Page 39 of No One's Bride
The viscount read the letter before leaning closer. “It’s from Viscount Melbourne.” He did not presume her ignorant of the fact the peer served as Home Secretary. “He grants us the same rights as the magistrate.”
Some men would not welcome a woman or a Scot interfering in English business. But Lord Denton conveyed such a powerful masculinity, she doubted many would argue.
Mr Daventry closed his portfolio. “Miss MacTavish, I suggest you remain with the St Clairs. Your butler is bedridden but recovering well, and we still don’t know the intruder’s identity. I shall send word there when I’ve arranged for you to interview the professor.”
Lord Denton sat forward. “We could visit the Old Crown tavern later tomorrow. See if we can find the fiend who delivered the wrong book.”
“Yes, see if the wench knows his name.” Mr Daventry stood and fixed the viscount with his penetrating gaze. “I trust you will also reside with your sister until the matter is concluded. As you uncover evidence, the killer will seek to secure your silence.”
“I’m quite capable of protecting myself, though I’ll not endanger my sister. I shall take the grimoire to my house in Grosvenor Street.”
The master of the Order frowned as he shook his head. “The gruesome nature of the crime lends me to err on the side of caution. As you say, we may be dealing with two villains.” He looked between them while deciding what should be done. “Having lost a man once, I refuse to take a chance with your lives.”
“What are you suggesting?” Lord Denton said impatiently.
“You’ll both reside at a location of my choosing.”
Ailsa jumped to her feet in protest. “But we cannae live together. I’ll nae put his lordship in a situation where he is forced to propose.” And if the kiss was any benchmark, they’d be writhing in bed before the week’s end.
Mr Daventry raised a reassuring hand. “We’ll take tea while I think on the matter. Then I’ll tell you what I have planned.”
“What you have planned?” the viscount scoffed. “I’m not a boy of ten. I answer to no man.”
He had a valid point.
Was Mr Daventry conspiring with fate?
Mr Daventry’s eyes darkened. “You made a gentleman’s agreement to act as my agent. Your word is your bond. And I promised Lord MacTavish I would take care of his daughter. If you want to solve this mystery, you’ll both do exactly as I say.”
ChapterEight
Fortune’s Den
Aldgate Street
“They’ll use my unmarked carriage. Mr Gibbs will act as their driver and brawling companion should they encounter any difficulties.” Daventry relaxed back in the gilt chair, the scales of justice engraved on his signet ring visible as he gripped his brandy glass. “Agree to let them stay here, and I shall be in your debt.”
Aaron Chance, known as the King of Clubs to the men who frequented his gaming hell, stared at Daventry. “You know my views on ladies living under this roof. I guarantee my brothers will find it equally insufferable.”
Sebastian silently cursed. All four Chance brothers lived on the premises. He had to wonder if the strain of working long hours had affected Daventry’s logic.
It was Miss MacTavish who offered a retort. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. In truth, I’d rather nae suffer the fools who gamble their fortunes here, sir. For the life of me, I cannae understand the attraction.”
Aaron Chance’s brow quirked. “All men have their vices, madam. Have you never felt your blood course wildly in your veins? There’s nothing quite like the risk of ruin to make one feel alive.”
A blush touched the lady’s cheeks.
One that doubtless had nothing to do with the dissolute lords of theton, and everything to do with an erotic kiss in the auctioneer’s office. Realising women felt lust as keenly as men, she’d stolen more than the odd glance at Sebastian’s lips.
“I’m not a petty man,” Daventry said, an air of warning in his tone, “but you wouldn’t have known about the plot to kidnap your sister had I not brought it to your attention.”
Aaron gritted his teeth. “You gave your word you would never mention theincident. I had you marked as a loyal man. Now Denton and Miss MacTavish are party to my personal affairs.”
“My agents have signed a non-disclosure agreement.”
Daventry had given Sebastian little choice in the matter. To learn more about Michael’s grimoire, he had to play by the man’s rules. And a pang deep in his gut said his brother hadn’t died from a tropical fever.
Aaron tossed back his brandy and slammed the glass on the side table. “So, you have me by the ballocks.” He glanced at Miss MacTavish. “If you’re going to spend a few nights here, madam, you’ll discover gamblers have the mouths of sewer rats. Perhaps you should find somewhere else to rest your pretty head if you find that offensive.”
