One Fine Duke

by Lenora Bell

  “We’re professional-minded ladies.” Miss Finchley’s hands moved as she spoke, a fluttering accompaniment to her words. “I like to knit, but I’m also a chemist.”

  “Wait . . .” Mina glanced at Beatrice. “Is this the organization you mentioned to me at the ball? The secret society of professional ladies?”

  “This is it,” said Beatrice proudly. “I’m very excited to introduce you. Ladies.” Beatrice stood up. “Miss Penny is an expert in improvised weaponry for the purposes of defense.”

  How did Beatrice know that? Mina had never told her about her skills.

  “Are you surprised that I know, Mina?” asked Beatrice.

  “We know all about you,” said Miss Beaton. “You’re quite legendary. When Beatrice told me that you were in London I couldn’t wait to meet you. It was your unusual timepiece that helped the Duke and Duchess of Ravenwood escape from their captors in Paris. I heard all about it from the duchess.”

  How much did they know? Mina couldn’t imagine that the duchess had revealed the truth about her husband’s past life as one of Sir Malcolm’s spies.

  She’d have to question Beatrice in private.

  “I do consider mechanical modification to be one of my talents,” said Mina. “I have a flintlock pistol with me, one that uses a flint striking ignition, but at home I’m working on an ignition device that will be able to fire reliably in all weather conditions.”

  “Ooh. And will it be named after you?” asked Miss Finchley.

  “I hardly think so. My aim isn’t for fame, but rather to aid those who use weaponry responsibly and for the prevention, rather than the perpetuation, of war.”

  Miss Finchley nodded her approval. “A worthy goal, Miss Penny.”

  “Truly though, anything can be used as a weapon if you are called upon to defend yourself,” Mina continued. “Even these knitting needles, wielded with the right amount of force and velocity against a man’s more vulnerable regions, could mean time to make your escape.”

  “Will you give us a demonstration?” asked Miss Beaton. “All of us are sometimes called upon to take risks and knowing how to defend ourselves would be most welcome.”

  “I’d be happy to. Why don’t you tell me about your talents first, Miss Beaton?”

  “You probably know of my father, Mr. Louis Beaton.”

  “The famous composer?”

  “I finished his last symphony,” said Miss Beaton proudly. “He’s quite deaf now, and too feeble to write. By day I’m a music instructor to the Duke of Westbury’s sisters, but by night I write powerful, passionate symphonies. I’ve entered one into a contest held by the Royal Society of Musicians.”

  “And of course you know that I’m working on an etymological dictionary,” said Beatrice. “For which I require the use of my brother’s library at Thornhill House.”

  “You must convince him to allow you to move there for at least a year,” said Miss Finchley.

  “The world must have your book,” agreed Miss Mayberry.

  Beatrice finished her tea. “And the bachelors of London certainly won’t go into mourning if I declare myself a spinster.”

  Mina was beginning to like the Ladies Knitting League. “And you, Miss Mayberry?”

  “She’s the boldest one of us all,” enthused Beatrice. “Tell her, Isobel.”

  Miss Mayberry was about to speak when Fern came running into the room. “Ladies, I’m very sorry but there’s a man at the door. Lady Beatrice, it’s your brother, the duke. He insists on coming in.”

  “Code alpha, code alpha,” shouted Miss Mayberry.

  The ladies sprang into action, grabbing knitting needles and balls of yarn and frantically beginning to knit.

  Chapter 22

  “Code alpha?” Mina whispered to Beatrice.

  “When a man arrives unexpectedly we must hide our seditious activities.” Beatrice thrust a knitting basket into Mina’s hands. “Knit!”

  “But I don’t know how to knit . . .” Mina froze as Drew strode into the room, all wavy dark hair, chiseled jaw, and golden eyes.

  Several of the ladies glanced up from their knitting and never looked down again.

  Drew took in the scene in one swift glance. The ladies knitting, Mina with a basket in her arms, not knitting.

  He cleared his throat. “Ladies.”

