Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
F rancis sat heavily on his bed as he gently peeled his shirt away from his skin. He hissed a breath as it tugged on his fresh wound.
“What have they done to you?” Sarah moaned, fluttering around him while she gathered water and cloth for bandages.
“It’s not so bad as all that,” he assured her.
He glanced at his shoulder, and while there was a fair amount of blood, the cut did not appear to be deep. The wench, Maria Roberts , had only dealt him a glancing blow, thank Christ. And she would unquestionably pay for it.
He’d been following the woman for the past several days, learning her routine—and her secrets. The naughty bitch.
Sarah knelt at his side and washed the wound clean, all while muttering obscenities. “You ought to move your plan faster, Francis. They do not deserve to continue living in their luxury. The duke ,” she spat, “his loathsome family, and his whore ought to all be stopped. It should have been them hanging from the noose instead of Miles. When they and my husband are gone, and you’ve taken the title and made me your duchess, they’ll all see…” She continued on her tirade, but Francis tuned her out.
He would, indeed, become duke once he’d dispatched his hateful relations and his agreement came to fruition. But Sarah would decidedly not be at his side. He appreciated her fiery hatred and need for revenge on his behalf, but she’d begun to consider this her own battle when it was so clearly his alone. The woman needed to calm herself.
And his cousins needed to suffer.
* * *
After a quarter of an hour of walking, the fog had cleared enough that they were able to hail a hack. Jasper thought belatedly about his carriage that might very well still be awaiting him outside the newspaper offices. The newspaper offices at which Maria works .
Hell, but that was still a baffling thought.
He glanced at her from across the trundling equipage, and his heart leapt.
The woman was truly remarkable.
The hack turned into Cheapside, and Jasper’s jaw clenched involuntarily. Soot-darkened buildings loomed over narrow streets while vendors drew out their dilapidated carts to resume selling their wares after the fog. Dogs and urchins roamed the filth-covered cobblestoned streets, stealthily searching for scraps of food.
Trepidation crashed through Jasper. Where was Maria taking him?
His curiosity was piqued, to be sure, but he had reservations about her safety in this part of town. Hell, this was very near to where he’d almost died at Francis’ behest.
However—his inner voice reminded him—she had managed adequately while he’d been following her, and they were in a hack, not his carriage. She’d led him on a merry chase and attacked when left no other option. His throat still ached from that blow, in fact. She also had her little dagger, which she’d smartly used to frighten off Francis.
His gaze drifted down to her Hessians where, even now, said weapon was hidden. Truly remarkable .
He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to replay those blissful moments in the fog. Damn, but she’d been warm and wet and more than he could have hoped for. It had been a long bloody time since he’d taken himself to hand, let alone had a woman do so. There were too many young ladies vying for his attention who were willing to put themselves into a compromising position and force his hand. He’d sworn that the last time a woman—a widow, at that—had conveniently forgotten to lock the door before launching herself at him would be the last—thank Christ he’d had enough sense to leave before the acquaintance she’d arranged to catch them had arrived. He’d since eschewed intimacy altogether.
But Maria . He did not care a whit how public their interaction had been, because he knew that she did not wish to be with him solely for his money or title. She’d been aroused by him. Oh God , and she’d come so hard.
It made him want more touches, more kisses, more Maria with a ferocity that left him breathless. He wanted to learn everything about her. Mayhap he would take his time with their engagement, spend time conversing with her. And, damn it, he wanted to make her come again, to watch her grey eyes turn dark and heated and to hear her cries of pleasure…
Jasper blinked, twisting in his seat and clearing his throat. He’d come only a quarter of an hour before; he oughtn’t become stiff again so easily.
“Here we are,” Maria said, gazing out the window and breaking through his thoughts. She turned to him, her brows drawn together in puzzlement as the hack rolled to a stop. “Are you well, Jasper?”
“Yes, of course,” he lied. He didn’t know if he’d ever be fully well after what they’d done.
