Chapter 4 #2
"Acquire? You mean steal." She suddenly smiled, which disturbed him far more than the pistol she pointed at him.
"I don't have information for you. I have information about you that you would not want me to provide to the gentlemen at Bow Street.
The news sheets say they have been looking for a way into the Devil's Den for years. "
Ban stared at her in disbelief. "You're blackmailing me? Me?"
"Oh yes, Mister Dyer." She marched to his desk and dragged a piece of parchment toward her with her free hand.
She plucked a sharp quill from his inkwell and began to scratch out something on the paper.
Ban stepped behind her so near he could smell the faint scent of lilacs on her skin.
He watched in growing horror and disbelief as she created a perfect map of the various corridors, stairs, traps, tricks, bridges, and doors between the back entrance into the house and the doors to his study, labeling the various things one did to avoid harm.
When she'd finished, she handed him the parchment with a flourish.
"I can create that map from memory every single time.
Every detail. Once I remember a thing, I never forget it.
You help me, and I will take that map to my grave.
You don't, and Bow Street will be crawling through the Devil's Den like a band of wealthy dowagers over a new shipment of silks on Bond Street. "
He fixed his gaze on her face. Over the years he'd honed a knack for discerning lies and half-truths from the truth.
She firmly believed in her ability to find her way through the maze that was his sanctuary, a place no Bow Street runner, constable, member of the Watch or other enemy had ever successfully breached.
The fortunate ones found themselves dumped in Hyde Park with broken bones, cuts, and bruises.
The less fortunate...No one knew better than Ban did the many ways one might dispose of a body in London.
"You're considering my proposal. Aren' you, Mister Dyer."
He couldn't decide if he found her smugness infuriating or alluring.
"I'd consider your ridiculous request more easily without the pistol pointed at me."
"How do you know my request is ridiculous. You haven't heard what I want yet, not specifically." Never had he seen a lady so resolved and so unafraid.
He waved his hand about the room. "What about this situation is not ridiculous, madam?" A tap from behind the inset door drew both their attentions.
"Beg pardon, Mister Dyer." Daisy, a young girl of fifteen or so who served as a maid, ducked her head around the paneled inset. "I've put the children to bed in your bedchamber and locked them in so they don't wander about the house."
"Thank you, Daisy. Is that all?"
"No, sir." She glanced at the woman with the pistol. "Your brother, Mister Con, sent round. He's on his way."
"Now?" Shite! "How long?"
Daisy widened her eyes and plucked at her skirts." Yes, sir. Half an hour, p'raps less."
He looked at his pistol-pointing would-be blackmailer. Her face was a mask of curiosity and calculation that sent a shiver down his spine. "Daisy, bring me a pair of your boots. Then go down and tell your brother to ready the old carriage."
"Yes sir." She curtsied and hurried to do as he asked. In moments she returned with a pair of sturdy brown walking boots. He dismissed her with a murmured thanks.
"Put these on," he said and set the boots next to a chair by the hearth.
"Why? What about my proposition? Will you unhand me, you ruffian.
" She wrenched free of the grip he'd taken of her elbow which sent the pistol pointing in all directions.
Ban had had enough. He plucked the gun from her hand and shoved her into the chair.
With hands braced on the chair arms on either side of her he leaned down to the point their noses almost touched.
"Put the fucking boots on and be quick about it. I am sending you back to Mayfair. We will discuss your proposition tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" she shrieked. "I don't have time to--" For the first time since she'd broken into his study, he saw fear, not of him, but of something or someone.
"I will send you a note with a place and time to meet me."
"How do you know I won't come back with the men from Bow Street before then?
" She eyed her pistol on the little table where he'd dropped it after lowering the hammers.
He knelt at her feet and removed her slippers.
She gasped and slapped at him as he shoved her feet into Daisy's boots and laced them up.
"Try it, madam, and I'll kill you myself." He got to his feet. "Look for my note before noon. You'll be watched until then. Take her, Benny." He beckoned to the hulking boy who appeared in the doorway in the corner. "Number 47 Grosvenor Square. Make sure she actually goes into the house."
Benny nodded and took the lady's arm, gently for a young man of his size and build.
"My pistol," she demanded as Benny pulled her gently toward the door.
"Tomorrow, if I decide to take the risk or arming you again."
"Wait," she cried as Benny pulled her from the room. Ban shook his head as he heard her complaining through his bedchamber and the rest of his rooms until she reached the back staircase that led directly to the mews.
He collapsed into his chair and held his head in his hands.
"What the buggering hell just happened?" He went over the last hour in his mind.
However, the only thing that stayed in his thoughts was the grey-eyed with the pistol and the worn slippers who'd dared to break into his lair and blackmail him of all things.
Ban couldn't help it. He started to laugh.
He was still laughing when his brother Con clomped up the back stairs.