Deliciously wicked

by Robyn DeHart

  “Yes, you would be quite the strapping lad,” Meg said in a falsely deep voice.

  “Good luck and be safe.”

  “I shall. Gareth will make sure we’re safe. I’ll report everything at the next meeting.” Meg quickly removed the masculine clothing and slipped back into her dress. She backed up to Charlotte to give her access to her buttons. “Thank you for the clothes.” She turned to go, then stopped. “Charlotte, about the other day at my house, I—”

  Charlotte held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t say another word. There is nothing to concern yourself with.”

  Meg squeezed her friend, then went on her way. She needed to take care she didn’t relive Gareth undressing her while she was with him. Charlotte might ignore any blush she’d seen, but Gareth would inquire as to her thoughts. He’d want to know what daring thought entered her mind to create such a stain. In the future, she would endeavor to not remember what it was like to have the dashing man see her practically naked.

  Chapter 9

  It hadn’t taken them long to set things in motion with Mr. Munden, and the night they would break into his living quarters finally arrived. All was arranged; her disguise, the hackney, and Gareth would be waiting for her.

  Meg stood in front of the mirror eyeing herself. She’d never before seen herself in a pair of breeches, and while they were strange, they were somewhat comfortable as well. She’d certainly be able to do more in them than she ever could within the confines of a skirt.

  Perhaps after tonight she’d have several pairs made and wear them around the house, or even at the factory. They might come in handy were she to help with certain aspects of the factory work. Or riding a bicycle, for that matter. No wonder men were so fond of them.

  She wound her hair up and secured it with several pins, and then stuffed it inside the tweed cap to hide it. It was time. Time to go and retrieve Gareth. And join the ranks of the other thieves in this town. She should probably feel guilty about this evening’s activities, but she didn’t. Excited and nervous, but not an ounce of guilt. They were doing this for a good purpose, and that mattered above all else.

  She peered into the hall, and all was dark. She hoped everyone slept and no one would notice her sneaking out of the house dressed as a boy. As it was, she’d already had to hire a hackney so that she didn’t have to explain anything to their own drivers. She crept out of the house and down the hill where she met the carriage. She couldn’t very well have them drive up to the front steps—that would have alerted everyone.

  She instructed the driver to stop at the boarding rooms as she climbed in. Tonight they would not only clear Gareth’s name, but she was doing a service for the factory and her father. What better way to prove to her father she was ready for more responsibility at the factory than to catch a thief?

  It didn’t take the brougham long to pull up to the boardinghouse where Gareth rented his rooms. He was waiting outside, and when she opened the door, he slid in across from her.

  Even in the dark carriage, she could see Gareth eyeing her from head to toe. “So this is your disguise?” he asked as the carriage lurched forward.

  “Perfect, don’t you agree?”

  “You still look like a woman to me.”

  “Yes, but you know that I’m a woman.” More than anyone, he knew. He’d touched her body and held her against his own. Something she was even more aware of than usual in the quiet intimacy of the carriage. “But a stranger will not notice.”

  “You can put on a boy’s clothes, but it doesn’t erase your curves or the delicate features of your face. You’re too soft to be a man.”

  She watched him form every word. Slowly, as if each was specifically chosen. What else had he noticed about her? She had to clear her throat before speaking. “I’m supposed to pass for a boy, not a man.”

  “Where did you find the clothes?”

  “From Charlotte’s younger brother.” She had to remind herself to breathe. Hoping to distract herself from temptation, she wiggled around the seat. “I find them rather comfortable. I could certainly wear these on a regular basis.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I doubt many would even notice.”

  “Trust me, they’d notice,” he said.

  She let her eyes settle on him and viewed his yet again stubbled chin and cheeks. What was so unbecoming on other men made him look positively dashing. But it was not his unshaven face that made him appear dangerous. No, that honor went to his eyes. Eyes that dared her to look. Dared her to touch. Dared her to want things she knew she had no right even thinking about.

  “How did you get out of the house dressed that way?” he asked.

  She shrugged sheepishly. “I snuck out.”

  “So your father doesn’t allow you complete freedom?”

  “Of course not. He’s indulgent, I’ll admit that, but he is certainly not flippant about my welfare.” Unlike some men who probably didn’t care at all. “He would be sorely disappointed in my behavior tonight,” she admitted.

  “Well, that stands to reason.”

  “But I’m doing this for him as much as for you. I want to prove to him that I’m responsible.”

  “By breaking the law?” It was a statement more than a question.

  She did have to wonder if the end justified the means. Only time would tell, and she hoped that if her father ever learned of this outing, he would not be too disappointed by her lack of judgment. “Of course not,” she said. “By catching a thief.”

  He gave her a wry smile, but dropped the subject. “Where are we headed?” he asked.

  His husky voice slid across her skin like a caress. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Munden lives not too far into London.”

  “I take it from the expression on your face that it is not the most savory part of town.”

  “Indeed,” she said.

  “Are you frightened?”

  She frowned. “Of what?”