She nodded and descended the step before turning to face him. “I’ll be but a few minutes.”
“Just a moment.” Jasper held out a hand to stay her. “We were just attacked by a man who the magistrate and Home Office assured me was no longer in London, and we’re in bloody Cheapside. Francis could very well have followed us on our journey; I’ll not sit in a damned hack while you go off alone.”
Maria’s lips thinned and her shoulders sagged slightly, her eyes dimming with resignation.
“Very well,” she sighed. “Do follow me.”
He flipped their driver a coin and followed Maria toward a set of old bachelor apartments above a cobbler. His eyebrows lifted and he glanced at Maria’s profile in curiosity. Her jaw was set, her queued hair mussed beneath her hat, and there was a sort of determined acceptance in her gaze.
Bloody hell, what was this place, and who could possibly be there to call upon?
They strode through a narrow, begrimed foyer and up three flights of stairs before turning down a short hallway. She stopped before a door and turned to him.
“I…” Her lips thinned, and she straightened her shoulders before continuing. “I need just a moment, if you please. There is something that I must do.”
With that enigmatic statement, she pressed the latch and squeezed herself through the narrow crack of the door—before she closed it in his face.
* * *
On quick feet, Maria darted from their small, open foyer and into the main corridor. “ Thomas! ” she hissed.
“Maria,” Thomas returned from another room. “You’ve arrived in time.” He paused to grunt several times before continuing, his voice growing louder as they drew closer. “Mrs. Fredrickson made mince pies this morning, and— oh . Whatever is the matter?”
Maria hurried toward him, her index finger extended over her lips in a gesture of silence. Guilt swam nauseatingly in her abdomen as she spoke softly, “You must hide.”
His brows drew together and his eyes flared in alarm. “Why? What has happened?”
“The Duke of Derby is just beyond our door,” she whispered. “We were attacked by Francis. He chased us through the London particular…” Maria quickly outlined the fracas with Francis, carefully omitting her tryst with Jasper. “Once we could summon a hack, we came directly here.”
Worry filled his gaze as he looked her over. “Is the duke a danger to you?”
“No!” she lied, shaking her head. The man was most certainly a danger to her heart. She cleared her throat. “Not at all, I assure you. In fact, we are engaged.”
“Engaged! But what of?—”
“I simply cannot…” She hesitated, her mind racing.
In more than eight years, no one that had met Mr. Robertson had thought she was a woman. And it had felt… good . She’d built a life in which she could move as freely as possible, being who she was. Already, Jasper had learned part of the truth. She couldn’t have him learning the rest, and unravelling her carefully built life.
“I cannot have him know about you,” she concluded lamely.
Awareness dawned on Thomas’ face, and he paled. Maria hid a grimace, guilt swelling in her chest.
“I apologize, Thomas. It is not for the reason that you might believe. I simply cannot ha?—”
“Do not concern— grunt —yourself with me,” he said, his voice gruff and a self-deprecating smile on his handsome face. “I will lock myself in my bedchamber. You will not hear— grunt, click —anything from me. I’ve a new coat to sew.” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and walked stiffly down the corridor.
Drat. The guilt swirling through her increased to the point of nausea, but she swallowed it down. She must make amends with him later on, but for the moment, she would deal with Jasper.
As swiftly as she could, she raced to her writing desk, carefully tucked her current manuscript into a drawer, and locked it. She arranged the items casually on the desk’s surface before slipping the small key into her pocket.
* * *
The door swung inward, pulling with it a rush of air from around Jasper. The impatience that had filled him just moments before was swept away, replaced by fresh curiosity and admiration for Maria, whose hair was pulling from the once-neat queue and whose cheeks were flushed a delicious pink.
He wanted to taste her lips once more, but he resisted.
“Please come in.” She stepped aside, allowing him to pass into the room.
Jasper was immediately hit with the scents of ink, parchment, leather, and a hint of mince pies on the air. He could smell Maria there.
