Daring the Duke (The Seven Curses of London Book 7)

by Lana Williams

  How could she find a way to prove to him and herself that she was prepared to be the duchess he deserved?

  ~*~

  The next day, Elijah took a seat before the Earl of Pennsboro’s elegant but bare desk, wondering if the man ever used it. Not a scratch marred the glossy surface. But that wasn’t his concern. He needed to find a way to convince the man to aid them in helping to catch Hurley. Of even greater concern was making certain that if he purchased anything from Hurley, it wasn’t consumed by anyone.

  “This is a surprise,” the earl said, a wary expression on his face. “What brings you to my library on such a fine summer’s day?”

  The conversation was going to be awkward. There was no way around that. A fine line existed between insulting the proud man over the state of his finances and gaining his assistance to stop Hurley.

  Awkward, indeed. Especially since his first conversation with the man had gone so poorly.

  “I appreciate you taking the time to see me again.” Elijah had debated his options prior to this meeting, but no new arguments had come to mind. He cleared his throat, hoping the best words would roll off his tongue. “I wondered if you’d given any thought to what we discussed previously.”

  “I thought I made my opinion on the matter clear.” The pointed look he gave Elijah suggested he wasn’t prepared to entertain the conversation again.

  “Indeed. However, we’ve unveiled new information that suggests the supplier I mentioned, D.T. Hurley, is even more of a problem than we first realized.”

  The earl raised a brow. “I don’t see how such matters are my concern.”

  What he really meant was that gentlemen didn’t discuss things like where large quantities of liquor were purchased.

  “I know it must seem unusual, but Hurley is a particularly troublesome supplier. Wouldn’t want you to serve anything that might make the guests ill.”

  A slow flush spread up the earl’s face. “Are you suggesting I would serve something of poor quality?”

  “Not at all,” Elijah countered. Though he thought if the earl could save money, he would. “I’m saying there is an unscrupulous supplier afoot, and I need your help to stop him before someone dies.”

  The flush receded. “Unscrupulous, you say?”

  “Quite.” Elijah leaned forward as though he was imparting a secret. “We’ve learned D.T. Hurley’s focus has recently shifted to the ton.”

  “Oh?”

  “The prices he offers make his products especially tempting.”

  “I only purchase the finest. Nothing but the best for my guests.”

  Elijah smiled to keep from shaking his head at the outright lie. Everyone knew the earl pinched every coin that crossed his path. “Of course. Hurley comes highly recommended. Unfortunately, some of the liquor he sells has been tampered with to increase its life and intoxication level.”

  He chose to omit that it was diluted to reduce the cost. No purpose would be served in riling Pennsboro again.

  “Oh?” Something about the way the man ran his finger over the end of his moustache made Elijah think he’d heard something similar. “I don’t personally see to such things. It’s all done by the butler.”

  “Of course.”

  “But we cannot have such people in business. It’s our duty to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

  “Indeed.” Elijah was fairly certain the earl had never assisted anyone in his life, but now wasn’t the time to discuss that either.

  “If I were to come across this...supplier, what would you have me do?”

  “The authorities are gathering evidence against him. The more we can provide them with, the better. If he were to approach you, we’d like you to do business with him as you normally might.”

  “If he were to approach.”

  Elijah clenched his jaw. He’d be willing to wager his right arm that Pennsboro had already ordered alcohol from Hurley based on the way he acted. “Yes, if. Then proceed with the order.”

  “What type of spirits should I order?”

  “Any. He has a broad array available. Then notify me once the order arrives. We’ll take a few samples to be tested and proceed from there.”

  “Working with the police, eh?” The earl chuckled. “Can’t imagine what your father would think of that.”

  “I would hope he’d be proud I’m attempting to stop harm from befalling others.” In fact, Elijah was certain of it. The realization brought a feeling of achievement.

  “I meant no offense. Just seems odd for a duke to be involved in such things.”

  Rather than addressing his remark, Elijah continued to the next awkward part of the conversation. “Unfortunately, none of the items from that shipment could be served until after the testing has been completed, which could take several weeks. A second order will be needed to serve at the ball.”

  “A second one?” The outrage in the man’s tone grated over Elijah. “How do you expect me to pay for that?” Realization came over the earl’s expression at his blunder of revealing his financial woes. His mouth gaped open then promptly closed.

  Though Elijah was tempted to pretend he didn’t understand the reason for the earl’s question, he took the high ground and glazed over the details. “I’d be pleased to make arrangements for the second order.”

  “Humph. That would certainly simplify things.”

  “If you’ll advise if and when an order with Hurley is placed, I would appreciate it. Of course, we need to keep the information discreet. The less who know, the better.”

  “Of course.”

  Elijah managed to keep his polite smile in place after the details had been settled, and he’d walked out of the mansion. Attempting to act with such diplomacy was enough to drive a man to drink.

  ~*~

  “We’ve got a big problem, Hurley,” Connelly said as D.T. walked in the door the next morn.