  “Your Grace,” said Miss Beaton with an angelic smile on her face. “Are you here to make a donation to our cause?”

  The sound of needles clicking industriously provided a counterpoint to their conversation. Mina hoped Drew didn’t notice that some of the needles were being held upside down.

  He made a clipped bow. “I already left a sum with your maid. I came on a different errand, however. Might I borrow Miss Penny for a short while?”

  “Of course you may,” said Beatrice. “Mina would be delighted, wouldn’t you Mina?”

  “Er . . . delighted.” She happily relinquished her knitting basket. She understood that Beatrice wanted Drew to leave in order for the ladies to continue their meeting. She rose. “It was lovely to meet all of you.”

  “We hope you’ll be back to give us that demonstration . . . the one with the knitting needles,” said Miss Beaton.

  The maid brought her pelisse and bonnet and she hurried Drew out of the house and away from the professional-minded ladies and their plans for infiltrating all-male societies.

  “You can’t burst in anywhere just because you’re a duke,” Mina scolded.

  “I have an invitation you won’t want to refuse. I found the Princess Eve and I was thinking you might want to see it.”

  “I thought you said a gin house was no place for a lady.”

  “It’s not a gin house, it’s a gin palace and there’s a difference. I’ve never heard of a gin palace but apparently they’re going to be all the rage soon.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “The gin palace is housed in a very respectable old building in Hanover Square, and it’s been renovated to the highest standards. They haven’t opened to the public yet, but they will soon. The quality of the gin will be vastly superior, as will the refreshments, décor, and clientele. I thought you might like to accompany me.” He ducked his head as he entered the carriage after her. “Because you’re very observant. And I’m liable to overlook something obvious.”

  She smiled, her heart warming. He might not have admitted it to himself yet, but he needed her help.

  He trusted her. They were truly a team.

  “I’d be delighted,” she said.

  A young maid with light brown hair braided into a crown on top of her head and frightened green eyes answered Drew’s knock on the door of the Princess Eve. “May I help you, sir?”

  “The Duke of Thorndon and companion. We’re here to inspect the premises.”

  The girl startled, her cheeks flushing. “Oh, Your Grace, we weren’t expecting you. We’re not open yet.”

  “I know that, I just want to have a look around. I may be interested in making an investment in the place.”

  “What’s your name?” asked Mina.

  “Elsa, miss.”

  “It’s going to be a grand success, isn’t it, Elsa?” Mina asked. “Just look at those chandeliers.”

  “Oh yes, a great success. I-I’ll just go and fetch someone to speak with you.”

  “No need for that,” said Drew, leading Mina into the wide hallway. “Is Miss Olivia Lachance here?”

  “Miss Lachance has gone away, Your Grace. I don’t know when she’ll return.”

  “How long has she been gone?” asked Mina.

  “Two or three days, I believe.”

  “Well, which is it?” asked Drew. “Two or three?”

  “I-I’m not sure, Your Grace. I really must find someone else to speak with you.” She curtsied and scurried away.

  “Rafe left two days ago,” said Drew. “They could have left together. To Gretna Green.”

  “I don’t think so. He said he was going to set a tra
p for someone. That maid is nervous about something,” said Mina. “She jumped when she heard your name.”

  “I agree. She knows something. Why does her name sound so familiar, as if I’ve heard it recently?”

  “Elsa.” Mina walked behind the handsome mahogany bar that lined one of the walls and rummaged under the counter. “Ah, here we are. A record book.” She placed the book on the bar and opened it, thumbing through the pages. “Elsa Bickerstaff, barmaid.”

  “Bickerstaff.” The headwaiter at his club. He remembered the bitterness in Bickerstaff’s voice when he’d spoken about Rafe. The opportunities the waiter had to overhear the secrets of powerful men.

  “We’re going to my club,” he said.

  Mina waited impatiently in the carriage for Drew to return. Of course she hadn’t been allowed inside the club because it was a male-only establishment. The Mayfair Ladies Knitting League would surely have many things to say about that.

  He’d been gone for a quarter of an hour at least.