“Is this yours?” he inquired.
She bit at her lips. “Yes, it’s mine.”
He followed her in and closed the door softly behind himself as she removed her hat and placed it on a nearby hook. The room was spacious, an odd combination of foyer and sitting room in one.
There was comfortable-looking furniture situated before a low burning fire in the hearth, a writing desk, and bookshelves. A newspaper sat folded upon a table, and men’s outerwear littered hooks near the entry. If he did not recognize the thought as entirely ludicrous, he would think that a man—other than Mr. Duncan Robertson —lived there.
“Please have a seat.” Maria gestured toward the sitting area. “I must change my attire.”
Their exchange was stilted, but he nodded and settled himself into the purple armchair by the hearth before Maria disappeared down a corridor.
She’d waited until he was seated before leaving him. Hell, but mayhap she had yet something else to hide.
Damn, he didn’t know what to think any longer. In his youth, he’d thought he knew Maria, had found her entirely predictable and uninspiring, like most other young ladies of the ton . Over the years, however, she’d continuously proven him wrong. How ignorant he’d been! How unobservant! She was entirely the opposite. The more he learned of her passions and intelligence, the more he wished to know. He was utterly intoxicated by her exuberance. And intrigued by her mysteriousness.
He let his gaze travel around the room, taking as much of it in as he could from his seated position. It was sparse, but deliberately decorated. There were books on nearly every surface: some with folded bits of parchment inserted between pages, and others lying open. A little ornamental clock sat upon the fireplace mantel, ticking the seconds.
It appeared to be a space oft-enjoyed. This must be the reason for her two vocations; she was funding her housing. But why ? Surely this space was not used only as a means for storing her men’s attire—which was utterly erotic.
Damn, but even now she was likely slipping free of her tight breeches and removing her waistcoat.
His cock twitched, and he shifted in his seat.
Sodding hell .
The woman was a veritable puzzle, and every piece left him more intrigued than before. She had him in entirely in knots.
* * *
Placing the last pins in her hair, Maria gave herself a cursory glance in the mirror. Everything was in place. She’d donned the frock that she had worn when she’d left her home that morning. The grey striped muslin accentuated her eyes, and the purple ribbon beneath her breasts and decorating the half sleeves and hem was a lovely adornment in her favourite colour.
She clasped her travelling satchel—which carried her uniform for that evening—and a spare cravat, and hurried from the room.
Jasper stood at her entrance, rising from precisely where she’d left him, and a breath of relief left her so swiftly that it nearly made her dizzy.
Unable to help herself, her gaze darted between the corridor and her writing desk, irrationally concerned that Jasper had somehow discovered her secrets while she’d changed attire.
She gave him a bright smile and offered him the cravat. “Thank you for waiting. This is to replace the one you…er…lost.”
His lips quirked in one corner as he accepted the cloth and tied it about his neck.
“Shall we leave?”
With a slow smile forming on his lips, he answered gruffly, “Certainly.”
Undoubtedly he meant to question her about the journey and the apartments, but she knew not how to reply.
Her gaze drifted once more to the corridor. Would Thomas remain in his bedchamber long after they left? She wished that she could bid him farewell and, at the very least, apologize.
Jasper’s gaze sharpened.
Drat . She must focus. She offered him another bright smile, and he gestured toward the front door.
“These are your apartments?” he asked again. “Alone?”
Avoiding his penetrating gaze, she opened the door and lied outright. “Yes.”
They made their way silently down the stairs and out into the front lane. Her senses were on high alert, taking in the movements of the people around them and watching for any sign of danger. Francis could, even now, be lurking in preparation of attack.
Forced to walk a short way before Jasper deftly hailed another hack, Maria attempted to calm her nerves. She breathed deeply and slowly, filling her lungs with the tainted but comforting scents of Cheapside.
