A Dangerous Affair (Bow Street Brides Book 3)

by Jillian Eaton

  “Of course I’m awake,” Juliet said irritably. “I’m talking, aren’t I? Is there any food to be had? I’m starving.”

  “Yes – yes, my lady. At once, my lady. I’ll be right back, my lady.”

  “You didn’t tell me where I am!” Juliet called out after the maid, but she’d already fled the room. On a heavy sigh, Juliet fell back onto her pillows. Her very soft, very luxurious pillows. Pillows that were stuffed to the brim with feather down and must have cost a small fortune. Frowning, she looked up…and saw a rich velvet canopy draped over the top of her bed. As her gaze wandered from an antique secretary’s desk in rich mahogany to a sterling silver wash basin (who on earth did she know that would have a sterling silver wash basin?), her last memories began to resurface, slowly and then all once in a mad rush of color and sound that left her dizzy and gasping for breath.

  She remembered Lenny driving her to the ball.

  ‘Is that a new coat?’

  ‘Got it off a dead bloke jest this mornin’.’

  She remembered having her feet trod on by the earl, and then having a heated discussion with Bran behind a fern plant.

  ‘You need to leave. You’re going to get us both caught.’

  ‘Me? I’m jest a footman doing ‘is job.’

  She remembered Grant storming up to her.

  ‘You made a mistake coming here tonight.’

  And their temporary truce.

  ‘Dance with me. Just dance with me.’

  Her mind lingered on that memory, clinging to it longer than the rest. She remembered how content she’d felt in his arms, as if she could stay there forever. She remembered closing her eyes, trusting that he wouldn’t let her fall. And then…and then…

  A gunshot.

  What came next made her flinch, but there was no way she could escape it.

  She remembered running up the stairs and down the hallway. Finding Bran, bloody and nearly unconscious, slumped against the bed. Turning around and seeing Edward. No, not Edward. Mallack.

  She remembered taunting him in an attempt to stall until Grant could reach them. The Dowager Duchess entering the room, demanding to know what the ruckus was all about. Mallack lifting his gun. And then…blankness.

  She thought there might be something in the dark. A deep, husky voice. A soft, gentle touch. But she was distracted from her recollections when a brisk knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” she said, sitting up a bit straighter in the bed even though it caused her head to throb unmercifully. Bloody hell. It felt as if she’d downed two gallons of gin. But she’d never touched the stuff after she and Eddy shared a bottle one night and she spent the entire next day puking her guts up.

  Accompanied by two maids each carrying a large covered platter of food, the Dowager Duchess swept into the room with all the authoritative force of a king. “Put the poached eggs, sausages, and toasted bread here. The pastries and sweet cakes can go over there.”

  Did she say sweet cakes?

  “And for heaven’s sake,” the dowager snapped, “someone open these curtains. It’s like a tomb in here.”

  One of the maids rushed to obey, and Juliet winced when the curtains were thrown open and a rush of bright sunlight spilled into the room. The pain in her eyes tempered by the breakfast tray that was placed upon her lap, she began to devour her breakfast with vigor, stuffing entire handfuls into her mouth before she looked up to see the two maids gazing at her in horror.

  “Leave us,” the dowager ordered with a flick of her wrist. The maids scurried out, and the dowager sat down beside the bed. “Now then,” she said, crossing her legs at the ankle and neatly resting her hands on her knees. “I suppose it is time you told me who you really are.”

  “I don’t–”

  “No lying,” the dowager said sternly. “If you are afraid I am going to throw you out on your ear or call for the magistrate, you needn’t be. You saved my life, young lady, and for that I will be forever in your debt.”

  “I saved your life?” Juliet blinked.

  “You don’t remember?”

  “No. I remember you coming into the room, but after that…” she shrugged helplessly. Then her eyes widened. “Bran! Is Bran all right? What happened to him? Is he–”

  “The doctor said your friend will make a full recovery. He also mentioned that a head injury like the one you suffered could cause memory lapses, which no doubt explains why you don’t remember jumping in front of me.”

  “Head injury?” For the rest time she gingerly touched her temple, and was shocked when her fingers encountered a thick bandage.

  “Yes. You were shot when you pushed me out of the way of that awful Mallack fellow. Thankfully it was only a glancing blow, but you still gave us all a fright. You’ve been asleep for four days.”

  Four days?

  “Can you recall your name?” the dowager asked.

  Juliet nodded.

  “Your real name?” she said meaningfully.

  “Juliet. My name is Juliet.” And then, because the dowager struck her as a no-nonsense type of woman who would stay true to her word, she told her the rest. Between bites of sausage and the fluffiest poached eggs she’d ever tasted, she told her all about her life in St Giles. She told her about Yeti and Bran and Eddy. About learning to become a thief, and the daily perils that accompanied a life in the East End. She told her what Eddy had tried to do, and how she and Bran had banished him. Then, without really meaning to, she told her all about Grant.

  “Fascinating,” the dowager murmured when she’d finally finished. “Positively fascinating. You may just be the most interesting young woman I have ever encountered. And that’s saying something, given how old I am.”

