She’d waved her hand. “Emily will help me. I’m more concerned about where he might be right now. He’d said he’d come.” She grimaced at the lie, but Bash didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. It is only eight in the morning. How early did he say he’d arrive? If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to write a letter to the king requesting an audience. It’s time we started getting some answers.”
That should make her feel better. Answers were what they needed. But as she’d watched Bash leave, worry still filled her belly.
It felt an awful lot like when she’d written to her father. The multiple letters he’d never replied to. This is why she’d wanted to be alone.
But all she could do was wonder about Dylan. Sick dread filled her stomach. Why would he have left this morning? After everything they’d shared.
She’d paced for close to two hours before she’d returned to Bash’s office. She needed to know where he was. She couldn’t stand the worry another moment. Why hadn’t he left a note, or something, to tell her where he’d gone?
When she knocked, Bash called out immediately, but he sounded…distracted. Far away.
As she opened the door, she saw him scanning a letter.
Her brows drew together in question as Bash looked up at her. “Menace is a bloody idiot.”
“What do you mean?” A lump clogged her throat as she pressed her hands to her cheeks.
“I mean, I’ve just received a missive from our king. Menace went to our sovereign without me and now our leader has sent him to oversee a shipment of goods likely being poached by the very smugglers who attempted to kill us yesterday.”
“What?” Fear jolted through her, making her knees weak. Then, red-hot anger charged through her. Didn’t he understand they were to make decisions together? Hadn’t she been clear?
Because now she was home again, worried that another man she loved was gone forever and her only job would be to pick up the pieces once again.
“The fool,” Bash hissed, rising.
She clenched her hands. “I completely agree. What are we going to do?”
“We?” Bash groaned as he came around the desk. “You can’t come, Eliza. It’s too dangerous.”
“Give me two minutes so I can get my pistol,” she said, spinning. “If you leave without me, I shall never forgive you.”
“Eliza,” he called after her. “Of course I am leaving without you. You can’t keep coming on these things and Menace isn’t here to protect you this time.”
She frowned as she skidded to a stop. “Don’t you understand Bash? I’ve done nothing but wait for months. Wait and worry. Years, in fact, I watched my mother pine while I helped raise my sisters. They remember the times he was home, his arms full of gifts. But me? I remember the times he was away. The worry my mother held when she thought no one was looking. I can’t be that person, Bash. I won’t.”
He looked at her, his lips drawn tightly. “I allowed your sister, my wife, to put herself in danger at that club. I hate that place, now, did you know that? I hate the idea of you getting hurt. And your father, he hated it too. That’s why he didn’t tell you so much. That’s likely why he allowed Dishonor into his business. To help protect you. It’s what men do for the women they care about.”
“That might be true, but I am strong and capable, and I won’t sit idly by as life happens to me. I’ll make my own way or…” But those words were hollow. She wasn’t making her own way any longer. It was their way. He’d forgotten that, though. “I’m scared for him.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
She spun around to see Dylan leaning against the wall.
Her fists clenched even tighter as she charged toward him. She was going to kill him.
Eliza looked…angry. Her fists were clenched, her chin set in a hard line, her eyes cold.
He’d been worried about this. Until he’d found useful information and then he’d been elated.
He’d come back and with information that would move them one step closer to solving this mystery.
But she didn’t appear as though she wanted to hear his good news.
“Where have you been?”
Bash cleared his throat. “What time did you two set a meeting?”
“I needed to help you—”
“Help me?” He saw her throat working. “I believe I have been completely explicit about how I wanted you to help me.”
He winced. She had him there. “But your sisters…they need—”
Once again, she did not allow him to finish. “Do not pretend this was about my sisters.”
He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on. No. It hadn’t really. “I wanted to prove my worth.”
She snorted. “Exactly. You wanted to prove something, but you left me here to worry and I hate that more than anything. I’ve explained to you why that is so.”
She stopped a few feet in front of him, her arms crossing, and her chin angled up as she continued to glare.
“I didn’t mean to—”
Her mouth dropped open. “You didn’t mean to what? Do the one thing I asked you not to do? You went off to see the king, no less. A job Bash was handling and then gallivanted to the docklands on a covert mission to see the very man who tried to kill us yesterday—”
This time, he interrupted, irritation coursing down his spine. “Now you’re worried about your own safety? You’ve been reckless, running headlong into danger since I first met you.”
“That is my job in this family.” Her voice was rising. “Since I was a child, I did all the things a father would do because he wasn’t there to do them. I taught my sisters to climb trees, to fish in the country, I stood up to bullies, I ran headlong into danger to keep them from harm. It’s my job to keep them safe. I thought you understood, I won’t be a woman who sits at home and waits and worries. Not ever again.”
He stepped closer. “I’ve allowed you to go on several of these—”
“Allowed?” she yelled over him. “You’ve allowed me?” She stepped closer and without warning gave him a hard push in the chest. He took a half step back steadying himself. “That’s what is so infuriating. I don’t need you to allow me…I have always been perfectly capable. And I don’t need to do it alone, but you’re not supposed to either. We’re supposed to be a team.”