“We must retrieve Heather,” she reminded him. “She is our chaperone, and you will want her to begin her shift once you’ve brought me home. I ought to nap if I am to remain alert this evening.”
“Of course.”
The hack was ill-sprung, the padding on the seats lumpy, and it smelled of meat that had gone off. But that wasn’t what had Maria’s stomach twisting as they jolted into motion.
Jasper ran a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I scarcely know where to begin, Maria. You’ve—” He waved a hand through the air. “You’ve been living two lives. And now you wish to live a third?”
“Third?” She frowned in confusion.
He nodded. “As a runner. Another secret from your family, no doubt. How do you intend to maintain the ruse with so public a position? Your intended customers could very likely recognize you and collapse your scheme.” He scratched at his furrowed brow. “In fact, I marvel at the fact that you’ve been able to keep your employer fooled for more than eight years. Think, Maria, about what could happen to you both should your secrets unravel.”
She worried her bottom lip. That thought had occurred to her once before, but she’d concluded that people often saw what they wished to see, rather than what was in front of them. Additionally, Juliana had yet to encounter difficulty with her position in society and as a runner. So Maria had refused to consider it further.
The rules and social confines of society had never fit her. She had done a lot of things that others mightn’t believe possible; this oughtn’t be any different.
Now, however, Jasper knew part of her truth. Could she trust him to keep those secrets?
If her parents did learn the truth, they would be furious, particularly if Jasper justly called off their engagement and she was left a jilted spinster. Her stomach wobbled, and she internally rebuked herself. Mayhap if she was jilted, Maria could simply disappear—for surely her fate as companion to her aunt would come to fruition if she didn’t. Indeed, she could truly become Duncan.
If she spent her days helping those in need by solving their mysteries, and spent her evenings writing while simultaneously providing for her brother, the approval of her family and society truly would not matter.
“I don’t rightly care,” she replied baldly. “I have a home and the means to provide for myself.”
He inclined his head. “Is that why you chose to work for The Morning Herald ?”
Pressing her lips together, she considered her answer. She couldn’t tell him the full truth, but a part of it would suffice. “That is a large piece of it.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I enjoy writing. It seemed a suitable option for me.”
“And you’ve done this for eight-and-a-half years?”
“I have, yes.” She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. She didn’t want to answer his questions, didn’t want to put a strain on their already tenuous relationship. Instead, they ought to focus on the possibility that Francis had hired a hack of his own and was, at that moment, following them out of Cheapside.
The hack bounced and rattled along the cobblestones, drowning out any other noise from beyond the confining walls around them.
“We must discuss Francis,” Maria said.
Jasper’s back stiffened.
“He’s been wounded, though I cannot be certain how badly. Have you any idea where he might stay in London?”
“No.” He sighed, shaking his head. “As I said, I’ve had men search every brothel, gambling den, inn, and abandoned building in London, and I couldn’t find him.”
“Surely not every one—” She cut off her words at his sharp glance. “Very well, then. Perhaps he has rented rooms, or?—”
“I’ve checked as many apartments as I could, Maria.”
“What of acquaintances?” she offered. “Might he be staying with a friend?”
Jasper’s face scrunched in a grimace. “My father’s steward was acquainted with my uncle, but the man is in gaol. I paid him a visit weeks ago, and the man knew nothing of Francis’ whereabouts. And, truthfully, I have never known Francis or Miles to have a friend, so I wouldn’t know to whom I should speak.”
“Understood,” Maria murmured. “I shall have Francis’ likeness inserted into tomorrow’s paper. Mayhap if the denizens of London see his face once more, we will garner not only renewed interest but also clues as to his whereabouts.”
“Excellent.” He turned to gaze out the window, and Maria allowed him time to think.
They were mere blocks from Heather’s home, the hack’s wheels jostling against the cobblestones and the hard seats doing nothing to cushion her bottom.
Looking out the opposite window, Maria watched as the streets of London rolled past. It was a vast city… Francis could be anywhere.