“Does seem like a string of coincidences? Don’t it?” Swifdon said.
Rafe set his jaw. “I always knew Cade was up to more than just some innocent fun, but I had no idea he was into this much trouble. I mean, the fake names, the pretend death. He’s probably wanted by the law in half a dozen other countries.”
“If this is true…” Swifdon eyed Rafe carefully.
Rafe let out a deep breath and lowered his voice. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid my twin brother is the Black Fox. If it’s true, I cannot keep it a secret. Not even for family.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Danielle darted behind the carriage wheels, her boots sucked into the mud. Trailing a person was never simple. It was much easier, however, when one dressed as a male. It had been sheer torture, these last few days, being trussed up in stays and forced to wear bonnets when she left the house. She was convinced the garment was waging a constant battle to strangle her.
She’d left the house ostensibly to run an errand. Then she’d hidden in an alleyway and changed as quickly as she could, stuffing the gown and other accoutrements behind a hedge. She could only hope the clothing remained where she left it. If not, she’d be forced to crawl back to Grimaldi and ask for new things. That would be awkward.
Now that she was wearing a flowy gray shirt, breeches, and boots, she felt better than she had all week. Pretending to be male had many advantages and one of them was the ease and comfort of breeches.
She hurried across the road and braced her back against the wall of a nearby shop, turning and tugging down the brim of her cap in an effort to disguise herself. She’d trailed a great many people in her day and if she didn’t mistake her guess, Cade knew, or at least suspected, he was being followed. He stopped too often, glanced around too much. Either that or he was hoping to ensure he wasn’t being followed and of course that was a fruitless hope.
Danielle had tracked him from Mayfair to a section of town she’d rarely been to before. It was a rookery. St. Giles. She was familiar with seedy parts of London, but the wharves were more her stomping grounds. The rookeries were unfamiliar territory and completely unsafe for a woman alone. Another advantage to dressing like a male. Still it was a good thing she knew how to take care of herself.
She followed Cade down one dark, dank alleyway after another in a zigzag pattern, one that clearly indicated he was suspicious. He was good. She’d allow him that. But she was better. She ducked into storefronts and hid in the shadows, while allowing him to maintain a sizable lead.
Where was he going? What was he doing? Was this why Grimaldi wanted her to watch him? To discover who he was meeting with and why?
Finally, Cade came to a stop in front of a questionable-looking tavern. The Bear’s Paw. He ducked inside, doffing his hat. Danielle waited an interminable five minutes before ducking in herself. It didn’t take her long to spy Cade in the back, sitting at a table with a swarthy-looking man. She sidled up as near as she dared and leaned back to listen. Good thing she had the hearing of a bat.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Duhaime,” the man said, greeting Cade. If she hadn’t already seen him sit down, she might’ve checked to ensure she’d followed the right man. Why was this man calling him Duhaime? She slid onto a nearby stool.
“How do you do, Moreau?” Cade replied.
“I cannot complain,” Moreau replied. “Care for a drink?”
“Do I ever refuse a drink?” Cade replied.
Moreau laughed and called to the barmaid who soon returned with two mugs of ale.
“Do you have it?” Cade asked after the barmaid slid the mug in front of him.
“Oui,” came Moreau’s answer.
Danielle leaned closer. She waved the barmaid away from herself. There was some movement and rustling, but their coats hid whatever they were trading off. Maudit. She couldn’t see.
“This is the original?” Cade asked.
“Absolument.”
Danielle pretended to be preoccupied with tying her boot.
“And the payment?” Moreau asked.
This time Danielle heard coins jingle. She surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder at the men, but couldn’t see how much was being exchanged. They were stealthy, which meant they were up to no good.
“Have you heard anything about le Renard Noir?”
Danielle blinked rapidly, her heart pounded. The Black Fox? She leaned closer to hear the answer. The stool tipped, apparently one of its legs was shorter than the others. Danielle nearly toppled to the ground. She righted herself and slapped her hands on the table in front of her to keep steady. So. Poorly. Done. By the time she could pick up the thread of conversation again, it had drifted to pleasantries and bawdy jokes. Maudit. She’d missed whatever they’d said about the Black Fox. As they spoke, she took note of some of the other patrons and her environment. She didn’t have long before the barmaid returned and demanded an order or made her leave.
It wasn’t until many minutes later that she finally realized it. This entire time … Cade had been speaking in flawless, fluent French.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cade hoped the boy who’d been following him got an earful. It was not particularly unusual to speak French, but he had no way of knowing whether the lad did. He didn’t look like a particularly well-educated sort, but Cade had to be certain his conversation hadn’t been overheard. There was one way to find out. Unfortunately, the boy had not removed his cap and Cade had yet to get a good look at his face. He’d been an excellent tracker. But Cade was an even better evader. He’d allowed the boy to follow him.
“Do you see that boy?” he asked Moreau in French. “The one with the blue cap behind you?”
Moreau glanced furtively back at the lad.
Cade winked at his friend, who quickly caught on to his ploy. The boy was doing a fair job of pretending as if he were simply another tavern patron.
“Oui,” Moreau replied.