  “Meg, do you not know what happens to ladies in those unsavory parts of town?”

  “You’ll protect me. I’m not concerned.” That wasn’t entirely accurate. Her hands were shaking fiercely, but no need for him to believe her to be a ninny. Since this escapade was, after all, her idea.

  “I see.”

  “You would prevent anyone from hurting me. Would you not?”

  He looked away from her. “I’m not the gentleman you believe me to be,” he said, his jaw clenching.

  “I never accused you of being a gentleman. I simply don’t believe you’re a beast.” Still amazed to have each leg encased in tight fabric, she wiped her hands across her pants leg. “Are you going to try to convince me that you’re a rotten man and that I should be afraid of you?”

  “No. I know you’d never be afraid of me. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

  Her heart felt as if it had fallen into her shoes. He’d seen the way she looked at him. That meant he’d seen her fascination, her attraction, her longing. She fought the urge to bury her face in her hands.

  “Precisely how do I look at you?” she asked, unable to resist knowing how he would describe it.

  “With no fear or repugnance. You look me in the eyes.”

  How could she not look in his eyes? It was improper for her to be so bold, but she could not resist them. Could not resist staring into their brown and green depths and almost forgetting her own name. “Why would I look at you any other way?”

  “I am an employee, Meg. Surely that has not escaped your attention.”

  “Our station difference?” She waved a hand in front of her. “Simply because I was born into a wealthy family and you were not. That matters not. My father always taught me that people are the same no matter where they sleep. You and I—we are no different.”

  She met his gaze, and it became all too clear how untrue that statement was. They were very different. He’d be hard and sinewy where she was soft and round. Dark where she was light. She took a deep breath. Perhaps tonight had been a bad idea.


  “We are plenty different,” he said. But something told her his reasons would be far from the ones she thought of.

  The carriage rolled to a stop.

  “We must be here,” he said. They both leaned forward to climb out of the carriage, but he stopped. “I want you to listen carefully to everything I say and keep next to me.”

  She was so close now, she could feel his breath on her cheek. Gracious, how was she going to make it through this night with her virtue intact? Were it up to her, she’d give it to him right now, right here in this very carriage. His reputation and her heart be damned.

  She put her hand over her mouth. What was the matter with her? Perhaps she wasn’t as concerned with her reputation as Willow was, but there was no reason to be completely flagrant with herself. Staying close did not mean anything more than staying near him while they were doing this specific task so that she might remain unharmed.

  It was protection, not desire. Protection, not desire. She repeated that three more times in her head. The inky night closed in around her as they stepped down from the carriage. There was no lighting in the alleyway. A shiver ran up her spine.

  “It should be this one, right over there.” She pointed straight ahead of them.

  “Let’s walk around the back of it and see if there is a back door,” he suggested.

  She nodded and followed him forward, treading on his heels in the process.

  Gareth stopped, looked down at her feet, and then back up at her. “Those ridiculous shoes,” he muttered. “When I said stay close, I did not mean walk on top of me. You can step back some. I only meant, don’t go anywhere without me. I want to keep an eye on you.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Sorry.”

  He turned and started walking again.

  She touched his shoulder. “Gareth?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am a bit nervous now.”

  His features softened, then he nodded. She felt his fingers touch hers as he reached down and grabbed her hand. “You’re safe.”

  So there they were walking, fingers entwined, around the back of a dimly lit building. In any other situation, this might have felt as a courtship would, but the rat scurrying past her right foot ruined the romantic image. Shallow water splashed as they stepped through a puddle. Thank goodness she had on these thick-soled shoes rather than her delicate slippers.

  He stopped abruptly and pulled her against the brick wall. Meg could feel the cold mortar through her shirt. Two men walked by, talking loudly and laughing. They disappeared down another alleyway, and Meg released the breath she’d been holding.

  “Goodness, I thought for certain they’d seen us,” Meg said.

  Gareth eyed her, then stepped away from her to put a small amount of distance between their bodies. “They were too deep into their cups and would not have noticed that you were a woman.”

  The rhythmic thump of her heart still pounded in her ears. It was going to be a long night. They needed to get in there quickly and out just the same.

  They stepped around the corner into the alley with the back doors leading into the flats. It took no more than a gentle shove on Gareth’s part to open the correct door. And then they stood in a dark hallway. They walked forward, shuffling quietly through the darkness. Thankfully some light from the moon filtered into the front of the room, making it bright enough for them to maneuver without having to light their candle. There were two rooms off to their right.

  Moving along the shadows, they made their way to a room that housed a desk and one tattered chair.

  “This is a good place to start,” Meg said into Gareth’s ear.

  “Do you have the candle?” Gareth whispered.

  “Yes.” Meg fiddled in her bag and retrieved some matches and lit the candle. It presented enough light for them to see as long as they stayed close by each other, but not so bright that too much light would shine through the window and give suspicion.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  Gareth nodded to the beat-up desk against the wall. “We’ll start there. Look through the drawers; I’ll sort through the papers on the top.”