  He’d said that he suspected the headwaiter at the club of extorting him because Elsa was his niece. This Bickerstaff, and Miss Lachance, could be working together.

  But if they were, then why would Bickerstaff reveal the name of her establishment? Wouldn’t he know that was the first place they’d go for news of Lord Rafe?

  Or perhaps Bickerstaff didn’t know that Lord Rafe had disappeared.

  Finally, Drew returned. When he joined her in the carriage, he sat next to her instead of across from her. The leather upholstery groaned under his weight. Mina slid toward him on the now sloping seat.

  He draped his arm across the seat behind her. One slight shift and she would be flush against him, his arm around her.

  Attraction sizzled up her spine. The urge to slide against him, fit her body into the crook of his arm, was nearly overwhelming.

  The carriage began moving.

  “Well?” she asked. “What happened?”

  “I was right. Bickerstaff sent the letter. Poor man,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Poor man? He’s an extortionist. He threatened to kidnap Lady Beatrice.”

  “An empty threat. I don’t think he realized how truly terrifying it would be for me. He certainly didn’t expect me to leave Cornwall and come to London. Beatrice had the right of it. She surmised that the author of the letter was hoping to conduct the whole affair from a safe distance.”

  “Why did he do it? Did he hold a grudge against Lord Rafe?”

  “He holds a grudge against every arrogant, unmannerly lord he serves. He said to me, ‘Do you think I want to be a headwaiter my entire life? Do you think I live to serve you and your privileged, puffed-up friends?’”

  “You had him sacked, I assume. Or you called for the Metropolitan Police?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Drew. Really?”

  “In exchange for my allowing him to keep the money, he promised never to extort anyone again.”

  “You let him keep the money?” Mina smacked his shoulder lightly. “Why don’t you just write him into your will while you’re at it?”

  “At first I was angry. I grabbed him by the collar and pressed him against a wall. That’s when the whole story came out. He needed money desperately. His brother is dying of tuberculosis and doesn’t have long to live. He’ll use the money to provide for his brother’s seven children. He showed me their portraits, all seven of them. Beautiful children.”

  “One of whom is Elsa, I take it?”

  “She was the one who alerted him to Rafe’s injudicious engagement to Miss Lachance. I made him promise never to resort to extortion again and that I’d hear about it if he did. I told him that I’d employ one of his nephews if they were likely lads.”

  “Drew.” She shook her head. “You big soft lug.”

  “I’m not soft.”

  “Your heart is all soft and squishy.”

  “It’s not.”

  He pretended to be hard and unfeeling but he was remarkably solicitous of the sensibilities of others—even those who attempted to extort him.

  “This could be a ruse, you know,” she said. “He could have fabricated the entire story. He could be in league with Miss Lachance to extort you and entrap your brother.”

  “Possibly, but his words had the ring of truth. The emotion on his face when he spoke of his nephews, it was real.”

  “I’m reserving judgment until we find Lord Rafe.”

  His hand had settled squarely on her shoulder.

  She shifted closer to him on the seat, suddenly aware of the enormous breadth of his thighs in his tight breeches.

  “So where does this leave us?” Drew asked.

  “With a code to decipher. I’m hoping that it will reveal where Lord Rafe has gone and the identity of the evil target he referred to in the study.”

  “Then I follow him,” Drew said.

  “We follow him.” She nestled closer to him. He was just so warm and she had a slight chill from sitting in the carriage. “Because you’ll never be rid of me. I’ll needle you until you allow me to go.”

  “Because we’re linked,” he said, his arm circling her shoulders tighter.

  Mina had pled a headache and gone to bed early. When the duchess retired, Mina had snuck out, making her way stealthily to the other house.

  They’d been sitting in the study, working on deciphering the coded diary for hours and hours. Mina’s brain hurt. Her mind was a mishmash of numbers and letters. Her heart was even more mixed up.

  Sitting side by side with Drew, working together on this puzzle, felt so very right. The closeness and camaraderie of it filled some hollow place inside her.