He winced, realizing that his word choice had been poor. “Eliza. I know that. I wasn’t trying to act unilaterally. I just wanted—”
“But you did. Act on your own. And I cannot marry a man who wished to leave me at home to wait and to worry while he rushes headlong into danger.”
What the hell did that mean? “You’re not—”
“I am.” She stood straighter. “I would like to dissolve our arrangement.”
He reached out to her, but she took a step back. “But—” He looked up at Bash. Pain was lancing through his chest. She couldn’t just end it, but she was.
He could say the words. That he’d compromised her last night. Bash would force the match. But even he understood how awful it would be to start a marriage like that. So instead, he dropped his hand. “I tried to warn you.”
“Warn me of what?”
“I always do exactly the wrong thing,” he said so quietly, that he wasn’t even certain he’d uttered the words out loud. “My parents would tell you if they could. I find a way to muck up every relationship with my own actions.”
Her eyes widened as she stilled. “That isn’t…” But then she trailed off.
“It is,” he replied. “And it’s all right. I know it’s my fault. The truth is, I just wanted to prove my worth to you. Help you save your sisters and clear a path for our own adventures. It was selfish of me. I know. I’m a selfish bastard. My mother would tell you that too.”
She brought her hands up to cover her mouth, her eyes crinkling in pain at the corners. “Dylan.”
But whatever else she was going to say was cut off as yet another visitor arrived.
A well-dressed young lady came flying down the hall in a flurry of skirts, the butler following close behind. “Madame,” he called. “You must wait for an audience.”
“I cannot,” the woman cried.
“Avery?” Eliza asked, her brow furrowing. “What’s the matter?”
Avery skidded to a stop. That’s when Dylan realized she had the same rich brown hair and chocolate eyes as all the Carrington sisters. “Oh, Eliza.” The girl reached for Eliza, collapsing into her arms as she trembled, tears shining in her eyes. “It’s Papa.”
“What happened?” Eliza stepped up and embraced the other woman. “What’s wrong with Uncle Malcolm?”
A sob ripped from the other woman’s lips. “He’s dead.”
Chapter Seventeen
Shock coursed through Eliza like a wave.
If she were being honest, she’d wished for Uncle Malcolm’s death on several occasions. But to hear the words out loud, she ached for her cousin. Her father was the only family Avery had. Besides Aunt Mildred, of course.
Eliza cringed as she looked back at Bash. With the imposter Aunt Mildred here in London, Bash would have no choice but to move Avery into the house.
In that moment, she actually felt sorry for Bash. She felt even more sorry for Uncle Malcolm, though the man had made his own bed, cavorting with thieves.
“Avery,” she said, holding the other woman tighter. Whatever she felt on the inside, Avery deserved her empathy now. “I am so very sorry.”
Avery gasped. “He was cruel. I know that. And he wasn’t a particularly good father or husband. But after mother died,” Avery hiccupped in the pause. “He was all I had.”
“I know,” Eliza shushed her softly, rubbing her back with her hand.
“Forgive my interruption,” Bash said behind her. “But this is…”
“The Honorable Avery Winston,” Eliza still held her cousin as she gave Bash a look that half pleaded and half grimaced. “The Baron of Pennington’s daughter.”
Bash let out a soft groan as he ran a hand through his hair.
Dylan looked on silently, his own features having gone hard as stone.
Eliza swallowed a lump.
He’d made an awful mistake going off like that. He should have told her. Included her. She’d been completely clear on that front.
But he’d been clear too.
He always made the wrong choice, or he thought he did. It had been her job to teach him that he made exactly as many wrong choices as everyone else. And she’d failed him too. Gone and berated him when she should have supported.
She’d been as wrong as he’d been.
Drat.
And now she held an absolute mess in her arms so she couldn’t tell Dylan so.
In fact, just before Avery had arrived, she’d ended their engagement.
Double drat. She’d like to use a few words far stronger than that, but she broke enough social rules as it were.
Her cousin sobbed in her arms.
“Avery,” she softly said as she continued to pat. “Let’s go sit and then you can explain everything.”
Avery nodded into her shoulder as they made their way into the library.
Eliza settled her cousin in a chair as she dabbed at her eyes. “There isn’t much to tell. A Bow Street Runner arrived at the house an hour ago to say they’d found him with a knife in his back in the Thames.” Avery continued to cry more quietly. “That’s all he said. He didn’t have any leads and said these sorts of cases were difficult to solve.”
Eliza looked up to see Dylan and Bash exchanging a glance. “Bash,” Eliza said as she straightened. “Would you get my sisters, please? And Aunt Mildred too. This is a conversation they should be part of.”
Avery continued to sniffle as she turned to Dylan. “And if you would please—”
“I’m not leaving.” He stood straighter. “Engagement or not, I said I would help, and I will.”
She melted at those words. “I’m glad you’re going to stay. Thank you.”