  D.T. sighed. Was it too much to ask that just once, good news would greet him? Mayhap Roberts, his former assistant, had been right—the association with McCarthy had brought them nothing but bad luck.

  “What is it?” he asked reluctantly.

  “One of the workers from Ryker’s just came by to tell us the supply of henbane that was supposed to arrive this morn won’t be comin’.”

  “Why not?”

  “The cops took it all. They raided the warehouse yesterday afternoon, walking in, pretty as you please, and hauled it away.”

  D.T.’s thoughts spun with the many problems this news created. “Damn me.”

  “Damn us all,” Connelly corrected. “We can’t finish the next two orders without more.”

  “I thought one was ready for delivery this afternoon?”

  “We’ll be three cases short.”

  “Then we’ll have to use the fox-glove.” He’d never used it before and knew it was poisonous and therefore dangerous, but so was the henbane. What else could he do? It was the only thing they currently happened to have on hand.

  “Do you think that wise?” Connelly asked, his doubt obvious. “McCarthy’s the one who arranged for that order. We can’t risk a problem with it.”

  “I don’t see any other option.” D.T. wanted to punch something to release the anger filling him. And the fear. How was he to escape this mess? McCarthy had warned him not to “muck this up.” Despite the fact that none of this was his fault, he had to try to rectify the situation.

  Had the peelers known Ryker was selling him the henbane? If so, they might show up on his doorstep at any time. Where was Sampson, the bobbie on McCarthy’s payroll? Of course, he probably hadn’t realized the raid on Ryker’s warehouse would affect D.T.

  “Finish enough to fill three crates with the fox-glove. But be careful with the damned stuff. See if you can convince one of the men to test it,” D.T. ordered. “Hopefully no one will die. I’ll see if I can locate any other ingredients for the next order.” He reminded himself he’d been doing this long before McCarthy decided to become involved. He co
uld check with a few of his old contacts who might have some henbane. Or perhaps they had another ingredient that could be used instead. Anything would be better than fox-glove.

  “What if McCarthy comes by?”

  “Don’t tell him about any of this.” That was the last thing he wanted. Unfortunately, the man had been dropping in far too often and had ears everywhere.

  “Keep the men workin’ on those three crates. I’ll be back.” D.T. strode out, hoping against hope that he could locate more ingredients. His life might depend on not only fixing this problem but keeping it hidden from McCarthy.

  ~*~

  Lillian entered Oliver’s library to speak with him, only to stop short at the sight of his empty desk. The idea that he’d been a recluse a year ago seemed impossible. The man was never home.

  Oliver had told her that he, Elijah, and Rutland were trying to catch the man who diluted the alcohol that had caused the duchess to fall ill. Word had slowly spread that several others also had become sick from that same party. Lillian had pried a few of the details from Oliver when he’d interrupted her and Elijah’s conversation earlier in the week.

  She’d hoped to ask Oliver if he’d told Elijah that she looked forward to seeing him soon. With luck, Elijah would call on her again. Then she could tell him what was in her heart.

  She only hoped she wasn’t too late. What if he’d given up on her or set aside any feelings he had to pursue someone else? The idea concerned her more than she could say. Hence the reason she wanted to speak with Oliver.

  With a sigh, she neared Oliver’s desk, wondering if she could find a clue as to when he might return. Several notes in his handwriting caught her attention.

  If she hadn’t twice read the chapter on drunkenness in the Seven Curses book, she wouldn’t have known what she was looking at. His notes referred to someone named Hurley, along with several of the ingredients that could be added to alcohol. Questions and remarks were written beside each ingredient.

  Rather than disturb the notes, she went in search of Julia without success. She returned to the foyer a few minutes later to ask a footman to advise her when either of them returned, only to hear voices coming from the library.

  She recognized Oliver’s immediately. It took several moments before she realized Viscount Rutland was with him. By then her curiosity was caught.

  “He’ll be forced to find a new supplier since we convinced the police to confiscate the substance Burbridge and I discovered in the building near the docks,” Oliver said.

  “Finding a large supply on short notice will be nearly impossible. Perhaps he’ll cancel the order.”

  “Or he might have already prepared it. McCarthy’s involvement is surely making Hurley desperate.”

  Their conversation drew Lillian closer.

  “Where would we begin to look for those who carry such items?” Rutland asked. “Finding the last location near the docks involved more luck than skill.”

  “The ingredients are used for purposes other than adding to alcohol. Apothecaries often carry them. We’d have to find those with larger quantities.”

  “Do you have any idea how many apothecaries are in the city?”

  “No. Nor do I want to know,” Oliver said. “But our only other choice is to wait and see if he manages to fill the order for Pennsboro. Or we could try to catch him buying more of the ingredients.”

  “Very well. Putting more pressure on Hurley might give us a better chance to tie McCarthy to the tainted alcohol. We’ll make a list of apothecaries nearest his location and widen our search from there.”

