Chapter 8 #2
So he’d crept out, returned to his lodgings for a wash and change—and dug about to find his second-favorite pair of boots—before checking his post. He’d received notification from his superiors that the stolen canopic jars had been traced, sold through legitimate channels in countries on the Continent to other collectors who believed they’d come directly from Egypt.
The counterfeiting ring not only knew how to hide their tracks, but how the world of antiquities worked.
Kenneth had refolded the message carefully, his mind already skipping ahead to how Barbara could help him figure out this new riddle.
One thing he was certain of: her mind was up to the challenge.
He would return to her home right away, pretending he hadn’t crept away from her bed mere hours ago, and lay this new riddle at her feet.
Except…when he stepped into the street, it was to see a lad hawking the latest Rake Review.
Kenneth had barely begun to read before he’d taken off running again.
Beginning to huff and puff, he turned down Barbara’s street. He had to reach her before the news did. He had to explain to her…
She was more than a wager.
She’d been more than a wager since the first time he’d sat beside her, tried to flirt with her, and been impressed by her wit.
Aye, he loved the woman.
And that had nothing to do with Merevale, this case, or the stupid wager.
Gasping for breath, Kenneth reached the top step of the Fokette townhouse and slumped against the door. He was trying to muster the strength to knock when the door opened unexpectedly and he stumbled into the hall.
Luckily the tall, red-headed footman was there to catch him. “Sir Kenneth! I was just on my way to fetch you! You have been demanded!”
Damn damn fook shite damn!
Did that mean news of the blasted scandal sheet had already reached the Fokettes? Kenneth struggled to regulate his breathing as he straightened and brushed down his waistcoat. “Och aye?” Trying to maintain an air of nonchalance while huffing for breath, he managed, “Why?”
Elmo shrugged and pointed over his shoulder. “Master Alfred told me Miss Barbara needed to see you. She’s in her library waiting for you. I can take your hat?”
Distractedly, Kenneth handed over his hat, already heading for the stairs. Dear God, had she seen the Belle’s cursed announcement? Did Barbara think he’d been playing with her affections all because of a wager?
Did she think last night had been meaningless?
From behind, Elmo called, “I’ll bring up some tea.”
Sweating from nerves as well as exertion, Kenneth called back, “Perhaps with some ice in it.”
“Iced tea?” the footman mumbled. “How peculiar. What will these Scots think of next?”
But Kenneth had put the encounter behind him; he needed to focus on Barbara. On finding the right words to convince her this—this this they shared wasn’t because of the wager.
Unfortunately, inspiration had not struck by the time he reached her library, with its open door and the sound of her pacing.
Aye, he’d even learned the sound of her steps, with a boot to support her left foot and the other in a comfortable slipper.
He paused at the door to swallow down his fear that he would lose her.
Lose this.
Lose them.
But when he stepped inside, she whirled to him…beaming.
“Did you see?” She waved a scandal sheet that even from here he could see was the Rake Review. “This was distributed this morning!”
Why did she look so happy?
“Aye, I saw,” he said dully, crossing the room to meet her, to take her in his arms. “Love, I’m sorry. I should have said something—”
“Is it not wonderful?” she gushed, smiling up at him, blue eyes sparkling with what he now saw was excitement. “I knew I needed to speak with you, so we could plan!”
“Um,” Kenneth said.
And that was all he said. Um. Why? Because like an out-of-control carriage with the reins jerked, his thoughts had just swung to a screeching, heart-thundering stop.
Wonderful? She thought the Belle’s publication, the news of her ruination…was wonderful?
Aye, Barbara was practically bouncing in her excitement, waiting for his response. Unfortunately, all he could come up with was, “What?”
“Social ruination, Kenneth!” She smacked his chest with the paper, then began to rub the same spot. “I have been threatened with public misfortune! Do you not see?”
Evidentially not. Kenneth winced. “Uh…what am I no’ seeing?”
She grinned teasingly. “Both of our hypotheses were wrong! The misfortune, the social ruin, wasn’t the cause or the effect of the thefts!
It is part of it; our counterfeit ring is the one who begins the rumors—they are distractions!
” She gave another little bounce. “Oh, this is very exciting, is it not?”
Kenneth held her, his body responding to her nearness, her scent, in an inconvenient way. He came here to grovel, and instead he found her…excited by her ruination?
“Love…” He took a deep breath, but that unfortunately reminded his cock of her scent, and became damned distracted again.