He cocked his head to the side, assessing her as Bash left the room.
She couldn’t say what she wanted to, and she needed to comfort Avery, but she also needed…well, she had to apologize.
Crossing the room she looked at Dylan, trying to convey with her eyes what she felt in her heart. “About what I just said…”
“We’ll talk about it later,” he answered. “Right now, focus on your cousin.”
She gave a stiff nod as she returned to Avery’s side.
But as her sisters arrived and Bash returned, she noted that Dylan and Bash had relegated themselves to a corner.
Leaving Avery in Isabella’s capable hands, she approached the two men.
Without a word, Dylan held out his hand and placed an arm about her waist.
“What are we discussing?” she asked.
Bash ran a hand through his hair. “How what was front is now back and left is now right.” His head dipped down and he looked…tired.
“What does that mean?” she asked, looking at Dylan.
Bash rubbed his forehead. “I just got a note from Goldthwaite. There is no Dishonor. I mean, it was a fictional name to begin with, but it turns out it’s a fictional name to cover a fictional name.”
“What?” Eliza gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Your father’s partner is listed as John Smith. And while thousands of John Smith’s exist, none of them match our man. The partnership is a fiction.”
She trembled as she placed a hand against the wall to steady herself. “No.” Right about now, she wished for Dylan’s strong arms to wrap about her.
He didn’t touch her, however. Instead he shook his head. “It gets worse. I saw Dishonor’s partner stealing from the king.”
“Oh,” she cried, her hands coming to her mouth.
“And he was at the Docklands…on the Thames. And if I were to guess, it was around the same time that your uncle…”
She clamped her hand tighter over her mouth to keep from making another sound but inside, she wanted to cry. She couldn’t stand another moment and she pressed closer to Dylan who wrapped her tight in his embrace. “You don’t think…”
“We don’t know. Is Dishonor the thief? Stealing this whole time? Playing us?” Bash scrubbed the back of his neck. “Why is that with every piece of information we get, the situation worsens?”
“I don’t know,” she answered quietly. Then she took a deep breath. “Is it possible that Dishonor and this other man are just trying to catch the thieves like we are?”
“It’s possible,” Dylan answered. “But it’s so hard to know.”
“What do we do next?”
“We?” Bash asked, his voice dropping. “Eliza, I know you’re still hurting from your father’s disappearance but—”
Dylan looked down. “Is that why you want to be part of this? Because of your father’s disappearance?”
She shrugged as her hand came to rest on his chest. “Partially. Even before that though…” She drew in a breath.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Bash said, giving them a sidelong glance. Apparently, he understood when they needed a moment alone. “I believe Isabella needs me.”
The moment they were alone, she looked up at him. “Dylan. I’m sorry that I cancelled our wedding. I didn’t mean it. And I shouldn’t have been so angry. You found out useful information and what’s more…”
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have gone off without telling you what I was doing. I wanted to help but even as I was doing it, I knew I’d made the wrong choice—”
She shook her head. “I understand. You want to do the right thing and I did exactly as your parents would have done.”
He chuckled. The sound was sad as he dropped his forehead to hers. “I deserved your anger. That’s the thing. I always deserve it.”
“You don’t. Though next time, we’re going off together.”
He nodded, holding her close. “From now on, I won’t act without you.
”
“And I will trust in you. You did a wonderful job today, uncovering more information. The question is, what do we do with it?”
He looked over at Bash. “This is where I always get in trouble. My instincts tell me to run to Dishonor and demand answers.”
She nodded. “What if we follow him? See if he meets up with the Scot?”
Dylan nodded. “Not a bad plan. Except we’ve no idea if he’ll return to that warehouse or not.”
“Could we leave a note with the solicitor?” She nibbled her lip.
“As a means to follow him? Maybe, though, then he’ll know we’re looking for him.”
She sighed. “We could pack up my family and leave London.”
“Also, not a bad plan. Though it doesn’t protect your business.”
“Our business. I know you need the revenue.”
“I need you,” he murmured. “Bash was right from the start. As long as I can pay the creditors, hang the rest.”
She smiled. “All right. So we’re getting married again and we agree to be a team. Let’s see what Bash thinks we should do about our mystery.”
“Good plan.” He brushed a hand along her cheek. “I know today has been difficult, but I am also anxious for us to wed.”
Those words made her forget some of her worry. “As am I. Can you get a special license so that we might have it done quickly?”
He leaned down then and kissed her. “I think that can be arranged.”
“Dylan,” she whispered, needing a bit of privacy in a crowded room. “I love you.”
He slid his fingers down her neck to her shoulder. “I love you, too, Eliza.”
She gave him a large open smile. “I’m glad we worked that out.”
He chuckled. “Me too.” Then he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “About that trellis…”
Chapter Eighteen
In the end, they married three days later in a small ceremony with just their closest friends and family.
Eliza wasn’t the sort of girl who’d pictured her wedding, but as she thought back, her fantasy would have been exactly what her actual wedding had been.
Marquess of Menace Page 11