“He looks like a strong, healthy boy,” Cade continued in French. “What say you and I press him into service?”
The side of the boy’s cap tilted slightly, but otherwise, he remained rooted to the spot.
“Take him to the ships, you mean?” Moreau asked.
“Yes. No one here will care much if we drag him out kicking and screaming,” Cade continued. “We might just make a bit of coin tonight.” Another wink to his friend and Cade pushed back his chair with great aplomb, allowing the legs of the chair to drag dramatically across the wooden planks so the boy would hear.
By the time Cade stood and turned toward him, the boy had fled, silent as a wraith. Cade glanced around. The lad was nowhere to be seen. The front door was swinging as if it had recently been used. He ran to the door and out into the street. It was empty save for some urchins playing nearby, a mangy-looking dog, and a drunk, sleeping off his stupor on a nearby doorstep. Whoever the lad was, he was good. Better than Cade had thought. He’d had every intention of collaring him and taking him into the alley to garner some answers. No matter. Cade had discerned what he’d wanted to know. The lad, whoever he was, knew French. His tracker was no English urchin.
* * *
Danielle had to force herself not to run all the way back to Mayfair. Cade had been onto her. It wasn’t unusual that he spoke French, of course. She already knew he understood the language. It was the way he spoke it that intrigued her. Intrigued her and surprised her. He spoke with the fluid ease of a native, something most Englishmen never accomplished. It was clear Cade had spent some time in her native country. Considerable time, if she didn’t mistake her guess, and that was interesting indeed.
What was his story? The man wanted people to think he was the gadabout brother of a newly minted viscount, but there was more to him than that. She wanted to find out all of it. Such as what in the nom de dieu was he doing speaking with a Frenchman about the Black Fox? Grimaldi was right to be suspicious of him.
Cade had been aware that he was being followed and even worse, he’d known it was her (or th
e lad she’d pretended to be) and had said those things in French to let her know. He wasn’t going to pull a boy out of a tavern and press him into the English Navy. She knew he’d been jesting, but she also couldn’t risk him discovering her identity. She would be completely without an explanation had he discovered his sister-in-law’s maid chasing him across town. Dressed as a lad!
Thank goodness her clothing was where she’d left it. She dressed quickly and with relative ease after a great deal of practice in her bedchamber last night. Now she knew for certain that Cade Cavendish had secrets she desperately wanted to discover.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cade slid his key into the lock on the front door of Rafe’s town house. He winced. The click echoed in the hallway and the rattle of the door sounded like a bloody racket in the stillness of the night. It was long past midnight and the place was dark and quiet. No doubt he’d wake the entire household.
He hadn’t got far today. He’d been certain Moreau would have more information about what the French knew about the Black Fox. Absolutely nothing. He also hadn’t been successful in locating the man who had sucker punched him. After leaving Moreau at the tavern, he’d gone to a few of his favorite haunts, keeping an eye out for the chap. The lad who’d followed him to the Bear’s Paw today certainly wasn’t the man who’d jumped him at the theater, but no doubt the boy worked for him.
Cade wasn’t any closer to finding out who had been after him, or why. He cursed himself for the hundredth time for hitting the scoundrel so hard he’d passed out. Blast it. He should have dragged the man into an alley and tried to revive him.
Cade stole across the darkened foyer. His hand was on the balustrade when a sultry female voice drifted toward him.
“Late night, no?”
Danielle. He smiled in the darkness before turning to face her. “Waiting up for me, eh?”
She strolled out of the shadows beneath the stairs. “I was helping myself to a nightcap.”
He arched a brow. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. What would my brother say if he knew you were tipping back his port?”
She gave him a challenging stare. “Are you going to tell him?”
“Not if you share.”
She was wearing the same white gown he’d seen her in yesterday but her hair was loose in a chignon, a few dark tendrils brushing her creamy shoulders. “What about the Madeira you promised me?”
“Funny you should mention it. I stashed it in the library. Care to join me?”
Her answer was to give him her arm. He put her hand on his sleeve and escorted her down the corridor and around the corner to the library. He opened the door quietly, pulled her through, and shut it. He led her over to the settee and saw her settled. Then he left to light a candle that sat on a nearby table. Next, he strolled over to a far bookshelf where he rummaged behind some books before producing the bottle of wine.
“You weren’t jesting when you said you stashed it.”
He grinned at her. “Couldn’t risk some efficient maid finding it and putting it back in the kitchens. Mary, perhaps?”
From the sideboard he pulled out two wineglasses. Popping the cork off the bottle, he poured the dark red liquid before coming back to join Danielle on the settee. He handed her a glass.
She took a sip. “This is quite good.”
“Better than the port?” he asked.
“I don’t know. You came in before I had any of the port.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if you had been waiting up for me.”
She laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Cavendish.”
He tipped his head to the side. “Half of my day would be in ruins if I stopped flattering myself.”
“Why do I not doubt that?” She leaned back, took a long drink, and sighed.
“Long day?” he asked.
“Not any longer than any of the others,” she said in voice that sounded weary.
“Why are you wearing those clothes?”
