“Bev, you want another drink?” he asked.
“You know what I want.” Bev ran her tongue along her lower painted lip.
“I’ve got business here in the tavern.” He was ready to have this operation finished. Tonight should be the end of this masquerade. Based on reliable information, the French planned to make their buy.
Instead of Ash, he had Talley as backup. New to the tavern, Talley, with his blond hair and devilish grin was getting a lot of notice by the “waitresses” who flitted between the tables of men, offering their wares.
“Tell me again what you saw.” He struggled to sound patient.
Bev sucked in a big breath, making her breasts partially slide from their mooring in the flimsy dress. “Like I said, he came in last week, dressed like usual—a woolen scarf wrapped around his face, a hat pulled down low so you couldn’t see nothing but his eyes. He sat in the corner by himself. Rough men and gents come and talk to him, one by one. It’s as if he be holding court.”
“And what happened when you approached?”
She leaned toward him, her breasts pressing against his arm. “I knew you might be interested in what he was doing so I sashayed over there, nice and pretty, just to say hello. But Harry pulled me away. He told me it wasn’t for the likes of me.”
“You think Harry is involved?” he asked.
“No, Harry keeps his nose down. He was warning me off since it was dangerous.”
“Why would Harry do that?”
“Harry looks out for me—steers me away from the bad blokes.”
“I’m glad Harry is looking out for you. Bad things can happen at a place like this.”
“I can tell the difference. I knew you were a good'un right from the first.” Bev smiled broadly, showing her one missing tooth.
The door opened and he went on the alert. Instead of the English mole he waited for, a young girl with a thin shawl wrapped around her scrawny shoulders—not enough to keep her warm—walked through the door. She searched the room. Ship’s Aground was no place for such a young girl. She approached a lone man leaning on his table, obviously deep in his cups.
The older man wasn’t pleased to see her by the scowl on his face. He had witnessed many tragic scenes just like the one that transpired in front of him. The girl sat down and spoke quietly to the man. It was pitiful to watch—he didn’t need to hear her words, her dark eyes pleading for her father to come home said it all.
The man grabbed her by her arm. She winced in pain, but didn’t try to pull away. Brinsley shifted his weight in his chair, getting ready to intervene. He knew he wasn’t supposed to break cover, but if the man didn’t release her arm, he’d have to act.
Keeping part of his attention on the girl, he turned to the sound of the tavern door opening once more. Two dandies in riding breeches, their top hats pulled over their foreheads as if to hide their identities, stood at the door. Their obvious, expensive clothes and their discomfort had caused the whole room to go silent. Every face turned to watch their entrance. They couldn’t be the French buyers since they showed no hesitation in making a conspicuous entrance. Were they a distraction? He sat up and scanned the room to make sure all appeared status quo.
The gentlemen moved further into the tavern and everyone returned to their drinks. The taller of the two had blond hair and looked vaguely familiar. Brinsley tried to remember where he had seen him and what his appearance might mean to tonight’s mission. As the two walked toward an empty table, Brinsley inspected the shorter man walking behind.
The blood rushed through his ears, making him light-headed. For one of the few times in his life, Brinsley suffered a complete and total loss of awareness. Dressed as a man, but looking more like a boy, Amelia had entered this black hole of thugs and spies.
He’d recognize that retroussé nose and violet eyes through any disguise. The other man must be her brother, the one she had been with last night while he danced with Lady Rowley.
He must have tightened his grip on Bev’s arm since she leaned against him, misreading his furious reaction for something more primal.
Amelia set off frenzied and frantic reactions. She robbed him of his natural demeanor—calm control and focused attention.
This could only be the worst kind of coincidence, her being here when the French spies were expected to buy the secret. But what had brought her here, and why tonight?
His mind was whirling with possible implications. His mission had just done a complete turn-about. His mind raced through several scenarios, but none with a happy ending. How could he keep Amelia safe if things got hazardous? He and Talley had to capture the Navy’s traitor, and the French spies.
