Page 74 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
The three of them were en route to a meeting place near Southgate Dockyard, and although it was the last place Spencer wanted Eleanor to be, especially with Lord Belgrave approaching her the previous night at the masquerade ball, aninformant Theodore had found was only willing to speak with them there.
Spencer had tried to dissuade her from accompanying them, but as she had pointed out, he had promised to stop shutting her out of the investigation. He couldn’t ignore that her knowledge had been pivotal to getting closer to uncovering the truth about the operation Belgrave ran.
“Ha,” Theodore muttered. “You would not dare.”
“Oh, I would.”
Spencer was aware of Eleanor keenly witnessing their exchange, yet it was Theodore who turned to her, gesturing exasperatedly toward him.
“Spencer and I have known one another since our Cambridge days.” He glanced at him. “It was quite a different time back then, was it not?”
Narrowing his eyes, Spencer replied tightly, “It was.”
Although in those days he had been angry and grief-stricken—and he still harbored those emotions—he had not dealt with them in the same way.
“Different?” Eleanor echoed, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “How so?”
“I think we ought to focus on the task at hand,” Spencer interjected. “We should focus on our informant, not get side-tracked by my past.”
He shot Theodore a warning glare, scathing enough to let him know that Eleanor did not know a great deal about his past.
While he knew he couldn’t keep it that way for very long, he wanted to delay the inevitable as much as possible.
Tearing open the wounds of his childhood and adolescence was not something he could handle, even though Eleanor had already opened up about the things she had gone through. His past was different, and he didn’t want her to see him in a darker light than she likely already did.
All night, he had been haunted by the memory of her moans in the conservatory, sweet and addictive. That morning during breakfast, he had muttered an excuse about business before leaving, not knowing how to navigate the new waters he had pulled them into.
The carriage pulled up outside the meeting place, and Spencer let nobody get out until he scanned the area.
Windows in nearby warehouses were dark and empty, rooftops held no shadows, and the man who hovered looked too nervous to have backup.
Spencer jerked his head for Theodore to follow him and took Eleanor’s hand to help her down from the carriage.
“Keep your head down and stay close to me,” he murmured. “I will not tell you to stay silent, but I would appreciate it if you say as little as possible and let Lord Avington and myself handle it.”
Instead of that flare of defiance, Eleanor only nodded.
She wanted to be part of this, even though she was understandably nervous. Not only was she in a darker part of London and investigating the man who had ruined her life, but she was also investigating the life she could have been trapped into.
Spencer was impressed by her courage already.
The three of them walked out into the shadowed yard, Spencer vigilantly watching every corner, his hand hovering over her back.
Theodore strode forward. “Mr. Beecham,” he greeted quietly. “Thank you for meeting with us.”
“Thank you for coming out here to meet with me, Lord Avington. I have, ah, your order ready.” Mr. Beecham reached behind him to a box holding a pair of boots. Spencer raised an eyebrow. “The leather is of the highest quality. You will have what you need for the storms ahead, I’m certain.”
He shot Theodore a sharp, knowing look, and Spencer took the box, inspecting the side of one boot. On the inner lining, he spotted patches of black thread.
Information.
“A fine job, Mr. Beecham.” He nodded once.
Markus Beecham was a former smuggler who now made a living as a bootmaker, but Theodore had snatched him up for information, and judging by the leather lining, he had enough.
“In there is everything I know,” he said. “It might not be much, but it will hopefully be something.”
Spencer gave another sharp nod, already eager to get Eleanor to the carriage, but Mr. Beecham’s eyes landed on her.
