Page 21 of Not the Duke's Virgin

Passing through the doors, the noise faded behind him. Simon followed the guard down a dim, ramshackle hallway until they reached an office. The man knocked once.

“What?” an irritated voice barked.

“The Duke of Hayward here for you, boss.”

A pause. “Show him in.”

Simon stepped into the office, his keen gaze rapidly taking in details. It was sparsely furnished, dominated by a large desk strewn with ledgers and papers. Behind it sat a middle-aged man with thining hair and a calculating gleam in his eyes that put Simon on edge. This had to be Mr. Dalton, owner of the Black Rat and rumored to have his fingers in many other unsavory enterprises throughout London’s underworld.

“Your Grace,” Dalton said smoothly, rising from his chair. “To what do I owe the… honor?” His tone made it clear he was surprised, but not particularly impressed.

Simon stepped forward to meet the other man’s gaze directly. “I’ve come to discuss a business arrangement that I believe will prove quite mutually beneficial.”

Dalton’s eyebrow quirked upward. “Is that so? Well, I’m always open to new opportunities.” He gestured to the chair across from the desk. “Please, have a seat and enlighten me.”

Once seated, Simon took a moment to gather his thoughts. This was his first move in a very dangerous game, but he refused to let any doubts show.

“Let me be direct,” he began. “I find myself in need of your particular talents and resources. Specifically, the men who can do a task quickly and discreetly.”

Dalton sat back, steepling his fingers contemplatively. “How do you want us to do it?” he asked.

Simon’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. “I leave the methods to your discretion. Results are what matter.”

“Bold words,” Dalton mused. “What need does a duke have for such cloak and dagger business?” His sharp gaze bored into Simon.

Simon returned the stare steadily. “My reasons are my own. But I can make it worth your while.”

Humming thoughtfully, Dalton rose and went to a liquor cabinet in the corner. He poured two glasses of brandy, handing one to Simon. The Duke took it warily as Dalton sat back down.

“A toast,” Dalton declared, raising his glass, “to a productive new partnership.”

Simon hesitated, then reluctantly lifted his glass to meet Dalton’s. The dye was cast now. There could be no going back.

After drinking, Dalton fixed Simon with an intent look. “Tell me what you need. The more information I have to work with, the better.”

Haltingly, reluctantly, Simon provided the barest outlines of what he needed, holding back any names or details that were not essential. Dalton listened closely, only interrupting occasionally to probe for clarification. Simon remained vague but emphasized the need for utmost discretion.

“Your Grace,” Dalton cajoled. “How else can I be of service?”

“I have told you all I intend to,” Simon replied coldly.

Dalton’s eyes narrowed briefly before his unctuous smile returned. “Very well, very well.”

Simon left uneasy but resolute. The bargain was struck, there could be no turning back now. He alone knew his true motivations and aims. The less Dalton guessed, the better.

Walking slowly home, Simon considered his options. The dye was cast, for good or ill…

CHAPTER7

The morning sun streamed through the windows of the breakfast room at Newton House, filling the space with a warm, cheerful glow. Victoria Hatcher sat at the large mahogany table, idly pushing the food around her plate with a fork. She had little appetite this morning, her stomach tied up in anxious knots at the thought of the day ahead.

It was the day for the Duke of Hayward’s grand country house party. She would be expected to play the devoted fiancée. Just the idea made her want to retch.

As she picked at her breakfast, her father breezed into the room, already dressed impeccably in a well-tailored coat and breeches.

“Good morning, Victoria,” he said briskly, taking his seat at the head of the table. “I trust you slept well? You’ll need your rest for the festivities at Hayward Manor.”

“Yes, Father,” Victoria replied politely. Inside, her stomach churned with unease.

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