They expected the French spies would leave first. Talley and his men would follow and capture the French red-handed with the Navy’s plans in hand. It would be up to him to grab the traitor. Additional agents were seated around the tavern if he needed assistance. He couldn’t allow Amelia to get caught in the crossfire, but how could he possibly remove her from the tavern without totally blowing his mission.
Amelia settled into a chair as Harry moved over to serve the two esteemed gentleman. She searched the room then stopped her perusal when she saw the young girl. Amelia leaned forward to better inspect the man with whom the girl spoke fervently. Amelia obviously had some connection with the girl. Did she have any idea the danger she might encounter? The men who frequented the tavern were ruthless criminals and would stop at nothing.
He watched her, waiting for the moment she recognized him. Her eyes widened, and he imagined he could feel her accelerated breathing as her lips parted in recognition.
He stared at her, fully resolved not to hide his seething emotions. She looked at Bev who was running her hand down his arm at that moment. He could see the way she jolted back in revulsion. Then those thick lashes went down, shutting in any reaction. Totally dismissing him, she turned and spoke to her brother. The best situation was for her to think of him as a wastrel rather than realize he was on a mission.
Her brother slowly looked around the room as if doing his own reconnaissance. What the hell did that young pup think he could do? He wanted to mangle the young fool for bringing his sister into danger, but knowing Amelia’s strong will, he guessed her brother had no choice.
“Do you know those gentleman?” Bev asked.
Unfortunately, he had betrayed his connection to Amelia and her brother. Observant Bev was no fool. “I do know them. Young bucks out for a little fun on the seamier side of town.”
“With money to waste.” Bev puckered her mouth in anticipation.
He didn’t want to call attention to Amelia and her brother. “Can you get them out of here if any trouble starts to happen? They’ll just get in the way. I know their mother and don’t want her to be upset by the silly fools getting hurt. I’ll make it worth your time.”
“I can take them out the back way.”
He had no way of knowing if Bev could be trusted, but what choice did he have now that Amelia had sashayed into the middle of his operation. He dug for his bag of coins in the lining of his jacket. “Go over to their table and play it up with the blond man. Make it appear like you’re looking for a little fun with them. And then take them out the back way and tell them I said to get the hell away from here.”
“But I’ll come back once they’re gone. You did promise me a bit of fun for all my effort.”
“Of course, once my business is settled.” He gave her a look that she could not misinterpret, a woman of her experience.
She leaned down and kissed him on the lips. “You better not change your mind.”
Playing along, he swatted Bev on her full, round arse when she turned. She cackled loudly, causing Amelia to turn.
Amelia looked straight at him. He wanted to shake her and shout at her for coming into danger, but at the same time he wanted to hold her and protect her. He took a big gulp of his ale and looked away from her close inspection. He needed no extra attention focused on either of t
hem.
Amelia’s eyes widened in shock when Bev sauntered to their table. His little prude was turning red from Bev’s overtures. Brinsley would have preferred to protect her from the seediness, but she was the one who chose to come to a dockside tavern in the worst part of London. Unbelievable. She might as well go into treacherous St. Giles looking for adventure.
Bev bent over the table, flirting with Amelia’s brother, giving him an eyeful of her breasts. He stood and offered Bev a chair.
Amelia’s attention was on the young girl and her interaction with the man Brinsley surmised was her father. He sure hoped to hell the old bastard wasn’t the young girl’s lover or pimp, and that Amelia had come here with some notion of saving her in some manner.
Tonight’s mission had gotten complicated in ways he hadn’t considered. Now the potential for things to go sideways was tremendous. Because of Amelia’s innocent presence, he couldn’t find the calm he usually had when about to close on a quarry. He needed to settle his racing heart and figure out how he could keep her and her brother safe.
