“I…don’t…know,” Steele confessed, dropping into his chair. It squeaked noisily in protest as he settled behind his desk. He brushed his hand through his hair, muttering, “I have no earthly idea what I’m doing.”
Exhaling, Sir Lee lowered himself into the chair by the desk. “You’re thinking with the wrong head, is what you’re doing.”
“It’s not like that!”
“Then what is it like?”
Steele swallowed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Adjusting the papers on his desk, he wouldn’t meet the man’s eyes.
“She has no family, no one to look out for her—”
“You’re volunteering for the job?”
The old gent stuck out his chin. “I introduced her to you. I brought her into this house—”
“I swear I won’t harm her. I just…I just can’t…” Coward that he was, he justified, “I just can’t think about the future right now when the boys are in danger. Why did you come here? What do you know?”
Leaning forward, Sir Lee gripped his gold-topped cane, glaring at Steele as if to see down into his soul.
“Please.” Steele hated the note of begging in his voice. “Please tell me what’s developed in the plot against Benbrook.”
Sir Lee harrumphed. “I’ll not let this matter go, you know. You must end this little…infatuation. It can only lead to disaster.” But then he leaned forward, seemingly relenting. “But you’re right, there have been some developments we need to discuss.”
Thank God, Steele thought, relieved and guilt-ridden. Stupid sod that he was, he hadn’t thought this situation through with Miss West. He, the man who planned every step like a perfectly executed play…he’d lost his head where she was concerned. She had a way of making him be just inside that very moment, and not think past it.
That kiss. It had swept him away—to a place where time stopped and there was nothing except her. It had been extraordinary…and terrifying.
Panic about committing to a woman once again lashed through him.
Sir Lee was right about one thing: Benbrook wouldn’t approve.
Nor would the match be seen as fortuitous by society’s standards. Steele knew what people would say. That he’d risen so high, come so far, but despite the title of viscount, he couldn’t escape his birth. The lowly commoner with unrefined tastes would stoop back to his former class to take his wife.
Deidre would be rolling over in her grave. He’d finally become the man she’d deserved…and then he’d ruin it over a young miss with fair hair and luminous eyes. Was he out of his mind?
“Are you all right?” Sir Lee asked. “You look a little green about the gills.”
“No, ah, I’m fine.” Driving away all thoughts of Miss West once and for all, Steele looked up. “I beg of you, please tell me what’s developed.”
Sir Lee watched him, a funny look in his eye. “Word about town is that you are behind the threat against Benbrook’s family.”
Steele felt his brows rise to his hairline. “What?”
“Rumor is that you’ve set the whole thing up as a means of convincing Benbrook to make you his heir. Once you’ve been made heir and guardian of the children, then you’ll have everything that is his. Thus you’ll have your revenge against him for not accepting you into his family years ago.”
Leaning forward, Steele hammered his fist on the desktop. “You don’t believe that claptrap, do you?”
Tilting his head, Sir Lee examined Steele with sharp green eyes. “Is it true?”
“Stuff and nonsense!”
“How did you gain your title?”
Steele’s eyes narrowed. “Did you make up that rumor just to get me to tell you how I gained my title?”
“No. The rumor really is being circulated about town among the less reputable elements of society.”
Steele straightened. “Are they saying that I’ll pay if the boys or Benbrook are eliminated?”
“Yes.”
“Bloody, bloody hell!” Steele shoved his hand through his hair, trying to make his brain work. “How do I stop the rumors?”
“I don’t know that it’s possible.”
“Bloody, bloody hell!” Standing, Steele began to pace.
Sir Lee watched him with keen eyes. “Why are you so reticent to share how you saved the prince’s life?”
He turned away, scraping his brain for a way to keep the boys from danger when every scum-of-the-earth felon saw harming them as a payday. “If you know the story, then why do you keep asking me about it?”
“It’s a matter of ownership.”
Steele turned on his heel. “What the blazes does that mean?”