  They moved over to the desk, and Meg set the candle on the desktop. She opened the first drawer and rifled through the contents. It was mostly odds and ends: a pencil, ink container, papers, and a few coins.

  “What precisely are we looking for?” she asked as she opened another drawer. It seemed her nerves had robbed her of the agenda for the night.

  “Any sort of paperwork that would prove he stole the chocolate boxes,” Gareth said.

  “Of course.” She nodded, then went back to the current drawer.

  “Meg?” he whispered.

  His whisper of her name caressed her as if it had been his hand.

  “Hmm?”

  He held her stare for a moment. “We’re going to be all right.”

  She nodded. And in that moment, she knew they would be. He’d made a promise to her. Not in so many words, but she knew he would not allow any harm to come to her. He would protect her. In most situations, she would not enjoy needing support or protection, but it was evident in this scenario she would be a fool if she said she could manage it on her own. He’d been so wise to come with her tonight. Although part of her didn’t think she would have even gotten out of the carriage had she come here alone. Some sleuth she was.

  Gareth must think her an utter fool. This was her brilliant scheme, and she’d done such a poor job holding her nerves together. She wasn’t even certain what she was so afraid of.

  She read paper after paper, searching for a receipt or anything that would connect Munden to the theft. Toward the back of one drawer, something caught, preventing her from opening it all the way. She reached in and maneuvered it out. A stack of folded parchment. She unfolded it and scanned the first sheet and then the second. Her heart slammed against her chest.

  “Gareth?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you make of these?” she asked as she handed him the stack.

  Gareth examined the sheets a moment before he looked up and met her gaze. “It looks like some sort of accounting. Sheets from a ledger.”

  “My father’s accounting. That’s a sheet from my father’s ledger,” she said. “Seven sheets in total. They must have been cut from my father’s ledger book. Why would Munden take these pages?”

  Gareth inspected the parchment’s edges. “It’s as if he slid a knife right into the book and sliced the pages out.” He looked up at her. “He’s taking the money that goes with them. That has to be the only reason why he would take them,” Gareth said. “Munden is pilfering funds and hiding his tracks by removing the ledger sheets. Who records in this book?”

  “My father and his director are the only people I know that have that sort of access to the book.” She wracked her head trying to think if she’d ever heard her father mention Munden or anyone else doing any of the accounting.

  “Does Munden have access to it?”

  “I’m not certain. Until my father’s accident, I only visited the factory on occasion. Not enough to know Munden’s regular routine. But that night we were locked in the factory together, I had come there to retrieve one of the ledger books for my father. If Mr. Munden took those boxes, then he would have had access to the ledger book as well.”

  “Without these pages, there is no record of these funds. We can assume these are the only pages that are missing, so he hasn’t been doing this for too long.” Gareth said.

  “This certainly explains how he was able to purchase that racing horse. That animal belongs to my father,” she said defiantly.

  “The horse or Munden?” Gareth asked.

  Meg gave him a deliciously wicked smile, and Gareth resisted the urge to pull her to him. “I’d prefer only the horse. Although it might cause great amusement to watch Mr. Munden graze on the lawn of our country estate.”

  Blast it, she was attractive. That red hair drew him in until he wanted nothing m
ore than to bury himself in it. It was mostly hidden at the moment, bundled up beneath that silly cap, but tiny curls around the nape of her neck had escaped. He wanted her. With an urgency he’d never experienced with any other woman.

  “What shall we do with these sheets?” she asked, holding up the bunch.

  “We should take them with us. We’ll put everything back where it goes so it might take him a while to notice they’re missing. But when he does, it will drive him mad. He’ll know someone is on to him.”

  She smiled. “This could be fun.”

  “Yes, it could. We have a few more minutes to look around before we need to leave.”

  Gareth continued digging through the rest of the items littering the top of Munden’s desk, but found nothing relating to the sale of the chocolate boxes.

  He did find something that resembled a receipt for the purchase of the racing horse. He pocketed the scrap of paper, then picked up an envelope.

  “That son of a bitch!” Gareth said, as he read the contents.

  “What? What is it?”

  “This.” He handed her the letter.

  “A gift for you,” she read aloud.

  The Irishman must take blame.

  Or else it will be a shame.

  For when it is through.

  More money’s your due.

  She looked up at Gareth. “A riddle?” she asked.

  “Or a bad poem.”

  “Someone paid Munden to accuse you? Now it makes sense why he won’t let the accusations go. He wants the rest of the payment,” she said.

  Gareth nodded. “Can’t even make a decision himself. He was probably grateful to point the finger at me for something like this while he’s stealing money. No doubt if he were ever accused of taking this money, he’d blame that on me as well.”

  “Who do you think it is?” she asked.

  “I have no idea. I don’t know anyone in this town. I can’t imagine why they would have selected me out of the rest of the workers at the factory.”

  “Perhaps because you’re the newest and no one knows much about you.”

  “We should leave,” Gareth said. “We’ve found enough information.”