  Excitement filled Lillian, for now she knew how she could be the duchess Elijah deserved. What more noble path could she take than a quest to aid him?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “It is satisfactory, however, to discover that matters [of drunkenness] are not growing worse.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  The next afternoon, Lillian studied the list of apothecaries she’d made as she walked along the street, the reassuring presence of Robert, the footman, behind her. The task she’d set for herself was more difficult than she’d anticipated.

  The first one she’d visited had been of little help. A surlier individual she’d never met. Once he’d determined she didn’t wish to purchase anything, he’d been most uncooperative, refusing to admit whether he carried the items she referenced.

  The second one had frowned at her, then asked if she was aware the items she inquired about were poisonous. Though she knew they were from what she’d read in the Seven Curses book, hearing the apothecary say it with an incredulous expression made her truly realize the seriousness of the issue. He’d shaken his head as though it were blasphemous she’d asked.

  But she wasn’t prepared to give up. While visiting all the apothecaries in London was impossible, she could stop in several each day until she found one who gave her the answers she sought.

  Telling Oliver and Julia of her mission seemed unwise until it was complete. The chance of them approving was slim. Nonexistent even. They thought she was shopping with Violet.

  She intended to discover which apothecaries carried significant quantities of the items that could be added to alcohol. She would then hand Elijah the names and addresses of the apothecaries who carried the ingredients Hurley might use. Elijah would be so pleased, saying she’d be the perfect companion. He’d see that she could add value to his life and would make the perfect duchess. The image of that perfect moment had formed in her mind, and she couldn’t let it go.

  A silly dream, she knew. The chance of her finding the apothecaries was so unlikely as to make it laughable. Yet she couldn’t imagine going to him and merely offering herself. Her love for him didn’t feel like enough. She wanted to give him something more. Something he would truly value.

  She didn’t feel worthy of his love without a gift in hand, even if that gift was only information. Not after all these years of never feeling she was good enough. Though it wasn’t logical, somewhere deep inside, she believed she had to earn his affection. Love was too distant to even consider.

  The thought had her straightening, determined to do what little she could. Inquiries were not difficult. It was all in the manner she asked. She’d make better use of her social skills and wiles on the next one, she decided with a lift of her chin.

  She’d chosen the ones on the list located within a few streets of each other for this first foray. The next was just ahead. She tucked the list into her reticule and considered what she could do differently this time. A bit more flattery as to the apothecary’s knowledge, she decided.

  “Wait here, Robert.” He’d accompanied her into the last two shops, but that proved to be a distraction to the apothecaries.

  “Of course, my lady,” he agreed as he opened the door for her.

  She stepped into the dim interior, pressing a gloved finger to her nose at the variety of odors sweeping her senses. The strange scents matched the odd items bottled and shelved in neat rows. Snake skins, beehives, and several other items she’d rather not stare at long enough to identify.

  What was it about this city and its smells?

  One more thing to which she needed to become accustomed, she thought as she closed the door behind her. She intended for London to become her home. With Elijah.

  A tinkling bell announced her arrival, cutting short the muffled sounds of angry voices coming from behind a black curtain that separated the shop from the rear.

  A tall, gaunt-like man emerged from behind the curtain and glided toward her.

  “Good day. How may I be of assistance?” He reminded her of a performer at a magic show she’d seen as a child. He raised a brow as he gestured toward the shelves with a flourish. Did he think that would make his wares more appealing? “Are you in need of something in particular?”

  She turned to look about. “What an impressive selection.” She supposed it truly was, based on the variety of colored and oddly shaped bottles and tins displayed.
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br />   “Thank you.” He practically crooned with pride as his gaze swept the space. “What brings you to my shop?”

  “Actually, I’m in need of information for which I am willing to pay.”

  “Oh?” His brow raised again in precisely the same manner as before. Did he practice that look before a mirror?

  “Do you carry green copperas or multum?”

  He studied her in silence for a long moment. “How do you intend to use such things?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course. In what quantity and form would you need them?”

  She blinked. She didn’t have the answer to either question. That hadn’t crossed her mind. Would knowing he had them on hand be enough to aid her cause? “Does that mean you have either of them in your shop?”

  “I may have some.” He seemed almost reluctant to answer the question.

  “What about jalap?” She stumbled over the word, uncertain of the proper pronunciation.

  “Why are you asking these questions?” the man asked. “What use would you have for any of these items?”

  “As I mentioned, it’s for informational purposes.” She drew a little closer and offered a friendly smile, hoping to encourage him to answer her next question. “I’m interested in henbane as well. Do you carry significant quantities of any of these?”

  Before the shopkeeper could answer, a man stepped from behind the curtain. “Here now. Why are you askin’ so many questions?”

  Startled, Lillian frowned at the angry man. “Who are you?”

  “Never mind. I’m the one askin’ the questions now.” He strode forward, his angry expression causing her to take a step back. “Why do you want to know about those particular items?”

  “What concern is it of yours?” Fear trickled along her skin, giving her gooseflesh. She reminded herself the footman was just outside the door, but at the moment, he seemed too far away to be of help.