Page 64 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
Ben stood stiff and tall, his hands clasped at his back as he always did when summoned to Haverstock’s office. Yet he wasn’t the same man who’d done so a hundred times before.
The hours with Alexandra—perhaps every minute since he’d met her—had altered him. He felt lighter. As if a weight on his shoulders had eased. It felt odd to sense the drive inside him loosen a bit. And yet he welcomed it because he could not regret a moment they’d spent together.
Haverstock stood with his back to Ben and seemed to be warming himself in front of the fireplace, yet there was nothing like ease in the man’s stance. His shoulders were slumped, his hair a bit disheveled, as if he’d forgone his valet’s ministrations. Ben wondered if he’d stayed too late at one of the clubs he was rumored to frequent.
Still, the delaying tactic of subjecting others to long silences wasn’t unusual for the chief. He used it as a means of displaying his power. When you came to him, you were on his time, and your own ceased to matter.
“I find myself astounded at how quickly all that we’ve come to expect can change.”
“Sir?” Ben eyed the empty cut crystal glass on the chief’s desk.
“You were my finest officer, Drake. My sharpest tool.” He finally shifted to turn and face Ben.
The man looked dreadful. Not just disheveled but diminished somehow. Less full of life and drained of his usual arrogance.
“How long have you been a detective inspector, Drake?”
Oh damnation, the man was in one of his moods. Asking questions to which the answer was obvious was an indicator of Haverstock’s churlishness.
“Three years, sir.”
“And you aim much higher, do you not?”
Ben barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You know that I do.”
“As high as my office?”
Haverstock eyed him steadily, willing him to buckle.
“Yes, sir, or higher.” Ben didn’t feel the urgency for it anymore, but he wouldn’t back down when challenged.
“I see.” The chief constable broke eye contact and perused his desktop as if in deep contemplation. “Then your actions of late confound me, Detective Inspector.”
He lifted a document from his desk. “Did you or did you not hear of a plot to steal the Crown Jewels?”
Ben couldn’t see every bit of writing on the pieceof paper Haverstock dangled, but he recognized the handwriting as Ransome’s. It looked to be a statement of some sort, though not an official police report.
“I had no evidence of a crime. Just a citizen who’d overheard a suspicious conversation.”
“And thatcitizenwas the woman you chased out into the garden at Lord Wellingdon’s? Indeed, based on your behavior that evening, I can only conclude that you’re infatuated withMissPrince.”
Ben clenched his fists and considered warning Haverstock he’d just stepped onto dangerous ground.
Haverstock tossed the document onto his desk.
“What inquiries have you made?” He gestured to his blotter. “I must ask because there are no reports for me to review.”
“There is a report related to Miss Prince’s overheard conversation.” Ben worked his jaw. “And a report of my altercation with Jack Demming.”
Haverstock frowned. “How is Demming caught up in this?”
“He was loitering outside of Princes of London, Miss Prince’s shop. But I found him and spoke to him, and I now believe his motives were more personal.”
“Personal?”
“He’s Amos Howe’s brother, apparently.”
“Ah...” Haverstock’s face creased in a deeper grimace. “That matter is resolved.”