  “You’re really not going to send for the magistrate?”

  “As long as you promise not to run off with any of my jewelry, I see no need. In fact, you are welcome to remain here as my guest for as long as you like. You needn’t ever return to that horrible St Giles ever again.”

  “I…don’t know what to say.” Part of her was awestruck at the dowager’s offer. To live in a fancy swell like this was something she’d never even dared to dream about. But another part of her already missed St Giles. She knew for most it was horrible. The most horrible place in all of London. But for her, it was home.

  “Think about it,” the dowager advised. “In the meantime, if you are feeling up to it, there is a certain gentleman here to see you. He has been pacing a hole in my favorite parlor rug for three days now. Should I send him up?”

  “Who is it?” she asked even as her stomach fluttered and her traitorous heart gave a quick lurch inside of her chest.

  “Oh, I think you already know the answer to that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Confessing one’s love was never an easy task. Confessing one’s love to a woman who had a penchant for knives and a tendency to bolt was particularly difficult. Thankfully, in her current state of recovery Juliet was not capable of either one.

  Or so Grant hoped.

  The last time she’d been on the other side of a door he’d broken it down without a second thought. Now he hesitated in the hall, his mind whirling with all the bits and pieces of the carefully prepared speech he’d been crafting for the better part of a week.

  What if he forgot something? Or said too much? What if she looked at him with absolute loathing? Or, worse yet, ordered him out of the room before he could say anything at all?

  His mouth settling into a grim line of determination, he raised his fist and rapped his knuckles against the door. No matter what she did or said, he owed her the truth. He owed both of them the truth. And the truth was that sometime between all of the kissing and the chasing and the stabbing and the kissing he’d bloody well fallen in love with her.

  He just hadn’t realized it until she’d almost been taken away from him.

  “Come in,” she said softly.

  Bracing himself for whatever was to come, he walked into the sunlit room and
closed the door quietly behind him. Juliet sat up in the middle of the bed, her small body dwarfed by a mountain of pillows. There was still a white bandage wrapped around her temple, but otherwise she looked far better than she had just two days ago when the dowager had permitted him to sit by her side and read from one of his mother’s favorite Jane Austen novels. Her cheeks were rosy and one of the maid’s must have washed her hair while she slept, for it had a bright gleam to it that brought out the faint dusting of freckles across her nose.

  “May I?” he said gruffly, nodding at the chair beside her bed.

  “Please.”

  Feeling awkward and stilted, he sat down. “You look well.”

  “Thank you. Aside from a pounding headache, I feel much better. Not that I know how I felt before given I’ve been unconscious for four days.” A wry smile flitted across her mouth. “But I can only assume it was much worse than how I feel now.” She hesitated. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “No,” he said immediately. “Of course not.”

  She blinked her big green eyes right at him. “Do I know you?”

  Grant’s heart sank like a stone. The doctor had warned him that Juliet might have difficulty with her memory – head wounds can be unpredictable, he’d said – but he didn’t think that meant she would forget who he was. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  “You…I…We…”

  “I’m only joking, runner.” With a peal of laughter she collapsed back onto the pillows.

  “That’s not funny,” he said darkly.

  “It would be if you could have seen your face! Oh,” she gasped, wiping at the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. “That was good. And no less than you deserved for coming here to arrest me.”

  Impertinent woman.

  “I did not come here to arrest you,” he scowled.

  She rolled her eyes. “But of course you did. Why else would you be here?”

  Feeling rather put out that nothing was going according plan, he leaned forward and half growled/half shouted, “To tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you!”

  Juliet’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “You – you what?” she whispered.

  “That wasn’t how I meant to say it.” Gnashing his teeth together, he stood up with so much force his chair toppled over. Ignoring it, he began to pace back and forth in front of the windows. “I had a damn speech prepared.”

  “You had – you had a speech?”

  “Yes. I had things I wanted to say. Important things.” He whirled to face her. “Things about my past and my sense of responsibility and how you ruined everything.”

  “How I ruined everything,” she repeated slowly.

  “Yes. No.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t bloody know!”

  “It was your speech,” she pointed out.

  Did she think he didn’t know that? That he didn’t know how he was bungling the entire thing up? For once, why couldn’t something go right between them? “For as long as I can remember, I’ve always seen things as right or wrong. Black or white. Then you came into my life, and it was like I was seeing color for the very first time.”

  “Oh,” she whispered as tears that had nothing to do with laughter glistened in her eyes.

  “I thought I was chasing you because it was my duty, and I suppose it was. But somewhere along the way it became more than that.” He walked to the edge of the bed. When she held out her hand, he took it, and this time when he squeezed her fingers she squeezed back. “I believed that if I turned you over to the magistrate, it would end the game between us and any feelings I had for you. But I was wrong. What we had between us – what I hope we still have between us – was never a game. And I never want it to end.”

