The Runner's Enticement (Men of Circumstance Book 2)

by Addie Jo Ryleigh

  At Nate’s seething silence, his superior sobered. “They’re not all like her.”

  Nate’s shoulders tightened at Lawson’s reference. At least the man held enough acumen to refrain from saying her name. If he had, Nate wasn’t sure he could confine the urge to reach across the desk and throttle his soon-to-be former friend. Lawson’s ability to connect Nate’s resistance to her caused an entirely new resentment to slowly burn in his gut.

  As Lawson’s dark features eased, Nate despised the pity looking back at him. “I would never willingly swell your already enlarged ego, but we both know you are the best man for the job. Despite your disagreement, Lord Brodford deserves the best we have. The sooner you catch the party responsible, the sooner you can be done with the earl and his daughter.”

  Nate might have the freedom of the exit at his back but it felt as if his commander had him against the wall with no escape. It was beyond time for a career change. Not even the thrill of chasing his man and bringing him to justice enticed any longer.

  Even so, Nate knew, come two days from now, he’d be the guest of the Earl of Brodford. And forced to play nursemaid to his overly entitled daughter.

  Chapter 3

  “The first item I noticed missing was the Shabti thought to be from the tomb of Tutankhamun. It may be one of many, but it is the only privately owned gold-foiled relic.”

  The Earl of Brodford continued to drone on. Nate hadn’t a clue what a Shabti was or even who Tutankhamun might be. No doubt his time would be better spent getting a feel for the room housing Brodford’s Egyptian artifacts.

  Since he understood how men of rank enjoyed being heard, Nate gave an occasional grunt of agreement or head nod in the earl’s direction as he ambled around the room. Every inch of available space was filled with old creations better served hidden in a dark unused room . . . not the earl’s front parlor.

  When the older man seemed to exhaust his history lesson, Nate launched into questions he hoped would lead to actual information that might help apprehend the thief.

  “Do you know of anyone who’s shown an interest in your collection?”

  The slightly stout earl lowered his unruly eyebrows. “Young man, everyone with a speck of sense desires to possess my collection.”

  Well, questioned answered . . . or not. One thing was clear though, Nate’s aversion to taking on a case for the Earl of Brodford had been unfounded. The man was clearly more interested in the past—more specifically, the ancient past—than social standings.

  Not that Nate considered forgiving Lawson for foisting the case on him. Besides, he wagered the earl would ultimately choose his lofty title over the fellowship of a commoner.

  “Other than the Shabti—”Nate hoped he’d recalled the proper word—“there are four other items missing?”

  The earl nodded.

  “And, other than the public as a whole, there isn’t anyone who has expressed a particular interest in the objects stolen?”

  “Not a one.”

  Nate held in the groan threatening to push past his lips. With no leads, and no actual evidence, the case appeared nowhere near solvable. At least the thefts had occurred at Brodford’s country estate and far from London. Thus decreasing the chance Nate would stumble across anyone who knew of his connection to the late Duke of Wesbrook.

  “If you have no objection, I would like the force to track the stolen artifacts. We know of a few individuals who trade exclusively in things of this nature. Most likely the thief offloaded the items soon after pilfering them.”

  Brodford’s eyes turned sharp and Nate wondered if he’d underestimated the man’s aptitude. “What do you need from me?”

  The earl’s willingness to assist also baffled Nate. “I could use a written description of the stolen pieces.”

  “I’ll have it to you by dinner.”

  Everything settled, Nate was about to excuse himself to take a look about the perimeter of the house when a soft gasp from the doorway drew his attention. He scowled at what he found.

  Given the young woman’s quality of gown and pristine appearance, Nate would guess Brodford’s daughter had made her entrance. As she stood by the door with an air of propriety, he couldn’t help but liken her to a spoiled princess.

  An attractive princess, but spoiled nonetheless.

  The source of her appeal was subtle. Muted auburn hair set to flame with highlights of crimson perched atop a head he doubted would reach his shoulder. He wondered if even she realized her allure. In fact, if not for the pull of her turquoise eyes gazing at him, he might have overlooked it himself.

  He had a gut feeling the job had just become insufferable.

  “Sorry, Papa, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  Even the soft velvet of her voice held an enticing promise. Luckily, he’d long ago learned the only promise a proper lady would give him was an eventual dismissal.

  “Annabel, dear, impeccable timing. There is someone I want you to meet.”

  Her slight figure crossed the room to her father’s side. With each step, her gown shifted and teased him with the faint outline of her delicate curves. A lesser man might have passed over the sweetness confined in her petite frame. Barring her exalted status, Nate could possibly find her agreeable.

  “Annabel, this is Mr. Frederickson. The Runner I called for.”

  “But Papa—”

  “Not another word, dear. We’ve had this discussion and as much as I respect your opinion, I will not budge on this.”

  The side conversation between father and daughter was cryptic but it didn’t take a genius to know Brodford’s daughter objected to his assistance.

