think it?”
“Both,” he answered.
She shrugged. “Then prepare yourself to be amazed. I’ve got a great deal more to say.”
Dylan looked down at her, his chest tight. He wanted to hold her. Kiss her in comfort. Hell, he couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say. “I await your words with bated breath.”
She smiled then, slipping her arms about his waist. “May I ask you a question first?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever once feel supported by your family? Did they validate any of your decisions?”
That made him tense. “No.”
She shook her head. “No wonder.”
“No wonder what?”
“You don’t trust yourself.” She tipped her head back further. “How could you when no one ever trusted you.”
He stared down at her, snapping his mouth closed when he realized it was ajar. “They didn’t trust me because I am no good.”
“Not true,” she softly whispered. “Do you think I am no good?”
“You are the best,” he answered fiercely.
She gave him a glowing smile. “Thank you. I just made a terrible error in judgment following Mr. Taber. It’s only because of you that I am safe and unharmed.”
He tightened his grip on her, shame filled him. “You don’t know some of the choices I’ve made.”
“You can tell me sometime. If you want. I’ll tell you some of mine too. One time I convinced a baron to strip naked and then stole his clothes.”
“What?” He sat straighter, worry and a bit of irritation coursed through him. “You did what?”
“I didn’t take off any of my clothes,” she answered softly. “Just took his and ran.”
He shook his head. “Eliza—”
“I know. Foolish. Reckless. Addlebrained. At least that’s a few of the choice words my sisters used. The point is…I’d make some terrible decisions without them. And let’s be honest, increasingly without you.”
Something deep inside him softened. “But if neither of us makes good choices then…”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Or perhaps we’ll know we have to watch out for the other person. Be a team and—”
The carriage door wrenched open.
“Bloody fu—” Bash stopped, glaring at them. “Tell me what’s going on this instant.” Then Bash climbed in and took the seat across from them, sitting with a heavy thud.
Dylan remained silent, allowing Eliza to explain what had happened in the garden. As he held her, he contemplated her words. A team?
The idea had merit.
He needed a system of checks and balances and so did she, apparently.
But he forgot about his thoughts as she started to detail what she’d overheard. “They said that he was on to them and that they knew where his warehouse was and that he might need to be eliminated.”
“He who?” Bash asked.
She shook her head. “They didn’t say but they did mention Fennington Street and I know my father bought property there. We went with him to look at it as an overfill warehouse for his business…”
Bash sat back in his seat as he scrubbed his face. “I went to see the solicitor earlier today. I have full access to the records and the addresses. There was no Fennington Street. I’m sure of it.” He leaned forward then, his arms resting on his knees. “What’s more, Dishonor is right. The books look perfect, but the totals don’t add up. The vendors sign off on goods received and money counted but then their actual sums are short. A large shop in Chesterfield and another in Dover have regular shortages.”
Dylan furrowed his brow. “Can’t we follow those shipments and see what happens?”
“Or have one of us infiltrate the company and try to aid in the shipments to those stores? But my guess is those runs have regular men who work them and are always on them.”
“Then those men must work for the thieves and not for Dishonor.”
“Yes. Let’s start by following them. See where they go and who they talk to here in the city.”
“But what about Dishonor?” Eliza asked. “What if he’s the he they are referring to?”
Bash winced. “He’s a man who can take care of himself.”
“No.” Eliza slid off Dylan’s lap, sitting up straighter. “He currently runs our profitabl
e business. He saved our lives not once but twice.”
Dylan raised his brows. He could feel the tide rising in Eliza and he had a feeling these were the moments when she made her less-than-stellar decisions. It was a chance for them to test their system of checks and balances. “Bash and I will find the warehouse and warn him.”
“I’m coming,” she said, her fists balling.
“No,” both men answered at that same time. Dylan knew she wished to be part of the action, but this was dangerous. If all she’d said was true, there could be an attack on this warehouse.
“You’re not.” Bash added. “I let your surprise trip to the park go but—”
“You let it go?” Eliza said, her voice growing louder. “You let it go? I’ve let your bossiness go. Which is not easy, either.” She threw up her hands. “Dukes.”
“Eliza,” Dylan said, touching her arm. They still had a great deal to discuss but this wasn’t the time. “We’ll go to the warehouse. You’ve had enough excitement for one night. Besides, someone needs to stay with your sisters.”
She pulled up even taller. “I thought you understood. I don’t want to sit at home and wait. That’s why I didn’t wish to marry. I was never meant for that life.”
Silence met her words. Because Dylan didn’t understand. But in this, he didn’t want her there. It might be dangerous.
“I can fire a pistol, you know.” She crossed her arms. “I could dress like a man like Isabella did. I could—”
“You could be hurt,” he replied sliding a hand down her arm. “If I die, the next dullard cousin gets the title. If you die…your sisters…”
Her shoulders hunched and she looked at the floor. “I understand. You’re right. But—”
He shook his head. He wanted her safe. But she wanted…adventure. Action. Even after what had happened tonight, she wasn’t afraid. “We’ll go during the noon hour tomorrow.”
“What?” Bash barked.
Dylan shook his head. He was going to regret this. Another bad decision to add to the list of personal failures.
But either he met her goals or his. And today, he chose her…
Marquess of Menace Page 7
