Page 10 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
“I realize the man was a useful informant, but I didn’t know you’d be so affected.” Haverstock watched him with an assessing frown.
“I saw the man alive hours ago. Bit of a shock, sir. Nothing more.”
Haverstock seemed satisfied with that reply and settled back into his chair.
Drake lifted the report regarding Howe. “I’ll take this and add it to the case file.”
Haverstock waved as if glad to be rid of it.
“That will be all, Drake. Won’t be long before Ransome and the others get in.”
Drake strode back to his desk, intending to use the few moments before the office filled to close his eyes. His chair groaned as he dropped into it, and he let out a sigh as he lifted his boot heels onto the edge of his desk. Leaning back, he let the worn leather catch his head and closed his eyes. But he couldn’t find true rest.
He regretted Howe’s death. The man would steal your wallet as soon as look at you, but he’d never killed anyone, as far as Drake knew.
He’d given him funds to leave London becausehe’d believed Howe’s claim that M would come after him as soon as the plan was thwarted. Why the hell had he bothered with a brothel rather than getting himself on a train as he’d vowed to do?
The conversation in Haverstock’s office played in his mind too, and he gritted his teeth.
Soon.The word had sounded more like a taunt than a promise. He loathed being a puppet pulled along by Haverstock’s strings. If he could maneuver past the man, he would, though he suspected the chief constable could thwart any such attempt.
The chief had him exactly where he wanted him, but the bit was starting to rankle.
One thing was certain. He wasn’t going to court the man’s daughter.
Indeed, he had no time for romancing anyone. He had a criminal mastermind to find, and he sure as hell didn’t need any distractions in his life.
Chapter Three
Allie closed her notebook, satisfied with the list she’d made, though not feeling particularly passionate about any of items on it. Indeed, the idea of reorganizing the back room and the upstairs storage space at Princes intrigued her more.
If she was going to be left to run the shop, then she might as well do it her way.
She glanced up at the counter, wondering if Mrs. Cline had forgotten her. Though, in fairness, the shop was still buzzing with customers and the din of conversation had only grown since her arrival.
Then one man’s voice cut across the cacophony, sounding desperate, raspy, and deep as a foghorn.
“Quiet, man! Talk like that and you’ll see us all hang.”
“Hangin’? Lose our bloody heads, we will,” a higher-pitched masculine voice offered in a panicked whisper.
Allie stilled but the men’s voices got lost in the hum of conversation. They were close, and she dared a peek around the corner of the nook she sat in. Most customers in the coffeehouse were gentlemen hunched in conversation. She wondered if the trio at the table nearest the nook were the ones she’d heard. All wore dark clothes and two sat elbow to elbow with their backs to her, blocking her view of a third man in a black derby hat.
“Most pathetic thieves I’ve ever known.” This voice came more clearly in a clipped, elegant style. Not the London accents of the two other men.
“Guv, nobody gets the Crown’s jewels,” the deep-voiced man muttered in a near whisper.
“We could.” The man with the upper-crust accent tsked disgustedly. “Such a lack of boldness.” The words were hissed and then someone slammed a cup on the table with a thunderous thunk. A moment later, chair legs screeched on the tile floor.
Allie dared another glance out of her corner nook.
The derby-hatted man swung about, his black great coat flapping out like raven wings, and headed for a door that customers rarely used. Allie knew it led to the back alley. She’d suspected Mrs. Cline kept it locked during business hours as there was another door through the kitchen for staff to receive supplies.
But the tall man in the black coat slipped through the door as if he did so every day. His compatriots scrambled up from their table, one hesitating and loudly slurping down the last of his brew before shoving a crumpet in his pocket and then following Mr. Derby Hat out the back door.
Allie stood up so fast, her journal slid off herlap. She bent to snatch it up and nearly collided with a kitchen staff member carrying fresh-baked goods to replenish the case at the counter.
“Watch yerself, miss.”