The door opened again, and of all the luck, tonight his suspect had arrived. Wrapped in the scarf and hat, the thin man confidently made his way into the tavern. This was no dockworker trying to sell the secrets to make money for his family, shooting down one of the theories that had been bandied about.
Brinsley sat back against the wall, trying to act nonchalant as he surreptitiously checked to make sure all his men were in place.
Talley too had noted the suspect’s arrival. He had removed one of the waitresses from his lap, teasing her and sending her for more drinks. The din in the room grew louder and more raucous.
Harry greeted the man and led him to the corner table. Harry kept his head lowered in a subservient manner as if he recognized the man’s treachery.
Brinsley’s attention was drawn to the sound of a chair scraping briefly on the floor. The young girl’s father stood; the girl grabbed him by the arm, begging him. He slapped her across the face, knocking her to the floor, sobbing.
Amelia gasped and jumped from her chair at the violence. Her hat fell off revealing her bright red hair twisted in a braid that cascaded down her shoulders and back.
One of the brawny dockworkers shouted, “He’s no bloke. It’s a woman in breeches.” All the men jumped to their feet, some gawking, some pushed close, and some needing much more. One of the men fell into a waitress, who landed in the lap of a disgruntled drunk, making him drop his drink. In the bedlam, the first punch was thrown and pandemonium broke out.
Realizing her peril, Amelia tried to stuff her hair back into her hat, but got caught in the men shoving toward her. She was knocked to the ground.
As punches, glasses and even bottles were thrown, the father made his way through the wild fracas toward their suspect in the corner.
Brinsley, keeping the men in his sight, pushed his way toward Amelia and her brother. Her brother was smiling as he punched the man who had knocked Amelia down. Her brother pulled her up to stand and then had to punch another man who came at his side. Young though he was, he handled himself well in a fight.
Brinsley had no time for the nonsense. He picked up one man and threw him against another brute to get to Amelia.
Keeping his attention on the man in the corner, Brinsley shoved his way through the belligerent crowd. The girl’s father and the man with the scarf were in conversation at the table. The man didn’t seem fazed by the violence.
Talley gave him a nod across the mayhem, signaling they would stick with the plan for Talley to apprehend the father once he finished his business. Was the father the French spy buying the secrets?
Brinsley had to knock out two brutes before reaching Amelia who was held in the arms of a huge thug who was trying to take her hat. She shouted in outrage and kicked the man in the shin. The man laughed and bent to kiss her.
Rage boiled beneath Brinsley’s skin. He picked up the barbarian and threw him across the table.
Amelia stared up at him. “Derrick?” Her pupils were dilated and her hair hung loose around her shoulders.
He snatched up her hat and handed it to her. “Say nothing. And put the damn hat back on.”
Bev was pulling on Amelia’s brother’s arm.
Brinsley yelled at Bev, “Get them out of here.”
Bev nodded and said something to the brother. He looked shocked by whatever she said.
Amelia’s face was flushed from exertion as she tucked her hair into her hat. Her cravat had come undone, and he could see her pale skin. “Bev will take you out the back way to your carriage.”
He shoved Amelia’s brother. “Get your sister away from here.”
“Yes, sir.”
He watched the brother put his arm around her shoulders as they made their way through the crowd to the back door.
Now that Amelia and her brother were safe, he could focus on his mission. The man in the corner leaned against the wall, his body twisted into an unnatural posture. His hat was gone, his dark hair hung over his blank eyes.
Brinsley searched the crowd for Talley. He was gone, as was the girl and her father.
Brinsley fought his way to the table where the suspect remained motionless. With the chaotic fighting, no one had noticed the man’s grim condition. The man’s breaths came in erratic wheezes that shook his chest. Brinsley recognized the movement for what it was—death rattle.
Brinsley opened the man’s waistcoat; his shirt was soaked in blood. Brinsley struggled to feel for his weak pulse.