Cade glanced down at himself. He was wearing the same coarse woollen breeches, cheap burgundy waistcoat, and scuffed boots he’d had on all day. The clothes Monsieur Duhaime could afford. “What do you mean?” Better to play dumb than to explain himself.
“I don’t know. You seem a bit … underdressed for a Mayfair drawing room.”
He held up his glass to the firelight. “I prefer to find my amusements in parts of town outside of Mayfair.”
Danielle raised her glass, too. “I can drink to that.” She took a sip. “What do you think your brother would say if he found us here?”
Cade pushed out his long legs and leaned his head back against the settee next to hers. She didn’t admonish him for it. Progress. “Ah, no doubt there would be scolding and reprimands. Perhaps a lecture. Don’t worry. It would all be on my head, not yours.”
“And Lady Daphne?” Danielle asked.
He groaned. “She’d no doubt be embarrassed by her incorrigible brother-in-law’s outlandish behavior.”
“Incorrigible? Outlandish? Is that what you are?”
“You haven’t learned that about me yet?”
“Oh, I knew. I just didn’t realize that’s how you would describe yourself.”
He was impressed with her honesty. “I’ve never put much stock in pretending to be something I’m not.”
“Such as?”
“Such as an honorable gentleman.”
“You’re not honorable?”
“I suppose I have some honor but it’s not the kind that gets you a viscountcy. Called a paragon.”
“Like your brother?”
“Exactly like my brother.” He took another long sip.
Danielle turned to face him, propping her elbow against the back of the settee. Her other hand swirled the wine in her glass. “Why are you and your brother so different?”
Cade laid his head back against the settee and squeezed his eyes shut. “Ah, that is the question worth a hundred-thousand pounds.”
“So much?”
He opened his eyes again and turned his head to face her. “Yes. That and more. No one knows, my dear girl, but everyone asks.”
“Do you know?” she asked, studying him with an intensity that made him uneasy.
He faced forward again, staring into the shadows beyond the candlelight. “Yes.”
“What’s the answer then?” came her soft voice.
He forced himself to relax his grip on his wineglass. It wouldn’t do to crack the thing in his fist. More blood. A mess to clean up. And he’d already got this far with the beautiful maid. Only why was she asking him about his brother of all bloody topics? “It’s … complicated.”
She took another sip. “Complicated things make the best stories.”
Cade scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Rafe and I … We didn’t grow up like this.” He flourished his hand in the air to indicate the room.
“A house like this, you mean?”
“A house like this. Mayfair. Servants. He didn’t inherit the title, you know.”
“Yes. Mary said something about it.”
“Rafe joined the Navy when he was young and worked his way up. He worked hard, honestly, and fought for every single thing he has. He’s earned every bit of it, viscountcy and all.”
“And you?” She nodded toward him.
“Me?” He smiled a humorless half-smile. “I’m just the good-for-nothing brother, leeching off my twin’s good fortune.”
Cade had the distinct impression she could see through him, that she could tell he wasn’t being honest with her. “Est-ce vrai?” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her.
“Yes, it’s so.” He stood, cleared his throat, and took her glass. Then he moved back to the sideboard to refill both glasses.
“Is that where you were tonight? Out leeching off your brother’s good fortune?”
He hesitated, then turned to her with a grin. “Of course.”
“And what does your brother think of you?”
“Our relati
onship is strained to say the least.” Why had he just told her that? Why was he telling her any of this? He never discussed his business with anyone, not even his two closest friends. He made a point of it. Granted, no one ever asked but he never told, either.
“I always wished I had a sister,” Danielle said. “It sounds foolish, but I used to pretend I was twins when I was a girl.”
He wrinkled his brow. Pretended to be twins? She’d surprised him. Again. He found himself looking forward to the next words out of her mouth. That never happened with women he attempted to woo. “How did you do that?” he asked.
“In the looking glass,” she replied. “It was ridiculous but also quite amusing. I cannot tell you how often I wished it wasn’t just a game. I wanted a sister to play with, to talk to.” She sighed. “And to have a sister who is the exact same age, who looks like me? Why, I can only imagine how close we’d be. I can’t imagine how different my life might have been if I’d had someone else to rely on. Or someone else to worry about.”
Cade snorted. “You have no idea how wrong you are.”
“Wrong?” She shook her head.
Cade moved back over the settee to join her again. He handed her the refilled glass. “Careful what you wish for.”
She took another sip. “Why do you say that?”
He lowered himself to sit, closer this time. She smelled like lavender. He leaned toward her, his mouth only inches from hers. “Can’t we talk about something else? Like how perfectly gorgeous your mouth is.”
Her face looked flushed, but he suspected it was from the wine. He remembered she didn’t embarrass easily.
“Oh, no,” she replied, scooting away from him. “You’re not about to ply me with wine and try to kiss me.”
“I’m not?” He blinked, for that was exactly what he’d been planning.
“No.”
“Care to tell me why I’m not?” he asked, nonplussed. He was never nonplussed.
“Because that is far beneath your skill level.”
“It is?” More blinking. He needed to stop blinking like an idiot.
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