  Juliet could not believe what she was hearing. If not for the deep sincerity in Grant’s gaze and the desperate tightness with which he was holding her hand, she would have thought he was playing a joke on her as she had on him. But he wasn’t joking. He really did love her.

  Lord Grant Hargrave, the third son of a duke and second-in-command of the Bow Street Runners, loved her. A common born thief. If she hadn’t heard it with her own ears she never would have believed it. And for the second time in only a matter of minutes, she didn’t know what to say.

  “I….” She trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief. “I love you too?”

  “Is that a question?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “What about all of the crimes I’ve committed? All of the jewelry I’ve stolen?”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve kept any pieces that could be returned.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not a one.”

  “Juliet…”

  “Oh, all right,” she said sulkily. “I may have a few tucked away.”

  “Then you’ll give those back, and I’ll make sure the captain pardons you for the rest.”

  Her eyes widened. “You would do that for me?”

  “You said yourself that you never stole from anyone who couldn’t afford it. While I cannot condone your actions…” He brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “I finally understand them. And if the captain can pardon Felix Spencer, then he can damn well do the same for you.”

  “But you’re not going to stop being a runner.” And if he remained a runner, and if she remained a thief, any type of future between them was over before it ever had a chance to begin. If they had any chance at all, one of them was going to have to give up what they loved most.

  “I could. If you asked me to, I could leave Bow Street tomorrow and fulfill my duties as a lord.”

  “You could do that,” she said, studying him closely. “But you don’t want to.”

  “No,” he admitted. “I don’t. It’s something I’ve been struggling with for a very long time, but if given the choice between being a lord and a runner I would rather be the latter. I was never meant to live a life of leisure.”

  No, he wasn’t. A warmth started to spread throughout Juliet’s body. It started in her heart and then rushed outwards, filling her with a glow so bright it rivaled the sun. If this was love, then she wanted more of it. If this was love, then she wanted a lifetime.

  “If you could stop being a runner for me…I guess I could stop being a thief for you.”

  He gazed down at her intently. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” And to her surprise, she was. “It’s not as if I could be a thief forever. Eventually I’ll be caught, or killed, and then where would I be? Better to stop now and go out on top. Don’t you think?”

  “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said achingly before he lowered his head and took her lips in a kiss that endearingly gentle.

  “But,” she warned, holding her finger up between them when he drew back. “If you are somehow under the impression that I am going to sit idly by and spend my time wandering through the park and attending luncheons and balls, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  “You’re welcome to pursue whatever venture you like. Money is not an issue. You could be a patroness of the local hospital, or join a committee for the arts, or–”

  “I want to work on Bow Street.”

  “Bow Street?” he said incredulously. “You can’t work on Bow Street.”

  “Why not? Felix works on Bow Street.”

  “That’s because Felix is a–”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “–older,” he corrected quickly. “Felix is older than you.”

  Smart man.

  “I know more about St Giles than half the runners combined. I can help you catch the really bad criminals. The ones who actually deserve to be in Newgate.”

  Grant looked at her with equal parts aggravation and affection. “I will speak to the captain tomorrow and see what I can do.”

  “Good. Then I only have one more condition.”

  He sighed. “I figured as much.”

  “I want you to always chase me. Even if we become an o
ld boring married couple – which we never will – I want you to keep chasing me. Can you do that?”

  His eyes darkened with lust, and need, and a love so deep it filled her soul. “I told you once that I’d chase you to the ends of the earth. I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

  “Then that’s it?” she said, hardly able to believe their happily-ever-after could be as easy as that after all the obstacles that had separated them for long. Yes, there had been some compromises. A few sacrifices. And she was sure there would be more before all was said and done. But for the first time in her life, she’d gotten exactly what she desired...and she hadn’t even had to steal it.

  “No,” Grant murmured before he kissed her again, his mouth lingering on her lips until she moaned his name and clutched his shirt. “That’s only the beginning.”

  Epilogue

  Once Juliet was feeling better she made the short journey to Litchfield Park where the Hargrave’s annual house party was well underway. To her pleasant surprise, she was welcomed with open arms by Grant’s entire family. The duchess was elated her youngest son had finally fallen in love, and the duke was happy that his wife was happy.

  Grant joined her three days later (he’d remained in London until Mallack was sentenced) and they spent the next month and a half frolicking about the estate like children.

  They still argued at least once a day, but neither one of them would have it any other way. Especially since their arguments almost always ended in a passionate embrace. With so many guests in attendance they’d had to get a bit creative with where they had their trysts – Juliet still had a crick in her neck from one particularly adventurous romp in a broom closet – but that only made it all the more exciting.

  Two nights ago they’d snuck down to the pond with the notion of a sultry midnight dip in the water (sans clothes, of course) whereupon they’d discovered Grant’s parents had had the same idea.

  Juliet still couldn’t look at the duke without blushing.

  Then, on the night before they were due to return to London, Grant asked her to marry him. Following in the footsteps of the rest of their courtship, the proposal was – in a word – unusual. Instead of presenting her with a ring, Grant hid it somewhere in the estate and gave Juliet a series of clues to its location.