  He looked so handsome, even when he was exhausted. His thick, dark hair stuck out at all angles and the stubble on his jaw had darkened into the beginning of a beard. He had purplish shadows under his eyes.

  They’d been through every volume in the study. Books were piled everywhere.

  She walked to the far wall of the room and back again. Sometimes movement helped her brain follow different paths.

  “We’re missing something,” she said. “Something simple. Something easy. One more time, please try to think of a book that might have some significance for Rafe. Was there a story he loved as a child? A gift someone gave him? A school grammar he particularly hated?”

  “Say that again,” said Drew, his expression intent.

  “Which part?” She was so exhausted she couldn’t remember her own words.

  “You said a school grammar he hated. Well, he hated them all. He hated them so much that he hid gruesome crime broadsides and gossip sheets inside of his schoolbooks and read them instead. He likes the penny fictions, or penny dreadfuls, as they call them. Sensational stories published and sold for a penny.”

  “The key’s not a book,” said Mina, excitement jolting her awake. “It’s one of his penny fictions. Where does he keep them?”

  “Beside his bed. He has a whole drawer filled with the things. Highwaymen, footpads, tales of intrigue, the bloodier the better. He likes gothic horrors. Vampires, witches, that sort of thing.”

  They hurried upstairs and into Rafe’s bedchamber. Drew pulled open the drawer.

  Mina rifled through the lurid pamphlets until she saw one that was so well worn the pages were nearly transparent. “ ‘Vanquished by the Vampire,’ ” she read aloud. “ ‘A Bloodthirsty Tale.’ ” The cover depicted a skeletal figure hovering over a supine woman with long, flowing black hair wearing a ruffled nightgown.

  “That’s got to be the one,” said Drew. “Didn’t he use those same words? He said he was off to vanquish a bloodthirsty foe.”

  “You’re right, he did!”

  Mina spread the diary open on Rafe’s bedside table beside the penny pamphlet. “It will be simple now that we have the key. See here.” She tapped the diary page. “The cipher has the number three, the letter B, and the number four all grouped together. I think that means page three, column B, fourth word down. A
nd if there’s another number in the grouping, it won’t be a word, but an individual letter of a word.”

  She applied her theory. The word was Paris.

  She inhaled sharply. “We’ve done it, Drew. We cracked the code!”

  Chapter 23

  Paris in chaos. House of Bourbon will fall. Le Triton must move inventory. Poseidon arrives Falmouth in one week. Lachance becomes my chance to prove myself.

  “What does this mean?” It made no sense to Drew but Mina was staring at the diary with a flash of recognition in her eyes.

  “Falmouth is in Cornwall, is it not?” she asked him.

  “Yes. A port town only a half day’s ride from Thornhill House.”

  “Of course,” she said. “We had it all wrong.”

  She straightened and walked to the engraved map of the world hung on Rafe’s wall. “Le Triton’s stronghold is outside of Paris,” she pointed with her finger, “but the diary entry says the monarchy is about to fall and Le Triton must leave. The next location is Falmouth.” She traced a line from France to the coast of England. “A port town.”

  “Falmouth is notorious for sheltered coves—the perfect location for smugglers.” Drew had been called upon to assist the county magistrate in capturing and prosecuting smugglers on more than one occasion.

  Mina stared at him, her eyes alight with excitement. “The Princess Eve isn’t only a gin palace. It’s a front for an audacious smuggling enterprise. And Lord Rafe became engaged to Miss Lachance as a means of obtaining information.”

  “So Miss Lachance isn’t in league with Bickerstaff?”

  “No. I believe that her connection to him is only peripheral—circumstantial—his niece happened to be her barmaid. The connection is between Miss Lachance and Le Triton.”

  “And who is Le Triton?”

  “A notorious French antiquities thief and criminal and my uncle’s nemesis. He’s been slowly making inroads into the British criminal networks but this would appear to be his gambit to corner the British stolen antiquities market. I can’t believe he would risk coming to England, but that’s what the diary says, and your brother had inside information.”