Barbara pressed closer. “Our villains are targeting me! Oh, Kenneth, I wondered why my canopic jars had not been stolen and replaced with forgeries. It turns out they were just biding their time. But now they have made the first move—the rumors of social ruin to distract me, make me feel vulnerable—surely they are planning on making the switch soon!”
Belatedly Kenneth’s ears caught up with his brain, overcame the urges of his cock, and forced him to really listen to her words.
Her words could indeed be accurate--even if she did not know it.
He blinked down at her, hands on her arms. “Ye think… If the men we are after start the rumors of misfortune, the marks would be distracted—”
“Just as they expect me to be! A normal lady would be in despair over such accusations.” She smacked the paper again, still beaming. “I am made of sterner stuff.”
“Ye certainly are.” Kenneth shook his head, not knowing how to tell her the truth. And he had to, didn’t he? Had to make her understand. “Barbara, the Rake Review is infamous. Nae one kens how the Belle gets her information—”
“Oh, it does not really matter, does it?” Barbara stretched up on her toes to brush a kiss across his lips. “We need to set a trap.”
At the touch of her lips, all the blood in Kenneth’s brain had sunk south again. This was becoming a bit ridiculous. He struggled to follow her brilliant mind. “A trap?”
“A trap, Kenneth, keep up. It is clear that, with these rumors of pending misfortune—or perhaps the scandal sheet is already my ruination!—the scoundrels will strike soon. Perhaps even tonight!” She frowned thoughtfully.
“If only there was a way to know how soon they strike after the mark’s intended misfortune. ”
Kenneth struggled to focus. “Um…for efficacy, ye ken, it would make sense to strike while the mark is most distracted.”
“Tonight!” Her face lit in another smile.
“They will strike tonight, I am certain of it!” Barbara pulled out of his arms and turned about, studying the layout of the room.
“My library is only on the upper level—do you believe they could come in through the window?” The teasing look she sent over her shoulder left him no doubt what she was referencing.
Running a hand through his hair, Kenneth forced himself to listen to her words, her plan.
She believed the Rake Review was lies, made up to distract her from the upcoming theft.
It fit the modus operandi of the thefts they’d already identified, and she was the only collector—that she knew of—who hadn’t been hit and who had antiquities to interest the thieves.
If Kenneth wasn’t completely certain the accusations in the Rake Review were entirely real, he might have been convinced.
“Yes, the window!” Barbara was peering out eagerly. “There is a shed back here, someone might use to stand on and reach quite a bit closer to the window.”
“I ken,” he agreed dully. He’d used it last night to begin his climb. “Barbara, ye dinnae understand—”
“I will leave the window open just slightly.” She cracked it, just enough to be believable that someone might have forgotten to close it all the way.
“That will make such an entrance far more appealing.” She whirled about to study the layout of the room.
“The canopic jars are on those shelves, though I do not think we can afford to move them.”
Reluctantly, he found himself caught up in her planning. “We dinnae actually want the things to be stolen.”
“That is true.” She chewed her lower lip in that adorable way of hers.
“I suppose I could move them—move everything from the library into protective storage. When we catch a group of strange men standing here in the dark, holding forged canopic jars that match mine, we shall consider them fairly guilty.”
“Fairly,” he agreed. “Wait, we?”
“Who else!” She smiled up at him. “You and me. We will lie in wait here to catch the evil-doers in the midst of their crime! You will have solved the case!”
“Barbara, if yer theory is correct then our counterfeiters were the ones to start the rumors of Standish’s treason—”
“Which explains why you could not find evidence of it! I told you Cousin Errol was innocent.”
This was wrong. He needed to tell her the truth.
And he would…but Barbara was smiling so trustingly up at him, and he remembered the way she had gushed to him about the fun they’d been enjoying these last weeks, how she didn’t want it to end.
Setting a trap—even if it was a trap that was never sprung, because the evildoers hadn’t actually been the ones to start the rumors of misfortune—it would bring her joy, aye?
Aye.
Perhaps he was being cowardly.
But he knew, when she learned the truth, she would be hurt. Would likely cut him from her life. Was it selfish to want one more night with her?
Aye, likely. But he would do it anyway, to make her happy.
Besides, Kenneth didn’t think he was strong enough to deny her anything, not when she stepped up to him again, sliding her hands around his waist and pulling him flush against her.
“Well?” Her grin was so mischievous when she winked. “Do you think you can find a way to sneak into my library, rather than my bed, tonight? Will you lie in wait with me for the end of our adventure?”
“Aye, love,” he sighed, giving up the battle and lowering his lips to hers. “Anything for ye.”