“What is this?” the duke asked.
“Dickens. Paying his bill.” I took a breath to cover my annoyance. “Your Grace. I know my business and the value of my stock. Please don’t make the mistake of thinking I don’t know my job, whether it’s here in the bookshop or with the Archivist Society.”
He gave me a smile and reached into his waistcoat pocket. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I have to be. I have only myself to rely on.”
“Will you take forty-five?”
I stared at the Bank of England notes he held out and then smiled at him. I’d have taken forty. “Let me wrap that for you.”
He changed back into his leather gloves and bent down to pet Dickens. “Is he yours?”
“He just showed up one day, and comes and goes as he pleases. Emma feeds him, so I’m sure he’ll never abandon us.” I watched Dickens’s eyes shut as the duke scratched him behind the ears. “I suspect he thinks we belong to him.”
Blackford straightened, still watching the cat. “You impressed me just then. You’ve done so well in your role with the Archivist Society, I expected your business would suffer. I was wrong to doubt the abilities of the Archivist Society. I want your help in contacting Drake.”
Trying not to show the ridiculous amount of pride I felt at his words, I tied a bow in the string around the paper wrapping. “I’m glad to know I can surprise you.”
“Is the mouse a bonus?”
“What?” I leaned over the counter again. Dickens had disappeared, leaving the mouse behind at the duke’s feet. “Dickens!” I ran to the back, grabbed the broom and dustpan, and removed the body.
“I apologize about the cat, Your Grace.”
The corners of Blackford’s mouth edged up and his eyes gleamed with mirth. “I was honored. It’s a tribute from one hunter to another. But please don’t have too many more surprises for me. I’m hoping to count on you at the Arlingtons’ ball.”
Finally, we appeared to be getting to the point of his visit. “In what way, Your Grace?”
“I won’t be able to tell you until that night. You’ll have to trust me.”
I’d rather trust Jack the Ripper. “Was there anything else you wanted?”
“You can tell me how the case progresses.”
I didn’t bother to pretend not to know which case. “It moves forward. Slowly. We keep eliminating suspects.”
“And your costumes for the Arlingtons’ masked ball?”
“I am to be the Fire Queen and Emma the Ice Queen.”
“I know. I wondered how they’re coming along.”
“You’d have to ask Madame Leclerc that.” Curiosity made me add, “The crowns. They will be paste, right?”
“No.”
“Your Grace. We’ll be weaponless, in evening clothes, surrounded and hemmed in by innocent revelers. We can’t protect your jewels adequately and catch the person threatening Drake.” The very idea scared me and left my stomach aching.
“I don’t expect you to guard the jewels. I expect you to wear them.”
I came out from behind the counter in a rush and marched up to him. A couple of locks of his rigidly straight hair brushing his high collar had curled up since he’d come into my shop, giving him a slightly rakish appearance. Looking up into that craggy, self-assured face, I said, “Then get an aristocrat to do it. They know about wearing jewels.”
He stared into my eyes as he snapped, “I’m hiring you for your brains, not your bloodline.”
“Technically, you’ve not hired me for anything.”
He pulled a sixpence out of his pocket, tossed it in the air, caught it, and handed it to me with a bow.
I held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “If you’re hiring me for my brains, then take my advice. Don’t put your jewels at risk.”
“A thief will recognize paste immediately.”
“Not until he examines them, and we won’t allow that close a perusal.” Which was nothing compared to the scrutiny the duke was giving me. Our faces were mere inches apart, and I was growing nervous. He was the most magnificent man I’d ever met, stoic and fiery in one brilliant package, and he was out-of-bounds for a nonaristocrat.
He was out of my league in every way but one. I had the quicker mind.
He smiled slightly. “You will wear jewels.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Your Grace.”
“Whoever is after Drake will recognize fakes by the lack of pride you show in them. Bring Emma to Lady Westover’s tonight when you close your shop. You need to become accustomed to wearing jewels, so we’ll practice.”
Lady Westover’s words You are not one of us rang in my head as the duke swooped around and strode to the door. “Aren’t you afraid someone will steal them?” I asked.
“We’re not dealing with a jewel thief. We’re dealing with a madman.”
His certainty alerted all my senses. “You know who it is?”
“No. But I suspect who it is.”
“Who?”
“It’s a suspicion based on only one thing. I need more evidence.”
“And we’re the bait.” I was becoming very sorry I’d agreed to attend this ball. “Who will you be dressed as?”
“A highwayman.”
How appropriate.
“And before you ask: my weapons will be real.”
I never doubted that for a moment.
Not two minutes after the duke left, the bell jingled over my door again. I looked up, hoping for a paying customer, but I was sadly disappointed. It was Viscountess Dalrymple, Lady Dutton-Cox’s living daughter, alone this time but for her footman. The carriage again waited outside my door. Remembering my regrettable confrontation with Lady Dutton-Cox, I expected another lecture from her daughter.
Instead, her tone was begging. “Leave my mother alone. Please.”
“I will if you’ll tell me what I want to know about your sister and Nicholas Drake.”
She went from pleading to angry in an instant. “There was nothing between them. You shouldn’t listen to malicious gossip.”
“I don’t. I have questions about both of them, but it was you he was blackmailing, wasn’t it?”
She looked around the shop in panic. Fortunately from her point of view, it was empty. “No.”
I’d rather be making a sale in my bookshop than listening to a silly young lady lie. “I know Drake was blackmailing you. I’ve had it confirmed.” I wasn’t about to tell her by her mother.
“You’ve found Drake?”
I suspected the key to keeping Drake safe was in not answering that question. “Drake isn’t the only one who knows about his blackmailing you.”
She pouted. Really? She was much too old for that sort of behavior. “Why should I tell you anything? I neither like you nor trust you.”
“You may not like me or trust me, but believe me, I will find out all the details. It will make life for you and your parents much easier if you tell me.” We were glaring at each other as we leaned over the counter, our noses nearly touching.
I took a deep breath and stepped back before I continued. “I have no desire to tell your husband anything or to blackmail you. I have other issues to investigate, but until I get this out of the way, I will haunt you.”