Page 43 of A Little Bit Dangerous
“On what grounds?”
“We should discuss the matter once safely inside the carriage,” Christian interjected, sharpening his gaze as he peered along the Strand. “It would be unwise to linger here longer than necessary.”
Mr Daventry agreed, and so they bid the Chance brothers farewell and crossed the road.
“It makes no sense,” Mr Gibbs said, opening the carriage door. “We could have put an end to the matter, scared the blighters away for good instead of watching from the sidelines.”
Isabella shared his frustration. “That’s what my father wants, Mr Gibbs. A reason to put Mr Chance behind bars.” Removing a key player from the board would weaken the brothers’ defences.
Christian slapped the coachman playfully on the back. “You’ll have an opportunity to flex those fists. The devil’s at work and will continue to cause havoc until someone pays his dues.”
Appeased, Mr Gibbs waited for them to climb into the conveyance, but Mr Daventry raised a staying hand when the coachman moved to close the door. “I’ll travel in my own vehicle. Give us a moment to speak privately.”
Isabella fought to hide her elation. The prospect of spending time alone with Christian Chance had desire unfurling in her belly. Judging by the glint in his eyes, he seemed equally pleased.
“Tell me what you learned from Woodrow,” Mr Daventry said from the opposite seat.
Isabella told him about Captain Snell’s need for secrecy. “They weren’t allowed to inspect the artefacts until the crates were delivered to Somerset House.”
“I’d wager Snell stole the artefacts and swapped them for fakes,” Christian said. “That, or with the surge in the need for opium, Snell has a lucrative business smuggling narcotic substances.”
Mr Daventry cast doubt over the first theory. “To swap the artefacts, Snell would need prior knowledge of what the Vizier planned to sell. The operation would be too complicated for a simple man.”
“He may have clever accomplices.” Christian shook his head, his sigh heavy with frustration. “We’ve no hope of questioning Snell’s crew now they’ve set sail for Norway.”
“Sadly, Snell has been forced to postpone his trip until next week.” Though Mr Daventry kept an indifferent expression, a flicker of amusement lit his dark eyes. “Some blackguard managed to sneak aboard his vessel and cause considerable damage to the mainsail.”
“How fortunate, sir.” She suspected the blackguard worked as an enquiry agent for the gentleman sitting opposite.
Christian laughed. “Remind me never to cross you.”
Mr Daventry did an excellent job of looking innocent.“I credit you with more intelligence, though I cannot imagine why you think I played a part in causing the damage.”
“Like everything else about this case,” Christian said with an edge of suspicion, “it must be an uncanny coincidence.”
“Indeed. Now, with Snell marooned, you must find a way to question his crew. Might I suggest you secure a table at the Bunch of Grapes tavern? If you make it known you’ll trade coin for the right information, someone will be forthcoming.”
While there, they could find the clerk from the shipping office and get a good description of the elusive Mr Quigley.
Amongst other matters, Christian explained their need to question Lord Oldman. “His lordship might be behind the deception. We need to know who else purchased the artefacts and how many expeditions Oldman has funded.”
After a brief silence, Mr Daventry nodded. “We’ll use the murder to force his compliance. And I’ll have a man follow Woodrow. See what we can uncover about his nightly habits. He wouldn’t be the first to keep his gossiping mistress a prisoner at a secret location.”
I could force you to stay here, Bella.
No one will look for you.
No one cares.
The conte’s sinister words invaded her thoughts. She had gone to great lengths to put an ocean between them, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
She tried to clear her throat, but her voice was hoarse and croaky. “Could you attempt to discover what the Conte di Barasian is doing in London? I know he has a mansion house west of Tothill Fields.” A mansion that may one day be her prison.
His expression unreadable, Mr Daventry inclined his head. “Whatever the reason, it must be important for the conte to travel a thousand miles.”
Rich, titled men did not need to scour the world for a mate. The conte surely had business in town, and her father had distorted the facts to frighten her. Indeed, he had done an excellent job of leaving her terrified.
“I’m sure there is a simple explanation,” she said before quickly returning to the matter at hand. “We should make haste and attempt to locate Lord Oldman. You’re at the theatre tonight, as I recall.”