“It means you lead separate lives. One of which you will not own up to. It makes for a very unhealthy agent.”
Stopping in his tracks, Steele faced the former spymaster. “I’m not your agent! And I’d appreciate you keeping out of my life.” He knew that he was talking more about Miss West than about being a Sentinel, but the sentiment was real. “I’m only helping you with Benbrook because you blackmailed me into it. Don’t think that gives you leave to dabble in my personal business.”
“Like your affaire with Miss West?”
“I’m not having an affaire with Miss West! I’ve never even touched her before today! Stay out of my life, Sir Lee!”
“Which life? The solicitor-general’s or the viscount’s or the Sentinel’s?”
Steele scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“Your friends. The Cutlers. At Tipton’s Tavern they were quite free about showing off that fancy club you fellows use. After a few pints of brew loosened their tongues, they were happy to explain how the iron-topped tipstaff is a far more reliable weapon than any pistol.” Sir Lee leaned back into the chair. “Your secret won’t be safe for long if people put together the masked man who’s been meting out his own brand of justice about town with the man raised by the Cutlers.”
Steele opened his hands in exasperation. “What am I to you? A puzzle to be properly fitted? A man to be set in his place? A scapegoat to be hung out to dry?”
“Until you reconcile who you are, you can never find peace.”
“What business is it of yours? What the blazes do you care if I’m at peace or not?”
Rubbing his chin, Sir Lee exhaled. “I suppose I can’t help it; when I see a problem I long to fix it.”
“I’m not a problem. I don’t have any problems besides trying to stop a killer. Which is why you’re here. And while we’re busy tossing out theories about who is behind this whole plot, you’re like a puppet master yanking on everyone’s strings, Sir Lee. How do I know you’re not behind it?”
“Because Patrick Devonshire is,” Sir Lee declared with a flourish.
“Patrick, the nephew? Benbrook’s brother’s son?”
“Yes.”
“He’s left India?”
“I assume that he’s in England to be able to place a price on Benbrook’s head.” Sir Lee scratched his craggy cheek. “Although I’ve yet to be able to connect him to the carriage accident that killed Seth and Felix’s parents.” He looked up. “But he’s behind it all. I’m sure of it. If he kills Benbrook and then the boys, he inherits it all. It’s a simple case of greed.”
“But his father would inherit.”
“His father is dead. He died about the time this whole nasty business began. If Benbrook and the boys are eliminated, then everything would go to Patrick Devonshire.”
“How can you be so sure it’s Patrick Devonshire?”
“There was an attempt on Benbrook’s life yesterday. We caught the bugger trying to escape Dorset.”
Steele’s hands clenched. “An ‘attempt’…Is Benbrook all right?”
“He’s fine.”
“And did you catch Devonshire?”
“Nay. But we got his hired hand. Now we have a witness who links everything back to Patrick Devonshire. The problem is, the man seems unwilling to point any other fingers. I’d love to know
who else is in Patrick’s employ. I’d bet ten pounds your former footman Claude would be in the mix.”
Steele’s hands clenched. “If I ever get my hands on that bugger…”
“Which, Devonshire or Claude?”
“Either will do, but both would be ideal.”
Exhaling, Sir Lee waved a hand. “My guess is that Patrick Devonshire is circulating the rumor about you being behind the murders to deflect any blame from centering on him. I’m sure his plan was that he be in India or parts abroad when word reached him of the deaths. Your activities as a Sentinel may also play into the mix if he knows of them.”
“He doesn’t,” Steele bit out.
“Does anyone?”
As he thought of the night he’d been unconscious in the barn, Steele’s gut clenched. “I don’t think so.”
“But you’re not sure.” It was a statement, not a question.
Steele rubbed his hands over his jaw, wondering if he dared ask. He took a chance. “Do you know anything about a widow involved with Lucifer Laverty?”
Sir Lee’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “No. Do you think she’s in league with Patrick Devonshire?”
