Chapter 8 #2
The duke was the sort of bloke who commanded the attention of a room.
He didn’t wear flash clothes or ostentatious jewelry, not like Blaze, but he drew the eye with his height combined with the sort of sun-blessed looks that could’ve descended directly from the heavens above.
The archangel, indeed. “A duke’s work is never done,” he said, stuffing his papers into a black leather satchel.
Blaze got the impression that Acaster still struggled with the reality of being a duke—a man bound by lineage to duty—rather than the free man he’d been until two years ago.
There wasn’t even a small part of Blaze that envied aristocrats.
Though how near a thing it had been for him, what with his paternity and all.
“Are you and Celia off to Ashcote Hall for the rest of the month?” asked Tessa.
“Aye,” said the duke. “I can't keep her in London a day longer.”
As Acaster buckled the satchel, something hit Blaze that he hadn’t been fully aware of until this moment.
He could read some of the words on those papers in there.
Acaster and Tessa always went through The Archangel’s documents with him. They knew he couldn’t read. They were too quick on the uptake not to have noticed. But nothing had ever been said about it.
Yet just now, during the meeting, he’d been able to make sense of some of the words, not just the numbers, like usual.
And it felt good, not feeling like he was lacking in some way.
With Acaster gone, it was just him and Tessa at the table. This was how every monthly State of The Archangel meeting ended—just him and Tessa.
It was his favorite part, when the meeting became the State of Each Other’s Lives meeting.
Well, it was usually his favorite part.
Today, he was hiding something, and he didn’t much care for the feeling.
He was Blaze Jagger, known rogue and scoundrel. But now, beneath Tessa’s trusting gaze, he felt like a deceiver.
And that was one thing he’d never been.
He drummed his fingers on the table and said, “Tell me something, Tessa.”
“What is it?”
“When your papa and mam went to meet the Maker,” he said, trying to find an angle that would get him to the information he sought, “they must’ve left a pile of blunt.”
“No, that wasn’t the case,” said Tessa, shaking her head. “Papa’s money soon ran out.”
“But you didn’t go to the workhouse.”
“You’ll have known that Gabriel went to Eton on a scholarship.”
“I’ve heard that suggestion put about.”
“Well, all those little lordlings didn’t like doing their work.”
“The same can be said for big lordlings, too,” said Blaze with a waggle of his eyebrows. “From what I’ve observed during my venerable old seven-and-twenty years, at least.”
Tessa snorted, like he’d known she would. “Gabriel saw a business opportunity.”
“Did their work, did he?”
“And charged for the bother.”
Blaze nodded, his admiration for Acaster growing by the second. “Fleeced the little lordlings. I knew there was something I liked about your brother.” He went on. “Sent the money home, did he?”
Tessa took a sip of tea, her gaze so identical to Viveca’s trained on him. “He did.”
“And the two younger sisters,” he said. “You raised them?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I did.”
She would be wondering what all this was leading up to. And if she got it into her head to root it out, God help him.
“And your sisters now?” he continued. “Ladies of leisure, right?”
He knew it wasn’t the truth, but he wanted the information from Tessa’s point of view.
“They are businesswomen in their own right.”
“Is there a rival gaming hell I should be privy to?”
Tessa laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past them, but no, Saskia and Viveca’s interests lay in an entirely different direction.”
“That so?”
For some reason, he wanted Tessa to say it.
To reveal to him that which he already knew.
To entrust him with it.
To trust him.
He’d never been all that motivated to be a trustworthy person—until he’d tussled with Lady Tessa Calthorp, as she’d been before she’d up and married a marquess. She was different, and Blaze was different with her. She’d brought him into The Archangel, in actual point of fact.
She could trust him.
He wanted her to know that.
He wanted the chance to prove it.
So, here he was testing her.
Would she speak the words? Would she reveal to him the business her sisters operated?
She shook her head and smiled, wonderingly.
“A couple of years ago, they got it into their heads to open a circulating library, and they did. In truth, I should have seen it coming, considering their love for the written word. So, not competitors. Quite the opposite, in fact. Not that you would’ve had any reason to know. ”
“Not that I would, no.”
A feeling expanded within Blaze.
Tessa trusted him.
It felt good.
It felt terrible.
Because, in a way, he was betraying that trust in his dealings with her sister, wasn’t he?
Deceiver.
Frustration roared through him.
The truth was, he couldn’t get Lady Viveca Calthorp out of his mind.
It had been all he could do this week to stay away from Sirens Circulating Library. He was a member, after all. It was his right to be there.
But if he entered those front doors, he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.
He wouldn’t be able to not flirt or find a way to touch her.
And tonight the siren herself was coming to Tichborne Street for another lesson.
Crikes.
“If that’s everything,” said Tessa, “I’m off to Fortnum and Mason.”
This woman and her tea obsession.
“That reminds me…” He reached down for the package at his feet and slid it across the table.
“For me?”
Blaze shrugged, as if indifferent. “Just something I happened across.”
A smile on her face, Tessa unknotted the twine and flipped open the box lid. Instantly, the scent of fresh jasmine hit the air. “Happened across?” she asked, her brow lifted. “Just happened to be in China recently?”
Blaze shrugged. This was something he did. He kept his eye out for tea for Tessa and brought it to her.
“You know, Blaze,” she said, closing the box. “Word will get out if you’re not careful.”
“What word is that?”
“That you’re considerate and thoughtful.”
He snorted. He didn’t see it that way.
Simply, Tessa was one of his.
And he took care of his.
“Before I go,” she said, “I must ask.”
“What’s that?”
There was a note in her voice.
He wasn’t sure he was going to like what she asked.
“Why were you asking about my family’s past?”
“Well, seeing as how you know all about mine,” he said, “I figured turnabout is fair play.”
Tessa nodded, but those piercing blue eyes remained unconvinced.
He couldn’t very well tell her that he’d come within a hairsbreadth of tupping her younger sister at Vauxhall Gardens. So, half- to un-truths would have to do.
“Would you like to accompany me on my tea excursion?”
“Naw, you’re all right. I have some business on the other side of town.”
Tessa stood and absently rubbed her subtly rounded stomach. Her second babe had yet several months left to bake. “Will you be attending Mr. and Mrs. Deverill’s musicale next week?”
Mrs. Deverill—also known as Lady Beatrix, due to her birth being of higher status than that of her husband.
Also known as Blaze’s half-sister.
Though few knew of that fact.
Tessa, however, was one of the few.
“I might give it a miss,” he said—like he always did.
Lady Bea would invite him to her society events—and he would give an excuse not to go. He’d learned he didn’t much care for hobnobbing with aristocrats unless he was fleecing them for golden guineas.
“Then until next month,” said Tessa, turning to make her way out of Garraway’s. She glanced over her shoulder. “And Blaze?”
“Eh?”
“Take care of yourself, will you?”
“You know I do.”
After she’d gone, he flagged down a serving girl. “Wrap up four of your freshest sticky buns for me, will you, pet?”
The girl flashed him the sort of saucy smile he appreciated from those of the feminine persuasion and set to her task.
Pet.
He’d unwittingly reminded himself of Viveca—though it didn’t take much these days.
She’d turned that pet right around on him, hadn’t she?
Now that he thought about it…
She’d turned his whole life around on him, too.
And he was going to see her tonight.
This had to be the last lesson.
He had to end it.
Before they went too far—and he taught her too much.