Page 65 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
“It never was. We have still not identified or caught M.”
“Put a great deal of time into it recently, have you?” Haverstock held his gaze, unblinking. “Or have you been too distracted withMissPrince.”
“Haverstock—”
“You have not followed procedure from the outset, Drake. The chit’s report should have been taken immediately. Escalated immediately. But it seems you’re more interested in getting under her skirts than solving this case.”
Ben bit down hard, struggling to hold back his fury. He eyed the chief constable’s door, weighing whether he should walk out before saying something that would end his career with the Met.
“You’ve nothing to say for yourself, Drake?”
“I have constables attempting to gather information about M while I’ve attended to the backlog of cases that languished during the blackmail investigation.” That damnably tangled case had to be considered a success in one regard, and it was time to play that card. “There have been no further threats to the prince, have there, sir?”
“No.” He shot Ben a dire look. “Not to the prince directly. This new threat is to the very monarchy.”
“New threat?” No wonder the chief constable looked as if he hadn’t slept.
“This matter that will now take precedence over whatever other cases you’re working. Delegate all else. Whatever else is causing youdistraction, set it aside.” Haverstock took a seat at his desk and drew a folio toward him, flippingit open, and staring down at the page in front of him with genuine bleakness in his gaze.
“What has happened?”
“It’s to be handled with delicacy. Special Branch. The Home Office. All have a concern here.” Haverstock lifted a police report from the pile of documents. “An attempt was made on the royal regalia.”
Disbelief slackened Ben’s jaw. “When?”
“Two days past, the final day before their move from the jeweler’s where they were held.”
“You said an attempt. Nothing was taken?”
“They overtook two guards and damaged the vault but apparently could not crack it.” Haverstock flipped a photograph that showed a damaged metal door. “By some miracle, we’ve kept it out of the press. Though the jeweler is proud of their vault’s resilience, and someone will crow eventually.”
“Most likely.” Ben didn’t see the harm in letting the details out. The thieves had been deterred, and the attempt would put the Tower’s Warders on high alert. But it was an act against the Crown, and after the bombings of past decades and the agitation of protests more recently, they’d want no such news in the press.
“Do we have descriptions from the guards?”
Haverstock pushed the entire folio toward the edge of his desk for Ben to collect. “The thieves were disguised, masked, and wearing darkened spectacles. It’s all there.” He flicked his hand asif wishing to be done with the details himself. “I take it you’ve discovered no concrete leads from Miss Prince’s tale.”
“I did not.”
Haverstock’s face creased in a fierce glower. “If you were focused on your work rather than that girl’s charms, you would have questioned her properly.”
He was besotted. He could admit that to himself now, but it was far more than mere infatuation. They may have only known each other a few days, but she’d already altered him, made him feel more alive than he had in years. He could not imagine a future without her in it.
“Your work is before you, Drake. I expect your full attention on this matter. Your diligence. Letnothingdivert you.” The man’s emphasis was anything but subtle.
“I understand, Chief Constable.” Ben offered the man the look of acknowledgment that usually preceded his dismissal from a meeting.
But Haverstock settled back in his chair, hands clasped over his middle, as if he was only just getting started.
“Now to a more personal matter. My daughter, Drake.” Haverstock paused as if expecting Ben to finish the sentence.
Unease began to tie itself in a knot in his middle.
“Sir?”
“Your behavior at Lord Wellingdon’s soiree has caused her a great deal of heartache.”
Ben frowned. He had no doubt Haverstockwithheld crucial information when he saw fit, and, more and more, he’d come to recognize that the man worked him like a marionette. But he didn’t believe for a single moment that Lavinia was heartbroken. They’d met only a handful of times and had exchanged the most banal of civil chitchat.