“No.” Steel shook his head. “Not with Devonshire or the plot. I just…it’s an unrelated matter.”
Sir Lee’s gaze glistened with warning. “Lucifer Laverty is as nasty a bloke as they come. Are you sure you want me to dig in that quarter?”
Steele nodded. “Yes. It’s just…you asked if anyone might know about my nocturnal activities…”
“And she might?”
“Yes. But it’s more than that. She…I think she may be in trouble and I want to try to help her if I can.”
The old gent nodded. “I’ll look into it. I have some contacts within Lucifer Laverty’s organization.”
“How come I’m not surprised?”
“Just because they’re criminals does not mean that they’re not patriotic.” Sir Lee leaned forward, his green gaze filled with curiosity. “In your travels about London at night, have you learned anything about Lucifer Laverty that might be helpful?”
“Aside from astonishingly well-organized thievery, Lucifer Laverty’s favorite forms of commerce are favors and debt. I don’t envy anyone on the debtor’s side of the ledger where’s he’s concerned. The man’s a viper.” Steele exhaled. “Did the man you caught in Dorset by any chance know Devonshire’s whereabouts?”
“Nay.”
“So our killer is still on the loose. And he may be in London.”
“Yes, and Benbrook will be arriving from Dorset shortly.”
Steele straightened. “He doesn’t trust me to protect the boys?”
“That’s not the issue at all. The attempt on his life really scared him.” Sir Lee shifted in his chair. “I think he’s feeling…mortal, and being with the boys will be a comfort to him. He misses them terribly.”
“Benbrook in London means everyone who is a target will be in one city. I don’t like it.” Stepping over to the window, Steele peered down at the garden. It was empty. Where were the boys and Miss West?
Steele walked over to the entry door and yanked it open. “Dudley!”
The butler scrambled from down the hall. “Yes, my lord?”
“I want you to make sure the boys are with two footmen at all times, even while inside.”
“Yes, Your Lordship.”
“And I want every room in the house checked. Every floor, every room, closets, the whole house.”
“Again, my lord?”
“It’s been two days. Have it done.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Steele gnawed on his lip, tempted to know where Miss West might be. So tempted…“By the by, where are the boys?”
“At the park, my lord.”
Alarm sliced through him. “The park? When did they go? Who went with them?”
“Miss West and two footmen, Zachariah and Foster, accompanied the boys, my lord.” At the look on Steele’s face, Dudley asked, “Should they not have gone?”
“No. No. They did what they were supposed to, they told you and were well accompanied.” Still, a panicky feeling ate at his guts. He wanted the boys close, Miss West even nearer. He knew that it was completely irrational, but he had the sudden urge to lock them in the house and hold them dear. At least until Patrick Devonshire was no longer a threat. “Which park? The one across the street?”
“No, my lord. Coleridge Square Park is where they went.”
Steele knew he was going before the words were out of his mouth. “I’ll join them.”
“I’ll get your hat and gloves, my lord.” Bowing, the butler stepped from the room.
Sir Lee’s gaze was knowing. “You care for those boys.”
“Of course I do.”
“They’re not just Benbrook’s brood?”
Steele shifted his shoulders, feeling the slight ache from where the rock had struck him. “They’re…my family. If anything happens to those boys, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Placing his hat on his head, Sir Lee nodded. “Have a care. I’m off to go see about a viper named Lucifer Laverty.”
Chapter 34
Abigail walked with Seth and Felix toward Coleridge Square Park, her mind whirling. Zachariah and Foster trailed behind, their boots shuffling along the sidewalk. The boys rambled on about who they might see at the park and the games they might play, but Abigail hardly heard them.
I love Lord Steele, Abigail marveled. In a way I’ve never loved anyone before.
It wasn’t the infatuated puppyish adoration she’d felt for Phineas.
It wasn’t the fairy-tale dream she’d secretly imagined as a child.