  “Mr. Frederickson, my daughter, Annabel.”

  Brodford made the introduction as if presenting his daughter to someone as common as a Bow Street Runner—an illegitimate one at that—was an everyday occurrence. Lady Annabel, on the other hand, did nothing but turn her dainty nose up at him—or would have if her nose wasn't at the same level as his chest.

  All affirming his assessment of a spoiled princess.

  However, he’d met her kind before and knew how to handle her superior attitude. Nothing ruffled an overindulged lady’s feathers more than being ignored.

  He didn’t approach but instead gave a slight bow of his head. Then, dismissed her very presence and addressed Brodford. “If there is nothing further, I will explore the grounds.”

  “Ummm . . . certainly,” Brodford stammered.

  Nate’s dismissal clearly baffled the man, and given Lady Annabel’s brow ascending to her forehead, she was just as put off by his disinterested response. His duty was to provide protection for the miss. It being midday, and with her in her father’s home, he doubted she was in any immediate danger. If she was indeed in any danger at all. He still hadn’t figured out why Brodford thought someone interested in Egyptian artifacts would be intent on harming his daughter.

  However, reasoning out Brodford’s request wasn’t part of Nate’s mission. His job was to find the person behind the thefts and keep Lady Annabel safe. All the while refraining from telling the miss his real thoughts on her entitled upbringing and exalted title.

  Something he wasn’t sure he’d be capable of.

  Chapter 4

  Dratted man. Anna silently fumed at Mr. Frederickson’s retreating back. She should have done more to dissuade her father from calling on the Bow Street Runners. Now she had to deal with that man’s daily presence.

  The task shouldn’t be a hindrance since she wasn’t normally inclined toward overly attractive, but clearly difficult, men. Likewise, her common appearance hardly caused heads to turn in her direction. Which she found beneficial since she was just as reluctant to be swayed by a pretty face.

  Yet it wasn’t his piercing light blue eyes, his jaw that might as well have b
een chiseled from stone, or the tantalizing stubble sprinkled over said jaw that worried her. His constant interference in her daily pursuits did. She hadn’t made it to her twenty-first year to have her newly found freedoms stripped away by a perfect stranger.

  If only her father hadn’t overreacted to his missing artifacts. It wasn’t as if they held any true connection to the past. The ancient times were over, and owning countless dusty items wouldn’t alter what had been. Especially if their value could benefit something in the here and now.

  “Papa, I truly don’t feel it necessary to have a guard.”

  “Now, Annabel, we won’t be having this discussion again,” her father replied as he continued to clean the artifact monopolizing his attention.

  “As I recall, there wasn’t much of a discussion in the first place. You merely declared I would have a bodyguard.” Anna refused at accept her father’s word as final. What if Mr. Frederickson actually had some skill?

  She tried again. “Papa, I’m no longer a child, and am perfectly able to manage my own safety. There is nothing to even say I’m in danger.”

  Her father turned his keen gaze on her. “When it comes to my only daughter, the possibility of harm is the only proof I need.”

  He was a gentle man and a wonderful father. And contrary to appearances, she knew he valued her more than his collection. She could hardly object to him wanting to protect her—despite it being unnecessary. Without explaining to her father how she knew protection was needless, she had no alternative but to concede.

  She went to her father’s side and placed a light kiss on his cheek. “For you, I will accept the man’s presence. It doesn’t mean I will curb my activities though. I’ll still be going to the school daily.”

  His eyes softened. “Steadfast like your mother, God rest her soul. I would never assume I had the power to keep you from your beloved school.”

  Her father’s understanding of how important the school was to her meant more than she could put into words. Between his preference for the country, and venturing to foreign lands for new discoveries, Anna had had limited time in London and only managed to attend one Season.

  An experience she wasn’t eager to repeat even if she had wanted to attend without her father. Her drab hair and common features had failed to strike a frenzy in the male population. Moreover, it was no secret most thought her a bluestocking. A sentiment that suited her since she’d rather be a wallflower than attempt to hold a conversation with a preening younger son of some overinflated peer.

  There might not be a great romance—or even a mediocre one—in her future, but as long as she had the school to oversee, she would be content. The legacy should have been her mother’s. She had died during childbirth, right before Anna’s eighth birthday, and afterward her grandmother had passed the school on to Anna.

  And she vowed to see that legacy persevere in her mother’s name—even if she had to make a deal with the devil to ensure it.

  “What do you know of Mr. Frederickson?” she asked. It was always prudent to know one’s enemy.

  Once again absorbed with cataloging a newly acquired relic, he answered with only half his attention. “Nothing mattered other than him being the best the agency had. I wasn’t about to entrust my collection, or my daughter’s safety, with anything less.”

  Despite not wanting the protection, it was reassuring to know hundreds of year-old stuff didn’t come before her.