Leaning over the man, Brinsley shouted to be heard over the chaos. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”
The dying man’s answer was unintelligible in French.
Brinsley leaned closer to the man’s wan face. “Who do you work for?”
The man fought for a breath.
Brinsley repeated, “Who do you work for?”
“Elle,” The man gasped.
Brinsley grabbed the man’s shirt. “Elle or is it il? Do you work for a woman or a man?”
He mumbled another word, then his head dropped on his chest. Dead.
Chapter Seventeen
Amelia sat alone on the settee facing Cord and Derrick. Gwyneth had confessed all of their activities to Ash, who then reported every detail to the two very grim gentlemen. After her part in the previous evening’s disturbance, Amelia felt like a schoolgirl summoned to the head mistress’ office.
Cord had requested her appearance in his official capacity, something not to be taken lightly—he wasn’t acting as her childhood friend’s husband. At least Cord didn’t withdraw behind his desk as the fierce Director of Intelligence. She couldn’t be totally intimidated by Cord since she only knew him as Henrietta’s considerate and caring husband.
If anyone was trying to intimidate her it was Derrick. He exuded barely suppressed feelings of anger and resentment. And although Derrick never looked directly at her, she knew he was in a dangerous mood. His insolent slouch was gone. Instead his feet were solidly planted on the ground, his oversized, tense body ready to spring out of the leather chair.
His veiled hostility was a direct result of her disrupting his undercover operation. She didn’t realize she had stumbled into a mission until she spotted both Derrick and Talley at the tavern. Talley was an agent who helped them capture the French villains at the Elwood party. She couldn’t fault Derrick’s reaction. But she hadn’t known that Elodie was possibly involved in treason.
Derrick’s eyes were focused straight ahead over her shoulder. All emotion shut off and locked down.
She refused to be daunted by Derrick’s fuming mood. If he had been willing to talk with her at the ball, they wouldn’t be in this predicament. She looked directly at Cord and spoke in a clear, precise tone. “I had planned to tell Lord Brinsley at the ball about the connection to Elodie, but he refused to talk to me.”
Derrick startled and bolted upright. “What?”
“If you remember, I approached you at the ball, but you le
ft abruptly to dance with Lady Rowley.”
“You said nothing. How was I to guess you planned to endanger yourself and my operation?”
“Of all the most ridiculous responses. I didn’t plan to endanger myself or your mission. How can anyone plan to endanger themselves?”
“Anyone with any sense knows the docks are treacherous. I would’ve made time to talk with you if I knew you were involved with a smuggling ring.”
Amelia felt the sting of his cold, sharp words deep in her chest. He didn’t care about her. Their kiss had meant nothing to him. He had been flirting with her as he did with every woman, as evidenced by his dalliance with Lady Rowley, and then there was that hussy at the tavern. With the hurt curling around her heart, she dredged up her most haughty tone. “How very generous of you.”
She couldn’t let her wounded feelings interfere with the more important work at hand, cracking the smuggling ring. “You’re right. I should’ve told you, but you were so abrupt.” She shook her head. She didn’t want to confess that her pride had been hurt and she reacted with an impulsive plan.
“Instead you decided to embark on a ridiculous plan that took you to the most dangerous area of London? Do you know what could’ve happened to you?” Derrick’s voice grew louder and harsher. His face was turning a purplish red, as if he might combust.
“I didn’t know we were going to the docks until we followed her.”
Derrick jumped to his feet. “Of all the asinine…When you saw where she was headed you should have turned around and gone home like any sensible person would do.”
She gasped.
Cord interrupted Derrick’s tirade. “This is irrelevant now. We need to move forward. Tell us everything you know about the French girl.”
Derrick sat back down, but continued staring at her, quietly fuming.
“When Gwyneth and I realized that Elodie was the link between the dolls and the diamonds, I went to Madame de Puis’ shop to question her.”
A Code of the Heart (The Code Breakers Series Book 3) Page 11