Her feelings for Steele…Jason…She shivered with delight. Her feelings went beyond anything she’d ever felt before. Her body yearned for his as a flower seeks the sun. Her mind longed to connect with him on every level. Her heart…as a swan seeks its lifelong mate, with all her heart she wanted to be his partner, forever.
Abigail swallowed, clutching her hand to her chest. She realized that her feelings for Steele probably weren’t reciprocated. He was fond of her, that was clear. He was too much of a true gentleman to toy with her.
And that kiss!
It had been beyond her wildest dreams. She’d practically floated away on a cloud.
Yet at this moment the man who’d kissed her as sweetly as she’d ever been kissed was with Mr. Linder-Myer discussing marriage to another.
Stop being unrealistic, she told herself. What did you expect? A proposal on bended knee?
She was older now, more hardened to the ways of men. She knew that she had to push aside any girlish heartache as the impractical yearnings of a fairy-tale fantasy. She was a scarlet woman, a woman of the world; she should be realistic about her future and any possibility with this man.
I should offer to become his mistress, she realized.
But could she continue on as Seth and Felix’s governess? No. She couldn’t be a proper role model to them; it would be wrong. A child needed someone to look up to, someone to set an example. A child needed…
A child.
Steele’s child. Nothing in this world would make me happier than to bear his child. The realization was like a lightning bolt blasting through her, changing…everything.
She suddenly knew, without question, that she could not be Steele’s mistress, no matter what justifications she tried to make.
She could become pregnant—and by so doing, condemn that child to a life as the bastard of the Viscount Steele. Bastard. The idea chilled her to the bone. By-blow, born on the wrong side of the blanket, out-of-wedlock…
Abigail clutched her middle, feeling ill.
She’d always wondered if she was barren. She’d been with Phineas, and nothing had happened. She’d been with the masked man, and nothing had happened. Sick woman that she was, part of her wanted to believe that she truly was barren.
But she couldn’t take that chance, not when an innocent child’s life lay
in the balance. Not when she knew that deep down she yearned to carry Steele’s babe.
“Where is everyone?” Felix demanded, kicking a stone.
Abigail looked up, shocked to note that they’d reached the grassy hummock where their friends usually congregated.
The glade was empty.
Birds flitted through the trees, chirping merrily. A squirrel ran up a tree. But no human could be seen.
“Oh my gosh!” Abigail slapped her palm to her forehead. “The fair!” Turning to the boys, she explained, “I’m so sorry. I forgot about the street fair at King’s Cross. It’s this afternoon.”
“Can we go?” Felix asked.
Abigail winced. “I don’t think Lord Steele would approve.”
“Uncle Jason!” Seth demanded. “You must call him Uncle Jason.”
Rubbing his back, Abigail smiled. “He’s your Uncle Jason. To me he’s Lord Steele.”
Felix crossed his arms, his disappointment as clear as the nose on his face. “I want to go to the street fair!”
Abigail shook her head. “You know the rules: We must inform Dudley of where we are going. I told him Coleridge Square Park. So that is were we must be.”
Felix’s eyes narrowed, and from the look on his face, his mind was working through ways to get what he wanted. “The rules also require that we are with two adults at all times.”
“Yes.”
“So why can’t Zachariah go back to the house and tell Dudley that we’re going to the street fair? That leaves us with you and Foster.”
Biting her lip, Abigail considered the suggestion. “How about this? How about Zachariah goes back to the house and asks Lord Steele permission for us to go to the street fair? We’ll wait here at the park, and if your uncle says yes, then we shall go.”
Felix nodded. “Accepted!”
Abigail smiled. “You have the makings of an excellent barrister, Felix.”
“What about me?” Seth stomped his foot. “What do I have the makings of?”
“I see you having the making of a tiger.” Touching Seth’s shoulder, Abigail jumped away. “Tag!”
For the next ten minutes, Seth, Felix, Abigail, and Foster played tag the tiger. Abigail thanked the heavens the lads were entertained while they waited for Zachariah’s return.
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