  “Though, if I recall correctly, I believe he is the illegitimate younger brother of the Duke of Wesbrook,” her father tacked on as if it were of no significance. Which in her father’s eyes, it wasn’t. He believed in judging a man by his character and abilities, not his birthright. Yet another reason she was proud to call the often-unfocused man her father.

  All of Mr. Frederickson’s abilities didn’t reduce her irritation with him for his less than cordial greeting. She didn’t expect to be showered with attention, but his dismissal would be considered rude in any social setting. His arrogance was more than evident.

  This is the man Father has charged with being by my side daily? She had a feeling she’d need to rely on the patience she’d perfected while dealing with the headstrong young ladies at the school.

  Best to use Mr. Frederickson’s nearness to her advantage. There would be no better way to stay abreast of his investigation than by being forced into his company.

  If she managed to thwart his attempts to apprehend the culprit, all the better.

  “Papa, I’m going to the school now. I’ll be back before sunset.”

  With her father accustomed to her spending the majority of her day at the school, she didn’t expect him to question her. However, she only made it to the door before he called from his desk, “Annabel, don’t even attempt to leave this house without Mr. Frederickson accompanying you.”

  Since she’d had every intention of doing precisely that, she didn’t bother spouting a false defense, though she couldn’t hold back a grimace. Now, instead of a quick escape, she had to track down the dreadful man who stood between her and her freedom.

  In more ways than one.

  Chapter 5

  Couldn’t the damned female have stayed home embroidering or ordering new gowns like every other entitled lady? Instead of getting the lay of the estate and determining how the relics had been taken, Nate was traipsing across the countryside, exact destination unknown.

  That she was off to some school, and he was to follow, had been all she’d taken the time to impart before her pert bottom had climbed into the carriage. Fortunately, she’d had the sense to have his horse saddled or he never would have been able to catch her before the carriage vanished down the drive.

  She was clearly accustomed to her underlings accepting her direction without question. He wanted to express quite clearly who was in charge of their forced alliance. He wouldn’t be taking orders from her—no matter how captivating her eyes had become when they’d flashed a particularly fetching shade of blue during her directive.

  Despite his ire, Nate found himself on his horse, galloping a pace behind her carriage. Tracking and capturing The Viper was fast becoming an easy mission compared to his latest case.

  His usual disposition hadn’t been restored, an hour later when they finally pulled into the drive of what he assumed was the school.

  What about her roused his hostility? He had invested time and energy perfecting his carefree demeanor—not to mention his rather polished reputation with the ladies. He rarely misplaced his charm within five minutes of meeting a member of the fairer sex. He usually reserved those first minutes for more pleasurable acquainting.

  Although, in his defense, a pampered princess was far from a typical female. Nate wouldn’t be deluded into thinking she thought him her equal.

  The carriage halted before a walkway leading to the massive doorway of a rather old—not quite crumbling—gray stoned building. As soon as the step lowered, Lady Annabel’s lithe frame exited, unassisted. Unfortunate that the tempting package the chit presented belonged to a pampered daughter of the upper crust. Nate had long ago learned how outward appeal didn’t compensate for empty-headed, often callous, society misses.

  He tossed the reins to an approaching footman, not bothering with instructions. It was that or lose Lady Annabel as she scurried into the school.

  This couldn’t go on. Inopportune time or not, he planned to make a few rules clear before he completely lost control of the situation.

  His longer stride allowed him to reach her before she vanished into the shadows of the entry. Securing her elbow, he directed her to an empty room off to the left of the foyer. Time to remind Lady Annabel exactly who is in charge.

  His quick maneuver only allowed for her to sputter in resistance. As soon as the door clicked shut, she yanked free and rounded on him. “How dare you mistreat me in
such a way!”

  The flash of fire in her eyes held him spellbound. Gone was the perfectly put together gentlewoman. In her place stood a wild and captivating woman. The kind of woman he would easily welcome into his bed.

  At his silence she continued, “I should have you dismissed for your impertinence.”

  With the return of the haughty noble, the spell was broken. The heat simmering in her glare would never melt the coldness born of the nobility.

  His touch hadn’t been anywhere near brutish, but he recognized the meaning beneath her objection. “Forgive me, princess, for soiling your precious sleeve with my dirty hand.”

  Given the narrowing of her eyes, she knew, as well as he, his hands were as clean as hers.

  “I would never—”

  He didn’t give her the chance to launch into a lecture. He’d brought her here for a purpose. “We need to set a few things straight.” He ignored her sharply indrawn breath. “Firstly, I’m not your lackey. You may have the rest of England on a tether but you’ll never have me. I’m here to do a job and I’m not about to let an overindulged, spoiled brat stand in my way.”

  So much for being reasonable. There was just something about the petite Lady Annabel that provoked him beyond anything he’d experienced before. More than just her title stirred his blood. Even when faced with the most condescending members of the ton, Nate still managed to hold onto his dignity and poise.

  The entire mission might be manageable if she understood he would be the one setting the course. Moreover, if there was a threat to her safety, her rushing headlong into a situation could get her hurt—or even killed.